#I THOUGHT I COULD POST YESTERDAY AND WASH MY HANDS WITH IT

[imposterogers]

me:

me literally for months on end:

me rn: sending steve rogers back in time not only was character assassination but also purposefully ruined one of the most well known comic book friendships to date and actually —

[pickingupmymercedes]

R for Roscoe, C for Coco - Lewis Hamilton

Quick Dog Dad Special

request: "All those posts about Lewis on "happy fathers day daddy" are sending me crazy, please do them justice" - anon 1 & "Bestie, Lewis deserves a special fluff for father's day with Roscoe" - anon 2

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Late for the Father's day special because I was with my dad celebrating yesterday (thanks dad for the f1 love). But happy father's day to our favorite dog dad!

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The key felt ridiculously heavy in her hand, the exhaustion after the travel nightmare finally catching up. She fumbled with the lock, cursing silently when she fumbled the key twice. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit living room and the sound of a sleepy snore from the general direction of the couch.

"Roscoe?" she called out cautiously, her voice barely a hoarse whisper. A flurry of dark fur erupted from the shadows, tail wagging furiously. Roscoe launched himself at her, showering her ankles with grateful licks.

"Hey boy," she managed, patting his head as a wave of relief washed over her. She had finally made it. Forty-eight hours of travel hell, a cancelled flight, a twelve-hour layover in rain-drenched Atlanta, and here she was, in the middle of Lewis' LA home, greeted by the overly enthusiastic bulldog.

Suddenly, a sleepy voice came from the corridor. "Y/n? Is that…?" The voice trailed off, and a rumpled Lewis emerged into the dim light, eyes squinting in surprise. "What the hell…"

Before he could finish his question, Roscoe, oblivious to the tense atmosphere, decided to greet Lewis as well, leaping onto his leg and nearly knocking him out of balance.

"Roscoe, down!" Lewis managed to say, pushing the dog gently aside. He looked at her, his face a mixture of confusion and barely contained amusement as he took her in. She was a mess, clothes rumpled, hair a tangled disaster, and a tiredness etched on her face that spoke volumes.

"Hey," she managed, mustering a weak smile. "Sorry, I… uh…"

The flood of apologies died in her throat as Lewis saw it. It was the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped with defeat, that stopped him from unleashing the barrage of questions he had been building up over the past two days.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than expected, offering his hand. "What happened?"

She didn't resist, burying her face in his chest, feeling the tears of frustration and exhaustion welling up. "It's been a nightmare, Lew. I booked the wrong flight, then had a layover in Atlanta that got delayed for hours because of the rain. I've been traveling for nearly two days."

Lewis guided her to the sofa, his hand soothingly rubbing her back. Roscoe curled up at their feet, still wagging his tail, happy to have them together.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lewis asked softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"I wanted to surprise you," she mumbled; her voice muffled by his shirt. "I thought I'd get here Friday afternoon, and we could have a whole weekend together before the races are back."

Lewis pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and tenderness. "You should have told me, babe. I would never have left you stranded in Atlanta for 12 hours."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just... didn't want to ask for help and ruin the surprise."

Lewis shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "You're here now, that's what matters. Let's get you cleaned up and into bed."

She nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. She felt the weight of the past 48 hours lifting slightly as she made her way upstairs with Roscoe attached to her feet. After a long, hot shower, she finally felt somewhat human again, slipping into one of Lewis's oversized shirts and crawling into bed with Roscoe.

As Lewis got into bed with a tray of food in hand and his little family finally under one roof, the clock chimed midnight. She let out a small, defeated laugh. "All that, and I lost the cute balloon I had for you."

Lewis raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Balloon?"

"For Father's Day," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "It had 'Dad Dog' written on it. I wanted to surprise you."

Lewis stared at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You went through all this trouble just for Father's Day with Roscoe?"

She nodded, feeling a mix of amusement and love. "Not just for that. I also wanted to spend time with you. Just us before we get swarmed by F1."

Lewis's laughter softened into a warm smile, his eyes glinting with his love for her. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

She smiled back, feeling the last of her tension melt away. "In a good way, I hope."

"A bit, well, a lot, chaotic, but definitely the best kind" he assured her, pulling her close. "Now get some sleep. We still got a whole day of just us. You, me and Roscoe."

The morning sunlight filtering through the curtains woke her gently. Lewis was still asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Roscoe, sensing her awake, nudged her hand with his wet nose, his tail thumping a happy beat against the mattress.

She stretched, the soreness from her travels slowly fading. She glanced at Lewis, a wave of tenderness washing over her as she saw him relaxed and peaceful, free from the pressures of carrying the weight of the world.

A memory jolted her awake. The gift. The "Dad Dog" charm was still tucked away in her purse, lost in the chaos of the previous night. Carefully, she slipped out of bed and retrieved it, tiptoeing downstairs with Roscoe right behind her.

She poured herself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee, the aroma filling the air with a familiar comfort. Pulling out the small velvet box, she placed it on the kitchen counter, right where Lewis would see it when he came downstairs.

A few minutes later, Lewis appeared, a sleepy smile on his face as he appeared in his boxers. He stretched, his eyes landing on the box on the counter. He walked over, a curious expression on his face.

"What's this?" he asked, picking up the box.

"A little something extra," she said, a teasing smile on her lips. "I know it's not really the best balloon ever made, but…"

Lewis didn't let her finish. He opened the box, revealing the silver charm nestled inside. A glint lit up his eyes as he inspected the detailed charm with a tiny R and a C for Roscoe and Coco.

"Y/n, this is incredible," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "It's perfect. But really, having you here is the best part. Thank you for coming," he whispered as he enveloped her in his arms, his voice filled with sincerity. "It means the world to me."

She squeezed his hand. "I'll always find you, even if it takes a global nightmare to get me there."

"Next time, though" Lewis said, his voice a low rumble against her ear, "let me know if you're stuck mid surprise trip across the Atlantic. Maybe I can help."

Y/n chuckled. "There wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would there?"

Lewis playfully kissed her cheek as he chuckled, reaching for Roscoe by their legs to show the bulldog his new charm.

The travel nightmare, the missed flight, the long layover – it all seemed insignificant now. Sometimes, even the most unexpected detours could lead to the most beautiful destinations. And all that mattered at the end was that she was here, with Lewis and Roscoe, their little clan finally reunited.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[ryescapades]

cherry blossoms | kaiju no. 8

characters: hoshina soshiro x gn sakura haruka!reader cw: fluff, reader is implied to visibly blush a lot a/n: from this req! been seeing a lot of nrm fans lately so this is a reminder to go back to ur roots (hsn) /j 1k wc

hoshina soshiro enjoys watching you.

amidst the chaotic personalities in the third division, you’re one of the very few officers who are prone to be more reclusive, avoiding much contact and prefer to be in their own bubble. though that is not to say you’re arrogant (given how crazy talented you are as a soldier), nor are you picky with the people you interact with.

he doesn’t know about everyone else, but personally, hoshina thinks it’s one of the division’s greatest pleasures to have someone as unique as you among them.

since you were a child, you’ve always found it hard to connect with people. it’s a flaw you've been stuck with as you grow up, wanting to but struggling to improve yourself especially now that you’re working in such a huge community that requires a lot of team effort and communication.

you’re grateful to have good comrades surrounding you now, of course. someone like nakanoshima who could introduce you to a lot of other troop members, or ikaruga who would always help you remember the names of the new recruits, and even captain ashiro who just knows how to make you feel welcomed in her division, and someone like vice-captain hoshina…

“what’cha doin’ there?” speak of the devil.

you let out a startled yelp, almost dropping the pistol in your hands. like a threatened cat, your shoulders tense as you throw a glare at the man, which he only grins at. “i told you to stop sneaking up on me!” you grumble before going back to what you were doing, not wanting to entertain your superior's predictably mischievous acts as you have a more important task to finish.

“where’s the fun in that? and here i thought you said you never minded my company... ah, right! i remember you sayin’ you enjoyed it, in fact.” hoshina quips, his voice lilting with that particular tone that never fails to fluster you every time.

“wha— i never said that! you always put words in my mouth and yesterday was no different!” your vice captain only chuckles before silence blankets the room, with you working silently and hoshina opting to watch your deft hands from the side.

he notices the gun in your hands, looking all too familiar as you continue to tweak the weapon here and there. it’s one of the newbies’ personal handgun which had malfunctioned mid-training, the bullet stuck in the barrel with not enough projectile force to be shot out.

you’re helping to fix the gun, hoshina realizes.

“aren’t you a nice little senpai, hm?” he softly croons, and the dialect-thickened praise rolls off you so pleasantly, stirring up something deep in your core until there are shivers running down the back of your spine.

you sputter, breath hitching in your throat. “I-I’M NOT— HEY!”

hoshina happily skips away, the sight of your crimson red-tipped ears and flushed cheeks are enough to make his entire day no matter what unfortunate things he could be facing later.

˚ ��♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

jolly chatter and rambunctious laughter resound through the mess hall, officers and cadets alike scurrying around to grab their post-training late lunch after the tedious afternoon they’ve had.

no different than any of them, your close colleagues occupy the other seats at the corner table you’re sitting at as a calm contentment washes over you, pushing your now empty tray to the side and deciding to people-watch.

“you mean kafka? he sure does look like he’s having the time of his life here,” nakanoshima says from in front of you before shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth, causing your attention to swerve towards the person in question. “well, thankfully everyone here is nice enough that they don’t mind being his hype man,” okonogi adds with a small laugh.

the older man sits just a few tables away from you, engrossed in a very much lively conversation with his fellow officers shinomiya, ichikawa and furuhashi. although you’re too far away to hear their topic, you're pretty sure they’re talking about the training session earlier with how many of the recruits had their combat power rapidly improving after weeks of vigorous practice.

you continue to watch them, and for some reason your eyes can’t tear away. is it the way they look so enthusiastic talking to one another? or is it the way they bicker and lightheartedly throw jabs around? or is it the way the three younger recruits embarrassedly blush when kafka seemingly praises them?

“your face is red, darlin’,”

oh, and there’s another thing that has become a highlight in all of hoshina’s day; it is the fact that you are extremely sensitive towards others’ emotions, and oftentimes he’d find himself endeared by your reactions to such intimate gestures done by others.

you’re snapped out of your stupor, the aforementioned color only becoming worse when you see the vice-captain’s teasing look directed at you. “huh?! sh-shut up, it’s not!” you throw him a scowl.

“I’m only pointin’ out what i see,” the man shrugs before he takes the empty seat on your left and slides himself closer, thigh nearly brushing against yours and casually slinging an arm over the back of yours like it’s meant to be there. something flutters in your stomach then, but you decide to ignore the growing feeling even when you remember his earlier words.

"whatever. and stop calling me that," you mutter, not realizing that all the eyes at the table have turned to you, glinting with mirth and amusement at your interaction with their superior.

using the arm he previously set behind you, hoshina bends it up at the elbow so that his cheek rests comfortably on his fist. "hm? call ya what, darlin’?" he asks, expression looking oh so confused with that cute frown and the slight pinch of his eyebrows, causing you to grit your teeth in embarrassment. “that!”

the vice-captain immediately opens his fist into a palm to cover his mouth lest you notice the smile of infatuation spreading across his face, his hands itching to reach out and reward themselves with a little touch.

it goes without saying that hoshina soshiro absolutely delights in having his eyes on you.

for the soft, kiss-pink rush of heat to your cheeks remind him of the cherry blossoms on a bright spring day, the display of vibrant colors bringing a new meaning to life itself.

much like his feelings for you, they’re starting to bloom, fester and root themselves in his chest until all his heart ever knows is the desire to know how would the gentle warmth of your skin feel against his.

taglist: @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[jjkamochoso]

Okay guys I screwed this up yesterday!! This was a request from @killuagirly and was originally an ask but I accidentally posted it unfinished instead of saving as a draft and had to delete it lol SO here's the request: "Another Feitan request! Feitan with a Female Reader who's dying to 'pretty him up'! He's already gorgeous as is of course, but wouldn't it be so fun to do a morning & nightly routine with him? If she's lucky, Feitan will let her paint his nails! He goes for black when she asks what color he'd like, but maybe with a little pink heart on each ring finger! He wouldn't mind that much, so long as the Troupe doesn't see of course. He'd never hear the end of it."

Here's my answer to the ask: I loved this so much😭❤️ thank you for always bringing me your Feitan ideas, I absolutely love writing for this man🥺❤️ I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!!🫶

And finally, here's the fic:

Pretty in Portor

Fluff

Feitan Portor x f!reader

Warnings: slight mentions of violence

Feitan had no clue how he got so easily persuaded by you. It was like you put a spell on him or used some sort of crazy Nen technique to manipulate his actions. Of course, he knew that wasn’t the case—

He just really, really loved you.

That’s why he found himself in your room in the hideout of whatever city the Phantom Troupe had business in this time, wearing a fluffy headband pulling back his bangs while you applied a face mask to his pale skin. You already had your own on, sporting a fluffy headband matching his.

“Why you no ask Machi or Shizuku, even Pakunoda, to do this?”

“They’re not into this kind of stuff,” you whined.

“And I am?” he questioned, prompting you to jokingly swat at him. “You bring in water? I no going out to bathroom to wash off.”

“Of course. I’m not a monster,” you replied. “I won’t make you too uncomfortable as you so sweetly partake in my nightly routine with me.”

“Too late,” he grumbled, earning a gentle flick of the forehead.

After you both rinsed off the mask, you rummaged through your belongings to find the rest of your skincare items. You laid them out on the bed, all of the foreign labels piquing Feitan’s interest.

“What this?” he asked, picking up a small jar.

“I was just looking for that! Thank you,” you said as he handed it to you. “It’s exfoliation for your lips. It gets all the dead skin off and makes them smooth. You want some?”

“Looks sticky. Absolutely not.”

“Your loss.” You giggled mischievously before your voice gained a flirty tone. “You know, if you ever wanna kiss anyone, this is a great way to make sure your lips are smooth.”

Feitan glared at you mercilessly. “Don’t say stupid things.”

“Just a suggestion!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up in defense. You put some of the product on your lips and scrubbed with your finger, taking care to get your lips nice and soft. Feitan busied himself with looking at your array of items, thinking your words over and trying not to blush. His eyes trailed up, sneaking a glance at the way your finger ran over your now moisturized lips as his mind filled with what they might feel like against his own…

He quickly went back to his reading of ingredients on whatever bottle he picked up, trying to shake those thoughts out of his head. You were none the wiser of what he was thinking about, though you couldn’t help but notice that Feitan was a little too engrossed in the bottle of serum he was holding, especially after his not-so-subtle peek at you just a minute ago. You wondered if maybe that could mean he felt the same about you that you did about him? You hadn’t a clue and it didn’t help to ponder over questions you were sure you’d never have answers to, so you picked up a bottle of nail polish to forget your worries for the moment.

“You want your nails done too?” you asked.

