#and it also has a wheel bearing that I think is going out

[gothghostiie]

What kind of equipment do u think each of the 141 boys would have in their basement dungeons, if they were to make one? 👀👀👀

I LOOVE this question a lot. so here u go :3

cw: description of bdsm gear, nothing actually happens

Price is an old soul. he's been around before any of the other boys, he's been around the scene since he started learning about his own kinks. he's learned from his elders (older bears, he hung around the gay bdsm scene A LOT) and picked up a few things from them. he's all about leather, has a ton of harnesses that go from decorating purposes to properly tying someone up. leather collar, leather paddles, leather whips, if there's am item made out of leather he has it. he's got a big bed in the room, he's definitely got a pillory too. not huge on specific bdms furniture, but if he wants something he'll usually make it himself, like a lot of his gear - he's learnt that in his years too. ofc he also has classics like simple ropes, canes, clamps, but his preference is leather. he actually doesn't have too many toys, he's got the classics like a Hitachi wand, he's got some vibrator, cockrings but no to very little dildos. hes got his cock, what does he need them for? but what he does have are a few plugs in a wide size range. also has chastity cages/belts and is a huge fan of that. huge fan of anal hooks. definitely builds it in his basement and keeps it locked. definitely has a puppy mask somewhere.

Gaz is more what you'd know as your classics/cliché dungeon these days. he did get started very early on with an impressive array of sex toys that he loves using on his partners and himself, but when his drawers got uncomfortably full he had to find a solution - so dungeon it was. he's more comfortable with keeping his dungeon upstairs instead of the basement, but keeps it locked with multiple locks. he tells people it's his office. its got a big, cozy bed that would fit multiple people. it's all in red and black for him, he doesn't mind having different materials mix. hes a fan of everything whips, canes, crops, he adores leaving marks and burning streaks on his partners. he doesn't love gags, he wants to hear his partners, but he does have one or two laying around, likely a ball gag. he's very open to bdsm furniture but his favourite is, funnily enough, one of these angled pillows. it's versatile and he can bring it anywhere. also loves his sex swing. HUGE fan of vibrators, you'll never find a shortage of any kind of vibrator in that room. he's got a mini fridge/freezer combo to keep glass toys and ice cubes in.

ghost. ghost is all chains and whips. he likes the more aesthetic version of what price has, his dungeon looks like its out of some music video. it's all black, very few items that arent (mostly toys that he can't pick the colour of). loads of hooks on the ceiling, has a bed with a cage underneath it. he's got all kinds of pain toys, he's a big fan of inflicting pain (occasionally also receiving it), so anything that hurts is in his array. from dull impact to sharp, pointy pain its all in there. floggers, bullwhip, cane, wartenberg wheel, clamp, a wooden brush, hell, even a ruler. if it hurts he's got it, guaranteed (except paddles, he hates those). he loves chaining his partners up but he's very skilled with rope (has taken a shibari class more than once) and likes using it for long term bondage and to decorate his subs. big big fan of gags and blind folds, anything that can be used for sensory depravation has to be in his array. he's got some different furniture too, a pillory, saint Andrews cross, bondage bench, has a very sturdy table to strap his partner onto. he's got one of those metal frames that can lock subs into specific positions. absolute fanatic on spreader bars. also has his room upstairs somewhere.

soap. where the hell do I even start. the only reason he has a dungeon is because his dresser was full. yes, the whole dresser. and that was before he unpacked his last order. so, he does the logical thing and turns his spare room into a bdsm dungeon. it's more convenient than having to build and unbuild the kink furniture everytime anyway. that man has everything under the sun. you've seen it once in some underground amateur porn in a language you never ever heard before on a website that probably gave you a hundred viruses? he's got it. if it can be bought he has it. simple things like dildos, cuffs and paddles, more niche stuff like a violet wand, enema equipment and bad dragons, to the really out there stuff like vacbeds, sleeping sacks and full body bitch suits (and that's just the stuff he's not hiding away to not immediately scare his partners off). and he knows how to use everything too, he's genuinely educated himself in everything he's into and is more than willing to get into anything his partner wants. he has very, very little limits and his dungeon reflects that. doesn't care much for aesthetic, buys it in whatever colours he likes best that day (sometimes even in multiple - what if the pretty thing he's fucking prefers pink over black?). the room is definitely a bit overwhelming but its 100% soap.

[lavender-girlfriend-88]

Future Lover - Chapter 2- Jason Todd x Reader

Synopsis: Trying to make it in Gotham, you are dragged clawing and screaming into a time travel mess with a man who claims to be your future husband.

Author’s Note: still messing around with the formatting of these posts, please bear with me! I've seen a lot of authors on here who have such amazing aesthetics, tryna figure mine out lol

So this fic was actually inspired by this post, by @cipheress-to-k-pop.

Thank you so much for your awesome writing and support :)))). Please go check them out!

And thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged/commented on my last post, it means a whole lot. I'm planning on expanding this into a whole chaptered work, so watch this space!

Also, in this chapter I had to write a fight scene, which I've never done before, so please bear with me <:)

Content: Blood, mention of injuries, violence. nothing too gore-y though.

Word Count: 2.7k

No Grammarly we die like men

The tunnel was cold, dark, and loud. The echoes of a battle commenced, requests for support, and slang that you couldn't understand, let alone fully hear, echoed through the eight-lane tunnel. You could barely see a thing, but you could feel the man holding you. His chest was heaving; he’d clearly been running and exerting himself. His breath was warm, and his armour cold. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face, and he licked the sweat from above his top lip. 

He grinned, almost stupidly, at you, before gently putting you on the ground. His bright eyes, one blue, and one bright green, stared down at you, with an unreadable but almost elated expression, before he pulls you aside to hide you both behind a small sedan. It was then you realised your mouth was agape. You quickly closed it.

“Hey, so, here’s the plan. You’re gonna have to wait here, and I’m gonna deal with these guys, and then I’ll explain everything, okay? Take you somewhere real nice, okay, ma?” His voice is low and mature, and a little bit husky, but he speaks to you with a boyish familiarity. A tone that confuses the hell out of you.

