#I didn't mean for this to be so long whoops

[peaceoutofthepieces]

If you're still taking Heartstopper hug prompts, I'd love to see either the desperate hug or the hug you don't deserve. Thank you!

i'm sorry this took so long!! and i kinda forgot what the prompt was and it just kinda got shoehorned in at the end. whoops. i had this idea for a long time and i ended up thinking it just kinda fit with this, so i hope you enjoy!

18. tight and desperate 28. the hug you don’t deserve

Charlie didn't even know how the argument had started. He certainly hadn't intended it, but maybe he should have predicted Nick’s reaction, should have known where the line of conversation would go. Maybe a part of him had wanted it, had been provoking Nick with subconscious purpose. 

The thing was he couldn't have expected this reaction, because Nick’s go-to wasn't to argue. Not with Charlie. They'd had their fair share, but it took Nick time to lose his patience and respond to Charlie's anger or frustration. This time it was all the more confusing because Charlie hadn't been angry. He was fairly sure his tone had been free of spite, that there was no edge, that Nick shouldn't have suspected a double meaning or hidden barb, because there wasn't any. 

Charlie had made a throwaway comment about Nick missing his local chippy when he went to uni, and Nick had set his food down with a clatter and said, “Do we have to do this again?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to argue about uni.”

“I wasn't trying to argue,” Charlie protested, still trying to keep his voice gentle. 

Nick visibly bit back a response. “It just usually ends up that way.”

Charlie wanted to say that wasn't his fault, but he swallowed the urge. He wasn't trying to argue; it just always seemed to be a sensitive subject. But it had already gotten as bad as it could get, when Charlie had thought for days he'd lost Nick, and they'd worked it out. They wouldn't let that happen again. Charlie, if anything, wanted to start emphasising that by making the idea feel normal. Nick would leave, and they would be apart, and Charlie was growing to accept it. But it was clear neither of them felt normal about it, still. 

Nick seemed to intentionally soften, taking a moment to lower his shoulders and smooth his expression before talking to Charlie more gently. “I'd just rather not talk about it. I just want to have a chill night with takeaway and a film.”

“That's fine,” Charlie said, but the thought kept nudging at him, and he kept going. “But I don't want you to feel like you can't talk about it. I know I—I got upset and blew up at you about it before. But we worked through it. And now I'm more scared if…if we keep avoiding it, eventually you'll just want to avoid me.” Nick’s eyes flickered, and Charlie pressed on before things did stumble into argument territory. “When you're at uni you'll definitely want to talk about it then, and I don't want that to put you off talking to me. Or make you feel like you shouldn't be happy there, in case I'm upset here. I do just want you to be happy, Nick.”

It was more earnestness than Nick had been looking for or than the conversation likely invited, but it felt suddenly important to express, to have Nick know. Nick was usually the one giving Charlie these emotional reassurances. It was only fair that Charlie get to be the one throwing Nick off now and again. 

But Nick wasn't thrown off, or openly besotted with Charlie's speech. He looked away entirely. “You know I'm not happy all the time?”

Charlie blinked. His heart thudded. Of course he knew that. No one was happy all the time; he knew that better than anyone. Why was that Nick’s response now, though? Was he unhappy right now? Was he saying he wasn't always happy with Charlie? “I'd think you were crazy if you were,” Charlie decided to respond, still light and reassuring and hopefully leaving room for Nick to elaborate. 

“I wasn't happy when we were apart before.”

Nick looked at him again, and Charlie's stomach twisted. They hadn't had this conversation in a while. It was always there—it would never go away—but it wasn't persistent anymore. Charlie knew it linked into uni talk. He'd been waiting for it to come up, truthfully. 

That didn't make him any happier about it.

“This won't be anything like that, though,” Charlie said softly. 

“Won't it? I'll still only get to talk to you on the phone, unless I travel hours to see you, and neither of us can know how often we'll get to do that.”

Well. Charlie supposed he couldn't argue with that. “But it'll be different. We'll both be kept busy and you won't be stuck home, worrying about me. You'll be able to actually have fun.” Charlie would be doing his A-levels, and without Nick and Tori, and decidedly not having fun, but he would manage. He had his friends, and he had Geoff, and despite how much he'd rather not have so much of his parents, sometimes, they wouldn't let him die, so there was that. 

It wouldn't do them any good to mention that now. Nick was already clearly struggling with something, and the last thing Charlie wanted was to add to it. There was no need to make Nick feel guilty. Again. 

“I always worry about you,” Nick said quietly. Charlie's face dropped, and Nick shook his head. “Not because I think you can't manage or because I don't trust you or anything. It's not just because you've been ill. It's like…like how I worry about Mum.”

That piqued Charlie's curiosity, immediately distracting him from the initial zip of anger. He reached over and took Nick’s hand. “Can you explain that a bit more?”

Nick glanced at the coffee table, where their takeout lay abandoned. “The food’s gonna be cold,” he mumbled. “Sorry, I shouldn't have started this while we were eating.”

Charlie was not about to remind Nick that a moment ago, he'd been mad at Charlie for ‘starting it’. Nick already looked so downhearted; there was no need to start an entirely different argument. Which was why Charlie didn't rebuke him for using the s-word, either. The best tactic at this point was to accept the diversion. “It should still be fine. How about we finish it and then we can go up to your room?”

Nick smiled, grateful for the easy shift. Charlie pretended not to notice Nick sneaking glances at him as they ate. He managed to mechanically make his way through his meal while distracting himself thinking over what Nick said. It almost sounded like Nick was saying he didn't think he'd be happy, going to uni. But that couldn't be right. He'd been nothing but excited since deciding he wanted to go to Leeds. He'd been a bit quiet lately, but not so out of character that Charlie had been concerned. Maybe he should have been paying more attention. 

Nick finished eating before him, but stayed sitting quietly, sipping at his drink. When Charlie set his own empty dish down and rose, offering Nick his hand, Nick smiled adoringly up at him. He took Charlie's hand and stood, only to immediately bundle Charlie in a hug. 

Charlie huffed, half-amused and half-concerned, and tucked his arms around Nick's waist. “What's this for?” he asked quietly. 

“Can't I just hug you?” Nick mumbled into his hair. 

Charlie simply squeezed him in response. 

After a moment, Nick continued. “I just—I really love you.”

Charlie pulled back to look at him. His concern was getting a little louder, but Nick didn't look upset. His gaze was full of its usual warmth. Charlie squeezed his sides again. “I love you too.” He leaned in to peck Nick's lips, and was granted another smile. “Let's clean this up and go cuddle.”

Nick obliged with enthusiasm. By the time they were lying in Nick’s room, Nick seemed to have shook off whatever he'd been feeling. He lay contently on Charlie's chest, and Charlie was loath to break it. 

But he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been missing something, and now that it had creeped into the light, he couldn't ignore it. Not if Nick was unhappy because of it. 

“What did you mean before?” Charlie asked, because that seemed like the easiest way to bring it back up. 

“Hm?” Nick sounded sleepy. Charlie stopped playing with his hair and instead let his hand lay there, cupping Nick’s head. 

“When you said that you worry about me like you worry about your mum.”

There was a small pause. Charlie wasn't sure if it was because Nick was sleepy or because he was delaying responding. “Oh. Sorry, that probably doesn't make any sense.”

“Can you make it make sense? Give an example, maybe?”

Nick adjusted, curling more onto his front—and more onto Charlie—and tightening his hold around Charlie's waist before easing it again. “I dunno. It's like, how you worry about anyone you love. And it just…feels like it would be worse, further away. I know me being here wouldn't stop it, but I just hate the thought of someone I love struggling or getting sick or anything when I'm not there. It's not that I don't think you can manage without me—it's not really anything to do with you to begin with. Anything can just happen. Something could happen to Nellie or Henry, or Mum could get sick, or there could be an accident and any one of you could—”

“Nick,” Charlie cut him off. “Hey.”

He cupped Nick's cheek, urging him to look up. When Nick only pressed his face closer to Charlie's neck, Charlie shifted back and slid his body down until they were lying face to face, keeping Nick held in his hands. 

Nick's eyes were vaguely misty. He blinked a few times quickly while looking at Charlie, then he focused somewhere around Charlie's chin. “Sorry. I told you it doesn't make any sense.”

Charlie shook his head. “No. Like you said, I think everyone does worry about that sort of thing.” Charlie was fairly chronically anxious, so he would know. But when those thoughts came to him, they were some of the more fleeting. Charlie was able to brush them off as irrational much more easily than the thoughts about how awful he himself was, etcetera. This didn't seem like it would be helpful to share; it sounded like more than a fleeting thought to Nick. “Do you think about that a lot, though?”

Nick shrugged as best he could while lying down. 

“Is that why you've been down lately? You're thinking about…being worried a lot when you're away?” Charlie understood that, to an extent. Surprisingly, it wasn't one of the things he felt the need to have in his control, because he knew it was impossible. Like Nick said, his presence or his will wouldn't do anything to change or stop an accident or illness. Charlie had always been aware of that, and that made the lack of control easier to accept.

But he knew how terrifying that lack could feel. 