“Only if you have black,” he snorted, figuring your girly, pink loving self wouldn’t be caught dead in black nail polish. To his horror, you procured a bottle of his color request and held it up.

“Perfect! I’ll do yours after I do mine.”

Feitan wanted to protest, but knew it was no use. He was a man of his word, after all, so he sat quietly, mindlessly flipping through a book he had brought into your room as you began to paint your nails.

“All done,” you had said after a few minutes. “Your turn!”

Feitan groaned but sat across from you anyway.

“Hand, please,” you told him. He held out his left hand first and you went to work, but not before he almost shivered at the skin-on-skin contact. When both hands were done, two coats of polish and one layer of lotion later, Feitan was impressed with the end result. He had to admit, he was a fan of the dark color contrasting against his skin.

“They look so pretty!” you gushed, fawning over the great job you did with his nails. You grasped his fingers and turned them every which way, inspecting them closely. They looked nice, sure, but they were missing something.

Your eyes lit up. “I know! I can paint a little heart on one of the nails.”

“Anatomical?” He smiled darkly. “Bloody?”

You screwed your nose up in disgust. “No, I was thinking something more like this.”

You picked up a small brush, used for creating tiny details, and dipped it into the pink polish bottle. You then carefully made a few strokes over each of his pinky nails, drawing a dainty heart on each one.

“There,” you said triumphantly. Feitan looked at his nails, confused at how he should feel. On one hand, it was sweet of you to include him in your hobbies and enthusiastically make him participate, but on the other hand, how could you not see how wildly ironic it was, painting cutesy hearts on the nails of a sadistic torturer? The same nails that were normally inflicting pain and misery, caked in blood and other bodily fluids, were now covered in nail polish and sweet smelling lotion, being treated with a tenderness he forgot he had craved for so long. Unfortunately, because there was a “no fighting your fellow Troupe members” rule, Feitan wouldn’t dare to walk out of your room with the nail art; he couldn’t bear the idea of being teased to no end and not being able to shut the person up with violence.

“Tch. Cover it with paint. I no need anyone seeing this.”

“Aww Fei, are you sure?” you pouted. “But you look adorable!”

“No want to look adorable when killing someone. That your job.”

You giggled as you opened the black polish bottle again while the man quickly looked away, trying to hide his sheepishness at the compliment he inadvertently gave you. Now that your last minute art additions were covered, it made it even more special to him. He loved knowing he had your heart, a little piece of you, hidden away in a place only he knew of.

“This is more your style anyway,” you said, smiling softly at his plain black nails. You were about to put the polish back in your bag but before you could do anything, Feitan stopped you.

“Wait. Sit.”

You obliged, curious to know what he was up to. Feitan himself seemed surprised that he spoke up, but nevertheless continued.

“Choose color and give me brush.”

Your stomach fluttered with excitement when you realized he was going to do some nail art on you as well.

“I’ll do black,” you said, “that way we’ll match each other.”

“Gross,” he muttered, feeling his cheeks warm as he studied your splayed out hands in front of him, not daring to peek at your gorgeous face in his flustered state. He busied himself with the brush, starting his art. You decided to wait until he was done before looking at your nails to keep it a surprise. Your eyelashes fluttered closed, enjoying the relaxing atmosphere. Feitan, now finished, was going to question why you hadn’t said anything yet but he looked up to see your shut eyes. You looked so peaceful that he wouldn’t be surprised if you were asleep. His gaze darted down to your lips, the skin softer than ever after your exfoliation, and he was so terribly tempted to kiss you. He stared you down, deathly still as he took this time to inspect all of your pretty facial features while he knew for sure you wouldn’t catch him doing so.

“Feitan,” you whispered, his skin erupting in goosebumps at the way you said his name, “are you all done?”

He wanted to say no, have you all to himself as he continued to commit your every fine line and curve of your expression to his memory, but as selfish of a man he was, he didn’t want to make you wait to see his work any longer.

“Open eyes.”

You did what he said, but instead of your nails, your vision was filled with the handsome face of the man you adored to no end.

“So pretty,” you breathed out, getting lost in his gray eyes.

“You haven’t seen nails yet, idiot,” he chided, wishing the acid in his stomach could dissolve the butterflies flying around in it.

“Hmm? Yeah, you’re right,” you replied, finally examining his artistry. You gasped with delight at what you saw. Feitan had drawn a skull, similar to the one on his cowl, on each of your ring fingers.

“They’re perfect! Feitan, I love it! Thank you!” you exclaimed. He was about to answer you but was dumbstruck when you planted a kiss at the corner of his lips before bringing him into a bone crushing hug.

“I’m just so excited! We look so good!” you continued, eventually pulling away from him with a big smile. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to show everyone!”

You ran off, your bunny slippers thumping against the hard floor. Feitan brought his polished fingers to his face where they rested against the spot you had just kissed, letting a lovestruck grin rest on his face.

Your lips were even softer than he dreamed of.

[shalotttower]

Hello!!! Could i maybe see some reader (maybe begrudgingly?) seeking comfort from L?

hi! this is probably not what you asked for, anon, because "seeking comfort" immediately had this interpretation in my head

but it is what it is

Title: Acclimatization Summary: Post-captivity, Reader struggles with the aftermath of L. Notes: yandere!L, L is dead, Watari is dead, past kidnapping, implied PTSD, paranoia.

You have a new habit now. An array of them, in fact, but this one stands out — staring at your phone screen until it goes dark before turning it on again.

Because it feels odd. The weight and shape, and texture; you grew unaccustomed to them during your time with L. So you keep turning it on and off, over and over, without any particular purpose other than just...looking.

The first few weeks you refused to touch it.

Maybe there's a chip inside that allows to watch you through the camera. Or a microphone that records every word you say. A transmitter that broadcasts your location. Those were the thoughts which came and went, present regardless of what you tried to do. They hovered near the periphery of your mind like bees around a flower garden and stung whenever something triggered them: the sound of shuffling footsteps passing by your door, the smell of fresh pastries, older men in formal suits.

Now you're better. Mostly.

Yesterday you went outside and even sat in the park for a bit.

The world seemed so vibrant. So crisp.

So vast, that fifteen minutes was all it took to exhaust you. You came back home, locked the door (all four locks, plus two chains), checked everything twice for no real reason other than making sure. Nothing has changed since your departure.

The curtains were still drawn shut. The air smelled of floor wash from the last cleaning. Your bedroom remained the same, with no signs of tampering.

Nothing was out of place, and yet there's a certain feeling you can't shake off ─ that someone has been here while you weren't around.

You know what it is, of course, this form of hypervigilance; you never were one prone to delusion, despite having an active imagination.

It's not going to vanish overnight, and will require therapy, coping mechanisms, and medication.

But it's okay.

You're okay.

And your new phone is just a phone.

---

Sometimes you think about him. Not always on purpose, and never in great detail, but it's hard to completely forget a person who squeezed himself in every single aspect of your life for two years, and even after that.

Because this apartment you live in isn't yours. You bought it on the money he left you.

This phone in your hands doesn't belong to you. You bought it on the money he left you.

Your clothes are new, your fridge is stocked full, the bills are paid, and it's all on the money he left you.

You wonder if he planned it from the very beginning. If he knew that it was going to be like that ─ him and Watari both gone, so abruptly and suddenly that you'll be left behind with nothing but questions which will never find answers.

That you will need footing after losing the ground beneath your feet ─ again ─ and having to adjust to the world around, again.

You wish to say that you don't need his money or anything else (he didn't leave anything else). That you are fine on your own without his help, but lying to yourself is pointless when the truth stares right in your face.

It took two months before you were able to go outside.

How long will it take to start looking for a job?

Another two?

A strange sort of comfort exists in knowing there's no pressing need for immediate income.

It's not the type of comfort you wish to have, but it's the only one you receive.

[moirindeclermont]

Part 2 of my yesterday's post - following on all the Polin first times we didn't see in BridgertonS3 and I left you right before Colin's turn...

Part 1 here

They exchange their position with a bit of difficulty, but they managed to have Colin's back pressed again Pen's chest, even if Colin has to stay with his legs folded because he is too long for the tub.

His blissful expression tell her that he doesn't mind in the slightest.

*Pen, do you think I can sleep like that tonight? It is rather comfortable " he jest, earning a light chuckle from his wife "of you wish so, Mr. Bridgerton. At least, I will not have to fight for the blanket ".

He tries to answer back - he does not steal her blanket - when she puts her hand in his hair and it's game over. If she was Napoleon he would have give her all of England without a single question.

Those hands in his hair were sinful... And as Pen started washing his hair, she would lightly pull sometimes, at random moments, making him wiggle a bit while biting back a moan.

Sadly, nothing could hide how someone was getting rather exciting from this development.

She noticed, of course, "someone wanted to say hi" she whispered in his ear, making him shiver all over.

This woman. She was unbelievable. He could not believe how lucky he was.

She rinses off his hair, always pulling lightly "such a good husband for me" and with that she kisses him on the tip of his nose.

"Pen, can I have you again?" He asks, desperate for her.

"I thought you'd never ask," answers Pen, getting up and letting Colin go in her place, so she can turn, woth his help, and the next moment she is sittingin fron of him, getting herself ready.

After some minutes, it slipped in without effort, making both cry.

Pen passes her hand through Colin's hair and pulls. He goes crazy with his trusts and she is hardly containing her moaning. I

She moves her hips in tandem with his thrusts, watching each other in their eyes. It's doesn't matter how crazy it can get. This. Looking at each other like this. This is truly nakedness. She feels bear, her soul exposed to him as much as his is exposed to her.

After their release, they look at each other and finally at the state of the room.. pen is the first to speak.

"We need a bath for our bath," and they both start laughing.

They will clean their mess later.

Thank you @somedayillbepeterpan for the request.

[softxsuki]

Hiii

I wanted to requst confort Bakugou in which his girlfriend relapsed in selfharms.

Okay so this is kind of a emergency request because i have been kind of low and i relapsed in selfharm yesterday after five months with out doing it.

Thanks so much 🩷🩶

Bakugou Comforts Girlfriend Who Relapses From S.H

| Pairing: ProHero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader | Genre: Comfort, Angst | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 980 |

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, blades, blood, scars, cuts, mentions of death (no actual death), self-blame, please don't read if these topics will bring you more harm than good.

Note: Hey, hope this is able to bring you some comfort. Even if you've relapsed again, don't blame yourself. Keep trying until those five months turn into a year and so on, even if you fall again. I'm here if you ever need me <3 (also thanks for requesting this, kinda forced me to write something after 2 months of no writing and Bakugou always gets my inspiration flowing. Sorry if it's bad though, I'm a bit rusty FHJKEBAF)

Bakugou walks in on you cutting after barging into the bathroom without any warning

You were a couple, there wasn’t much privacy between you both any more after years of being together, so this was pretty normal

However seeing the blood on you with a razor in your hands, he freaks out

He runs over to you and snatches the blade from your hands quickly, cutting his hand in the process as you begin to struggle

“What the hell are you doing?” He repeats over and over again, as if trying to understand what it is he’s witnessing 

His heart is hammering in his chest and his palms get even sweatier than usual, he’s scared

He’s a bit explosive, running his hands through his hair as he looks down at you, getting blood in his blond hair from accidentally cutting himself, but he’s less worried about his mess and more worried about you

He washes you off and treats your wounds while mumbling to himself

Truthfully he’s putting a lot of the blame on himself

He had known about your past with self-harm, yet became a little lax after you’ve been clean for so long

As someone obsessed with keeping his loved ones safe, he feels like he’s failed from keeping you safe from yourself when you’re always beside him, wasn’t that his job as a hero? If he couldn’t keep you safe, how could he keep the country safe?

He might be a little harsh with his words, because he is upset, but he isn’t upset with you, he’s upset with himself for not noticing your struggle sooner

Surely you had been trying to avoid doing this but he’s been so preoccupied with hero work, returning home exhausted that he never noticed

Brings you into his arms in a tight embrace once he’s calmed down a little bit after seeing your tears and hearing your persistent apologies, coming back to reality and giving you the comfort he had failed to provide you with before

You feel him trembling slightly as he holds you, knowing how easily he could have lost you today, not from a villain, but from your own hands, the thought alone terrifies him to death

He helps you up (might even carry you because why not?) and brings you to bed, pressing kissing to the top of your head as he continues to hold you, not caring for the blood that was still dried up on his hands and hair from the wound he still hadn’t taken care of on his own hands, or the sweat still lingering on his body from a full day of patrolling and catching random villains on the street

You have to push him to leave you to go clean himself up so he can finally relax, not that he would relax after seeing all that

He refuses to have you tend to his own wounds, reassuring you that he was fine and would clean it up himself, he’s very self-reliant like that, not wanting to burden you with that or blame yourself for him also getting hurt

He feels a little anxious though, deciding to shower with the bathroom door open and talking to you about his day, making sure he hears a response from you every now and then

You’re his everything and he’d never see you hurt like that again

Moving forwards he’s very attentive, calling you throughout the day when he has a spare moment, and is uncharacteristically enthusiastic when you mention stopping by the agency to bring him lunch through the week, not that he’d ever tell anyone that, but you see him visibly relax when you enter his office and that gentle smile of his that only you have the honor of seeing is stamped across his face

You felt a little guilty for worrying him so much, yet you were grateful for his support after that terrible night and the fact that overall, he hadn’t treated you any differently and still cared for you deeply

At home he notices you hiding your scars from him, but he rolls your sleeves up and presses kisses to the tattered skin, showing you the countless scars he had on his arms, chest and face from years of hero work

“You gotta accept them to move forward, hiding them away just continues that internal battle inside you. If any idiot has the balls to comment on them, I’ll handle it. So don’t go covering them up”

He’s always been protective of you in his own special way, but that heightens after your relapse, though he does it in a way where he won’t be suffocating because he knows that would annoy him as well if someone did that to him

But he’s a little extra clingy when he’s home and his voice is a bit softer when he speaks to you

Because the worst thought suddenly crosses his mind after a few sleepless nights; what if he had been the one behind your actions? What if he had caused you to relapse by accidentally neglecting you due to his busy schedule or maybe he snapped at you accidentally after a long day–the thought made his heart clench 

Even if he wasn’t the number one hero, he wanted to be the number one in your life, to be there for you and protect you, but what if he was the villain?