You just stare at him, wide eyed like an owl. No words leave your mouth, which has again fallen open. He stared back with a soft lopsided grin, panting. His hand reaches up to click his muzzle on, goggles attached, and when you look into his eyes again they are obscured by white lenses. He speaks again, his voice different under the mask.

“Hah. Yeah, okay. I’ll see you real soon, okay?”

And just like that, he was gone. And you were left staring at the concrete where he had crouched in front of you just seconds ago.

What the hell?

Your impending mental spiral is interrupted by a jarring screech somewhere to your left, but the car blocks your view. Not even thinking to mentally prepare yourself, you peer over the red sedan, and your eyes catch another car, skidding along the road of the tunnel, sending sparks flying. 

In front of you, the scene is chaos. The man who caught you, nowhere to be seen amidst the darkness. But you can see some familiar symbols. Red Robin, perched atop a white van that has toppled to its side, holds his hand to his ear and seems to be contacting someone.

You catch a glimpse of the deep plum cloak of Spoiler, as she flips and ducks, perfectly dodging some incoming arrows. Those arrows, where are they coming from? It’s hard to tell, as the shooter seems obstructed from your view behind another car, and it’s even harder to tell when Red Robin tosses in a smoke bomb, right into the middle of it all.

You blink and cough slightly, your eyes and throat burning slightly from the smoke, but you remain glued to the hood of the car, by the right front wheel; your front row seat to all the action. Your eyes dart to the right, seeing the opportunity to leave, sprint to the tunnel’s bright exit, but you hesitate. The man who caught you told you to stay put. You should, right? I mean, he’s a trained hero, he knows what he’s doing.

But as the smoke continues to billow out, and the sounds of violence continue, your resolve to stay falters. You make one last glance back at the battlefield, then run, low and fast, to hide behind a car nearer to the exit.

You trip and stumble, your kitten heels catching on the rough concrete, and careen forward, nearly faceplanting on the ground. The road shreds your knees and hands, tearing through the fabric of your pants, and you hiss and cry out in pain.

Fuck! I’m in the open, I gotta keep going!

You hobble to rest behind the car in front of you, and take a deep breath, trying to steel your nerves. Always so damn uncoordinated. Then you get back onto your feet, and carry on with your escape.

Keeping low and trying to stay calm, you cast glances backwards to make sure there aren’t any arrows or flying cars heading in your direction, and go again, this time to a smaller green hatchback. 

Huffing, you’re already a little out of breath and you lean up against the car, trying to catch your breath a little. Man, I have gotta cut down on the smokes after this is all over.

FFSSHHHH-VUMP!

Your head shoots up, towards the sound of an impact into the tunnel wall a few feet behind you. It’s a batarang, lodged into the side of an arrow, piercing the concrete, and glueing the two to the wall. But you can see a small light from the head of the arrow, pulsing, faster and faster. Your eyes bulge and your heart lunges, beating so hard against your ribcage you feel like a human drum. Instinct takes over, and faster than your brain can comprehend, you’ve tucked into yourself and have wrapped your arms around your head. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace for impact, vibrating like a mouse’s heartbeat. 

“Oh, shit, shit, shit! Stay down!”

You feel the crash of another body into yours, arms wrapping tightly atop your head, kevlar plate pressed against your back-

BOOM!!

Heat envelops you, and your hair whips around your face wildly, like a thousand tiny thorned whips. Your skin burns slightly. As quickly as it started, its over. And then, a loud high pitched whining, and the feeling of… stuff, on your face. You open both eyes, and everything feels tight and loud. Your scraped and bleeding knees are pulled up to your chest, and you can see the bright green paint of the car your cower next to, and the wheel. Your breathing, rapid and pulsing, becomes your main focus, and you try to slow it down. I think I survived that…

You feel the body behind you stir, too. Large arms turn you around to face a broad chest, and you can hear muffled speaking, though it’s inaudible, under the loud white noise that now invades your head. Hands brush along your face, and you feel the grainy dust get swept away under gloved hands.

“-light……-ay here, okay?.....-ay…. Hey! -an you hear me? Hey!”

You look up at him, blinking the dust and debris from your eyes, but you don’t respond. It’s the same guy as before…. Red muzzle, white lenses, red hood. He’s looking at you, his hands placed on your shoulders, crouched between you and the blast. Your back rests against the side of the car, and you tilt your head back, sharp knives of pain shooting through your skull. It feels like someone has popped a balloon inside your head.

At least the white noise is subsiding.

“Hey! Focus up! I need you to stay with me, okay?”. Red Hood declares to you again, his voice slightly muffled by the mask, but audible all the same.

His voice is different this time. Still deep, and a bit gravelly, but less so than before. He sounds almost... younger?

“I’m here, okay. I can hear you”, you confirm, nodding softly, scrunching your face up in an effort to combat the headache you know is coming.

“Okay, good. Thought we had a bigger problem there, tha’s good.” He replies, shoulders relaxing just a touch. “We’re gonna need to get you outta here, okay? So you’re coming with me.”

You look up at him with furrowed brows, confused once again.

“But you said to stay put?”

He looks down at you, and behind the mask you can see his confusion.

“No, I didn’t-” He sighs, exasperated. “We don’t have time for this.”

He grabs you by the arms and hoists you to your feet, and now the both of you are standing, bent slightly to hide behind the hatchback. Your legs tremble like a newborn deer, and you look down to lightly brush some gravel out of your scraped and bleeding palms.

He peers over the hood of the car, to observe the battle ahead of you, and you follow suit. Spoiler and Red Robin hunch behind a flipped car, Spoiler holding onto Red Robin’s side. He’s bleeding.

A flash of electric blue, and you see Nightwing, with Robin in tow, running full pelt at a young man. He stands, chest puffed out, wearing dark combat clothes and hoisting a taught bow, firing multiple rapid-fire arrows that explode around Nightwing and Robin’s feet. But they’re too nimble, and he is forced to use his bow to parry Nightwings sticks.