But Nick said, “No. I mean, it doesn't help. It's crossed my mind a lot. But I haven't been—I'm not obsessing over it, or anything.”

Charlie's lips pursed. He couldn't help it. 

“Not—” Nick’s eyes widened. “God, I didn't mean—fuck, I'm making a right mess of this.” He covered his face with a hand, tilting his chin down. 

“It's fine,” Charlie said softly. “I know you didn't mean anything by it.” Gently, he curled his hand around Nick’s and brought it down, laying their interlocked fingers in the small gap between them. Nick gave him a little smile, hesitant and apologetic. Charlie smiled back, equally unsure. “But if it's not this…is there something else?”

Nick's eyes flickered away again. He twitched his shoulders in a semblance of a shrug. 

Charlie slid closer to him, letting Nick's weight pull him in, the dip in the mattress widening to hold them both together. Charlie slotted a knee between Nick’s and pushed a hand back into Nick's hair. He scratched at Nick's scalp and tipped their heads together, until his forehead rested on Nick’s and Nick’s breath brushed his lips. 

It took one beat, two, for Nick to settle under the embrace. His body relaxed even as his hand curled in Charlie's hoodie and his eyes closed. Charlie stayed silent. Pushing Nick wouldn't do any good, but Charlie could always offer this. Nick bloomed under affection; nothing seemed to make him more comfortable than Charlie's touch, so Charlie offered it as frequently and freely as he could. Maybe it wouldn't make Nick talk to him—he didn't want to make Nick talk to him—but hopefully it would remind him that he could, because Charlie was here and he loved him and he wasn't going anywhere, regardless of how much distance might separate them. Hopefully it would make him feel safe enough to try. 

Eventually, Nick spoke in a whisper. “It's not about your illness. But I have been thinking a lot about what it was like, when you were in the clinic.”

Charlie squashed down his unease. “What about it?”

“It just…of course it sucked because I was worried about you and our contact was so limited, but it—it mostly sucked being by myself.”

It was hard to read Nick's expression, even when Charlie pulled back an inch to look. Charlie frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nick's eyes fluttered open, but he kept his gaze down to where he was fiddling with the string on Charlie's (Nick’s) hoodie. “It was the first time I'd really been without you since we met, and I'd forgotten what it was like.” He looked up at Charlie. “You know the first time Mum met you, she said I was more myself around you?”

Charlie hadn't known that. He couldn't say it surprised him, exactly—he'd known from the start that Nick was different around him—but it was nice to think Sarah had not only noticed, but approved so early on. Charlie just shook his head in response to Nick. 

“I couldn't figure out what she meant,” Nick said, and it sounded like an admission. “Not because I didn't think I was different around you—I knew you were different—but because I didn't know how she could tell it was more me. I didn't even know what that was.”

This wasn't what Charlie had expected. The thought that Nick would be worried over something like this would never have even crossed Charlie's mind. He knew Nick struggled in the early stages of their relationship—who didn’t, when discovering their sexuality—but aside from that, Nick had always seemed so thoroughly Nick. He was gentle and open and silly and sporty and strong in his beliefs, even when he doubted himself. He'd said it with such confidence before. I like who I am. I like my life.

Charlie played a factor in that, surely, but his distance wouldn't make that much of a difference. Would it? 

“I do,” Charlie said softly. “I know. You're wonderful, Nick.”

“I wasn't, though, was I?” Nick cut in before Charlie could give the rest of what he'd planned to say. “Before I met you, I…it was like I was just being pulled along. I was just existing. I wasn't this great, lovely person you make me out to be.”

Charlie had no idea what to think of that, never mind how to respond. All that left his mouth was a sad, wobbly, “Nick.”

He hadn't known Nick thought of himself that way. He'd known, especially at the beginning, that Nick was harder on himself than he ought to be, and it wasn't just about struggling to come out. Even since before they'd gotten together, he seemed to harbour guilt. From what Charlie could remember, Nick hadn't even been a present witness to his mistreatment—and Charlie would remember Nick, he was sure. But Nick had heard the gossip and the insults and, in his opinion, hadn't done enough to counteract it.

In Charlie's opinion, no one had, and that had never been Nick's fault or responsibility. But he understood where Nick was coming from. 

That didn't change how Charlie saw him, though. It didn't change how Nick was. 

“I know what you mean,” Charlie eventually continued, when Nick did nothing but breathe heavily and blink sadly at him. “But listen to what you're saying. You weren't bad then, and that wasn't you. Even your mum could see that.” Charlie poked Nick's chest. “But you've had me for over two years now, and you've done nothing but prove how great and lovely you are. You can't fake that, and it won't disappear when we're apart. I know who you are, Nick, and you're my favourite person.”

Nick's eyes grew misty, and he burrowed into Charlie's chest before he could start to cry. Charlie wrapped his arms around Nick's shoulders and head and cradled him close, pressing a kiss to his crown and stroking the hair at his nape. 

“I didn't let you see how bad it was, though,” Nick whispered, his voice choppy and wet. “Char, it made me miserable. It felt like—like I was sleepwalking, and I couldn't do anything and nothing could reach me when you weren't there. And I know, I know, I was only that miserable because I was so worried but Char, you don't understand. You went there and you made things better for yourself and you've grown so, so much in the past year and a half and I just—I don't know how to do that. I don't know if I can do that on my own.”

Charlie absorbed that, then again pulled back and urged Nick to look up at him, holding Nick’s face in his hands. “I think that's exactly why you need to do it,” he said softly. 

Nick sniffed, hard, but didn't protest. 

“And you won't be on your own,” Charlie continued. “We might not be ten minutes from each other, but that doesn't mean I won't be there for you. I'd never leave you on your own, Nick. Neither will Tara and Darcy, or any of our other friends.”

“You can't be sure of that, though.”

“I know I can't promise you things won't change. But I'm not going anywhere,” Charlie enunciated each word, leaning closer until they were nose to nose. “You at least have to believe that.”

Nick's eyes flit back and forth between Charlie's. He seemed to be battling with what he wanted to say. Eventually he came out with, “I don't want to become someone you don't like.”

Charlie's heart twisted, but alongside it was a twinge of relief. They were getting to the root of the problem, and it was much more manageable than Charlie had thought. Charlie had enough experience with this kind of self doubt to know it could be worked through, especially with the right support, and Charlie would do everything in his power to provide that. 

“I'm fairly sure that's impossible,” Charlie said. “But do you want to tell me how you think that could happen?”

Nick closed his eyes again, and his shoulders shifted in another weak shrug. “I don't know. Look at what's happening right now. It's selfish, I don't deserve you comforting me when I'm the one who's leaving and you should—”

Charlie cut him off by enveloping him in another hug with a loud shush. It felt like they'd been hugging for an hour by now, and still every time Nick wrapped around him it seemed tighter, more desperate. Charlie didn't know if he was failing that miserably at easing Nick's concerns or if this was Nick's natural need for touch. 

“You're allowed to ask for help, Nick.” Charlie spoke into Nick's hair. “I never want you to pretend you're not upset because you think I might be. Okay? Please.”

Nick murmured something like an apology, and Charlie shushed him again. “I don't want how we are to change,” Nick mumbled. “If the few times we get to see each other it starts to just feel awkward or sad and it'll be just like when Dad—”

Nick cut himself off abruptly, but Charlie had heard it. And here, he realised, was the root. He mentally kicked himself. He should have seen that connection a mile away.

They didn't talk about it often. Nick had ranted to Charlie about his dad a few times, after they'd met up in Paris and their debacle of a dinner and when he failed to show up for holidays as promised, though Nick always said it was expected. Charlie knew his feelings about his father were complicated, and that anger and disappointment held a lot of that space, but he'd always thought it best to let Nick bring it up on his own terms. Unless he was mentioned, Charlie avoided asking, and perhaps that had been a mistake. 

He hugged Nick tighter, more desperately, to give himself time to work out what to say. 

He settled on an apology. “I'm sorry, Nick. I should have known what this was about.”

Nick's reply came slow, and his voice was thick. “I don't even think I knew.” He took a heaving breath. “God, that's pathetic.”

“No,” Charlie argued immediately. “It's not. You're not. It makes perfect sense, Nick.”

Nick gave a wobbly laugh. “D'you think you can explain it to me then?”

Charlie thought he probably could if he tried, but he wasn't sure it was his place. For a while he just held Nick in silence, letting them both think it over. Periodically, he pressed a kiss to whatever part of Nick he could reach, or rubbed up and down his back, or scratched gently at his head. Anything to remind Nick he was there and he understood and he loved him. 

Eventually, Charlie got the nerve to ask, “Do you think you have, like, separation anxiety?”

Nick took a moment, Charlie hoped to consider this and not because he was upset. “Like what some kids have when they start school and stuff?”

“Yeah. But I don't think it's just kids,” Charlie added quickly. “There was this girl at the clinic with me. The main thing she struggled with was being apart from her parents at the start. It wasn't why she was there, but it was part of it. She told me she even had a few panic attacks about it. She lost one of her grandparents, when she was really young. Then she had this intense fear of her parents dying every time they were away from her. It never completely left her. She just got better at managing it.”