Noticing his distress, you immediately shut those thoughts down, you had your own problems you were working through in your head and with the things you went through each day, he was your only safe place

Though things got hard at times, you knew with his help that one day you’d never feel tempted by a blade anymore, and with Katsuki by your side, you knew that day would be a lot closer than you thought

Posted: 04/08/2024

[bbyquokka]

panties

– in which changbin accidentally wears yns panties and doesn't hate it !!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | seo changbin x gender-neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐂𝐖 | panty wearing ; light sub themes ; dom-turned-sub changbin ; dirty thoughts ; masturbation (m) ; nipple play ; a toy mentioned (strap-on)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 2.2k ~ ( 2,226 )

𝐀/𝐍 | ik its been a while since i posted :( pls accept this fic as an apology, hehe. wrote this a while ago & haven't stopped thinking about it since! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. curious as to what is next? here is my wips list! i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

it wasn't supposed to be like this. heck, he didn't plan on it ending up like this.

to him, it was a simple, innocent action that he didn't think twice of purely because he was in a rush this morning. he woke up late, time being against him. he barely felt clean from his shower because he was in a rush.

he was going to be late for work and his boss hates it when people are late. yet, there he was, standing in front of the open underwear drawer as he searched for a pair of his boxer shorts.

sweat coating his brow. his mood dipping and slowly becoming annoyed with himself. his hands fumbled as they brush up upon many textures of fabric. when he failed to find a single pair of underwear, he rushed to the wash basket to see that it was still full to the brim with unwashed clothing and sitting at the very top, as if to torment him in some cruel way, were his last pair of underwear.

ah, that's right. he promised to do the laundry yesterday but it slipped his mind. maybe because he was so busy indulging in you last night and now he has to face the consequences of his greed.

“fucking shit. fuck fuck fuck!” he looked at his watch. the minutes ticking by fast. now was not the time to feel sorry for himself! 

changbin thought about going commando. no one would know, right? but the thought of spending a full day in jeans with no extra layer of protection for his groin made him feel oddly itchy and uncomfortable. he dropped his towel, put on a clean tee and grabbed the first underwear his hand came into contact with – which were yours.

he didn't think much of it. he didn't even notice to be honest. he did feel a little uncomfortable and tight but he thought nothing of it and continued on with his day; until he got home, stripped and saw pastel pink panties with a dainty bow and frilly waistband hanging on his frame; leading him into his current situation.

“oh fuck.” he mumbles to himself. “oh fuck fuck.” he stares at himself in the full length mirror that's leaning against the bedroom wall. he swallows thickly as his eyes flicker around the panties.

they are yours. they are your favourite pair of panties and he is wearing them! the amount of times he sees you prancing around in this specific pair is uncountable. he can't count on his fingers the amount of times he has got hard over them, yet here he is, naked with nothing but the tight fabric on him.

he panics at first. sheer embarrassment and humiliation washing over him. “i must have accidentally grabbed them this morning.” he whispers to himself. his ears perk up as he listens for you only to be met with a soft hum and pots and pans clanking around in the kitchen.

he bites his bottom lip and slowly walks closer to his reflection like he is in some sort of horror movie and his reflection could jump out at him at any moment.

the closer he gets, the more he holds his breath. once close enough does he really soak it all in.

the pastel pink contrasting well with his tanned and dewy skin. the material hugging his ass and penis, accentuating the outline of his curves. his cheeks flush red as he can make out his assets. the dainty bow and frills adding just that little bit extra.

now with a closer look at himself, he strangely doesn't hate it. he feels pretty, sexy, but pretty. he turns his back to the mirror, looking over his shoulder and eyes widening at how plump and plush his ass looks.

“oh fuck.” he repeats. “this is bad.” he presses his lips in a thin line, facing full front in the mirror again. he traces his index finger down his torso and chest, following it in the reflection of the mirror. he stops at the waistband and gingerly traces the outline slowly.

it feels rough. not as soft compared to the rest of the fabric. he flicks the little bow and watches it bounce slightly. even though it feels tight and a little suffocating, it feels oddly comfortable and lewd. 

he lets his finger brush over the frilly waistband and onto the soft fabric. it feels velvety and smooth. he reaches behind him, tracing the outline of his ass and giving it a small squeeze.

he moans. it's a small moan, a silent moan but it's a moan and it makes changbin feel shocked at himself. he chews the inside of his cheek as he squeezes his own ass again. testing the waters and seeing if he has the same reaction, to which he does.

“oh fuck.” the same two words seem to be the only words he is capable of speaking right now. he looks down at his groin and sees his semi suffocating and stretching the material of your panties. 

up until now, he hasn't noticed that the pit of his stomach feels warm and fluttery. his penis throbs which he very clearly sees and it makes him blush. his nipples perk up a little bit and he dares to touch himself.

“maybe just a small touch.” he mumbles. he slides his hand to his clothed semi where he traces the outline slowly. he chews his bottom lip gently and hums softly.

the material feels hot and is radiating heat from his penis. he swallows thickly as he cups his balls and squeezes them ever so gently. he squeezes and tenses his thighs before huffing.

“why does it feel so good?” he questions. he's not doing much, just teasing himself but it's the thought. 

he drops to his knees in front of the mirror and parts then slightly. his hand removes itself from his balls and cups his growing semi. he gives himself a few gentle squeezes, head kicking and rolling back as his eyelids flutter close.

he increases the strength of the squeezing before rubbing his palm along his penis. he feels himself grow fully hard and throb. he rubs his cock head slowly but a little roughly as his free hand comes up and plays with his pink and perky nipples.

it's wrong. it's so wrong of him to do this. he knows that. he's also aware that you could come through the bedroom door at any minute and see him in such a lewd position but he doesn't care.

maybe it's because of the surging lust in his veins that he wants you to see him like this. his cheeks all red, curls flopping over his hazy eyes and bottom lip swollen.

his fingers circle his nipples before he tugs on them gently. he feels a growing wet patch against his palm to which he ignores and rubs his palm faster against his head. 

“oh fuck.. yes, just like that.” he whispers to himself. he tries to keep the moaning to a minimum or at least be quiet but with each passing second, his body burns.

his penis fully erect and leaking. the material stretching and hugging him tightly to the point of suffocation. cock and balls throb, thighs tensing as his body jolts with each surge of pleasure that courses through him.

“m-mhm!!” he looks at himself once again in the mirror and whimpers. the man in front of him is unrecognizable to him. he's so used to seeing himself as a strong, dominate man so seeing himself act and behave how you act, as a sub, all whiny, teary and lewd flicks a switch inside him that he didn't think he had.

he doesn't understand anything any more. he doesn't understand why he is thinking and feeling a certain way. one thing he is sure of though, is that his body is burning hot and he is filled to the brim with lust that it hurts.

he's far too gone to stop or think about that right now. he doesn't hate it and wants more. palming and rubbing himself through panties can only provide so much for so long so he takes it a step further.

his hand dips under the waistband and disappears underneath the fabric. he's met with his hot and throbbing penis. he groans as he wraps his hand around the base and squeezes himself hard. he looks down and grunts at the sight of his red and pre-cum leaking cock head appearing from under the waistband and being pressed flat against his soft tummy.

he gathers some saliva in his mouth before letting it fall onto his tip. his hand glides up his hot shaft for his thumb to smear the saliva and pre-cum around his sensitive head. 

he pushes his curls away from his eyes as he slowly strokes himself. the bumps and ridges of his veiny cock bumping against the palm of his hand. his tip continues to leak and spill as he throbs over and over again. 

he bucks his hips and tenses his thighs as if he were fucking you doggy style. he closes his eyes and imagines one hand buried into your hair and the other on your hip as he's buried deep inside you. he imagines the warmth and your scent as well as the sounds you make for him. 

but then his imagination drifts and all of a sudden, he imagines himself in doggy and you fucking him from behind. he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head as an attempt to ease it from his memory like an etch a sketch but to no avail; so he welcomes it instead.

he swallows as he imagines himself on all fours in front of the mirror. your hands on his skin, tracing down his spine and to his ass where you slap his cheeks gently. he can hear the slaps, feel the ripples of his ass cheeks. he can hear and see himself being fucked out, begging and lewd. his face being tear and drool stained as he begs you to:

“put it in! please don't tease me anymore.” he whispers to himself. he's shocked as the words just free flow past his lips but he continues on. he imagines your fingers circling his wet and puckered hole. he feels his own hole twitching at the thought to which he briefly thinks about doing it but decides to stick with imagination (only because he doesn't have the confidence)

his hand on his penis increases in speed. he becomes rougher with himself, tugging and squeezing his nipples hard. he squeezes his cock hard too, lips parting as he moans loudly. he doesn't care at this point. he doesn't care if you hear him or walk in on him. he's so consumed with himself anyways to think.

as he rubs himself, he continues to imagine. he can hear your sweet and gentle praises, calling him a princess and a good baby girl. he imagines your fingers in his ass and stroking his walls. he imagines himself tensing and throbbing around the digits, his penis also throbbing and begging to be touched as it leaks.

and then, he sees it. the strap-on that you've both been preparing him for. changbin's hips stutter and his movements on his penis are now sloppy, fast and desperate. the pit of his stomach is burning and feels so tight. he's hot and very close but he continues on with his imagination.

he imagines the tip of the strap-on poking and prodding his wet hole. he imagines making a note of how wet it feels due to the lube that is currently soaking the plastic. he imagines himself looking from over his shoulder at you and sobbing.

“please.” he begs to himself. “please put it in. need you so badly.” 

as he imagines the tip slowly entering his hole and stretching him, as if waking up from a wet dream, his eyes shoot open as his orgasm hits him in an overwhelming manner. 

“o-oh!! ohhh!” he moans. hot ropes of cum shoot out onto his torso. some of it landing on his thighs and staining the material of your panties. he strokes himself through his high, rubbing his tip in the process before painting heavily.

he pushes back his sweat coated curls and looks in the mirror. he flushes pink in embarrassment, post-nut clarity hitting him hard.

body stained with cum and sweat. cheeks rosy, eyes doe-like. his nipples perky and swollen but that's not what shocks him the most.

his own reflection staring at him as the tip of his penis is still visible and being pressed against his soft stomach thanks to the waistband. the once pink material and innocent look now stained with cum and tainting the innocence.

changbin panics and quickly rushes to the on-suite bathroom, where he takes the panties off (which are now stretched) and takes a quick shower to think about what to do about your underwear that he has just so lewdfully and willingly stained.

he comes to the conclusion to simply throw them away and buy you a new pair. 

surely you wouldn't notice that a pair of your favourite underwear has gone missing and been replaced with something completely different, right? 

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.13

So my mate and I took my little brother out and he was like guys can we watch Deadpool/Wolverine so I watched it a fucking 3rd time

Upon my 3rd time watching I'm disappointed that Origins!Wade/Deadpool wasnt with the Deadpool core

And also I've realised how much dialogue I've like messed up 🤣🤣 thank y'all for sticking with me for chapters 1-3, if I ever post this on AO3 I'll have to spend years editing

This is like a part 1 of 2, the chapter was getting really long sorry

<<Part 12 Part 14>> Masterlist

The phone buzzed next to your head causing you to jolt upright.

You grumbled, eyes half open, patting the bed in hopes to stop the infernal noise.

It was your alarm, the one you had set to get up and go. Only you had set it when you didn't have to spend half the night rearranging your room.

“Morning sunshine.” Logan's voice made you turn. Where was he? He was normally right next t- right. He wasn't here. He was heading towards Nebraska.

“Logan?” You muttered, eyes barely blinking open.

“Hello baby.” He purred.

“Hi.” You smiled, God, his voice could just ease you back to sleep.

“It's pretty early for you to be up.” There was the tiniest echo to him.

“Where are you?” You pulled the phone closer, clearing the morning voice out of your throat.

“On route.” He revved the engine.

“Y-you're on your bike?” You squeaked. “Logan! That's dangerous!”

“It's fine, bub. You're on Bluetooth.”

“It's too early for me to even begin to learn what that is.”

He chuckled, the noise warning your chest. “You're fucking cute.”

“No, you're fucking cute.”

“Mm, wish I was.” He drawled, you could picture the smirk on his face.

Eventually you heaved yourself up and dragged your feet over to the drawers. Pulling out a suitable outfit. Some cycling shorts and a large shirt, no one would know it was Logan's but you.

You contemplated putting a bra on but you really couldn't be bothered with it, spending years in the Void with a broken one - snapped wires were a menace - you had grown accustomed to wearing what essentially was a sports bra so now as you looked at the padded cups they felt stuffy. The shirt was a thicker material - you think it was maybe loungewear? - it had long sleeves and a loose neckline where Logan had worn it.

Your hair was washed yesterday in preparation for today, wanting to look your best, so you didn't have to worry about looking scruffy. No, you looked comfortable.

You were put together well enough and when you looked in the bathroom mirror it was an outfit you would see other women wearing. Not that you cared. Maybe a little bit.

You stuffed your feet into some trainers, seriously debating sliders - you had thought socks and sandals were a big no no but the kids these days loved them - but decided on the trainers in case you needed to run. Preparing for some issue or display or anything.

You chucked your half full backpack over your shoulder, tossing a phone charger into it, and went to find the others.

As you opened the door Blade’s back was leaning against the frame.

“Fuck me!” You jumped, hand over heart. “Blade, you're actually going to kill me one day.”

He hummed. “Why has your bitch ass husband stolen my bike?”

“I did tell him not to.” You shut the door behind yourself.

“Mother fucker has a bike.” He tutted. “Ain't as pretty as mine.”

“Blade, I am sorry, I-” You shrugged, having no clue what to say. “He's an ass.”

“If he scratches it…”

“If he does, you have my permission to fight him.” Mock knighting him as you said 'permission'.

He laughed lowly. “We did fight once. Ended up on the same side. He gave me his coat.”

“Who were you fighting?”

“Some bloodsucker. Had an M name.”

Blade hadn't told you that. He hadn't mentioned he had once known a Wolverine. Not even when you had cried on his shoulder as Laura joined your party. You had mourned her, as well as the rest of your family, so seeing her alive and well really did mess with your psyche.

Laura's door opened to your left and she let out a surprised sound. “I was coming to see if you were awake.”

“Me and uncle Blade were just talking.”

“Anything interesting?” Her pupils fluttered between the two of you.

“A wolverine gave him a coat.” You repeated. “I didn't know he had met one.”

She crossed her arms. “Me neither.”

“I don't jabber like you.” He winked, a sly smile revealing his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and passed the man to knock at Gambit's door.

“Why are you up?” Laura asked Blade just in your earshot.

“Wanted to see you off.” He patted her shoulder. “Seeing less of you nowadays.”

She wormed her way into hugging him, not that he really resisted, and squeezed him. “It's strange being here.”

“I know.”

You wish you hadn't knocked at Gambit's door because the fucker opened it pulling your attention from them. “‘ey.” He nodded at you. “Who' ready for some drivin’?” Gambit ruffled your hair and shot passed you to the others. “Didn’ kno’ you'ere comin’.”

“I'm not.” Blade informed.

Gambit shrugged and tugged at Laura, “C’mon!”

You all trotted towards Logan's Jeep and climbed in. Your baby had the back row to herself and she had been clever enough to pack a small pillow in her bag.

Laura was wearing a Megadeth tee on top of a long sleeve with a pair of jeans. Gambit had opted for jeans as well but his seemed to be intentionally low waist. He'd paired it with a shirt that you're sure he had done a DIY crop job on.

All in all none of you looked like you were going to the same place but you looked good and you all felt comfy, all were able to decide what to wear. Not forced into the same outfit day in and day out. Laundry day in the Void was hilarious.