Robin, meanwhile, is busy dodging a motorcycle that is hurled towards him. A few feet from him stands a young woman, with glowing blue eyes. Her hands are outstretched, clutching the air, and you can see now that she’s got some sort of superpower. She grunts and shrieks, but you can’t quite make out what she says.

You turn to face Red Hood, who observes the scene with a heaving chest. 

“W-what do we do?” You ask, still a bit dizzy.

He turns to face you. From this angle, the way he towers over you, he looks a bit like a rabid dog, or a wolf. His mask lenses are bleach white, and the muzzle bloody red. His hood, draped over his crown, barely covers his sweat-drenched hair, which sticks to his forehead.

“We’re gonna run, alright? I’m gonna get’chu to the mouth of the tunnel, then you’re gonna keep running, got it?” 

You barely even get the chance to react, before you notice the hatchback being lifted into the air. The shiny green car levitates towards the ceiling of the tunnel, and for a moment everything slows down.

A young woman’s voice rings out.

“Guess I’m gonna have to kill your girl again, Hood!”

It’s not taunting, more reverent and threatening than anything, and it’s followed by a howling response from a man.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ophidia!” 

And your eyes track the voice. The first, from the young woman you saw deflecting Robin before. She’s closer to you now, and you can see her more clearly now. She’s young, younger than you, and lanky like a teenager. She’s frighteningly skinny, with pale blonde hair and even paler skin. Her eyes, glazed like pools of milk, stare at you and Red Hood, and the 1.5 ton car that floats above the two of you, with a look that can only be described as entranced, like she’s witnessing something holy.

The second voice rings out again.

“Get her away! Now!”

That voice, familiar in a way, comes from the man who caught you from your fall before. Red Hood. His familiar worn red muzzle and white-lensed mask adorn his face, but you can hear the panic and tension in his voice. His command is for Red Hood, who stands beside you. The man continues running towards Ophidia, guns drawn, and every muscle in his body seems driven to overpower and disarm the deranged young woman.

WHOOSH!

The car comes hurtling down, and in a split second the Red Hood beside you has pulled you away and down, and you’ve crash-landed onto his chestplate, adorned with the signature red bat-symbol.

CRUNCH!

The green hatchback is no more.

Glass and metal shatter around you, but you feel his gloved hands covering your head as he tucks and curls you behind him. Two-for-zero on the amount of times Red Hood has shielded me with his body in the past five minutes. God, I just wanna go home.

A shard of glass nicks your ear and you can move under the weight of Red Hood’s arms. But you don’t have to, because in a split second he’s scooped you up into his arms and is running full pelt towards the exit of the tunnel, only to screech to a halt as another car comes crashing down in front of his path. He whips his neck around, desperately trying to get you out of this. Your arms tighten around his neck.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

But you hear the whistling, whipping sound of fabric, and the both of you look towards the sound.

Batman. 

Oh, thank fuck.

Perched atop an SUV that has somehow managed to stay on all four wheels, he blends well with the shrouded darkness of the tunnel. But you can see his lenses, white ovals poking from underneath the cowl, as he squints at the adversaries his team faces.

“B!” Red Hood, the one who has you in his arms, calls out. His chest puffs out, in confidence and relief.

Batman looks over to us, nods solemnly, then launches himself towards the girl. From your position in Red Hood's arms, you watch as he completely overwhelms her in a flurry of tactical manoeuvres, all whilst dodging arrows from her counterpart. Supported by Nightwing, and Robin, the two of them are pushed further and further back, until the young man cries out.

“Ophidia, retreat!”

The response that comes is harsh and whiny.

“Felix, I’m not gonna-”

“Ophidia, we’re not gonna win this, we gotta go!”

She growls, then, like she’s pulling out the last trick she knows, reaches her hands to the ceiling, fingers crooked like claws. The concrete ceiling of the tunnel collapses, creating an explosion of rubble and pale dust that fills the air. You tuck your head into Red Hood’s chest, shielding yourself from the noise and debris. The dust settles quickly, and the two are gone.

Red Hood puts you gently on the ground, then breathes deeply. He looks down at you, a hand still on your back, steadying you.

“You alright?”

You look back up at him, blinking, and still in a bit of shock. You nod, slowly.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m okay.”

A figure comes running towards you, and you have to make a double take. He’s… wearing the exact same outfit as the Red Hood that stands beside you.

“Hey, sweetheart, you alright?” He pants out as he reaches you, and you have to glance between him and the hero that stands to your left, hand still placed on your back. It’s a bit disconcerting to be asked the same question…. twice.

The Red Hood beside you is the first to speak.

“Hey man, thanks for your help back there, but we’re not looking for copycats. So, kindly fuck off.”

The Red Hood in front of you, chuckles beneath the mask.

But before he can respond, Batman’s footsteps approach the three of you.

“Someone needs to explain this situation to me right now.” He states, gruffly. His voice, smooth in its commanding presence, brings a mixture of fear and awe to your chest. You stare at the looming Bat in front of you with wide eyes. Your mouth refuses to speak in such a presence. For some reason I feel like I’m in trouble.

The Red Hood next to you pipes up again. With a tone that tells you he’s totally and utterly done, he addresses Batman.

“It’s nothin’ serious, B, just another fanboy. I’ll sort him out.” 

“HAH! Fanboy? You wish, squirt.” The other Red Hood quips back, clearly smiling beneath the mask. Before anyone can respond, he flicks back the hood, and removes the mask from his face with one hand, letting it hang against his chest. It’s the man that caught you from your leap from the bus before. His hair, sweat-heavy and stuck to his forehead, same as it was before. Raven black, with a snow white streak in the front, salty flecks of white and grey throughout his hairline, showing his age. Crows feets, and the scars of many battles crease his sharp and defined face. Heterochromia; one ocean blue eye, one a radioactive green.

The Red Hood beside you stiffens. So does Batman.

“What the fuck?” Red Hood blurts out.

“Yeah. Still a fanboy?” Red Hood replies, arrogantly.