Nick was quiet for so long Charlie thought he'd gone too far and Nick wasn't going to respond anymore. When he did, it was a small, quiet, “Oh.”

Charlie steeled himself. “So it makes sense. If…your dad leaving and things changing so much between you. If that was something that really affected you, it makes sense you'd worry about other people you love leaving.”

“It isn't…you don't think that's silly, or childish?”

Charlie shook his head adamantly, despite the fact Nick was still pressed against him and wouldn't see the gesture. Charlie knew he would feel it, but he still said, “No, Nick. It's not silly at all. And like you said, everyone worries about the people they love. People only think this is childish because children haven't learned how to hide it, so it's more obvious in them.”

Nick absorbed this. Charlie hated not being able to see his face, but he didn't want to push things. He wanted to provide Nick with comfort in the form Nick was comfortable with. It helped that he could hear and feel Nick's breaths, and could tell that they'd steadied. It wasn't a simple thing to take in, but it had seemed to almost settle Nick, more than panic him. 

“Honestly,” Nick murmured, “I think me having some kind of anxiety does make sense. And this…fits.”

Charlie squeezed Nick tight and ignored the ache that caused in him. “You don't have to figure it out or understand it right now. I could be completely wrong. But whatever it is, we can look into it together. If you want?”

Nick smushed his face to Charlie's neck. “I really love you.”

Charlie smiled. “I really love you too.”

Nick was the one to pull back this time. His eyes were a little red, and there was a dry tear-track down one cheek, but the mist over his expression had cleared. If not happy, he seemed more at ease now. “I think it would help,” he said. “To look into something. Maybe if I understand better it won't…I can stop it from bothering me so much.”

Charlie tried to tamp down his pride, but he was sure it shone through. “I think so.” He nudged Nick's nose with his own, uncaring it was cold and damp. “Whatever you need, I'll be here.”

Nick looked at him for a long moment, less in doubt, Charlie thought, and more just to look. To remind himself this was real and true, at least for now. Slowly, he smiled. 

“Yeah,” Nick said. “I know.”

[waitineedaname]

i was thinking my little thoughts while falling asleep last night, and a concept occurred to me: what if binghe learned about the system not from shen qingqiu, but from shang qinghua

look, he likes shang qinghua alright. he's pretty disinterested in p much anyone who isn't shen qingqiu, but on the list of People Luo Binghe Tolerates, shang qinghua is relatively high. he gave him advice on wooing sqq, after all, and sqq likes his company, so binghe tolerates his shang-shishu

but the thing is, shang qinghua is a spy. has been for decades. binghe knows this. really, everyone knows this at this point, which isn't a great look for a spy, but still. and since shang qinghua is a spy for mobei-jun, who is a subordinate for luo binghe, then technically shang qinghua is also working for him, but you don't get to the position of demon emperor without a healthy amount of suspicion for everyone in your court

so he decides to test shang qinghua a little bit. nothing major, just a little poking around in his dreams. he starts out with a subtle touch, just sifting through his memories. most of it is what he expected. he sees his time on an ding as a disciple and then later as peak lord, he sees him working for mobei-jun. he sees mobei-jun in some compromising situations, which he files away for later, and then sees him in an entirely different flavor of compromising situations, and binghe immediately decides to act like he never saw that

then he decides to take a more direct approach and starts nudging the dreams in other directions, to see how he might react to certain scenarios, test his loyalty. he expects shang qinghua to act cowardly, or bluff his way through a situaton, maybe even draw his sword if pushed far enough

what he doesn't expect is for shang qinghua to frown at the changes luo binghe made and go "I didn't write it like this"

what

binghe is so bewildered by that response that he loses his grip on the dream for a second, and before he knows it, shang qinghua has spun the dream scenario back into the way the scene originally played out. he steps back and looks satisfied. "there we go," he says. "that's how it went. you know, if I'd known I'd be dealing with this scene myself, I would've written it differently"

what the hell does that mean?

fascinated, luo binghe continues to test him. most of the time, when he toys with someone's dream, they're completely unaware of the changes. shang qinghua, despite not seeming aware that he's lucid dreaming, seems very aware of how each scene should go. except for, strangely, many of the scenes that binghe himself was in. binghe pulls up one from his disciple days, one of the times he remembered shang qinghua coming to qing jing on some errand. he hadn't even changed anything yet, had just let the dream version of his younger self launch himself at shizun in a tacklehug, but shang qinghua tsks and takes the reins from him before he can make any edits. "sorry bing-ge, but that was just way too out of character," shang qinghua says. the dream copy of luo binghe's younger self is sent further away, watching the peak lords with a sullen gaze. he's skinnier than binghe remembers being at this age, and one of his eyes is swollen with a purple bruise. that doesn't make any sense, luo binghe thinks. he hadn't been beaten on qing jing peak for years at this point.

the shen qingqiu beside shang qinghua in the dream stands with his back straight as a ruler, and when his gaze lands on luo binghe, he sneers behind his fan. shang qinghua sighs. "cucumber-bro really wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was. he's way too soft to ever seem like the original goods."

alarmed, luo binghe dispels the dream and steps out of it entirely. sure, he knows shen qingqiu's personality changed almost overnight when he had that qi deviation. everyone knew that. he avoided questioning it much, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth when it meant having a shizun that cared for him

but shang qinghua. shang qinghua seems to know something more about shen qingqiu's personality change. something he's not sharing. luo binghe didn't like the idea that one of his subordinates could be hiding something as vital as this from him

well, this had been a test of his spy's loyalties, hadn't it? perhaps he should make a visit to an ding. he had some questions.

[angelpuns]

You chose 'Imagine Unicorns'!

Poptart belongs to @intotheelliwoods <33333

[mrbrightxside]

SHARE YOUR HEADCANNONS ABOUT CHRISTINAAAAA 🫶🫶

First, I'm so sorry for the late answer months later 😭😭🙏 Please forgive me and second!! Actually I hadn't thought of many headcanons for her... yet... but she's one of my favorite characters so ofc I thought of some!! I might say silly ones or ones more about her personal life (and definitely not projecting some parts!) I love Christina Posabule 🙏♥️

Music wise I think Christina would like 60s music, rock, and/or synth-pop or idk genres are hard to actually get right nowadays. If it's specfic, "The Daughters of Eve" and Mitski would be part of her favorites fjjdbrbnd (then I think she'd like The Killers especially "When You Were Young" when she was in her teens :)) Speaking of Christina in her teens, she'd want to learn piano or some sort of instrument but her parents probably got annoyed by how much she played so she wouldn't have as many chances. She's definitely a bookworm or just loves reading and also writes in her freetime like little stories or poems. And when Block ended up staying with Orel's family, she was kind of the only one who missed him as her parents didn't really mind/express their emotions about it.

Andddd talking about her parents, they're both VERY controlling and kept watch on what she'd do, the polar opposite with Orel, which his parents didn't gaf where he was 💔💔 Especially Poppit, and I think with Christina's story it'd be a toxic mother-daughter relationship (mommy issues!) rather than her and her dad, and that Poppit rather likes taking charge but to be in "a woman's place" y'know sexism and even tells Art what to do but makes sure that he does what a "man has to." And she'd be veryyy persistent on Christina with how she presents herself and make sure that she was a nice church girl at all times. And Poppit would very much have breakdowns in front of her and vent to her about her own issues... yeah... And whenever Christina was getting yelled at or being told what to do the only thing she could do is not say anything back to not upset them. She was also grabbed a lot like by her wrists or something similar how they showed in the show. When she moved to Moralton, she was bummed out bc yeah she just moved to a new place where she knows no one. Then when she met Orel something about him intrigued her and she's like Oooh y'know what I like this place already... then BOOM! Having to move again :( Also I don't know if it's just me but she's probably homeschooled or she's just attending another school jfjfnntnf and about her past town she'd be doing so many shenanigans during the same time as Orel probably. Another silly thing she might be more confident than him like I think he'd be more shy when he got older fjjdjnfbfn

Also yes Christina was sadistic I had to say it bc... we remember Orel's masochist era... And same thing with her being emo/goth when Orel was and at least for a while when they were teens👍👍 It's canon bc I said so

About when she's an adult, once Orel and her got married and had their kids, she'd be really worried about repeating anything her own mother used to do to her (along with Orel who'd try to be the best dad to his kids and would ask Christina if he was doing a good job if he was too worried about becoming anything similar to Clay or just anything otherwise) and I'm not quite sure about if whether she kept contact with her parents but she probably would but obviously has a strained relationship with them along with Orel's parents... But she would give her own family all her love :D also she's definitely working in a type of job I forgot which one but something that helps people bc she's sweet like that <3 so yeah girlboss !!

I might've forgotten some things to mention or other things I had in mind for her but yeah!! Or it was badly/worded weird perdón. Thanks for reading 💕

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

I haven't said anything crazy to you about Jason in awhile, I want to change that but don't have any ideas.