Everyone - bar Laura of course - had seen everyone else naked. You remember Magneto scoffing at yourself, Johnny and Gambit for sitting playing checkers in practically nothing, the odd sock and a ratty old shirt for modesty.

Y/N: setting off now x

You knew Logan would want to know so as Blade tapped the side of the car and Gambit pulled away from the curb you sent the text.

Your phone was sitting on your lap, Waze telling him where to go interrupting your playlist.

The Killers were your newest conquest. They were brilliant. You loved everything they performed, so dancy and fun!

Waze instructed you to get onto the highway you and Logan had had your hot steamy car sex and you had to fight the blush. If you were anywhere else people could've spotted you, well, they probably saw your car rocking… could you get a ticket for public indecency if they didn't have actual proof?

What if the car rocking was on camera?

“She's ‘sleep.” Gambit whispered next to you.

You turned back to see Laura spread out, sparko. “I hope she has fun at the Mansion.”

“Why wouldn' she?” He flicked the blinker on.

“I dunno, she hasn't been there.”

“Neither, chere.”

Gambit merged.

“Well, I know she had herself a Charles, I know he died in front of her. And yeah she's seen the one here for a millisecond, she had him look into her mind, but that's different. This will be informal, this will be- oh, I don't know.”

“You jus’ ‘ave to let things be things.” He shrugged. “You're worrying for her, when you don't need to. She strong. If she need you, she'll ask.”

You let that sit with you. He was right of course. She was tough and she would ask but since your little incident you were worried she had taken a step back. “It's just hard. We've lost so many people, I want to keep you all safe.”

“No such thing as safe.”

Again he was right. Say, right now, someone could have a brain aneurysm and crash their car into yours. There was literally no such thing as safe in a world of ever increasing variables. You, even, still entertained the notion that this was Cassandra toying with you.

“I don't think people give you enough credit, Remy.”

He chuckled. “Yo’ kno’ it serious when you use're my name.”

You laughed with him.

~~

The mansion came into view and you felt a nervous twinge in your stomach. “Laura baby.” You nudged her knee.

The girl cracked an eye and realised where you guys were. “We're here?”

“Yeah, love.”

She sat up and eagerly undone her belt.

“Laura, Gambit, this is the X-Mansion.”

The building was the same, there were slight differences in the foliage but it was eerie how exact everything was. You could see Colossus was standing like a statue at the door to greet you.

Gambit pulled up in front to the entry stairs.

He turned the car off and you all exited.

“Y/N, Laura, Remy.” Colossus greeted in kind. “Welcome, welcome.”

The three of you trotted up the stairs and into the front doors.

Fuck me, even the chandelier had it's one flickering bulb. This was your mansion. Your home. Your sanctuary.

//

“You needn't fear, Miss L/N.” Charles spoke above your head to your mother. “Y/N will be safe here.”

You could hear giggling to the left, giggling and stomping. There were kids having fun. Craning your neck you could see one kid floating mid air whilst the other had their hands extended.

They were using their powers… they were allowed to use their powers.

“Hey.” A feminine voice caught your attention. It was a young girl - a year or so older than you, maybe seventeen? - with bouncy ginger hair and a kind face. “You're new.” She spoke without moving her lips. “I'm Jean.”

“Y/N.”

The girl gave you a bright smile. “I was asked to show you your room.”

You turned back to your mother who was still engaged in conversation with Professor Xavier. She looked different. Her shoulders weren't sagging and her eyes seemed hopeful. She wanted you here. Wanted you to be safe and, well let's face it, she'd be safer without a fucked up child.

“You're not 'fucked up'.” Jean rolled her eyes. “You're just something new.”

Your eyes widened. “Can you hear my mind?”

“Yeah, sorry. I can't turn it off all the time.” She had genuine embarrassment splattered on face. “I don't mean to, I'm still practising.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I'll try to keep my thoughts quiet.”

\\

The familiar sound of wheels pulled you from the memory. “Ahh.” Charles came into view. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

The others had clearly picked you as the spokesperson so you smiled. “Thank you for having us.”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled with glee. “It was your home previously and apparently it hasn't changed. Would Laura and Remy care for a tour?”

The others looked at each other before nodding, unsurely.

“I'll call you both a guide.” He spoke before just sitting still. To an onlooker it would look rude, sarcastic, to say that and then sit motionless but you knew otherwise.

A girl with dead straight, long blonde hair and an unearthly feel to her sauntered into the entry. “I take Laura to Ellie and Yukio.” She spoke with a thick russian accent.

“Thank you kindly, Illyana.” Charles spoke over his shoulder.

You weren't 100% comfortable with Laura leaving but she had an eager expression on her face so you let her go with nothing more than a “call me if you need me.”

The two girls walked up the first flight of stairs, there were many in this labyrinth of an estate, and as they did they passed Rogue. She had darker skin than your Rogue but there was no mistaking that hair. Her hair was thick, voluminous and curly.

Her hips swayed as she strutted down the stairs. Adorned in ‘people clothes’ but looking every bit the X-Man she was.

“Y’all alright Sugar?” She placed her gloved hands on her hips. “I'm Anna Marie, they call me Rogue.”

“Remy LeBeau.” He bowed next to you. “They call me th’ Gambit.”

“Mmm. A Cajun, I can't wait to get some recipes outta you.” She waved him along, towards the right of the stairs and then disappeared underneath them to the kitchen.

Gambit clapped your shoulder before he jogged after her.

You were left with Charles. He was still smiling sweetly at you, it was a little unnerving.

“So…” You clapped your hands. “Who's my tour guide?”

“You don't need one, dear.” He told you simply. “You're free to explore, if you need me, call me.” He then whirled and zoomed off.

You were just left.

Again, to an onlooker it was rude. But maybe he knew you’d feel awkward paired with a X-Man. You would have to pretend to be in awe of the jet or the grounds or even just them. You knew a lot of these people but they had no clue you even existed.

If the TVA really went back and altered the reality was it still the same universe? How could they take their Logan out of it when he was the original Anchor being to the whole thing?

You pushed those thoughts aside and stomped through into one of the sitting areas.

It was large and decorated warmly. There were four sofas, three of which were in a square by the fire and the other was behind the one adjacent to the flames. There were coffee tables with board games and empty cups, messy bookshelves stacked high with trinkets and more games.

Two kids were playing chess, one had wings and the other was orange. Both were humanoid and young. Maybe 12?

//

You didn't care where you landed but you needed to sit by a fire. Stomping the light sleet off of your boots, you slipped out of your wet coat and scarf. Abandoning them on the floor - no one would be awake now - you rushed through into the first sitting available room. You flipped over the back of the sofa, face buried in pillows as your socks felt vague embers of warmth.

It was dangerous that it was still roaring but you didn't give a flying fuck.

“You alright bub?” A voice asked, opposite you.

You scrambled into a more presentable position and saw it was the new guy. What was his name? James? Jackson? Jonathan? It was definitely a J-Name.

He was sitting on the sofa opposite, in an X-Men hoodie and tracksuit bottoms, his feet were bare. The clothes led you to believe he had come from his bedroom.

“Yeah.” You nodded, hands outstretched to the flames. “Sorry, didn't realise anyone would be up.”

“It's alright.” He moved his hand to show that he was nursing a drink.

You questioned in disbelief, “is that bourbon?”

“Don't rat me out and you can have some.”

Now, that was an offer too good to pass up. “Sure thing. I saw nothing.”

He didn't have another glass so emptied the liquid into his mouth, wiped the rim and handed you a full glass. “Don't mind the-”

“It's fine.” After the day you had sharing a glass with a handsome man was nothing. “Working here I'm immune to any disease you could imagine.” You took a healthy swig, the liquid burning your throat. Immediately warming your insides. “I dunno if this is good stuff is but it's fucking strong. So cheers to that.”

He raised the bottle and took a gulp. You both sat in silence. After a while you had to shed your jumper, the heat making you sweat. He waited for you to fold your jumper before asking. “How long you been here?”

You did the mental maths. “Seven years.”

He hummed, the fire casting shadows that danced beautifully against his skin.

“Used to be everyone's favourite student, now I'm their favourite teacher.”

“Pretty thing like you, I'm sure you're right.” You had to pull your eyes away from him as he smirked. “What’d you teach?”

“Self defence.”

“Maybe I'll pop by.”

You took another sip. “You should. It'd be good to show the kids how to take down a bigger opponent.”

He sniggered. “It's a date.”

You prayed that the heat in your cheeks was from the fire.

“Why're you getting in so late?” One of his brows met his hairline. His hair was bonkers but endearingly cute, he looked like a little kitty cat. You wanted to see if it was as soft as you imagine.

You heaved a sigh. “I had to walk, the bike packed in.” Scott had loaned you his bike, drilling into you that you needed to refill it after using it. Well the fucker hadn't because it had conked out halfway through the journey.

The man opposite gave you a guilty smile. “Scott's?” You nod. “I might borrow it without his permission every now and then.”

You rolled your eyes. “So you're why I had to trek in the storm for 30 minutes. You owe me more than a drink Mr.”

“Logan.” He offered. Huh, you could've sworn it was a J-Name.

“Y/N.” You replied.

“I'll make it up to you Y/N. Somehow.”

\\

A buzz in your pocket centred you back to reality.

Logan: Picked up his scent a while back. He's walking in circles

Y/N: Why? X

Logan: Classic misdirection, maybe shield weren't so careful

Y/N: Just be safe baby x

Logan: Course

Logan: How's the mansion?

Y/N: Memory lane has nothing on this place x

Logan: That good?

Y/N: Think so… just remembered meeting Logan for the first time. We'd sorta been introduced before but actually talking was a while after

He had read the message but didn't reply immediately. Perhaps he had to put the phone away to track Victor?

Logan: I'm here if things get overwhelming

Y/N: I'm not gonna call you on a hunt, love x

Logan: You're allowed. No one else.

Logan: You have any sort of 'wobble', you call me. No tears without me knowing

Y/N: Okay x

Logan: I gotta go but I love you Y/N

Y/N: You more baby x

The kids kept giving you confused side eye so you carried on into the next room. Surely they had seen a random person before, your mansion had a new person daily.

//

“Big brother is watching you.”

“Please, I beg you, I will do anything. Please do not spoil this.” You begged. He had found you sitting on the floor in a small crevice, 1984 clutched in hand. “This is the only book the students haven't read. ‘did you like that part miss?’ no I haven't got to that part yet, Sanhu!”

“I won't.” His hands met his hips. “What are you doin’?”

“Isn't it obvious? I'm Hiding.” Your eyes scanned the room before you eased yourself up, Logan caught your hand and steadied you.

“Sorry to pull you from your spot.”

“It's okay, wasn't you I was hiding from.” You dogeared the page and closed the book. “They keep finding me. There's only so many inane questions I can stomach.”

Logan chuckled. “It's ‘cause half have a crush on you and the rest are trying to imitate ya.”

You scoffed. “I highly doubt that.”

“Bub, trust me.” He rolled his eyes at your expression. “Here.” He handed you a blank CD case. “I came to give you this, it's the band that sings Sexical.”

“Oh cool!” You accepted the CD and flipped it. It looked man-made; ‘She's an angel’, ‘fuel to run’ and ‘cream’ scrawled in Logan's messy scratch. “You made this?”

“There are some songs I don't think you'd like, so I thought I'd put the good ones together.” He shrugged, the wall behind you becoming interesting.

You opened the case to see he had thankfully written the band's name - Love/Hate - with the same marker on the disc.

“Well, thank you. I'll dig my Walkman out.”

Logan gave you a nod and stalked off.

~~

Christmas was wholly celebrated in the Mansion as there were those who couldn't return home. Storm and Jubilee had convinced you to help with the decorations and it took little to no convincing to get a certain gruff man to assist.

“Every year there's more.” You gestured to the decs.

Logan was leaning against the wall, he had helped you with the foil garlands, arms folded. “You love it.”

“Of course I do but taking it all down haunts me.” Last year it had taken four days to rid the Mansion of every last bit of tinsel. Angel had found a missed snowflake in the middle of June, it had fallen and landed on top of a portrait frame.

“If you had it your way, they'd stay up all year.”

“No.” You were adamant. “Halloween trumps Christmas.” Logan's brows rose to his hairline. “What? It's the superior holiday.”

“Wow, I knew you liked Halloween but hearing that from little miss kringle is something else.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. “Shut up.”

Logan caught your wrist and placed it back down to your side, pulling you closer as he did. “Don't start things you can't finish.”

“Oh, we all know I can take you.” You gave him a smug smirk, spurred on by his intoxicating gaze - there were flecks of green hidden in his dark eyes - you added, “And in a fight.”

Logan's eyes bugled yet they slipped to your lips and back up.

“Hey, tweedle Dee and Dum!” Ororo’s voice called. “I'm seeing a lot of gazing longingly into each other's eyes and not seeing a lot of decorating.”

You turned to see Storm standing at the opposite side of the room, box in hand, one brow raised.

“Gazing longingly?” Logan scoffed as you called out: “We needed a five minute break!” You gave a nervous chuckle at his response and the situation in itself before trotting over to Storm, Logan let your wrist go a second too late, causing another awkward laugh.

“You can't tell me this room isn't festive enough.” Your voice was slightly higher than usual, no one commented but you knew they knew.

“It isn't festive enough.” Storm deadpanned, handing you yet another box, she did crack a smile at your ‘wtf’ face. “This is the last one. I promise.”

You didn't believe her in the slightest but let her vacate the room as you opened the storage box. It was faux greenery, garlands and wreaths and mistletoe.

“Ooh, Logan look!” You presented the herb. “Poisonous to werewolves.”

Logan was still standing by the wall but took a couple steps forward to look. “Lucky we don't have any.”

“Yet.” You added. “With all us mutants it wouldn't surprise me if we got a Vamp or an Undead being. I mean you're pretty grizzly, not far off a wolf.”

A familiar smile settled onto Logan's face, it was the same one he wore whenever you went on a tangent. You suppose being the silent watcher he was, he must be used to people yapping around him, hopefully you didn't annoy him too much.

You tried to refocus. “Where should we put it?”

“Depends on who you want to catch out.”

“Well, Jean won't tell me that her and Scott have a thing… but they totally have a thing. Maybe we try to catch them.”

“‘We’ yeah?”

“Are you backing out of my incredibly complex and well thought through plan?”

“Never.”

~~

“Get out!” You screamed. “Go!”

The children behind you sprinted. They didn't wait for another order.

The humans had decided that they'd start out their New Year by killing children.

Your fields held strong against their bullets but you had known they would - if they could last against Adamantium they could last against a few bullets - creating bubbles of safety.

You were defense. Always on the lookout, always trying to hold back the onslaught so that the others could either fight or flee.

The footsteps behind you were out of earshot, meaning the children had got to safety. An underground tunnel would get them to a safe point. They would wait there for an adult.

You had done many drills and tests but you never thought this was a possibility. Fucking ridiculous!

You made a huge bubble and shoved the humans back, most of them being flung out of windows, glass shattering everywhere, but some hit the walls being knocked unconscious.