Your eyes dart from one reaction to another, and Red Hood removes his hand from your back. 

“Jason?” Batman murmurs, mouth slightly agape, showing slivers of pearly white teeth.

“The one and only!” The older Red Hood stretches his arms out, like a jester in a royal court, and puff his chest out proudly. “Well, not anymore.” He grins to the Red Hood who stands beside you.

“What the fuck, man! Put your mask back on, she’s a civilian, she can’t know what I look like.” The Red Hood beside you scolds him, incredulously. 

“Now why would I wanna hide my face from my lovely wife, huh?” The older one replies.

Silence.

“What?!” You and Red Hood shout in sync.

Tag list:

@c4xcocoa @coffeemin

@theendofthematerialgworl

(I hope i did that right.)

AHHHH I hope you like it. I spent all night working on it, and avoiding my actual responsibilities hehe

[briarpatch-kids]

Let's talk mobility aids!

Canes

Canes are for when you need to take a little bit of weight off of one side of your body, need a little help with balance, or need a little extra stability when you walk. It's an easy mobility aid to find and get, and it's pretty easy to figure out how to use. Have the cane sized so the handle sits at wrist level, then hold it on the opposite side to the one that hurts. Match your cane strikes to the steps on the hurt side. It will hurt your arm, elbow, and shoulder sometimes, but having a properly sized cane will help.

Rollators

Rollators are kind of the "next step up" in support. They come with more restrictions, you get limited to ramps and stuff, but they're also the least restrictive wheeled mobility aid because they're light and easy to pick up and toss around. They also have a seat a lot of times and a basket so you don't need to carry stuff. They're for when you need a place to rest, something to lean on when you walk, better balance assistance than a cane, and less weight bearing than a cane. I also found that it helped me with fatigue quite a bit. There's two main kinds, euro style like the first, and regular like the second. There are other fancier ones but I'm covering the basics here.

Rollators are my favorite mobility aid and I've used everything from canes to a fancy high grade power chair. They're just the perfect balance of help and freedom. They provide so much support for how far they go.

Crutches

Arm crutches are pretty neat! They're a lot more ergonomic than a cane. In fact, some people use a single arm crutch as a cane. They distribute the weight a little better, so it's not all on your wrists, and they support you better than a rollator can. The major cons I found are that they take two hands to use so you can't carry much and I had a really hard time trying to learn to walk with them. A lot of people who use forearm crutches have other mobility aids and use the forearm crutches when they want to or need to walk.

Manual Wheelchairs

These are for when walking becomes more difficult than pushing a wheelchair. There's no weight being put on your legs and feet and depending on your needs, you can get really specific with your adaptations if you have a custom wheelchair verses a standard wheelchair. My first custom chair looked like a monster truck because i took in the woods and gravel, my second custom chair after I got sicker has a head rest, a backrest that holds me up, and a little electric box that I can attach that helps me push. The difference between getting a standard and custom wheelchair is dependent on how much money the user has, what kind of needs they have, and what kind of medical access they have. (One is not more "real" than the other.) I highly recommend getting a cushion for under your butt if you have a standard chair without a cushion, I used a standard full time for 6 months and a cushion made a huge difference.

Mobility scooters

Mobility scooters are for people who can't walk long distances, but can still walk with the help of a cane or unassisted. If you can walk around your house, but not really much else, a mobility scooter might be the aid for you! There's a lot of different styles and battery life lengths and handling abilities so try a few different scooters out if you can.

Powerchairs

Powerchairs come in a couple different types or "groups" depending on your needs. Group 1 is the kind of chair you're probably most familiar with. It's basically for someone who needs a powerchair to get around their house, the doctors, office, and grocery store. You can't do any custom seat cushions or anything, but it's for people who don't need it. Think of like... someone who can walk pretty okay still, it just hurts to walk or they're off balance or a little weak feeling. A lot of times more elderly people will use these, if you're more active look into group 2

Group two chairs are little more durable, a little more stable, sometimes you can switch the captains seats out for custom seating... They're what a full time powerchair user would use if they don't need specialty functions like tilt or recline. They also often have 6 wheels rather than 4 like the group 1 chairs have.

Group 3 powerchairs are reserved for specific diagnoses like muscular dystrophy, ALS, and other severe neurological and neuromuscular illnesses. These are also called "rehab" chairs because they're for making sure severely disabled people have quality of life. The tilt function is for pressure relief, though you can also get things like elevation so you can raise and lower your chair, and some of them can recline flat. There are other avenues of moving grade 3 power chairs beyond the joystick as well in case someone can't use their hands or doesn't have them. (Head controls, torso controls, and straw controls called sip and puff are alternatives.) They can go on a little worse terrain than group 1 and two chairs and go a little farther, but if they get stuck they weigh 350 lbs and it's awful.

There's a few other types of mobility aid that I don't know enough about, like ankle foot orthotics and gait trainers, but these are the basic "mobility aid" most people will come across.

If you use another type of mobility aid and want to educate people, add it on!!

[idkwhatever580]

You Like Me?

Pairings: WandaNat, WandaNatxreader (eventually)

Prompt: I decided to pair this prompt and this prompt together to create one big mess :)

Warnings: Poly couple, swearing, Nat being kind of a bitch, crying, a wee bit of angst I assume, fluff, soft Wanda, suggestive tones, shit writing, really im serious this writing is so shit, lmk if I missed any!

A/N: I really hope I did y'all justice because this is my first time writing WandaxNatxreader so please bear with me as I probably write a trainwreck of a story @sxlfishbrokenheart

Also don't ask what is going on with the povs I am clearly struggling throughout the whole damn thing T-T

Natasha's thoughts = Red

Wanda's thoughts = Orange

Y/n's thoughts = Purple

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Movie night at the Avengers' tower means cry night for you. Everyone in the tower has strict assigned seating so that nobody gets in a fight, even though it doesn't always keep the peace.

Everything seems to be great except for the fact that you have to sit beside Wanda and Natasha. Which isn't a problem for everyone else right? Wanda, Nat, and Y/N the towers' favorite trio...