*insert long-winded original rant in the same style as the Dicks closet hetero accuser saga or the locked out of Red Hood thirst page saga*

Uuuh let's see if I can come up with one

Jason doesn't technically have a drivers license. He has a license for his motorbike which is all he uses most of the time but he does drive a car occasionally without a license for it. He's never been pulled over so it's fine.

Until one week where for some reason Bruce, Dick and Alfred are unavailable and so Jason has to start fetching Damian and Duke from school in the afternoons. Everything was fine until Damian and Duke started fighting over them and Jason attempted to break up the fight, leading to none of them noticing the cop car they just speeded past (they were going 40 over the speed limit) and none of them had seatbelts on and Jason's hands weren't on the steering wheel.

They realised once the cops lights switched on and started chasing them. Instead of pulling over, Jason sped up. Finding the whole thing hilarious, Duke started live streaming the whole chase. They ended up driving all the way to Bludhaven, where they were stopped by a very pissed off Nightwing who, on the live stream, lectured and then arrested Jason Wayne. It took Bruce three hours to show up to pay the bail.

There's gifs of Jason flipping off Nightwing as he's being put into the back of a cop car trending for weeks

[bitebitesnap]

Something that interests me sometimes conceptually is yanderes.

Now I'm not a fan of them. The obsession, the downright horror vibes-it just bothers me..sometimes. There had been a few times where it's actually been kind of interesting, though it's usually because it's not super involved with making the Reader useless or just prey to be hunted.

But that aside, it's not the point, I was thinking about something.

Goku as a yandere would be horrifying.

And I'm not talking about his power. Technically, Vegeta is within the same range so it's not like it's much different from him going on a rampage. No what I mean isn't so much strength. It's reason.

Let's say Goku takes in what happened with Frieza and puts it to heart. Let's say the anger, the rage of becoming a Super Saiyan boils through to his core and changes him at the root-but also not quite. He's still the silly, goofy sweetheart everyone knows....but not quite.

Being on Namek during it's destruction taught him that he can't just let people go as easily. Just because they could be good deep down doesn't mean anything. If they have the chance, remote as it is, to turn on any of them then it's game over no matter how powerful they are. Maybe they aren't a threat to him, but to everyone else they could be the worst thing alive.

So he can't take that risk. Won't allow it to even take root.

He cuts off Gero before he can even release the other androids. Blasted to bits the minute he saw him. 19 went down too because he wasn't prepared to take the attack at full power.

Sure. A few buildings were destroyed, maybe a few people lost. But that's what the dragon balls are for right? And besides, he could feel the virus starting up so he had to act fast! Don't blame him for doing what needed to be done!

Cell is a surprise but not much more of a challenge either. Poor bastard barely got the chance to get away in his first form, and without the other two androids around to fuel his perfect form he had nothing else at all. Okay so some people got hurt in the fight but it's okay too! Dragon Balls, okay?

And without the Cell games, without his sacrifice...there's not much else to do now, is there? He's got nothing to fight, nothing to worry about. Sure he's got Piccolo and Vegeta so it's not like he's completely bored. Also, Gohan is getting seriously strong! He'd love to have a good spar against him when he gets older!

But....it doesnt'....feel quite right..

With nothing to fight, nothing is threatening his friends anymore. He should feel relieved, happy even.

So why does he feel like something is wrong..? Why does he feel anxious, afraid..almost like something is going to happen.

He kept a close watch on all of his friends, going so far as to intrude into their lives to make absolutely sure they were fine. He'd pop in at any point jsut to 'check in', he said, and when nothing was found and everything was fine he'd pop out. 'See?' He'd tell himself, 'Everything is fine. Don't worry about it!'

But he couldnt'...stop...

Simple check turned into hours long stalking. Stalking turned to obsessively watching over them at all hours, staying awake all night hopping between their homes. He couldn't count how many days and nights he'd been awake anymore. Only keeping track of when the sun rose and fell so he could go back to his home and watch over Gohan and you/Chi-Chi.

But it;s still not enough...! What was wrong!?

Then it happens. An inconspicuous little event that could have been missed by anyone had he not been so deranged by the need to keep an eye out for it.

A simple robbery. Not even a well planned out one, the robber had the bright idea to wander into Bulma's open window to steal a few pieces of her jewelry. It was so one-track and clearly idiotic that even she could have handled it.

But Goku was there. He saw it happen.

Poor bastard had no idea what was going on until he was several miles up in the air, dangling by his throat in the hands of a sleep deprived, wild-eyed Saiyan.

He knew of wars, petty battles between factions for something or another. Some part of him envied the rivalries humans could have with each other without running the risk of blowing up a planet. Being weaker, they had countless other's just like them to fight. No stagnation, always another challenge or threat right among their own.

Being himself, a Saiyan as powerful as he was, Goku never had to look down at them as a danger. His friends were strong, stronger than anyone like this little bug in his hands.

....Weren't they..?

His eyes harden, ignoring the squirming roach.

If they were...then why didnt Vegeta do anything to stop this attempt? Why didn't Yamcha?

Were there other infractions like this? Were they all ignoring it? Just letting it happen, right behind their backs where they could get stabbed just like he was when Frieza-

The crunch happens in the back of his head. His eyes watch the pest's neck flop over his fist but see nothing.

Quiet. It was quiet for the first time in a long, long while.

No noises catching his attention. No anxious energy driving him mad. No wild emotions left unchecked from exhaustion.

He was...calm.

Slowly he brings the body closer. The life force is long gone. No light blinks in the eyes. It's dead. Gone. No threat to anyone.

...Because of him..

And it clicks.

It doesn't matter if Vegeta didn;t get to him, he did. Yamcha wouldn't have fought anyways, he was a coward now and terrified of death.

But because he was here, he did. He caught the bastard. He ended the threat. He saved Bulma.

He saved her from something no one was looking for.

With everyone fresh out of a series of disasters centered mostly around the stars or his past, no one was focusing on the present. How could they? They'd been subjected to it for so long they'd grown numb to it by now. A simple robbery was nothing to them-less than nothing.

They were blind to an enemy they couldn't even think of anymore.

So he clenches the body's neck even tighter. Flesh engorges into a red mass in his palm but he ignores it. Even when the balloon bursts and crimson runs down his fingers. As meat squeezes out into and over his palm, the tongue forced out in a breathless gag.

He was their champion right? The strongest under the sun. The warrior who bested the worst of the universe, the tyrant Frieza, the android's maker, even the warrior built specifically to destroy him. He'd done it all. He'd do it a thousand times over if it meant protecting those he loved.

What was a few, measly little lives of a few bugs that dared to call themselves humans? Did their lives matter, even, if they dared to stoop so low as to be like the monsters he's conquered? Were they lives at all or simply dust under his heels?

The body is flung in a random direction. He doesn;'t care where it lands. His muscles are tight with renewed energy, mind clear and focused on a single, soul driven purpose.

He would protect everyone. He would destroy anything that got in his way. Be the wall between them and total destruction.

He was Son Goku the Saiyan, the warrior, Earth's mightiest protector. But if the Earth itself wanted to turn on anyone he cared about....

Then not even the Earth mattered to him anymore.

[king-odysseus-of-ithaca]

(obligatory "keep reading" section because this accidentally turned into a long post whoops)

I'm always so anxious about interacting with other EPIC/EPIC-adjacent kins, because I feel like I might end up overstepping and making things awkward. Especially with a Penelope or Telemachus. There’s always that fear of rejection, even when every part of me wants to reach out and talk to them, even when I miss them like nothing else.

It’s kind of funny—or, well, not really—but I felt a similar way those first few months (first year? More than that? Less? I don’t know, time is strange) back home after 20 years apart. Many people like to think that everything mostly went back to normal, or if not normal then calm and warm and soft and peaceful. And, well, it was, in a way. There were times when it was.

But it also wasn’t that simple. I was gone for 20 years. Penelope and I had been apart for 20 years, and Telemachus and I had never gotten the chance to know each other during those 20 years. I had to relearn everything—we all did, since a lot of things changed since I was gone and a lot more changed when I came back. I had to relearn who Penelope was, because she had changed too, and I had to learn who my son was, which—while awkward and tense at times—was the greatest joy I had ever experienced. It was a good thing, learning and relearning about the people I love most, but it was also difficult because, well, 20 years. 20 years of being apart and going through our own traumas. 20 years, and now suddenly reunited and whole, except the pieces didn't quite fit together neatly just yet, because healing is a difficult thing.

I remember that interactions with my son were often strained, because I was essentially a stranger to him. A dangerous stranger, with too much blood on his hands and too many sharp edges, angry and unstable and tired of being so. Meanwhile, Telemachus had just been freed from a bunch of vile men taking over his home and plotting harm against both him and his mother, after which I was suddenly in the picture again. So I do not blame him for being wary, even if it hurt and I felt terrible about it. Even I was wary of myself, even after Telemachus warmed up to me, even after he eventually told me he trusted me (which I then cried about).

It was a slow and bumpy process, coming back together and loving each other and being with each other, all three of us, but it was worth it. Everything would always be worth it, if it meant getting to be with my family and being whole again.