You were in bed, meaning that you had no shoes on so you tried to avoid blood, glass, bullet shells and any other debris as you examined each room.

You needed to get back to the others, you were protecting them from afar when a child screaming interrupted your flow. Logan's eyes had made contact with yours from his position in the garden and he gave you a few frantic nods. You didn't need permission but it was good that one of the team knew you weren't hit. If your fields suddenly vanished without explanation they might think the worst.

Shouting across the hall severed the silence and you jumped right back into the action. Jogging down the corridor, keeping low as you passed exposed areas.

Entering the room, you found nothing. It was just some of the teenage bunks. There were no children, no enemies, nothing.

Where had the shouting com-

Hands wrapped around you and you struggled, snarling as they strapped something to your neck. You tried to shove them off and create a field to prevent the rope? from winding around your neck. To stop it getting tighter.

No.

It wasn't a rope.

It was cold.

Metallic.

Why weren't your fields working?

“Not so strong now, cutie?” A masculine voice spoke from behind, he circled you and gripped your jaw with one hand. “It's a shame you're one of them, you're fucking hot.”

“Is that a gun in your pocket?” You sassed. “Wouldn't want mommy to know you liked a freak like m-” He yanked your hair, making your neck click as he pulled you backwards.

“Tsk, tsk. A girl like you should know what comes out of your mouth should be prettier than what goes in.”

You spat in his face.

“That's it, bitch.” He struck you across your face - releasing his grip on your hair - with such force you landed on your knees.

He looked unimpressed as he stalked over to you and yanked on your arm, dragging you along with him. You fought back of course but felt inadequate without your powers. What sort of technology did they posses to force the Mutant gene into submission?

He groaned at the top of the stairs before you were tossed down them.

Your vision was blurry when you came to, he was dragging you again, bruised and aching. You could feel warmth flow from your hairline, down to your eyebrows, also leaking from your nose. Moving your arm was painful but you wiped your nose and found a blurry sticky red substance on your hand.

“Oit!” He yelled.

You were yanked down another few steps - each one sending a new jolt of pain through your body - but as you felt the floor it was hard. Small cold stones met your bare legs.

Outside. You were outside.

“You Muties, stick together right?” He presented you, slumped on the floor, squinting up at him. “Sorry, one second.” The man threaded his hand back into your hair and pulled you up, deciding kneeling wasn't good enough and forced you to stand on throbbing ankles. “What's her mutant name? You all have one, right?”

Your eyes focused and refocused trying to make out who was on the field. Storm was easy to see because of her hair but you could also see Hank and Scott. You knew Logan was there earlier but couldn't see him now.

“What? No one wants to play now?” He turned your head towards him and gave you an over exaggerated frown.

You had just enough sense in you to spit in his face again.

“That's it you fu-” he didn't finish his sentence because he was too preoccupied with punching you straight in the face.

You, again, landed on the ground but this time you were giggling.

“What's so funny?”

“You got-” You wheezed, closing your eyes. “Mutant spit in your mouth.”

He turned back to the others, addressing them. “I was going to bargain with her life but she's pissing me off, so I'm just going to kill her instead.” He chuckled. “Uh-uh-uh Cyclops. You can't kill a human under the new bill.”

“What?” Scott voiced the question you all thought.

“No mutant can kill a human, not even in self defense. Starting on January 1st. It's too bad for your lo-” He cut himself off with a choked gargle.

“No, it's too bad for you.” Logan taunted. “You had 6 minutes.”

The clamp on your neck fell away and hands were on your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You tried to open your eyes but it was agony. “Hey, bub.”

“That's my line.”

~~

Laying on the grass had become somewhat a passtime of yours now. For some reason you found comfort in the field.

When you had nightmares of that sadistic man and the bill and the humans and everything in your life, coming outside and laying on the dewy ground recentered you.

Charles and Erik had called a truce and began battling political opponents instead of each other. The bill was bullshit. It had passed and been withdrawn within a month.

It was odd classing Erik and Raven as enemies again when you knew ultimately you wanted the same goal but you would have to get used to it.

“I thought I'd find you out here.” You extended your neck to see Logan standing behind you.

“Hey, Lo.”

He collapsed next to you, sitting with one leg bent, his elbow resting on the knee. “You alright?”

You'd been the only mutant in the Mansion so far to have a collar fitted around your neck. You'd been the only one truly defenceless. Truly useless!

“I like the stars.”

He hummed, falling into a weighty silence with you.

There was no denying the two of you had grown closer, hell, he was probably your best friend at this point.

The two of you were paired together in training drills and in your lessons because you could really fight each other. Neither holding back. Your power could stop his. You were evenly matched.

He had gifted you more CDs and you had let him borrow a David Bowie LP. If he found you laying on the sofa reading he would sit next to you and keep you warm. He was so warm. Once, he even read to you. Your eyes were so tired and he plucked the book from your hands and finished the chapter.

You would never tell anyone, least of all him, but that was one of your fondest memories. His voice was so soothing and, bless him, he had even made up voices for the characters.

Logan always sat next to or opposite you as you ate, he was usually the main reason you ate, saving you a plate or bowl.

He was… well, like every other person with eyes here you'd formed a crush on him. He was just so kind. So generous. And it didn't hurt that he looked like that.

“I was thinkin’,” He started. You looked over, expecting him to still be sitting but he had moved. He was lying next to you, watching you. His nose inches from yours. “Tomorrow, I'll take you to to the bar I like.”

He was known for sneaking off premises at night. Coming home smelling like booze and smoke.

“The bar you like?” He had never confirmed he went to a bar - he was oddly secretive about certain aspects - but you all knew, it was something for him to admit it.

“It's a real shit hole but it's cheap and close.”

Your lips upturned at his blunt response. “Okay. You and me tomorrow. It's a date.”

“It is.” His face was serious. “I am taking you on a date.”

Oh.

“Me?” You were flabbergasted. There were goddesses like Jean and Ororo and Raven and Psylocke knocking about and he wanted to take you on a date?

“There was only so much rolling about in the simulator we could do before I asked you out.” He joked but you could see an undercurrent of fear in his eyes.

“Yeah. Okay.” Your cheeks were warm. “I'd really like that.”

His cheeks pinkened and he looked up at the stars trying to suppress his smile. “Good.”

You felt his hand intertwine in yours and tried so hard to act natural. Tried to keep your breath steady and appear calm and collected.

“So, uh, what does one wear to a real shit hole?”

Logan's shoulders shook with his laugh.

~~

It wasn't easy to take things slow when you lived and worked with the person.

Logan was ever the gentleman and gave you space but it was a strange mixture of wanting to be with him platonically and wanting to be with him romantically.

He was your best friend. You wanted to talk to him about your newest date but you also needed to act cool and casual.

You failed miserably at both of those things.

In fact you almost had a heart attack when he kissed your forehead for the first time.

He was yet to actually kiss you.

Which was good because it meant he liked you enough to listen and wanted to be around you without getting into your pants but you wanted him in your pants.

Which brought you to the present.

You were currently standing outside of his room - having knocked - waiting for a response.

“Lo, it's me.” You called through the wooden door.

“Come in.” He answered, slightly muffled.

You entered the room, he wasn't in view but the door leading to the bathroom was open, and flopped onto his bed. Letting out an exaggerated sigh - definitely not to inhale his smell - you spoke against his duvet, “I'm bored.”

“Yeah?” His footsteps got closer and you lifted your head and took a double take.

The fucker was glistening, a towel sitting far too low on his hips. His torso was gorgeous, he looked spectacular. He had strong pecs and chiselled abs, dusted with a coating of soft hair and there was one vein that disappeared into the towel that you ached to lick.

“Bub?” When your forced your eyes onto his face you saw a cocky grin.

“Yes?” You blunk, trying to figure out if he had spoken anything else. How long had you been ogling him?

A droplet of water fell from his hair and ran down his neck, passed his pecs and journeyed further- no! Don't look again.

Do not get caught twice!

“It should be illegal to look like you.” You spoke to your hands. They were resting on the duvet where your face had been.

“Kettle. Pot. Black.” One of his hands settled onto the towel, he usually had a belt to hold, so the movement could've been innocent but with the way his eyes scanned you, you knew it wasn't.

You eased yourself up, sitting on your folded legs and stared at him. Maybe you shouldn't. No either way you win. Either you call his bluff or... “You got a condom?”

The smile could've split his face in half, he licked his teeth, walking closer to the bed. Leaning down to open his bedside table he presented you with an unopened pack.

“Just for you.”

“I feel so special.”

Logan's right hand met your cheek and his thumb caressed the flesh. He was taller than you in this position so he lent down to kiss you. He was slow about it, giving you time to back out, but once his lips met yours he fastened the pace.

Your hands didn't know where to rest. One was fiddling with his chest hair whilst the other clawed at his back. You didn't want to be the one who disrobes their partner after less than thirty seconds of kissing but there was no robe. Can't disrobe someone who isn't wearing one, right? A mere piece of fabric barely covered him.

Oh my god.

He was naked.

Naked under the towel.

Fuck.

His tongue brushed against your bottom lip and you eagerly allowed access. Logan's chest rumbled, vibrating your hand, and you pulled back eyes wide.

“Do that again.”

He complied and you kissed your way along his chest. Sometimes you forgot how animalistic you were. How primal you could be.

Your cavewoman brain liked big strong man making noise.

Logan's nose nuzzled your neck, kissing your jaw and he ran his tongue across your jaw downwards to your collar bone.

It was almost embarrassing how wet you were but the steadily growing length poking your thigh made you feel better.

“I can smell you.” He ran his nose by your neck again. “Can always smell you. You're so sweet.”

“Always?” That better not be a hint.

“I know if you've been in a room.” He nipped your cheek. “I'm tuned into your frequency but now,” his voice deepened. “I can smell here.” The touch was phantom but his fingers were where you wanted him most.

You only had on a baggy shirt and ratty pj shorts so you were quick to slip out of the shorts, tossing them behind your shoulder.

“Towel.” You ordered.

“I-” He paused, conflict flashing behind his eyes. “If we start I'm not su-”

“There is nothing that could make me not want this.” You didn't know how else to say it. "I would do a lot of bad things to do a lot of bad things to your body."

He smirked and allowed you to tug on the towel, it loosening, revealing his dick.

Oh, it was fucking fantastic.

You couldn't help but kiss his abdomen, dragging your tongue along the low vein. Wrapping a hand around his length you kissed the tip and he shuddered.

“You're beautiful.” You spoke to his dick, licking the slit.

“Take your shirt off.”

You grumbled, ignoring him, and licked the underside from shaft to head.

“Y/N. Shirt. Off.” His hand held your neck, halting your movements - you were stopped, your tongue poking out just shy of him.

Pulling up you made a show of removing the shirt and his hands were instantly on you. One was at your hip whilst the other kneaded your breast. He dipped his head and captured a nipple between his teeth, making your spine arch.

“You, er, you experienced?” He questioned releasing your nipple from his lips, his eyes gazing up at you.

Why did it feel like he was embarrassed to ask?

“I've had a couple not great fucks,” You shrugged. “Prefer my own company.”

“That's about to change.” He captured your lips again.

~~

You were snuggled up in your bed watching the credits roll on a VHS you'd finally got your mitts on.

Logan slipped into your room and under the covers, wrapping a hand around your waist and dipping himself to kiss your cheek.

It was wet. Why was your cheek wet?

“Y/N?” What had happened?! Who did he have to kill?

“Spock fucking died!” You explained, frantically wiping your cheeks. “He just like sacrificed himself?”

If you had known that would happen you wouldn't have watched the movie at this particular time of the month.

Logan gave you a sympathetic noise and rolled you onto your spine, kissing your nose.

“It's okay.”

“No, it isn't.” Your eyelashes were wet but your eyes were no longer glossy. "Jim is alone, now."

"We'll get through this together."

Logan's palm found your abdomen and he kept his hand there, warmth radiating through easing some of the pain. “That's really nice.”

“I always get a fright each month when I can smell blood on you.” He nuzzled his face into your neck, placing delicate kisses to your flesh.

“How was the mission?” Your lips grazed his ear.

He had told you that your neck was his favourite part of you because it smelt the most. He was eager to mark and claim your as his own because it mingled the scents and apparently that was amazing. Logan seemed to get off on your scent alone so when there were hints of him on you he was wild.

“Distracted.” He sucked the junction between neck and collar bone. He had been chosen because of his unique sense of smell. It was a gift that he could track so easily. “Could smell you on my fingers, I didn't want to get bad guy blood on my hands because it would fuck it up. You'd smell wrong.”

Your body twitched as his tongue soothed the sore flesh. “That why it took longer?”

“Hmm.” He produced a small navy box from his jeans pocket, laying it on your chest. “This is why.”

You frowned but opened the lid to see the most beautiful pair of earrings imaginable. Diamond studs, each with three individual chains dangling, covered in more diamonds.

“O-Logan?”

His face was buried into your neck for an entirely different reason now. It was fucking adorable that this big strong man still blushed around you. “Was gonna wait til your birthday but…”

“Thank you, Lo.” You kissed where you could reach on his cheek. “They're beautiful.”

“I brought them because…” He pulled back, his hazel eyes studying your face. “I want to take you out more. Take you to places that aren't natural or manmade disasters. I want to show you off to the world. I like having you on my arm, I really want to show you off. I think we should go out more. You and me just see the world, maybe? Travel? And, well, I've also realised that I fucking love you.”

Neither of you had quite admitted that yet. There were close calls where you almost did after a bad mission but it felt wrong to tell him on your deathbed. Felt like you'd cheat him. He deserved more than a ‘hi and bye’.

“I love you, too. I think I might even love you more, Logan.” Your fingers stroked his temple, gruff hair itching your hand.

He let out a sigh of relief and you almost laughed because how could you not replicate the feelings? Then you considered the way he rambled. How much this must have meant to him, he always wanted to do it right; to make sure everything was perfect for you but it was when he stuttered and said things out of order that you really saw how much he cared. He was unable to form literate sentences because he loved you so deeply. That was true, real love. Not the smooth talking, lady killers in the movies.

“No you don't.” He pecked your forehead.

~~

“Who wants to see me kick Mr Logan's ass?” You cockily placed your hands on your hips.

Logan was standing next to you, hands in his hoodie pockets.

He was wearing matching grey sweatpants and you were dying. How did grey sweats look that good?

“He can't die.” Marcus - a little shit - sassed. “What's the point in fighting someone that can't die?”

“Well, self defence isn't about killing.” You set him straight. “It is about protecting yourself. Being able to keep yourself safe in this world is the most powerful thing you'll ever learn.” Hopefully, they would never know the hopelessness you felt when that collar locked around your neck, hopefully they could live in peace. Live freely.

Marcus just rolled his eyes.

“She's right, kid.” Logan backed you up. “There's a lot to fighting that isn't killing. I've been around a long time, I'd know.”