Bestie trio, that is.

While Wanda and Nat are the perfect power couple, you're left as the third wheel that also happens to be pining for the both of them. So, while everyone thinks you love sitting with them on movie nights, you sit in agony while watching them out of the corner of your eye.

Sometimes Wanda, who sits in the middle of you and Nat, will pull you into her and claim that it's just what besties do. You of course, can't say no to her, so you end up running back to your room after most movie nights to cry about your wishful thinking.

You honestly can't even remember a movie night where you actually watched the movie. You usually just fall asleep in their arms trying to soak up the affection while you can.

But your dynamic has changed in the past few months...

Wanda is still super lovey and always pulls you in, maybe even more so than before, while Nat has become meaner and ruder towards you. So, you really feel like you're impeding on their relationship, which makes you get into your head.

Maybe Nat is being mean to me because she is jealous. Of course, she has a right to be jealous when Wands has been really close with me. I don't want to ruin their relationship. I'm not even trying anything. Maybe it is because they can sense that I like them. Oh my gosh, it is... Of course! Wanda is being extra nice because she pities me, while Nat is being mean because she is blunter and more obvious that she doesn't like me. I need to leave them alo-

You are cut out of your thoughts when a hand is placed on your thigh. That hand is none other than Wanda's, she leans in and says, "Hey, you alright?"

You quickly nod your head, and she visibly relaxes, but she continues, "Are you sure? Because we haven't even started watching anything and you look like you're zoned out on the tv that isn't even on."

This conversation peaks Natasha's interest, so she leans forward so she can see you past Wanda with an eyebrow raised. She is clearly waiting for you to conjure up an answer.

You quickly stutter out, "Oh- yeah, um, I am fine, I just- I just zoned out for a sec, you know how my ADHD can be."

Wanda squints her eyes and exchanges a look with Nat, but they let it slide. You still decide that you need to pull away from them, you can't be pretending like they are yours to love when they aren't.

So, you scooch over to the other side of the couch you three share, which isn't too far considering there is almost no wiggle room between the three of you. It still saddens Wanda regardless, but you don't see that it also saddens Nat.

The movie starts and Wanda tries to pull you in again, you consider letting it happen, but today is different. Today you pull away again, but the look of hurt that flashes over Wanda's face hurts you more than any sort of cuddling could ever.

Her expression pains you so much in fact that you get up and go to run off. Nat grabs your hand to try and catch you and see what is going on with you, but you are somehow swifter, so you just pull your arm away from her grasp and walk off.

Nobody saw you run off because your couch is in the back, but Wanda and Natasha exchange each other's glances and immediately jump up to go comfort you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda's pov

Y/n just ran off after I tried to cuddle with her, so Natasha and I are currently going to find her.

We are standing in the elevator waiting for it to go to our floor which is also Y/n's.

"Wanda, why did she run off like that?"

I look over at Nat and shrug with wide eyes, "I don't know, she doesn't normally do this. She pulled away earlier before the movie started but I didn't think anything of it. Oh God she didn't want to cuddle today, and I did it anyways I totally made her uncomfortable!"

Natasha cuts me off, "Hey! You're spiraling, clearly Y/n needs us to be there for her, so we have to stay calm. I am sure there is a very good explanation as to why she didn't want to cuddle tonight."

The elevator dings and we rush over to Y/n's room and before Nat bangs on the door, I lean up and hear her sniffles.

Nat hears this too and loudly knocks on the door.

I say, "Y/n? Honey? Can you let us in?"

She lets out a sob, but doesn't answer, and I am concerned for her safety, so I say, "Okay, I'm going to come in now."

I carefully pry open the door and see her sitting on her floor in tears, so I quickly make my way over to her and sit down next to her, "Darling can I hold you?"

She shakes her head, so I sigh and stay seated next to her. Eventually though, she ends up leaning into me and I wrap my arms around her. Once her tears cease, I softly say, "Can you tell us what's going on?"

She looks up at Natasha and gets scared and shakes her head. Natasha tries to ask, "Why did you run off Y/n?"

I know that she means well when she asks this, but the way it comes out is really harsh and Y/n starts crying a little bit again, and just starts shaking her head, so I hush her and lean into her ear to whisper, "Do you not want to say in front of Natasha?"

Y/n thinks about it and softly shakes her head.

I sigh and say, "I can send her out if you'd feel more comfortable."

She stays silent for a moment, and right when I think she is going to start crying again, she nods her head into my shoulder, so I lift my head up and use my powers to silently conversate with Nat in her head.

"She wants you out..."

"What?! Why?"

"Not sure."

"Then why do I have to go?"

"I know you don't get it, but she needs to feel comfortable and if that means that you have to leave then you need to go, please, I love you baby, but we have to get to the bottom of what is going on. I'll let you know after."

Natasha huffs and nods her head without another word, and she leaves the room to presumably go lay in our bed waiting for me to come and give her an update.

Once Nat leaves I go back to tending to Y/n. "Do you want to go on your bed? This floor might hurt your back."

Y/n nods softly and I pick her up and carry her to the bed. When I set her down, she sits up, so I know she is ready to talk. "Alright, what was that whole thing about? You never leave a movie night early, and you definitely don't run off crying... Right?"

The defeated look Y/n sends my way makes me realize this crying is a normal thing for her, "Oh dorogoy, why do you do this? Why don't you come to me or Nat?"

She sighs and says, "I can't go to you because- because... I- I can't tell you."

This hits me kind of hard, I don't want the woman that we love to feel like she can't come to us for anything. "Why do you say that?"

She gets frustrated and just blurts out, "Because Wanda! I-" Her face contorts to surprise at her outburst, and she quickly tries to cover it up, "I said I can't tell you for a reason."

I sigh and secretly read her mind, She is struggling because she thinks Natasha hates her.

All I see when I subtly read her mind are flashes of Nat being a complete and utter bitch to her, and that is all it takes for me to realize that she thinks Nat totally hates her guts.