Those first few months(?) after I came back home were similar to what I feel now. Not quite the same, but similar enough. Because... that life? That life was forcefully pushed to the past and I am separated from my family once more, and again it has been so long. With all those years apart again plus an entire lifetime this time, not to mention I don't even know if they're my canonmates, trying to interact with these Penelope and Telemachus kins has me flailing on what to say and how to act. And gods, every time I do interact with them—canonmate or not, because they're still my sourcemates and my family, even if they might not be my version of them—it leaves me feeling both giddy and yearning. I miss them. I want to talk to them. But I don't know how, and I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, so I end up lurking most of the time and staring longingly from afar.

(...This was not meant to be a vent. And it was supposed to be short. What the fuck even happened here.)

[areislol]

pinky promises with xiao.

xiao was never the one to deal with "mortal activities". he found it useless with no practical value. pinky promises? he had never heard of something so... absurd and ludicrous! who in teyvat would do this! it's useless, has absolutely no meaning whatsoever and could be broken easily—there was no point in pinky promises.

pinky promises... they were simply childish, they were superficial. if anyone believed in them, he would simply scoff and list fifty reasons on how pinky promises are nothing.

well, that's what xiao, thought before you asked him to pinky promise something.

it was a chilly, peaceful night. you were both sitting down with your legs splayed out, back pressed up against a tree, watching the fireflies fly and hearing the crackling sounds as they shone. xiao's hands were resting upon yours, admiring the view before him.

you and xiao were talking about life, about his life, your life, it was what you would call "pillow talk" but minus the part in bed. you nor xiao spoke up for a while, and it was silent. the atmosphere was calming and lull. and it was like that for quite some time before it was broken by you.

"xiao?" you whispered, xiao hummed and turned to face you—with you mirroring his actions. "pinky promise me something?" you asked, bringing your free hand up and holding out your pinky.

xiao knew of pinky promises, of course. he would often hear children near wangshu inn do pinky promises. "what a stupid thing to do." he would always think. and yet here you were, holding out your pinky, trying to get him to pinky promise something.. like he was a child!

but this was you. someone who he somewhat looked up to (to be nice, never be afraid to make friends, be positive...), someone whom he loved, someone who was special to him. you were his sun.

he loved you more than you knew or though. he can try to describe how much but it will never be enough.

and even though in his mind he's repeatedly telling himself to refuse, his heart told him to accept, and so he did. xiao closed his eyes and let out a sigh before reopening it. "okaaay, what is it that you request?"

when he saw how a warm smile spreads across your face, he knew he made the right choice. and soon a small but noticeable smile appears on his face. letting out a deep sigh you proceed to ask him a promise that surprised him slightly.

"xiao, you pinky promise me that you'll be with me forever and ever? you will stay by my side and will always be there for me?"

--

at first, he's stunned, his smile falters and his eyes widen. "pinky promise me that you'll be with me forever and ever?" the sudden realization hits him. he's an adepti, you are a mere human. he will most likely, certainly, and without a doubt, outlive you.

and for a second his heart sunk as his hand squeezes yours unknowingly. "you will stay by my side and will always be there for me?" of course he would! he would have still stayed by your side even if you didn't ask him.

but within a heartbeat xiao locks pinkies with you. because even though he will – without a doubt – outlive you, there are still so many years to come before your inevitable death, so many years to spend with you, to protect you, to support you, to cherish you, to love you.

and forever how long you are alive, xiao will always be with you. he will always be there when you call for him, when you awake from your slumber, he will forever and always will be by your side.

xiao would do anything to make you smile, even if it means doing a thousand or millions pinky promises, because... he doesn't think that he has ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

--

"i... i pinky promise, i pinky promise that i will be with you forever and ever. i will stay by your side and will always be there for you."

pinky promises are sacred. once you make one, it's forever. a pinky promise may be "childish" and it may sound "superficial", but a single pinky promise means so much more than any other word you could ever give someone.

a pinky promise means to have unwavering fidelity and dedication to whatever the promise entails. so... it might seem silly... but xiao takes them seriously... because it's so much more than just words. Because it's commitment and dedication.

pinky promises with xiao are so honest and sweet. once he makes one, he keeps his promise.

HAPPY (ONE DAY LATE) BIRTHDAY MY XIAO <3333

i wrote this in like 2 hrs bc i was procrastinating n stuff,,, I LOVE XIAO SMMMMMI HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHING GENSHIN RELATED IN SO LONGGGG, enjoy this tho!

[bakafurai]

Kenji seems like the type of guy who would ask p3-kun to practice kiss with him. you know like, no homo and all that. just two dudes kissing for "practice".

[mieux-de-se-taire]

Early Sunsets over Monroeville - MCR Interviews

89.5 WSOU FM Interview - 7/11/02

14:12-15:33, 20:21-20:32, 21:20-21:28, 21:47-21:51

Interviewer: Do you think that added to the performance, that you had to actually get through the pain? Gerard: For Early Sunsets Over Monroeville, definitely. I was in-- It was like, I don’t know like 10-- 9:30 at night. We were just getting ready-- It was the last song we did for the day, and I was in so much pain. And I just-- you know Geoffy [Geoff Rickly] was like, “Alright, let her rip.” Interviewer: That’s the mellow song, right? Ray: Right, that’s the-- what’s awesome about that too is the last, I think it’s like the last 3 minutes of that song is just one take, no edits, no stops, no cuts. It’s just...It’s an amazing performance by-- by him and just by all of us, I think because we-- we wrote that song like a few days before we went into the studio. It wasn’t finished when we recorded it, so it was just us, you know, kinda letting all of us [unintelligible], you know? Interviewer: (Overlapping) It was your studio song. Ray: Right, we wrote it in the studio. Interviewer: Well since we’re hyping this up so much... (Ray laughs) We might as well play it ‘cause everyone out there’s going “Wow, sounds like a great song.” Ray: Hopefully Interviewer: “I wanna hear him crying.” (Ray and Gerard laugh) “I wanna hear that tooth.” (Continued laughter) So, I guess let’s go into a little bit background of the song, and then we’ll play the song for everybody, and everyone can hear. Gerard: Okay, Mikey does not want me to reveal-- Interviewer: He’s going “No! You’re out!” Gerard: (Overlapping) what the song is about, but if you-- there’s plenty of clues in it, so if you figure out, it’s-- I’ll say it’s about a film. Is that enough? Ray: Yeah, that’s good. Gerard: Okay, you can figure out-- Ray: (Interrupting) Horror film Gerard: Alright. (Pauses then laughs) You messed it up! (Arguing in background)

Interviewer: What are some of your favorite songs off this record to play live and actually-- or during the recording process? Ray: Um, I think recording process-wise, definitely “Monroeville.”

Frank: (Talking about his favorite songs) And “Monroeville” because I had no clue what I was gonna do. (Interviewer laughs) I wrote it in the van before we recorded, and I had like frostbite on my fingers so it kinda sucked.

Mikey: I like the “Monroeville” song. (To Gerard) It was fun watching you tweak out at the end. (Gerard laughs)

/

Noise Theory Interview - 11/13/02

Page 1, paragraph 5

Interviewer: Even though ‘My Chemical Romance’ as a band have been together only a short time, the album displays some excellent and mature song writing skills. Were the album songs written after the band became complete? Ray: We started in October 2001, and had written 5 songs by January 2002. This was when the band was still a four piece. The rest of the songs came together a few weeks before we went to record. Honey This Mirror and Early Sunsets were written about a week before we left for the studio. We asked Frank to be in the band around the same time, so to get his input on those songs really helped them become what they are.

/

HardcoreNJ Interview - March/April 2003

Paragraph 3

Interviewer: What was the inspiration behind "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville"? Matt: Musically there wasn't any inspiration, 2 days before the recording I happened to be strumming an acoustic guitar in our practice space, and the guys all seemed to like what I was playing (which is a rarity). Anyways, we knew we wanted something different on the record to reflect our softer side. I think it was the most magical part of recording process, seeing a 2 day old song kinda just work, we didn't even have an ending for it. We all just jammed it out improvising. Oh, and the vocals were inspired by a certain movie...