“Then shouldn't you fight someone more evenly matched?” He raised a brow. You knew this was coming. He had grown up in a very strict household. His parents were cultists, if he hadn't been a mutant he would've been the next leader. Shame. Women were beneath men in his eyes - which wasn't necessary his fault and you were trying to carefully show him but the fucker was pissing you off.

“She's kicked my ass more than any other opponent.” Logan shrugged playfully but you could see the twitch of his jaw.

“That's because you fight often. It's a matter of quantity and not quality.”

“Okay.” You clapped your hands before the kid would get on Logan's nerves. “Who wants to show me their skills?”

The lesson went smoothly after that. You saw a lot of potential in Erica and begged Winston to keep practising.

Marcus refused to show you - or anyone - his ability.

You had assumed it was because ‘mutant is wrong’ was drilled into him as a child but perhaps he just didn't trust you. You'd have to figure out how to bring him out of that shell.

The students left your class with a varying amount of glee.

“I don't know how you're so nice.” Logan lit a cigar. “You just put this smile on and keep going.”

“He's a kid.” You answered. “A stupid kid but a kid.”

“I think we're evenly matched.” He winked.

You scoffed and tidied away some of the equipment.

It was nagging at you.

It had been all class.

‘I've been around a long time’

Yeah, you knew.

Everyone knew.

But woul-would you be old and shrivelled and he'd still be the same?

Would he look at you in disgust once you started greying?

“What's the most dead you've been?” The words were sudden and far from eloquent.

Logan blinked, his brows meeting. “The most dead I've been?”

You nodded.

He pondered the question. “I was a skeleton at one point. My skin and organs regrew it was trippy.”

You considered the answer.

He could literally operate as a skeleton and you were out for a week because of a bad cold.

Was this the first chip?

Was this something that would slowly become a larger crack?

Would your relationship survive this?

You plastered a grin on your face. “Okay.”

~~

“Hey handsome!” You strutted straight up to Logan. He looked amazing, wearing a dark button down and black dress trousers. You wanted to take him straight upstairs.

“Baby.” His arm automatically wrapped around your waist, kissing your hairline before reconnecting with Kurt.

You didn't catch what they were talking about, too drunk to care but sober enough to nod along when they looked at you.

Kurt poked your nose before he disappeared and you sneezed.

“Bless you.” Logan bent his neck to look at your scrunched face.

“That was so tickly.” You rubbed your nose, hoping your makeup stayed in place.

“Have I told you you look beautiful tonight?”

“Only a thousand times.” You grinned upwards, tiptoeing to capture his lips. “I know it's Hank's birthday but you look so yummy. Want to take you upstairs.”

Logan growled at your words, wrapping his other hand around you, “I won't say no.”

“Let's go then.” You kissed his chin.

“Hey lovebirds!” Bobby called across the room. “I need another teammate.”

“Go on.” Logan nudged you, you had all night and the rest of your life to fuck. Maybe you should enjoy your friends company. Linger in the room too long. “You'll be terrible but it'll be fun to watch.”

He was standing next to Sunspot at one end of a Beer Pong match. Jubilee, Kitty and Rogue were at the other.

You mock gasped but knew he was right.

The game was rigged, you were sure of it. You had to drink every time and barely managed one cup. Logan took pity on you after the second beer and downed your drinks, the others weren't best pleased but no one was going to argue with the Wolverine about his girl.

It was so good to let loose.

After having your hysterectomy and being without your best friend for months this was bliss.

You hadn't realised how much he was a part of you. Removing him from your life left it cold and empty.

It was cliché but you had slowly tumbled into a depression without him. Much like any teenage lead in a shitty romcom being without your boyfriend was agony.

He understood your reasoning, didn't condone the actions but was able to see it from your perspective.

You were rarely allowed to be out of his eyeshot, now. He had become even more protective of you, wanting you to feel loved and supported even if you told him you didn't need that. He wanted you to come to him with any issue, to trust him, no matter how big or small.

And you wanted to be strong.

You wanted to prove that you were okay.

But being carried up to bed and coddled was fucking lovely.

“It's Alice in Chains!” You excitedly clapped Logan's arm. He had played you this song more than once, you think it was called Nutshell. Did Hank borrow some of your CDs? “This is your favourite song!”

He smirked. “Not my favourite but it's a good one.” He wrapped himself around your body, his front to your back, watching Jubilee sink one for Bobby.

“What is your favourite song?”

He hummed and you felt his shoulders move. “I don't know, I'd have to think on it.”

Okay, you'd allow that. It wasn't an easy question so you reworded it. “If you were dying right now what would you want to listen to?”

“You humming in the kitchen.” He answered without a second thought.

You giggled, turning in his hold. “No, come on, seriously.”

He rest his forehead against yours. “When you hummed Elvis… making those flapjacks… the sun was-it made you look ethereal, you were an angel. I want that.”

You remembered that day. Everything had gone wrong even though you followed the recipe to a tee! He had walked in on you mid tantrum and made life better. If he thought you looked angelic covered in sugar and chocolate then imagine what he thought when you made an effort.

“You always leave me speechless.”

He kissed your temple.

~~

“I never meant to cause you any sorrow.” You spoke seriously.

Logan looked up from the papers he was grading. His eyes squinting slightly in a silent question.

“I never meant to cause you any pain.” You injected sadness into your voice, it cracked slightly.

“What's happening?” He looked really worried, taking off his reading glasses.

“I only wanted one time to see you laughing.” You used your hands animatedly.

“Y/N?”

“I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “You had me worried. I was trying to figure out if I'd missed a birthday or an anniversary.”

“I can't grade these papers. The song is rattling around in my head.” You thunked your head against the desk. “Why did we say we'd help Jean again?”

“You told her you could grade more papers in a day then she could.”

“Pathetic fallacy this, juxtaposition that.” You groaned. “Why do I get so competitive?”

“I don’t know.” He spoke honestly. “We could be spending our evening any other way but you have us reading shitty analysises on An Inspector Calls.”

You didn't answer him. You wouldn't let him goad you. Wouldn't stoop to his level, despite wanting so badly to stoop in front of him. Biting the inside of your cheek you stood. “Nope, sorry, I have to play the record.”

He watched you wander to the shared pile of music. Your LPs and his CDs intermingled in the corner of his room.

“Is the Prince album in here?” You flicked through the LPs.

“All our music is. Did you let anyone borrow it?”

“I don't know.” You knelt, opening the cupboard underneath the record player, he panicked, jumping up.

“Don't look in-”

“Ha!” You waved the cover smiling but your enthusiasm ebbed away making room for suspicion. “Don't look in here?”

A hand stretched his face. “Please don't ask questions.”

“If you're hiding a present somewhere make sure it's not somewhere I'd look, Howlett.” You closed the doors. “That's like the first rule.”

“I don't have that many hiding places.” He defended. “We live together.”

That was technically true and untrue.

You still had a room.

You just spent most of your time in his.

“I can vacate i-”

“Shut up.” He took the record from your hands and secured the vinyl onto the spindle and placed the needle accordingly. He flipped the machine on and the last chords of ‘baby I'm a star’ played before the familiar strum.

He offered you his palm and you took it, easing up from the floor. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

The two of you swayed to the music. It was the last song on this side of the record so you'd have to change it soon but just leaning against him, listening to Prince sing and play his guitar was heavenly.

Logan's nose was buried in your hair. He would tell you later on that he wouldn't have minded if you found what he was hiding.

He would've just got down on his knee then and there.

He didn't want to propose publicly but he wanted to make the day special. Make you feel loved like you deserved.

\\

“Y/N?” You turned your head. You were upstairs. Outside of Logan's room.

It was empty. Unoccupied.

“Storm.” She looked amazing. Had she even aged? Maybe she was born later in this universe.

“The professor asked me to check on you.” She spoke with ease but it wasn't the friendly chatter you were used to.

“Yeah sorry, I've just been wandering like a ghost around this mansion.” Your cheeks warmed. “I'm absolutely fine, though, thank you for checking up on me.”

Part 14

@littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @twinkywink @ravenmedows @electricreader @racetrackheart @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[atinyniki]

stay with me...

group: stray kids !

pairing: idol!lee felix x f!reader

genre: angst with an angsty ending, fluff at the beginning

warnings + additional info: pt 2 of “instant ramen”!, reader is referred to as y/n, established relationships, felix is referred to as lix, and lixie, petnames, pregnancy, miscarriage, post-loss depression, crying, vomiting, death.

authors note: all i can say is sorry. i dont know why exactly i thought of this but im planning on making a pt 3. hopefully this doesnt break your heart :( ending was a bit rushed bc i didnt feel like crying anymore :( this is also not proofread. english is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical or spelling errors. happy reading :)

wc: 2407

(pt. 1) || (pt. 3)

HUGE TW, PROCEED WITH CAUTION: miscarriage, pregnancy, blood, and the pain that goes along with it.

“lixieee im home!”

you came home with such a big smile on your face. you were a little grumpy about work, your mood swings not making things any better, and you felt a little sick. nonetheless, you were still excited to come home to your boyfriend.

“hey pretty! i’m making some brownies, just give me a bit yeah? they’ll be done in 20”

you walk over to him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek and thanking him before leaving to your room to go shower. 

throwing off your clothes, you enter the shower rather quickly, hoping that it will refresh you enough. you run the vanilla shampoo through your hair, the feeling of the bubbles running down your back relaxing you. 

all of a sudden, the scent of vanilla hits your nose, an uneasy feeling washing over you. you finish your shower as fast as you can, putting on your clothes and then rushing out the bathroom. maybe you were just hungry?

“hey lix”, you said with a weak smile, sitting down at the table where he was waiting with leftovers from yesterday and his brownies. 

“hey angel, you hungry now?”

“mhm…”

he dumps the food out onto your plates, but you grab a brownie before even looking at the food. felix’s brownies could never get old. you take a bite, the warm fudge practically melting in your mouth.

you enjoyed the brownie, and felix began to pick one up, when suddenly your eyes went wide. the same terrible feeling was back, except stronger now. you tried to fight it by swallowing the part of the brownie that was already in your mouth.

the feeling didn’t leave, and you found yourself scrambling to your feet to stand up. “baby… what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t answer, afraid that the bits of your brownie would end up on him, and instead ran to the kitchen sink. felix made sure to follow behind just as fast. the second you got to the sink, you were letting go. 

felix watched as you vomited out the brownie and the rest of the food you had today, quickly grabbing your hair so it wouldn’t get in the way. his other hand ran soothing circles around your back, hoping to calm you down.

you threw up with such force that bile shot out your nose, felix now becoming even more concerned. once you’ve calmed down and washed your face, felix finally speaks up. “let’s get you to bed baby.”, he sighs lightly.

he quickly picks you up bridal style, setting you down on your bed carefully. you let out a little whine when felix left, but quickly returned with an emergency bucket. “just in case”, he said with a sweet smile.

he brought the hair dryer from the bathroom, not wanting you to get sick from the cold, and quickly blow dried your hair. he didnt work on styling it, wanting you to get rest as soon as possible.

he quickly runs to grab you a jug of warm water to place on your tummy. you loved that he was so attentive to you, especially on days he was back at home. “i love you lix. i’m sorry for what happened”

“it’s not like you could control it dummy, go to sleep now. i love you”

that morning, felix woke up to an empty bed. the bucket next to you was filled to the brim with bile, felix instantly darting to the bathroom. his heart broke seeing you on the floor, vomiting into the toilet as you shook violently.

he quickly held your hair back again, rubbing the soft part of your tummy to soothe it. “baby what’s going on? did you eat something?”

you shook your head, not trusting your own words in case vomit came out instead. you’re tired, completely worn out. it feels like all the energy in your body has just left you. 

suddenly, a wave of realization comes over you, and you begin to panic. you’re constantly vomiting. you have terrible mood swings. you didn’t get your period. everything lines up perfectly.

your breaths become labored, soon becoming large gasps for breath. “felix- i…”

he begins to become extremely worried. “what baby? what’s wrong?”

“i…”; you can’t go on. you’re exhausted. it’s the last thing you remember saying before you black out, almost falling into the toilet if felix weren’t holding you back right now. 

“shit- y/n? stay with me okay? i’m calling an ambulance.” 

felix struggled to stay calm, tears running down his face as he tried to stop his voice from quivering. “my girlfriend, she needs help. she’s been vomiting like crazy and- she’s passed out right now”, he said it so fast the dispatcher almost couldn’t understand him.

the ambulance was at your house within minutes, felix holding you in his arms again while he waited. he could still feel your breath fanning over his neck, a sense of comfort washing over him. quickly, you guys took off to the hospital.

“felix?” 

“oh god baby! you’re awake? are you feeling okay?”

your head hurt a little, and you were incredibly confused, but you decided to tell him anyways. it was probably important. “my head hurts a little bit, but that’s okay” 

he holds your hand, clutching tightly, afraid there’s actually something wrong.

the doctor opens the door, sitting on one of the chairs next to where all the machines are hooked up. “okay so, we’ve figured out why you’ve been vomiting so much.”, she pauses.

felix is practically squirming in his seat, afraid for the words about to come out of her mouth. “congratulations, you’re pregnant.”

all of a sudden, his hand lets go, instead using it to slap it over his mouth to conceal his squeals. you jerk your head towards him, afraid of his reaction until you see the tears in his eyes and his bright smile.

you smile back, turning to the doctor who hands you a paper with an article about pregnancy and the symptoms that go along with it. “thank you so much”

“of course, the release forms are at the front desk. call if you need anything. once again, congratulations you two”, she says with a smile.

once she leaves, felix couldn’t hold back, kissing your face practically everywhere. “oh my gosh! y/n!”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement. you were so happy he wasn’t upset or anything. you’ve been wanting to start a family with him for as long as you could remember, but you’re not even married yet. 

suddenly, your thoughts hit you like a boulder. “felix… what about the media. what do we tell everyone” 

he paused for a moment, he didn’t even think about that aspect of it. “i’ll call them. i’ll call management. if they say it’s not acceptable then fuck it. i’ll quit my job. don’t worry about them, please?”

you smile at felix’s dedication for you. you knew he was going to be such an amazing father.

“wait seriously?! she’s pregnant?”, changbin giggled excitedly.

“seriously. she’s pregnant!”

felix is at the dorms right now with the boys, and he couldn’t be any happier telling them about it. management was very happy for him and understanding of his situation, but he didn’t want to release it to the media just yet.

it’s nearing your third month now, your exhaustion becoming more unbearable by the second. you believed you could push through it though, waiting patiently for felix on the bed.

felix makes it home that night in an exceptionally happy mood. he smothers your face in millions of kisses, holding your hands tight and giggling into your neck. “i love you so much. i can’t wait for our little sprout”

it was difficult to keep his excitement contained around you, but he knew he didn’t have to. you are just as excited as he is.

you slice open the cake, a myriad of pink candies falling out the center. you were so excited to have your baby girl, you could already predict how well she and felix would get along.

“see?! she’s a girl. i knew it.”, seungmin said smugly.

“shut up, we get it. you were the only one that predicted she’s a girl anyways”, jisung replies, jokingly aggrivated.