I nod and say, "Okay, well I will let you figure it out, since you seem to want to be by yourself. We're always here if you need us. I am gonna go to bed I guess, Nat is waiting in our room, are you alright on your own?"

She simply nods and I ask another question, "You'll come to us if you need anything?"

She nods again and we say our goodbyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I almost run to my shared room and immediately start telling Natasha everything. "Natasha, she does like us!"

Nat furrows her eyebrows, because I only use her full name when I am mad at her. So, she looks at me and says, "That's old news, but are you mad at me? And it also doesn't explain why she was crying."

I sit down on the bed and tell her, "Nat, I am not mad at you, you are just dumb."

Her jaw drops a bit, and she says, "I'm not stupid!"

I laugh when her subtle Russian accent comes out, (she's been hanging around Yelena way too much recently, but I like it) and say, "I called you dumb, not the same thing as stupid. Anyways, Y/n was crying because she likes both of us, and she is scared she is going to split us up because you don't like her."

She frowns and retorts, "but- I do like her?"

I glare and say, "I know that, but Y/n thinks you hate her because you are mean to her! You know she is a sensitive soul; you have to try a different approach than what you did with me."

The crease across her forehead never goes away, if anything, it gets bigger, "But I am only flirting with her, you know that is how I flirt."

I laugh and say, "Oh Natty, I knew you liked me because I can read minds, Y/n cannot do that, so she can't tell that you like her if you are a bitch to her, no offense."

She looks down and realization washes over her, so she says, "So what do I do? She barely talks to me anymore, and she definitely won't let me in her room right now."

I sigh and say, "you'll have to figure it out somehow."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

idk pov (guys I can't- I seriously don't know right now)

It has been a few days since the day you locked yourself away from everyone, and you have been avoiding both of them since.

You have locked yourself up in your part of Tony's lab and you just can't bring yourself to face them. You also skipped movie night last night and everyone was trying to see if you are okay, but you just told FRIDAY to let them know you are fine.

You are tinkering with one of your suit pieces when you realize you need a tool that you don't have, but you know Tony has it on his work bench.

So, you walk over to his side of the lab and of course none other than the Natasha Romanoff is sitting at his bench looking for something. You sigh and contemplate waiting for her to leave, but you really need this tool, and you see it right on a shelf above his desk. So, you sigh and make you way quietly over to the desk, but while you reach out to grab it, Nat also reaches up for the same tool and you bump each other's hands.

Within the blink of an eye, three things happen; Nat and you bump hands, you end up hitting the shelf, and one of Tony's weird gadgets fall onto your wrists effectively locking around your wrists and binding you together.

You groan and Nat says, "Shit, I didn't see you."

You shake my head and turn away as much as you can, and you say "It's fine, I should have made my presence known."

She starts looking at the gadget and you take a second to examine it closer and say, "Oh. My. God."

Natasha furrows her eyebrows in confusion and says, "What is it?"

You groan and say, "These are the vibranium tondricuffs Tony has been working on."

She rolls her eyes when you don't explain and says, "And what does that mean? I might be a spy, but I don't know this sciencey shit you do."

You shake your head from the soft thoughts of her perfect lips and say, "Oh- uhh it is just what he calls them, but when I say he is working on them, it means that he hasn't figured them out yet and I don't think he knows how to unlock them."

Nat takes a deep breath and says, "So, you're telling me, that since Tony can't seem to put away his stupid toys, we are locked together for the foreseeable future?"

You sigh and nod your head, dropping it the second you feel heat rising to your face at the thought of all the things you might have to do with Nat. "Who do we tell? Isn't Tony on a mission?"

Nat groans even louder at the realization and says, "I guess we should go tell Wanda, and then she will help make a plan right?"

You bite your lip at the thought of facing her, and Nat sees your hesitation, "Hey, what's up with you lately? You always want to see Wanda."

You make brief eye contact with Nat and quickly look away until she puts her fingers to your chin and pulls you to look at her. She looks deep into your eyes and says, "You've been distant, ever since..."

You sigh and say, "Sorry, I guess I don't like when people see me cry."

Nat furrows her eyebrows and says, "You're a terrible liar."

You look at her with shock and say, "I am not lying!"

She laughs and says, "Oh really?"

When you nod your head she smirks and says, "If you really didn't like when people see you cry, then why did you never shut us out before? You have cried in our arms before, and you have never done something like this."

You sigh and say, "Okay, well- maybe I have changed."

Nat rolls her eyes as you decide to continue your work on your suit, effectively dragging Nat along wherever you go, not that she minds. She keeps pressing even though you clearly want to drop the subject, "You're hiding something."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"No. I'm. Not."

"If you weren't hiding anything then why don't you tell me why you couldn't face me the other night? And why you can barely look at me today?"

This seems to break you, her constant nagging is really pissing you off and you just slam your tools on the work bench and say, "Alright fine! You really want to know why I have been avoiding you?"

She nods her head, "yes please do enlighten me."

You groan and turn to her completely and just blab everything, "Because! You clearly see that I like Wanda and you are mad so you have been really mean, which is understandable, because she is your girlfriend, but what you don't know is that I like both of you and I know you probably hate my guts even more than before, but I really needed to get that off of my chest and-"

Before you can let any more word vomit fall out of your mouth Natasha's lips are on yours in an instant. They shut you up really well.

Your eyes widen and you push her away as much as you can, given the fact that you're still handcuffed together.

"Nat what are you doing?!"

She looks at you, "Is that not what you wanted this whole time?"

"Well, yes, but what about Wanda?"

She realizes that you don't know that she and Wanda knew, "Oh! Right! Wanda knows you like her. And I knew I just didn't know how to flirt. I am apparently a really shitty flirt when I am being genuine. I can fake flirt, but when I have a real crush, I turn into an asshole. It worked for Wands, but I realized it didn't necessarily work for you huh?"

You shake your head with wide eyes. Still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that both of your crushes like you back. Before you can fall deeper into your thoughts, Nat asks, "Wanna continue what we were doing?"