/

89.5 WSOU FM Interview - 7/3/03

8:25-8:31, 8:59-10:27

Interviewer: Alright, so, we’re gonna hear “Monroeville.” Ray: It’s a slow one. Grab your girl...and then shoot her in the head. (Laughter)

Interviewer: I remember a long time ago when you were recording this record that you had a problem while you were singing this song. Gerard: Yeah, I had a hole in my tooth and an abscess in the hole, and it was pushing against all the nerves in my face, and it looked like I had Parkinson’s, and it was (a?) drag, and it-- Interviewer: And your face was droopy, and-- Gerard: It was drooping, and I looked like a-- I went to hospitals the whole time we were recording, and they thought I had facial nerve paralysis, nerve damage, so I had to do that song, like basically with, yeah like the most intense pain and half a face. (Dramatically) Half a face! Interviewer: So, alright, everyone listening out there, now you know he did this song with half a face. Gerard: (After a pause) Half a face. (Laughter) Interviewer: How did you feel about the song after you played it? I know you must have been like, you know, “This can’t be the best I can do” because you’re all messed up and stuff. (Ray protesting in background) Gerard: It felt like that, but (Unintelligible as Gerard and interviewer talk at the same time) when I was doing it, but everybody was so psyched on it when I did it-- Ray: Psyched! People were crying-- Gerard: They were crying man (Laughter) Ray: It was amazing. It was the most amazing, definitely the most amazing-- Matt: (Overlapping) Yeah, we were definitely a bunch of wusses. Frank: Alright, correction, not a bunch of wusses. Ray and Otter (Matt) cried. (Laughter) That’s what happened. Ray: No no no, I will definitely say I-- Mikey: The red sea might have been parted when my brother did that part. Ray: I cried. I think Alex [Saavedra] might have shed a singular tear. Interviewer: A singular tear? Ray: It was definitely some crying going on. (Matt talking in background) Gerard: (Overlapping) I got a hug after that one Ray: (Overlapping) It was bad. Gerard: (Overlapping) I got a hug. I got lots of hugs after that. Interviewer: (After a pause and laughter) Alright, so how’d you feel about the hugs afterwards? Gerard: The hugs were sweet. (Laughter in background) The record was sweeter.

/

Punk It Interview - 10/29/03

Paragraph 28

Sev (Interviewer): What are some of the biggest disagreements amongst yourselves? Gerard: We mesh really well musically and personally. We all have a good time, so there's probably not that many disagreements. The only thing I think we ever disagree upon is if we're going to play "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville" or not. We had a little thing tonight. Some guys wanted to play it tonight, but I'm not sure. It's an ad lib song - the first verse was written, but the last part of the song was freestyle. And I'm not fucking Eminem, so unless the vibe is right, I don't like to do it. I did it in Chicago because the vibe was perfect. It basically happens in the middle of the set. We feel the energy, and if they can deal with it, we can deal with it.

/

Life On the Murder Scene - 2005

31:24-32:01

Ray: And Frank played on 2 of the tracks off the first record, and one of them was “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville.” (“Early Sunsets” begins to play) Ray: He just plays some great, great parts. Frank: (Cuts to different interview) When we were doing “Monroeville”, Ray was laying down his parts, and as soon as he was done, I took the parts that they had recorded into a van, that had like no heat, outside the studio and wrote what I was gonna play. Ray: (Back to first interview) A lot of the melody that he plays during the verses and the choruses is just, you know, absolutely beautiful, and I think really makes those songs work.

/

Barcelona Live Stream - 3/5/11

6:10-6:34

Ray: (Reading a live chat feed) Ooh, would you ever play “Early Sunsets”? Frank: Oh, we have (turns to Ray while Mikey speaks in the background) this tour? I don’t know. Ray: I can’t even remember the last we played that. Frank: I think it was in Chicago. Ray: Yeah? Mikey: (After a pause) Oh yeah, we played it in the Metro. Gerard: (Unintelligible as multiple people speak) like “The End”? Frank: Yeah Ray: That would be a cool one to revisit. Gerard: It was a cool-- I think especially if we give it some structure at the end like, ‘cause that was the problem with playing that song. It has no definitive ending, like it kinda just keeps going and going.

/

Kerrang #1376 (alt) - 8/10/11

Page 3, paragraph 11

Interviewer: I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love” was released in July 2002. What do you think of it now? Ray: You can hear the nervousness and excitement. Every song speeds up which gives them a lot of character. I like the rawness, especially in the vocals. It sounds very true. I get emotional, too. Early Sunsets Over Monroeville is unlike anything we’ve ever done since -- it’s amazing.

/

Where Are Your Boys Tonight? (Chris Payne) - 2020-2022

Chapter 9, page 113

Geoff Rickly: When we were in the studio, Gerard’s wisdom teeth were really hurting him, and he wasn’t able to sing, so he went to the dentist to have them out and afterwards they gave him a bunch of painkillers. He didn’t sing with the fire or the venom, so Alex took the painkillers away from him. Like, “You gotta sing in pain, fuck you! You gotta feel it!” I was taking the painkillers, watching him sing the record. I remember lying on the floor and coaching him through how to sing “Early Sunsets Over Monroeville,” the ballad on the record. I was saying, “You’re following the music, make the music follow you. More intense! The music will catch up to you.”

[pinksilvace]

people will really draw anything but what they're supposed to (I'm people)

[cutiepieautistic]

I'm no ornithologist, but i feel like every chicken deserves a wide,open space with plenty of safe areas to move around in and play (mess around with puzzles,that sort of thing. they probably need a lot of mental stimulation too! ) and eat so they don't get over crowded, and safe spots to retreat to when they need to calm down or mate and roost/nest(i mean, i know chicken sex is probably weird like it is with most birds, but i feel like they would appreciate the privacy and safety. I've been around plenty of chickens. they're generally sensitive animals that deserve more respect.), or be quarantined if they've come down with something or have been injured. they seem to do much better that way,their quality of life seems to improve greatly in captivity when people practice better husbandry with them. of course, different variants of chickens have different needs I'm sure, but it's something I've observed often. birds deserve so much better than to have their intelligence be undermined and be treated like shit,which is unfortunately rather common in today's world.

[atokrina]

pink paradise! ╰┈➤ @viladlind

       A DEEP BREATH WAS PULLED in through her nose, yellow eyes closed as for a single moment, neytiri just let herself be. she blocked out the sight of her hands, her arms, the deepening violet hue that had overtaken her skin and washed away all other colors. there was the faint thought that, even as she was now, neytiri would still not look out of place in the forests of her home. though the amusement that would usually accompany such an idea slipped from her fingers before she could even properly appreciate it, succumbing to the violet tide. like all of her emotions, she couldn't help but think.

    but any alarm that may have normally sparked through neytiri at that realization died long before it coalesced, and she felt only calm. deep and violet, and all-encompassing. it made it suddenly bearable to leave the forest she'd sequestered herself in from the moment she'd arrived, to walk the strange sky people roads and marvel at the lights around her. the hate and rage that would usually overwhelm her locked away, beneath the violet.

    it also meant, that when someone brushed against her, neytiri did not whirl and snap as she might otherwise have. no, she—gasped. at the bolt of... something, suddenly crackling through her.

    ❛ What—?! ❜ her ears tipped forward, eyes widening as the na'vi turned to meet the gaze of the one she'd touched in surprise.

[blkkizzat]

❝AYY, FUCK YO IG, I PUT SOMETHIN' ON YO SONOGRAM— I'M THE MAN.ᐟ❞

─•──── FARMHAND!TOJI X BIMBO!READER

꥟ summary: farm au. you and toji can't keep your hands off each other since he first turned you out in the barn and he's determined to put a baby in you ASAP! ꥟ wc: 2088 ꥟ a/n: I had to do something for my mans for his bday and I MADE it in my time zone at least (pst) FarmHand!Toji just comes so easy to me.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY TOJI.ᐟ

[ read p1: here ]

FarmHand!Toji who after the first time fucking you senseless in the barn can't keep his hands off of you. God, it's so hard for him to get any chores and shit done when your young tight cunny spreads so willingly for him.

Out in the pastures, the herd of cows block the distant view of the both of you from the farm. Making it the perfect location for Toji to freely fuck you sloppy like you've been pouting for all morning.

Wanting to tease his sweet lil' Bunny, Toji would have made you wait even longer (so he could do a bit of actual work) but you always kept him on his toes. You were so much of a brat you pushed limits with him constantly.

This time your achieve your naughty goal by flashing him your pantyless pussy.

"Whoops, must have forgot to put some on this morning! I'm so silly huh, Daddy?"

You bat your lashes and sway your jiggling hips so innocently. Like the hot sun wasn't glistening off the gooey slick drenching your puffy pussy lips —it was fucking obscene.

Obviously, Toji is hard instantly but you still needed to be taught a lesson and he'd yet to keep his promise of 'fucking some manners into your haughty cunt.'

You clearly still didn't know how to act.

What with his lil' Bunny skipping around the farm all morning bare assed and so nonchalantly too?

How many times does he have to remind you he'd kill someone over you?

No one else was allowed to see what belonged to him alone...

Jealous as hell, Toji angerily snatches you up as you squee in excitement finally getting what you'd been craving. Easily flipping you over, Toji's large muscular arms drapes you over the old wooden fence like you were a mere feather.

The fact that Toji was supposed to be patching up said fence, not causing further structural damage from how hard he was about to tear your ass up is not lost on him. He simply just can't bring himself to give a fuck at the moment, not when you get him so riled up like this. Pushing your thin white sundress up your back, Toji doesn't even need to prepare you before he ruts into your heated core. Honestly, it didn't take Toji long at all to mold your pretty lil' pussy to the shape of his stocky girth. Your wet warm hole welcomes him back eagerly like it was his home. The pull of that creamy cunny of yours sucking him deeper to the hilt—even before his own hips could shealth himself fully inside—shit.

"That's a good girl bunny, that pussy opens up so good f'er me now, n'—HELL... She's just as fuckin' tight too."

Pistoning forward, Toji doesn't waste time with warming you up with slow strokes.

Not when you act out like this.