“yeah, meaning i’m also the only one that was right”, he retorts with a wink.

jisung rolls his eyes, moving to you to give you a hug. it felt awkward hugging all the boys with a baby bump in the way, but it wasn’t all that big yet, so it wasn’t too bad. you continued having fun at the party, singing with the boys the entire time.

you’re so happy your girl is being born into such a good world. you’re lucky all the boys love you so much, you know they’ll all be amazing to your little sprout.

minho looked at you with an incredulous look on his face. “so you want me to make you tteokbokki, but instead of gochujang you want me to use… nutella?”

“i told you man, her pregnancy cravings are fucking crazy”, felix chimes in.

you quickly nod at minho, who instantly gets up to prepare it for you. there’s not a lot that minho wouldn’t do for you or your daughter, considering the fact that you’re best friends already. 

“so did you just call me here to cook because felix sucks at anything without a recipe?”

“for the most part yeah”, you let out a giggle. felix walks over to you, kissing you again and peppering them all over your face. a particularly loud groan leaves his lips, and minho jerks his head towards you both.

felix gets off you not too long after, but only to wrap you in a hug from behind, holding your bump up to ease the weight of her. minho visibly gagged at the sight of you two, “okay can you guys stop making out and actually talk to me now? i don’t feel like third wheeling”, he joked.

all three of you began to laugh, you were so excited to start this new chapter with felix.

fuck. what is happening? why does your heart feel so heavy? why do you feel so uneasy. maybe you’re just upset, you’re fine right? you sit on the bed, watching some edits of felix- your guilty pleasure.

all of a sudden, a sharp pain hits your gut. you groan out in pain, tears flooding your eyes. you begin to get up, trying your best to make it to the bathroom. you’re suddenly throwing up again, and you didn’t think anything of it since it was pretty normal. 

once you clean yourself up a little, you make your way back to the bed. the sharp pain hit you again, this time making you sink to the floor as you clutch your stomach. “fuck…” 

the feeling in between your thighs becomes uneasy, becoming excruciatingly painful. you feel something dripping down your thighs, taking a quick look at it. there’s a pool of blood dripping down onto the hardwood floor, when the pain comes back.

the tears leave your eyes in heavy sobs. you can’t pick yourself back up, the pain becoming unbearable. you’re too weak to make it anywhere, so you try to scream.

you attempts fail, crawling to the bed to grab your phone. you didn’t make it in time. your body gave out on you, blood pouring out from you. you didn’t want to die. you just wanted your sprout. why did this is have to happen?

“y/nnie! i’m home!”

your head jerked up in the direction of the door. you let out a guttural scream. “felix… h-help… please…”

your voice got weaker, not even being able to find the strength to talk. felix rushes to your room, and the world around him stopped. his heart shattered in his chest, immediately calling an ambulance.

“baby… no! stay with me… please. deep breaths okay? you’ll be okay.”

he listened to the dispatcher for instructions on how to help, your eyes slowly fluttering shut. you’re too weak to carry on.

you woke up in the hospital, your baby bump suddenly gone. you touched around your tummy, looking for your little sprout. you noticed felix right next to you, eyes red and incessant tears pouring down his face.

he’s trembling as he grabs your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “if i had just gotten there sooner-“

“no felix i… im so sorry. i failed you… i failed our sprout.”, loud sobs filled the room, not being able to contain your emotions anymore. you had lost her for good. she was gone. 

“it’s… not your fault. rest now okay? you lost a lot of blood. we can talk in the morning” 

he gave you a quick kiss to your forehead, and you shut your eyes. the sleep never came.

you and felix are in bed again, just like you always were. but things were different now. everything felt empty, depressing. you felt empty. you didn’t have your sprout with you.

felix asked to go on hiatus now, wanting to be there for you in every moment. he became hyper-attentive towards you, scared that you might go down a bad path.

the miscarriage took a toll on him just as much as it did you, except you were focusing on the physical parts more. felix watched at night as you stared at your own bare breasts after a shower, producing milk for a baby that wasn’t even growing inside of you anymore. you ran your fingers along your many stretch marks, the skin on your tummy becoming flabby and soft. 

you felt ugly. felix was still there to reassure you through everything, but you didn’t know what to do. you blankly stare at your messages from time to time, getting many from your family, close friends and the boys, checking up on you frequently.

felix doesn't know what to do anymore. he doesn't know if he can live with the pain, knowing what could’ve been. it hurts you even more to see felix like this. the sunshine in him has been dulled out, the only thing left are his eyes, swirling with only pain now. 

the guiltiness overtook you most nights, felix holding you tight as you both cried again and again. you haven’t slept properly since it happened. seven fucking months.

so close, yet so far.

</3

[xcaptain-winterx]

Mission Diaper

dad!Lloyd Hansen x sunshine

summary: Lloyd Hansens ick

warnings: poop, puke, Lloyd, baby

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.. I know I haven’t posted something in a while, but I thought that because my birthday was yesterday I could give you something small. Hope you enjoy it.

Main Masterlist Daddy Sociopath Masterlist

“LJ, stop that” Lloyd says, trying to stop LJs kicking legs, “we don’t kick Daddy”. Lloyd gently holds them down, but LJ doesn’t stop. It’s one of those days where Lloyd wishes you would be home and take care of diaper change, though, there isn’t a second he didn’t wish you were with him. Lloyd gets snapped out of his thoughts when LJ starts to whine.

“Come on, that’s not fair. I know you like Mama more, but I’m a good parent too” he says, having to suppress his disgust as he finally manages to open LJs diaper. This isn’t the first time that he changed LJs diaper, but seeing an extrem full diaper is still something he doesn’t get used to.

Lloyd may be a hitman and boss of his own ‘company’, having seen hundreds of dead people and much more gruesome stuff, but there isn’t one thing more scary for him than getting close to shit. Especially if it’s the poop of his own son when he ate a lot.

“Ma” LJ whines.

Lloyd sighs “believe me I wish she would be here too because I don’t like this here”. He still isn’t over the fact that LJ hasn’t said ‘dada’ or ‘papa’ so far. “God, why does your tummy have to punish me like this” he says.

Sometimes Lloyd seems to forget that his son has his genes because the next thing he knows is that LJ kicks his hand as he pulls the dirty diaper away.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT!” Lloyd screams, looking down at the brown stuff on his wrist and hand. He can feel puke coming up his throat, so he rushes to the bathroom just in time as everything comes up.

Lloyd sits there defeated, trying his best not to show his frustration as he makes out the sound of LJs laughter. He flushes the toilet before washing his hands, using almost the entire soap, while still keeping an eye on LJ to make sure he doesn’t fall off his changing table.

“I hate diaper changes”

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt2

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Part 1

I am posting this at almost 1am AND I have to get up early tomorrow to do work for class before the actual class haha I plan my time accordingly

I was going to make this chapter longer. I had an idea and I started to write it, but it just wasn't coming out like I wanted it to (bc I'm writing at 12am duh) so I'm gonna put that in another chapter

Warnings: mentions of torture, trauma, hints of paranoia, hints of self-deprecation

Word Count: 1,390

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

After a grueling battle yesterday, you chose to give everyone a day off. It gave them time to rest aching muscles, repair and sharpen weapons, relax. It gave you a chance to bathe.

You didn't neglect your hygiene, but most of the time, once camp was set up, the sun would be dipping below the horizon. On those days, you'd run into the water, scrub the gunk out of your hair and get out, back to the safety of company before the first stars faded in. Now that you had the chance, you weren't going to squander it.

Once you were certain you were alone - an uncomfortable thought soothed only by the sun filtering in through the canopy above - you stripped down and waded into the water. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. You wasted no time scraping the dirt and blood off your skin.

Once you cleaned your body within an inch of its life, you ducked your head under the water and scrubbed at your hair and scalp. It was disgusting - you could only imagine the smell your companions had put up with this last week. You were just so happy you were clean. Your hair was smooth as water soaked it through, no knots or clumps of blood to be found. As you squeezed out the excess water, you caught your reflection between the ripples. In moments where it stilled enough, you could see the scar on your neck. It was still deep and prominent, but it was beginning to heal. It'd never healed before.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You nearly shrieked when you turned, sinking into the water up to your neck for protection. Astarion chuckled at your reaction.

"Would it kill you to stop sneaking up on me?"

"I was practically stomping like an ogre, dear, it's hardly my fault you weren't paying attention." You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. It was your fault you let your guard down. In the day, you were safe from (most) vampires, but there were any number of things ready to attack at any moment. "Mind if I join you?"

You shake your head, but you're already wading to shore to grab your clothes. "No, go ahead. I'm done."

"Leaving already?" You nod, not making eye contact. "I won't look, darling, if that's what's got you so flustered."

You pause mid reach for your shirt as he removes his, placing it haphazardly on a rock by the water's edge. His pants came next and you looked away until you heard the water sloshing around him.

"Though, I don't mind if you look," he teased, sparing one last glance over his shoulder before he got to work cleaning himself.

Gods, if he could hear the way your heart raced... You peek over, just a glance, before you look back at your clothes. But then you're looking again.

An intricate scar of circles, lines, and curved symbols marred his back. You feel your throat close just looking at it. You'd been forced to watch spawn and slaves alike punished by the cracking of a whip. Forced to keep your eyes forward by a hand on your jaw as the leather snapped and tore into their skin. This was worse. This was deliberate.

"Did..." You swallow, forcing your voice not to crack with the sorrow you felt for him. "Did your master do this?"

He hummed, continuing to wash his arms as though you'd asked him about the weather. The only hint it bothered him at all was the way his muscles tensed and the disdain in his voice. "Cazador," he spat. "He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas." His movements slowed to a stop. "He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made... a lot of revisions as he went."

You couldn't stop staring. Your mind kept replaying the torture you witnessed, but it replaced their cries with Astarion's voice. You hated to be so lucky. To be so fortunate that your master wanted you to look absolutely perfect and unmarked. You never received physical punishment. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, shakily. "If I could, I'd..." What? Remove the markings forever? Take away his pain and suffering? Go back and change everything so he never had to be a puppet? You couldn't do anything. You can't help. You can't remove that pain. All you can do is witness the aftermath.

He sighed and ducked his head so he could wash his hair. Drops of water slid down his back, only drawing your eyes in further. “It won’t matter when we get to Baldur’s Gate. I’m going to kill that bastard for everything he did to me.”

You know you should leave. Put on your clothes and slink away. But… being around Astarion isn’t entirely unpleasant. You’re still a little scared of him - of what he could do, but you trust him enough to believe he wouldn’t do those things. He probably understood your plight better than anyone else.

So, you slide down into the water until you’re resting on your knees in the silt. It doesn’t quite cover your neck unless you duck deeper in. You want to hide the scar, the damn mark showing everyone else who - or rather, what you belonged to. But it felt wrong to try hiding it when Astarion was fully showing you his.

“I never asked who your master was.” He turns his head slightly, eyes just barely catching sight of you. He did promise he wouldn’t look, after all. “Where she…” He waved a hand noncommittally and scowled. “Rules.”

Her eyes flash in your mind, wicked and burning. You almost flinch just thinking about them. When you speak her name, your voice trembles. “Kir Parthene. I… don’t remember where she lives. It’s been years since I’ve even been outside - I must have forgotten.”

He slowly turns, giving you time to tell him to turn back again, but you don’t. You watch him through a fog of memories. “How long were you enslaved?”

It’s harder to answer than you thought it would be. Time begins to blur when you can’t tell if it’s night or day, when everything is fuzzy and incoherent because you never had enough blood to think straight. Sometimes she’d feed and then leave you for days. Others, she never wanted to stop feeding - drinking from you morning and night before you ever got a chance to recover. You were a slave to her hunger - time never mattered.

“I was… 16 when I was taken.” You wrap your arms around yourself. Safe. “I don’t even remember home. My parents… I’m all alone.”

He’d never heard your voice so small before. You weren’t the most demanding leader, but you could still bark commands when things were getting rough. You even held yourself well in conversation, shutting down lopsided deals or uncomfortable topics with all the authority of a royal guard. It was easier, seeing you like this, to imagine your life in servitude. Meek and quiet.

“That’s not entirely true.” He kneeled in the silt a few feet from you, smirking. “You have us for as long as this adventure lasts, as long as we don’t transform into tentacled Mind Flayers.”

“And then after that?” He shifts uncomfortably at the question. “Everyone will go their separate ways, and when you do I’m a sitting duck. I’ll be captured again. Used again.”

You trail off, but the weight of your words sit heavy. You’ll never be free. You could help everyone else with their quests, help them free themselves from what ties them down, help them get stronger - but the same couldn’t be done for you. Without knowing where your master lives, there’s no way to seek her out and kill her, too.

The water is too cold now. The cool summer breeze only freezes you more. Astarion watches as you get up and slink back over to your clothes. He looks away before he can see anything you wouldn’t want him to. In no time at all, your clothes are back on and you’ve pulled on your boots. But before you walk away, you turn to him. Your eyes are so sad.

“Thank you. For… showing me.” He says nothing. So you head back to camp. Alone.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis

@hypopxia

@flsalazar

@beverlybeav

@angelofthorr

@emiemiemiii

@marina-and-the-memes

@lynnlovesloki

@aurasyn

[live-laugh-legolas]

Allô!