All you can do is nod, but her lips are immediately locked on your own. The feeling burns but it burns so so good. You two continue to swap spit until you hear someone speak, "Am I interrupting something ladies?"

You both pull away and look to see Wanda standing in the doorway. You freeze, still unsure if she is okay with you kissing her girlfriend, and she starts to step towards the two of you.

Once she gets up really close to you, she gives you a soft look and walks by you to kiss Nat pulling away to say, "Hi baby."

They exchange some small talk, and you are really uncomfortable because you have no idea what to do. They are just acting like you're not there and that you and Nat weren't just kissing.

Then, they both turn to you and Wanda leans closer to you, "Tell me Natasha, was it your intention to keep this sweet thing from me?"

Your eyes widen as Nat shakes her head aggressively letting out a soft 'no'.

Who knew Natasha was a bottom... they even acted like she was the top around me. Impressive.

Wanda lifts your chin a bit to look at her and she smirks, "What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, y/n/n?"

You snap out of it and whine a bit, and Wanda smiles and says, "Do you want a kiss too?"

You nod your head.

"Words sweet one."

"Y-yes please."

She smiles and looks back at Natasha briefly saying, "This one has good manners. She knows her place well. We've known her for all this time and yet we're just finding this out. Oh, we're going to have so much fun with her Natty."

Nat nods her head, and Wanda turns back to you to say, "Now... about that kiss."

She leans in, and you meet her halfway to interlock her delicate lips together with yours. It is likes soft pillows meeting sparkling fireworks.

You get lost in the kiss and try to push a little more for a deeper one, but Wanda pulls away with a soft smirk. As much as you want to pout for losing contact with her, all you can do is send a dopey smile her way.

Wanda exchanges looks with Natasha and they both look back at you. Nat speaks first, "So, now that we have that out of the way, Wands and I were wondering if you wanted to be our girlfriend?"

Your eyes widen and Wanda speaks up a bit, "Don't feel pressured to give us an answer right now. We understand it's new, and you might be feeling overwhelmed, we just want to put the offer on the table."

Then she leans closer to you and speaks in a low tone, "Although we don't like to be kept waiting."

Her silky voice makes you blush a bit, but you clear your throat and say, "Date both of you? At the same time?"

They both nod their heads and you say, "Yes! A thousand times yes!"

They both smile as you kiss each of them multiple times.

Natasha sighs and says, "Alright, what do you want to do as our official girlfriend now?"

You smile and say, "As much as I would love to go watch movies to make up for the last two movie nights that I missed, I really would like to get this thing off."

You hold up both Natasha's and your connected arms up to show Wanda the tondricuffs.

Wanda's eyebrows raise, she's probably wondering what happened to get that locked onto you. Natasha sighs in defeat and says, "Oh, right... that." You softly grab Nat's hand.

Wanda is about to ask questions, but you cut in and say, "Ask questions later, find Tony now. Please."

Safe to say there was a lot to discuss, but it will all work out now that you have your girls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so terribly sorry for how long this took me to write... I genuinely thought it would be quick and easy, but college is kicking my ass, and I really didn't want to leave you with nothing. So, it's a little shitty, but it's something!

Masterlist

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo @lovelyy-moonlight @symp4nat @ale-estrabao @mrsrushman @kkreader78o @cheekysnake

[aangelinakii]

THE TEDDY THAT NEEDS TWO PARENTS.

— not his partner, not his lover.

summary : you're sick of this situationship you're in with tim drake. it's time for a change, and you're going to get it. one way or another.

note : mention of sexual occurances ? but it's not explicitly said it's more of like an alluded to sexual stuffs,, and also mentions of food issues and also tim is toxic !!!!!!

requested !

he's standing here, paid with his own money, throwing rubber balls at tin cans to win you a stupid teddy bear — but it's the biggest one on the shelf, so you're not too upset.

it's just... isn't this what boyfriends do? you know, for the people they're dating?

and, whatever this was between you and tim drake, it's not dating.

he throws his final ball, with a single tower of three cans left; he started with three balls, three towers, and managed to knock the first two down. if he misses this, you'll pretend to be upset, but then give him a kiss anyway as a thanks for participating.

you can't watch. your hands come to shield your eyes from the loss he's about to suffer.

ding! ding! ding!

from beside you, tim cheers and the attendant behind the stand gives a laugh. "nice one, what can i get for you?"

tim's voice grows farther away as he moves off to get the teddy bear, and you reluctantly move your hands away. he's probably just joking around to make you think he did it.

but when your eyes land on the table, which once owned three towers, you find it mostly empty, save for the few tin cans toppled to their sides. he... he did it?

you turn, and tim's coming back, his smile wide and shiny, the white stuffed teddy the same size as the length of his torso. "did you see?" he grins, holding out the bear for you, its head bobbing to the side, looking like its being held up by the scarlet red ribbon tied there. "three towers down just like that."

a surprised laugh huffs past your lips, and you have to try to pretend you're not surprised — not when it comes to tim, you shouldn't be surprised anymore.

"yeah, you were just great!" you reply, taking the bear beneath the shoulders and holding it to your side. he is really cute... or she. you should name it, but the only name you can think of is tim, and you're not sure you want to remember your new teddy by him.

seeming to mimic your action with the teddy bear, tim loops his arm around your back, pulling you snug into his side as you step away from the stand, the man stacking the towers back up again behind you. "where to next?" tim asks, squeezing the fabric of your clothes beneath his palm lightly. "i'm kind of hungry after all that throwing."

this time a real laugh comes out. "throwing? you barely threw them hard enough to kill a fly if it went past."

cheeky smile on his face, tim removes his arm to sling around your shoulders. "well, i saw a burger truck that smelled really good when we passed earlier. you up for burgers?"

"as long as you're paying." despite what could've sounded self-depricating, your tone told tim you were joking. he still squeezes your shoulder regardless.