He knows once you get this way you are practically begging for him to pound you rough, deep and fast.

True to the nickname he bestowed you Bunny, you wanted him to fuck you stupid like one daily. Demanding Toji's hefty cock be plunged into your cunt during all hours of the day—especially at night.

Your slutty pussy was so hungry for his dick stretching her, you even foolishly volunteered the farm's security codes to Toji. Meaning he could slip not only in and out of your room at night —but the farm entirely. This was excellent for the illegal business he was forming under the cover of the farm.

Little risk of getting caught now too.

That old farmer slept like the dead and he'd been able to bribe the less than scrupulous night security workers.

Heh. Smuggling contraband in now was a breeze.

But in order for his plan to be put fully in motion he needed to knock you up quickly. Cumming in your quivering pussy 3-4 times a day was a necessity and Toji was more than up for the task.

He needed a baby in you yesterday.

And yet the way your greedy pussy hungered for him, strangling his length every time you came on his cock for the nth time made him think she secretly wanted to be a mommy too —you were the only one who didn't know that yet. You milked him so well like you were made for Toji to breed you —just waiting all this time for his nefarious ex-con cock to destroy you.

Toji grunts escalate as the old fence creaks and shakes from him brutishly bullying himself further into your guts. You moan deeply with every maddening thrust of his pelvis forcing his thick meaty cockhead to kiss your womb.

"Shiiit..Mmmm—OOOH!" The rebound of your plump ass ripples against his pelvis and Toji thinks its his favorite sight in the world. Both hands on your hips, Toji digs crescents into your flesh as he drives him into you over and over, deeper and deeper. The vulgar noises of moist skin slapping echo from your bodies —bodies which only get hotter and wetter under the oppressive heat of the sun and it's all so intoxicating. Your chest heaves as you take desperate breathes, your lungs struggle to even expand with how roughly Toji plowing into you.

There's nothing you can do but dangle there and let Daddy Toji use you like he wanted—not that you would have it any other way, loving when his cock purees your mind into just as much of the sloppy mess as your pussy. Toji could tell by your cries too just how your ass liked to be ferally manhandled like you were one of these barn animals.

"Yeah that's right my slutty brat 'moo' louder f'er Daddy while ya squirt on his cock. Ya wanna let this whole farm know who's making you feel this good, huh ma?"

You whine at Toji likening your pleasure filled sobs to that of cow noises but you're needy 'lil cunny only squeezes him tighter —just as he knew she would. Toji knows how much you like him talking crazy to you when he's fucking you six ways to Sunday, balls smacking your clit.

Thankfully no one could actually hear you from way out here. Meaning he was free to spew all kinds of nasty shit into your ear drawing even more slobber from your swollen pussy lips. It only made you hotter on the inside your mind only focusing on his debased dirty talk and the drag of his cock against your g-spot —Toji was hitting it perfectly from this angle. "Ya know ya fuckin' suck at milking cows but this juicy pussy? She sure knows how t'milk a cock like its 'er job." And it would be your job too if Toji had any say. Fuck going back to school at the end of summer and fuck getting a career. You didn't need to do anything but lay on your back and let Toji do the rest. Heh, you wouldn't be able to do much else but be on your back once you started growing his kids inside you anyway. He'd keep you nice n fucked out to the point you'd almost stay pregnant.

Spanking your ass harshly, the sting fills fresh tears on your already bleary eyes. You squeak between your pitchy moans as your pussy weeps so much of your arousal around your sex and down your thighs the squelchy gurgles of your creamy cunt are heard throughout the field.

"S'gudddd Daddy! HAH—HARDER!!"

You really are the perfect slut for him. Wanting him to go harder?

Could you even handle that?

As your reward Toji gifts you another spank, shaking the fence entirely now as it sways on its exposed hinges. It's a miracle it's still standing.

But Toji was determined to have you all for himself, to have everything —you, the farm, a wife —to bring Megumi here away from his twisted ass family so you could be the mother he never had. Thoughts of domesticating you makes him want to bust in you even more as he chases his release.

Wrapping an arm around your middle Toji lifts you so he can thumb at your clit. The rough pad of his thickest digit scrapes over your bud sending rapid tingles through your body that has drool pouring out of your mouth and cunt. "Daddy's gonna put his milk in y'er tummy, yeah Bunny? Tell me ya want it slutty mama —beg me f'er it."

But you can't beg, you can't do anything but ride the rapturous wave of pleasure radiating from your core as you squirt on his cock like a good Bunny. Your orgasm following soon after with enough force from erratic rhythm of spasms in your walls to make Toji spurt is scorching seed inside you. Filling your womb as you purr from the sensation.

Toji bites harshly down on your shoulder —another mark you'd have to hide from your uncle —who thought you were just a rather clumsy girl getting so many marks on you from your farm chores.

Slicked in sweat and your gushy pussy's fluids Toji slumps forward still inside you, his entire weight bearing down on you.

"T-Tojiiiii!" You whine in that pretty, utterly angelic way Toji usually can't resist but he had to keep his cock plugged in you a bit longer if he wanted a baby in you by the end of the month. He eases up a bit though, rubbing your sore ass cheeks and murmuring something about 'when he finally gets to use your ass' as his thumb ghosts aimlessly over your puckered hole.

When Toji finally pulls out of you, you're barely standing. Slumping your elbows on the fence, your hips went a bit numb from being folded like a pancake over the rough wood fence with a big man like Toji putting his weight on you.

Truthfully, Toji didn't even want to pull out. He could go a few more but you need to get back to the farm soon before your uncle came around looking. He'd question you if you kept missing lunch everything.

As if you could read Toji's thoughts you pipe up, voice a bit hoarse already from all your moaning. "I told my uncle I'd probably walk to the lake again today. So he won't be expecting me back until the evening, you know..." After enough feeling returns to your lower body you push off the fence and prance over to a nearby tree at the edge of the clearing. Pulling off your dress fully you lay it down on the lush green grass in the shade. Fully nude, the sun peeks through the shade's leaves, decorating your skin in its shadowed rays.

You stretch like a cat on your makeshift dress-blanket. Spreading your legs wide and arching, you gaze over to Toji from under your babydoll lashes. He's already on his way over to you. "Looks like I'm your lunch today Daddy... c'mon n' eat me up before I get cold."

Oh you didn't know what you fucking did to him... or maybe you did?

You were clever sure but all reason flew out the window when it came to Toji from the minute he first jammed his cock into your lewd sappy cunt.

Heh, you wanted FarmHand!Toji to ruin you? Well little did you know that's exactly what he planned to do anyway— trap you, and ruin your life and that pussy of yours at the same time.

꥟

Back on farm an old dusty white bus stops at the gate.

A lone prisoner exits, a man accused of being a serial killer— 27 victims all skinned and gutted mercilessly like fish in under two years.

However, the man has always protested his innocence.

The evidence at best was circumstantial, with a conviction based solely off of a lone witness who was later proven to be unreliable. As a result the appeal of his life sentence is currently in process, much to the excitement and anger, respectfully, of both his many supporters and detractors.

Yet the way his P.O. comically cowers is a stark contrast to the vibe of the prisoner. The tall, well built convict appears calm, somber even.

This was really the man that killed 27 people?

His eyes survey his surroundings with the hesitant curiosity of a puppy—nothing like the dangerous threat the courts or his P.O. make him out to be. Handed over into your uncle's care, the flighty P.O. quickly gets back on the bus, signalling the driver to get ghost quickly as if your uncle would change his mind at the last minute.

Your uncle on the other hand isn't intimidated at all by the notorious, supposedly innocent, pigtailed cold blooded killer. "Welcome to the farm, son. Like I tell everyone, just do as your told and stay outta trouble —you'll do fine I reckon. Don't fuck this up now, boy. In your case especially, this is the chance to prove yourself worthy of an appeal or its back to solitary for life Choso Kamo."

꥟

♡ blkkizzat ©2023-2025 ♡ — 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐎 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫— 𝐚𝐢 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.

꥟ a/n: oh hehe, i wonder what will come of toji's plan now that Farmhand!Choso has arrived 😈😩? Also y'all think he's innocent or guilty? 💕🤭 tysm for reading! lol idk if i end up writing more of this but this is my no pressure, for fun project (i whipped this up in like 3 hrs so whether i will or when it will come out i can't say~ i already have sm on my plate but farmhand!toji is special to meee and its his bday so had to run it back on him. i may come back edit this since i was rushing sorry for any mistakes! reblogs and comments appreciated!

[suncoved]

OVERPROTECTIVE! — RAFE CAMERON (smut 18+, mdni.)

pairing; dealer!rafe cameron x toppersister!reader

summary: when your friend dragged you to the cut of one of the pouges infamous keggers, you didn't expect to be dragged home by your brothers dealer best friend.

warnings: kinda innocent!reader, talk of drugs, partying and drinking. smut 18+ only please please! (haven't proof read...)

"this is such a bad idea" you murmured quietly, glancing across at the boneyard from your friend kate's pristine white jeep.