For your Fellowship requests thingy, may I, pretty please, ask you to consider, the Fellowship's favourite individual clothing items? Sort of like what colour it is, and like whether it's their favourite because it's dramatic af or 'cuz it's really comfy or very sentimental or something? I hope this makes sense! 🙃

Btw, your headcanons are the best things ever, I love when I find a new post of yours on my dash! Makes me smile every time! 😊💙

Thank you so much! You’re too sweet :)

Their favorite article of clothing

Aragorn:

-I mean my first thought was obviously Arwen’s necklace but that feels like a cheat answer

-He definitely isn’t someone to easily get attached to material objects

-Life as a ranger doesn’t really allow for that

-However I could see him maybe being a bit attached to an old cloak

-He has newer ones but he keeps returning to the “old reliable” that isn’t very reliable because it is only patches at this point

-Maybe it was a gift from his Mother

-It is a bit short on him as well (let’s not forget he is canonically 6’6”)

-So now it’s more of a “blankie” than something he actually wears

Legolas:

-He is very particular about his shoes

-They have to be light and so he can feel the ground through them

-More like socks with a thin sole and maybe some ankle support if he’s feeling fruity

-He won’t wear anything that is constricting

-In general he is picky about how his clothes feel

-Some materials just give him the ick

-Once as a kid his father made him wear a formal outfit that was too itchy and he straight up stripped in front of guests; and he doesn’t regret it, he would do it again

-He doesn’t care much how his clothes look though; he bases his choice on feel and mobility

-He’s so pretty he could literally wear garbage and still look stunning

-In general he prefers his clothes to be simple and practical

Gimli:

-Armor

-Specifically his shoulder pads

-You might think they have some sort of sentimental value to them

-But really he just likes how they look

-They broaden his already broad shoulders which makes him feel very attractive

-Probably has some jewelry that was gifted to him that he is very proud of

Boromir:

-He absolutely has a silk robe at home

-I imagine it being a pale blue

-I would say silk pjs but he gets too hot while sleeping to wear them

-So a robe is perfect

-Especially after a bath; silk robe and comfy slippers

-Has worn it out and given a few innocent bystanders a bit of an eyeful

-Faramir often has to tell him to get dressed; he’s creating a poor image for himself and he scared a maid

Frodo:

-This hobbit has like 3 outfits he wears

-Not that he doesn’t have other clothes

-He has a whole dresser full; but he just wears the same thing basically everyday

-And the variations he does are just in color; he bought the same thing in every color

-He doesn’t have to think about what he is going to wear; he already knows; he wore it yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that

-Has a handmade scarf from Bilbo trying to teach him to knit

-Does Bilbo knit? Not really, but he gets the gist of it

Sam:

-He has one really nice vest he got as a hand me down from his old gaffar

-And he only wears it for really special occasions

-Very careful with it; nothing will spill on it

-Takes it off immediately when he gets home so he is wearing it for as little time as possible so it doesn’t get worn out (and so he doesn’t feel like he needs to wash it)

-Washing it could ruin it and it wouldn’t smell right

-And that’s a risk he won’t take

Merry:

-I could totally see Merry being a hat guy

-Not like normal caps or anything

-But if anyone has seen Mr Magorium's Wonder Emporium there is a boy in the film who collects unique hats

-He doesn’t wear them all but he is very proud of his collection

-He has a themed hat for every occasion

-Very fond of his flowery sunhat; it’s practical and cute

Pippin:

-Ok, hear me out

-He is very serious about his underwear

-Definitely has a “lucky pair”

-Don’t knock it; everyone has a favorite pair

-He claims it “holds everything like a nice hug”

-Not shy about it either; will go into specifics about why a pair is super horrible

-“There is a seam that goes right on up there. And it’s awful! I can’t be going all day fishing around my-“ “alright we get it Pip”

Gandalf:

-I’m pretty sure this man has one set of clothes and they are very shabby

-Like I’m sorry but his robes definitely have a strong scent; not necessarily bad, but certainly earthy and like an attic

-How they have lasted so long no one knows; probably some magic or something

-He does have a pair of gloves Bilbo made as a gift that he treasures

-Are they lopsided? Yes

-Do they have some holes from missing a stitch? Also yes

-Does he care? Absolutely not

———————————————————————

I lost my favorite sweatshirt while on vacation recently and I definitely had a mental breakdown… I still grieve for it months later

[marsdreamworld]

Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

[curtis-corner]

STAND BY ME (Darry Curtis) PART 10

Truly can not believe we are at Part 10!! This fandom is such a gift and y'all are inspiring me to post a few one shots in different Curtis POVs (but don't worry this story isn't going anywhere...especially because I am very excited about the next chapter).

Taglist : @lovelylegolas2123 @amnestyliketaz @spuffyfan394, @sleeplessskeleton

PART 10

“Ponyboy, get down from that ladder.”

“You said I could do the edges.”

“The floor edges,” Darry sighs. “I’ll take care of the ceiling ones.”

“I can do it.” But as Ponyboy says it, he starts to wobble and you hold your breath as the ladder shakes. A few drops of pale blue paint fall onto kitchen floor.

Darry gives him a look. The youngest brother starts to climb down the ladder.

It turns out, painting was a far bigger process than you thought. You and Darry had spent Saturday night fixing the cracks in the walls and washing off years of grease splatters. Now it was Sunday and Soda begged for you all to wait until he was finished his morning shift, so you found yourselves painting well into the afternoon.

“This color looks real nice.” Soda smiles, admiring the section of the wall he finished. “Like a happy sort of blue.”

“You did a swell job.” You barely see any of the brush strokes. “You like painting?”

“I guess so.”

“Good because we’ll need to do the garage this summer.” Darry stretches both hands above his head and you hear a pop.

“Are you alright Darry?” You don’t bother hiding the concern in your voice. You always got on Darry to rest during his day off, and here he is doing more work. “How about we finish this tomorrow. It’s only the edges left anyway.”

“I can do it tonight, just need a minute.” He stretches again and you see him try to hide a grimace.

“Come on Darry, I’ll work out the knots for ya.” Soda offers and you put the lid on the paint can and carefully set your brush down.

After a dinner of sandwiches and an hour of tv, painting had lost its appeal to Soda and Pony, but Darry insisted on finishing before the night was over.

You had finished the floor edges and he was nearly finished the ceiling when you hear the front door open.

“I go out of town for one weekend and a girl moves in and the kitchen is blue.” Two-Bit’s drawl enters the room before he does. He swings an arm across your shoulders. “You okay?”

He’s causal about the question, but you’ve gotten to know him enough to see the concern in his eyes.

“I’m alright.” You shrug. “I just wish I knew what sort of trouble my dad is in.”  Out of the corner of your eye you see Darry pause for a moment. You’ll ask him about it later.

“Saw a sign when I was on Easton.” Two-Bit opens the fridge to get a beer, careful to not let the door hit the wall. “The Drive In is opening back up soon.”

Darry finishes up the last few brush strokes and climbs down the ladder, offering a ‘hm’ in response. Two-Bit takes a swig of his beer.

“You think Pony will be up to the Friday night double when it opens? Finally get out of the house?”

“No.” Darry says firmly and you bite your bottom lip, wishing you were closer to the edge of the room and could easily slip out. “He ain’t ever going to that drive in again.”

“Come on-“

“No. Not after what happened last time.” Darry drops the paintbrush into the bucket of water and closes the lid on the paint can.

“That wasn’t the drive-in’s fault.” You knew Two-Bit meant well but you also knew the set of Darry’s jaw meant he wasn’t interested in discussing it.

“It certainly didn’t help. He ain’t going.”

“Alright.” Two-Bit must have seen Darry wasn’t budging. He finishes his beer with one final chug. “Was only mentioning it.”

Later, you and Darry sit on his bed as he changes the bandages on your arm.

“It looks better that yesterday.” He brings your arm up slightly and inspects the cuts. “You might only need the bandages for another day or two.” You hiss when the peroxide hits the cuts and Darry grimaces in sympathy. “Sorry sweetheart.”

“It’s alright,” you get out through clenched teeth. He kisses your forehead after it’s over and when he takes the first aid kit back to the bathroom, you change into your pajamas.

Darry had showed you two empty drawers to put your things in and you got a small thrill from unpacking your few items into them. It was probably silly since you would only be there a few days, but something felt right having your clothes next to his.

Your head rests on his chest and he mindlessly plays with your hair before he takes a deep breath.

“It’s not like I don’t want Pony to have a social life.”

You knew it had been on his mind since his conversation with Two-Bit and you knew Darry was never one to share the burden of his thoughts with anyone.

Except you.

“I know honey.”

“And spring track will start soon, that will get his mind on straight and get him out of the house.”

“That will be great for him.”

“It’s bad enough he has to see all of those Socs in school. Goin’ to the drive in would be askin’ for trouble.” You nod against Darry’s chest. “I mean, you’ve been to the drive in-“

“I haven’t.” You say and Darry’s hands stop running through your hair.

“You haven’t?”

“I always worked the late shift on Fridays, even in high school. And on Saturdays I would try to pick up babysitting jobs. I had a few friends who would go and tell me about it, but I could just…never make it.” When you say it out loud it sounds a lot worse than it actually was, and you try to tell Darry that when he says something that surprises you.

“Then we should go.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You deserve to at least see if you like it.” You snuggle in a little closer to his chest and decide to be brave.

“Maybe we should all go. You, me, Soda…and Pony.” Darry lets out a low breath and you give him a few minutes to mull it over.

“Maybe.” He says but it sounds more like a maybe-yes than a maybe-no.

--

Mornings in the Curtis household tended to be chaotic. Your schedule changes each day, so you never had a set routine but you figured with the boys generally having the same schedule, they would have it figured out.

You were wrong.

“Darry! Where are my jeans?” Soda slides through the kitchen in nothing but a wet towel and drips all over the floor. Pony immediately steps in one of the puddles and grimaces.

“Now I need new socks!” He rips off his wet socks and stomps down the hall, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

“Soda, if you aren’t dressed in three minutes I am leaving you and you can hitch hike to work.” Darry balances his coffee in one hand and tucks in his shirt with the other. “Your jeans are in my closet, I ironed last night.”

A loud honk comes from the front.

“Pony! Steve will leave without you if you don’t get out here!” Darry shouts into the room and you slide a piece of buttered toast over to him.

“Where’s that grocery list?” You sort through a stack of papers on the coffee table.

“Don’t buy too much, you can I can take the car out this weekend for a big trip.” Darry finishes the toast in record time. “I don’t want you carrying all of the bags home.”

“Mr. Murphy is letting me borrow his car after work, I’ll be fine.” You assure him. The horn outside sounds for longer.

“Ponyboy! Now!” Darry calls down the hall before pulling out his wallet. “Alright, here’s money for the food-“

“I got it.” You shake your head and he gives you a look. “Darry, I’ve been here five days, just let me do this-“

“Sodapop Curtis, you have thirty seconds!” Soda comes out of the bedroom, mostly dressed and looks around for his shoes. “Honey, I’m not letting you pay for everyone-“

“Where’s my backpack?” Pony is tearing apart the living room.

“Here,” you locate the backpack and hand it to him. He runs out the front door towards an impatient Steve.

“Do we have any toast left?” Soda asks and you point to the two pieces on the counter. He shoves both in his mouth before putting his DX hat on his head and walking out the front door.

“I love you. I’ll see you later,” Darry gives you a quick kiss and then he’s out the door as well. When you look back at the grocery list on the table, you see he left a ten-dollar bill on top. You shake your head and decide to use the money to get some extra things to stock the cabinets.

And maybe buy more hair conditioner because you had a sneaking suspicion the younger two Curtis brothers were using yours.

--

Thursday night saw everyone home at a decent time for dinner, which you and Soda elect yourselves in charge of. Darry sits at the table sorting through bills and Pony makes various groaning noises at his math worksheet.

“Are we thinking green or red?” Soda eyes the box of food dye and the pot of potatoes he’s currently mashing.

“Green.” You answer, flipping the chicken fried steak in the pan. It’s an old pan and it’s starting to smoke up the tiny kitchen. You make a mental note to see if the general store has any pans on clearance when you go in the next day. “Soda, you mind opening some windows? The pan is smoking up again.”

“Got it,” Soda opens the back one and heads to the living room to open more. “Hey Darry?” you hear him call. “How come Tim Shepard is coming to our door?”

NEXT: Oh Darry why did you keep your 'find out info for me and I'll rumble for you' deal a secret....

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It Takes a Mob pt. 5

Previous

First

Bill steeled his breath as he looked around the room,

“Everyone in position? On sync.”

There was a rigid atmosphere as they all took on final deep breath.

“Sync!!”

The tabs were opened quickly.

The plan fell apart equally as fast.

“The legs? What the fuck do you mean lift ‘im up by his legs? How the fuck am I supposed to deal with the diaper?!”

“I don’t know man that’s what the wiki says!”

Marv started to put down the trash can,

“No man I think you godda put both of ‘em in one hand Bill.”

Bill glared at as Marv took a step forward,

“Don’t abandon your post dumbass! What do you mean both in one hand?”

“I dunno man, they’re small! Just one hand ‘em!“

“But what if I-JESUS!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The diaper was eventually replaced but Bill could feel a couple gray hairs that were not there that morning.

“I guess we need to add density shifting to the list now, nice catch Ken!”

Ken for his part thumped on the wall in the bathroom and over the sound of the shower yelled, “Aye fuck you!” Much to the amusement of his cohort.

Danny had calmed down after he was cleaned up and happily shaking his rabbit on the couch at this point. Bill watched him in mild amusement as he packed the to-go bag back up with a snicker.

“Be lucky that you’re cute kid, Ken would’ve put a cap in anyone else’s ass for that stunt you did.”

Marv slammed back into the apartment with theatric gasp holding something fabric in his arms.

“What the fuck is that?”

“A boba wrap.”

“A what?”

Bill made a grab for the babe as Marv unceremoniously plopped himself on the other side of the couch and sheepishly gave an apologetic smile at Bill’s glare.

“A boba wrap. Gwen thought the best way of move around with Danny would be to jus’ carry him so there wouldn’t be any chance of snatchers. An’ if we use this wrap correctly, we can just tie him on as we work!”

Gently bouncing the boy, Bill looked over the cloth, as Ken joined them in the living room with a towel around his neck.

“And your sister isn’t going to be mad if we use this right?”

“Oh nah, she doesn’t have no more use for it since the nibblings are older. She just says to wash it if we give it back.”

Ken shook his hair like a wet dog with a snort,

“Bless that lady. How’s she handling the news?”

“About as good as you can expect when one of your younger brothers calls you at noon asking ‘bout diaper changing.”

Bill took a seat with a sigh,

“Ok gentlemen, we got about six hours before we need to clock in. You two have been up since yesterday so go take naps. I can handle the squirt.”

Ken squinted,

“You sure Bill?”

“Don’t make me regret letting you two into my room. I will know if you go snooping. But other than that, go, I’ll wake you two up half an hour beforehand so we can figure out this wrapping situation.”

Bill watched as the two lumbered away before focusing his eyes back on the tyke.

“Welp, you and me kid. What do you think we should do?”

“Baba…”

“I don’t know about that, but we do have Hulu.”

Grabbing the remote, Bill put his feet up and settled back.

“I heard this Bluey fella has some good ratings. What do you think?”

“Ap.”

“Bluey it is then.”

Hoodlums:

@reinluna,@confused-moose-child,@mimilikey,@emeraudesfateandfandoms, @dolfay, @boredomfarie, @aconitewolfsbane, @withoutcontxt, @onyxlightdragon, @satanicrutialspecialist, @phoenixdemonqueen, @vixen-uchiha, @skulld3mort-1fan, @bytheoldwillowtree, @illusionwolfwriter24r8, @thewondersoflebanon, @vipower001, @autumnwulf, @alice-hazelwood, @fisticuffsatapplebees, @f4nd0m-fun, @markus209,  @dolfay, @basilf1res, @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair, @skirter01, @bun-fish, @ascetic-orange, @thegatorsgoose, @sunflowershine03, @ladythugs, @firegirl108, @glitchedchaos, @rangerhorsetug, @mimilikey, @booberrylizard, @lehana37, @dragongoblet, @flamey-comet, @mandyne-1001, @starscreamlover, @moonfirearc, @bae-graphomaniac, @mewzaque​, @wolfeyedwitch, @idfk-man10, @demon-cat-goes-woof, @undead-essence, @jaguarthecat, @scythegal​, @dolfay​, @boo-ghosties​, @8-29pm​, @alixanterm, @aria7silver, @cyber-geist​, @alice-hazelwood, @littlefeather345, @terzatheunderscorerima, @emeraldcorpral, @raspberry-muffin, @wolfjackle​