"oh cmon, it'll be fun. and anyways, how could your brother find you all the way out here. he would rather die than set foot on the cut" kate rambled, yanking out of the car while her heels made a crunching sound against the gravel of the carpark.

on the ride over from figure eight, you had gnawed at your bottom lip so hard you wouldn't be surprised if you drew blood. topper would have actually killed you if he found out what you were doing.

you had been to parties on your side of the island before, and even those made your brother mad, but never had you stepped foot at a kegger on the cut.

but, here you were at 11:15 on a saturday night, about to 100 per cent regret every decision you had ever made that led to this. but it was your senior year! and you were sick and tired of letting topper dictate what you did and didn't do.

you had come to the realisation that you weren't really sure why topper cared so much about what you did. i mean sure he was your twin brother, who would never make you forget how he was in fact 2 minutes older, but he had never really cared what you did before.

i mean sure, you guys were close and he cared if you were safe or not, but it was only really until he became closer with his friend rafe that he started getting really, really overprotective.

rafe had been lurking around your house since you were little, always bossing topper around and annoying that absolute shit out of you. but never saying any more than one word to you before pulling topper into any mess he was about to get into.

"cmon cmon, lets go party!" kate exclaimed, pulling you out of your thoughts and also onto the soft sand of the boneyard.

it was safe to say that this party was far from the ones you had witnessed before. there were people do coke on any surface you could see, the distinct smell of weed filling your nostrils and kegs upon kegs lined up against the fallen branches.

"miss thorton! what brings you around my neck of the woods!?" you hear a voice yell behind you before an arm is slung quickly around your shoulder.

"shush jj! im undercover" you joke, pushing your perfecting manicured finger against your lips. "whoops! my bad princess" he slurred, swaying against your body as he pushed more and more of his weight onto you.

you giggled, swiftly setting him down on the sand before he made you topple over. "he'll be fine, just needs a little rest" john b beams to you, passing you a red solo cup full of suspicious liquid before you could decline.

you smiled at him and held the cup weighing heavily in your hand, noticing kate was long gone from your side. you looked around nervously, what were you doing?

you didn't drink, you didn't do drugs, you didn't party.

you were the classic good girl of kildare county, and your skirt was way to precious to you to get anything spilt on it. but you were here, so why don't you just enjoy yourself right?

you looked down at the liquid in the cup, it fizzing and foaming as it stared back at you. you took a cautionary sip before nearly gagging, the acid making its way down your throat.

"yuck!" you whispered to yourself, pulling a face as you rested the cup down on a branch so someone could pick it up later.

the music pumped in your ears, people dancing and swaying on the shore of the beach as the lights of the street only dimly lit the area up.

you heard your name being yelled behind you as kate embraced you in a hug, swaying and smelling of weed. "i have to introduce you to someone, apparently he sells the best weed on the island! why don't you try some! but shush let's not tell your brother" she slurred her words as she rambled on, pulling you across the sand into the crowd of people.

"you know kate, i don't think this is the best idea" you muttered, letting her guide you where the music was louder and the smell was far more intense.

"it will be fun! and we can tell him its your first time! i mean apparently, he is not a nice guy but you have a knack for changing that about people!" you rolled your eyes at her babble, your feet suddenly stopping once you had arrived at your apparent destination.

you were still hidden behind kate as she approached the man sitting on a broken branch, his legs spread wide and hands sifting through money.

"hey! my friend really wants to try your stuff, think you could help us out?" kate asked, pulling you out from behind her as a small gasp left your lips.

"y/n? what the fuck are you doing here!" rafe spat, gathering all his cash and baggies and stuffing them in his pocket. "you two know each other?"

you shifted your eyes from his angered face, jaw clenching and fists bunched tightly together.

"yeah, and you're an idiot for bringing her here. get the fuck outta my face. cmon" rafe gestured to you, taking your hand in his and leading you to the car park.

you looked back at kate before staring at rafe in front of you, unable to fight against his grip. you had been at this party all of 20 minutes and all you had done is be dragged around before having to go home!

"rafe stop!" you exclaimed as he pulled you up the beach and towards his blue truck in the car park.

how did you not notice that?

"what the heck are you doing?" you asked, him swinging the passenger door open for you as you stared at him like he was an idiot.

"get in." he said, running lifting his arms up to run his hands through his hair as you noticed a gun tucked into his waistband.

what in the actual fuck was happening?

"what! no way! since when do you deal drugs and carry guns? i don't even know who you are anymore and there is no way i'm getting into your car with you."

he rolled his eyes at you statement, putting his ringed hands against your waist and lifting you into his car effortlessly.

you huffed as he smiled at you sarcastically before closing the passenger door and jumping into the driver's side.

he looked at you expectingly as you stared at his face, his eyes a beautiful shade of blue and his lips pink. he rolled his eyes once again before reaching over and doing up your seat belt for you, his touch making goosebumps on your cleavage as he fastened it.

you sat in silence for a second before he started driving in the direction of figure eight, his large hands gripping tightly on the wheel.

"what were you actually fucking thinking? going to a party on the cut, who knows what could have happened to you if i wasn't there" rafe spat, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to look at you before turning his head back.

"what does it matter to you rafe, i just wanted to have fun and i don't regret it. so tell topper i don't care." you huffed, sinking into your seat, not even believing the words coming out of your own mouth.

"like topper would care anyways" he stated, clenching his jaw so hard you thought it would actually break. "what?"

"toppers not the one that cares." you looked at him dumbfounded, taken aback by his statement. "what do you mean rafe?"

he ignored your statement as he kept driving into the night, the uneasy silence resting heavily in the air. you tapped your fingers against the armrest, watching the trees blur into a haze of green before tannyhill came into view.

"i thought you were taking me home?" you asked, your question again going unanswered until the car came to a halt.

"you're staying at mine, get out." he huffed, walking around the car before swinging your door open and helping you down.

"why would i stay at yours? you're my twin brother's best friend. stop being an idiot rafe" you huffed, halting your movements and staying right out the front of his door.

"you're not the one to be calling shots" rafe said, once again pulling you by the hand up to his room. before you could think he sat you down softly on his bed, kneeling down to look you in the eyes as if to see if you were high or not.

"go away, i'm not high. and you do not have the moral high ground right now"

"shut up" he sighs, resting his large hands down on your bare thighs. "what?" you gasp, ready to smack his touch away the second you could bring yourself to do it.

"do you actually not know how much you drive me crazy?" rafe asks, his stare almost burning holes in your eyes as he looked at you. "i've had my eye on you since we were 3, making sure you never came to me asking for coke or weed, because you know what i would do if anything happened to you? i would go fucking insane."

"rafe..." you sighed, bringing your hand up to his warm cheeks and he leant into your touch. "no. no, don't say anything, i don't wanna hear it-"

he was cut off by your lips touching his, your hands lifting to feel his spiky buzz cut underneath your fingertips. he immediately starting kissing you back as if before this he had never taken a breath before, and you were his oxygen.

his searing touch made its way under your shirt and up to the bottom on your bra, running his hands up and down as he pushed you back so you lay on his soft sheets.

you felt him pull at the hem of your cami, the dainty pink fabric peeling off swiftly as you were left in your bra and skirt. he looked up at you with love-drunk eyes, pupils dilated and black while he started kissing down your neck.

"wait- rafe, no. we can't. topper." you gasped as you somehow leaned even more into his touch as the words came out of your mouth. he halted his actions for a moment, pulling back so he could look at you.

"fuck topper" he spoke as he pulled his shirt off swiftly, his perfect tan skin and abs making you bite your lip. you squealed as he picked you up and brought you to the top of his bed, leaning your head softly against the pillows.

"you're so pretty, so so pretty baby" he uttered, unzipping your skirt and pulling it down your soft legs. "we don't have to do this yeah? only if you want."

you didn't think you could actually adore this man more, but he surprised you every word he spoke.

"please rafe" you whined, dragging your acrylics against his abs as you watched the goosebumps from your touch.

he let out a quiet "fuck" as he smashed his lips onto yours once more.

you reached down to the waistband of his pants feeling around before pulling back as you felt an unfamiliar metal-shaped object.

he looked down at your movements as you stopped "whoops, my bad ma." he pulled the gun out of his waistband and tucked it under the pillow you weren't resting against, going back to kissing you as you giggled.

he undid his belt swiftly, pulling down his pants and boxers until his hard member came into view. you didn't even have time to think of how massive it was as he went down to kiss you once more, pulling your panties aside and entering a finger into you.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he sighed against your lips.

you whined in response, reaching down to his cock and pumping it in your hand. "can't wait any more rafe."

"its ok baby, i've got you"

you gasped loudly as he first entered into you, the large intrusion making you whine in both pain and pleasure.

"yeah, cmon. you can take it baby. you can take it"

his strokes were slow and powerful, filling you up until you felt as though you would snap. his groans soon filled the room as he pounded into you.

"you're so so good to me baby, can't believe we haven't done this sooner. gonna make you mine ma" he moaned, that statement bringing you over the edge as you came around him with a moan.

"thank you thank you thank you" you chanted, your acrylics surely making bright red scratches to his muscly back while you came.

"no, baby. thank you."

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.