"don't worry, i've got you tonight," he smiles, peering down at you beneath crescented eyes that come with his grin. it doesn't seem his lips are budging any time soon. "everything on me. gotham doesn't always have the carnival."

see? in this light, the purples and reds and greens flashing from the ferris wheel you tread beneath, he could be a boyfriend. the words he chooses, sure to melt your heart, if only you weren't thinking the entire time about how he could be the one to mend it.

yet he seems to break it every time.

every time he leaves your place, after spending the night in your arms, or you in his; every time he walks past you like he hasn't seen you most at your vulnerable, whether it be tears streaming down your face or stripped to your under garments. every time you're together with other people and he refers to you as his friend.

just his friend.

not his partner, not his lover. nothing of the sort.

and then he has the nerve to take you on a date to the fair like a good boyfriend would?

when you come back to your senses, you're standing next in line at the burger van tim said he wanted food from. to be honest, your appetite disappeared long ago; you can't seem to stomach food in his presence.

but he squeezes your shoulder again and smiles down at you and you think you'll ask him just to get you some fries. if you're hungry later you'll eat when you're alone.

finally the group in front moves away, and tim steps up to the cook leaning out the window, where delicious fumes of oil-soaked meats and spices of condiments are floating through. "hey! can i get a large cheeseburger, everything inside, and a pepsi max?" tim orders, and then looks down at you, the light from inside the van casting shadows on his face that make him look almost soft. almost. "you craving much?"

it takes you a minute, your mind too focused on how the light can change the way your heart beats for him; if you can't see the entire face that keeps letting you down, it seems to not think anything's wrong. "just some fries, please."

"great," tim smiles, turning back to nod at the man, and he reels his arm back from over your shoulders to dig into his pocket for his wallet. "you find somewhere while i pay, okay? i'll come with the food."

no need to tell you twice.

when you detach yourself from him, your entire side is burning with the remnants of tim drake, his casual kindness, lingering smiles, such a great contrast to how he sounded on the phone the other night when you asked him to hang out; deep sighs, long pauses. it's like he's an entirely different person.

your thoughts keep you occupied long enough to see tim return, balancing a cardboard box of loaded fries, his wrapped burger and his cup of pepsi in his arms. you found a picnic bench nearby, and purposely sat your new teddy in the space beside you so tim would have to sit opposite you instead.

maybe if you looked at him hard enough you could hate him.

tim sits down before you none the wiser. he places the food down and pokes the box of fries over to your section of the wooden table. you probably won't end up touching them, and he'll eat them all, which is fair, considering it's his money.

he begins to eat his burger like he can't read the room; not like he ever had that skill with you anyway.

still, you find it hard to believe he works alongside batman, once acting as his main sidekick — and he still can never pick up on your frustration towards him.

or maybe it's that he just chooses not to.

"tim," you say firmly, causing him to look up from his burger, but continue chewing all the while. "can we talk?"

"yeah, anything," you just about make out through his mouthful of beef and cheese and bap bun.

"can you stop eating for this?"

his chew pauses, and you can tell in the couple seconds he looks at you that he's weighing up the situation. he resumes crunching down his mouthful and places the burger down on its wrapping, swallowing his food.

now his attention is on you — fully, for what feels like the first time in months — the words feel like they're about to disappear, like you're going to back out and leave this unspoken.

no, you have to.

you have him now, you have to.

"i... guess i just want to say i'm not really sure this is," you finally say.

tim doesn't make an effort to respond, or even seem like he understands what you mean.

"like..." oh, god, here come the stupid words. "what are we?"

that seems to do it.

his lips part like he wants to say something but stopped quickly, and he flinches like you're holding your fists up at him, ready to strike, but you haven't moved, and he doesn't speak.

does he even know?

"like, i know we're friends, but it feels like we're on a date right now," you further explain, feelings hot and heavy in your chest. "and it's not like you asked me to go on a date with you, you just said let's go to the carnival, but i feel like you're treating me... i don't know. like we're actually together."

a pause.

"and you always treat me like that, except for when we're with other people, then you don't. then you act like you don't want anything to do with me at all."

his eyes have flitted down to stare at his burger, almost like he's expecting it to grow arms and legs and come to his aid.

"so i guess i just want an explanation."

seeing this as the end of your rant, tim lets out a great sigh.

he brings his hands up from beneath the table, resting his elbows on the wood and steepling his fingers, where his chin rests on the tips. he won't look at you, but he's incredibly silent, so much so that the screams and laughs of fairgoers around you seems to grow louder in the absence of his voice.

the silence alone urges you to reach out for the still-untouched box of fries, and you pull it towards yourself, reaching in for a salty chip, eager to pass the time until he dare speaks.

you've stopped counting how many chips you've eaten when you can make out his voice over the round of screams as the rollercoaster zooms past.

"i'm sorry," is all he says, but you push the box of fries a smidgen away, an instinctive reaction to him. you deserve to unlearn that.

your stare is hot on him, and even in the lack of daylight you can tell he's squirming under the pressure.

"i shouldn't be dragging you along," he continues sheepishly, avoiding your eyes like his life depends on it. "i... i suppose it's just easier to be like this than to man up and actually ask you. and you've shown me you'll just... god, this is horrible."

"no, tell me," you answer almost immediately. "tell me so i can do better. i don't want to be stupid."

"you're not—" the ghost of a smile dances along his lips. "you're not stupid. it's my fault, not yours at all in this. i was being selfish, taking advantage of what i could get. and what i could get was you, i suppose."

even though he's being honest, which you want, you can't help but feel a twang in the pit of your stomach.

"you do like me, though, right?" you ask him before you can stop yourself. you sound like a child, but you can justify it by reminding yourself of all the mixed signals he's been giving you the past few months.

this is what causes that small smile to widen, show the truth of his feelings, heart to spill out all over the table. he gives a small nod, like he can't believe he's doing it, and gingerly places a hand on the table, palm facing up.

he takes a small breath, words uncertain as he speaks next. "i totally understand if you get up right now and choose to never see me again — like, i really, really get it — but... i don't know, i really like you, i think i just need to unlearn some things about myself. would you, i don't know, stay around and teach me better?"

now is the time his eyes finally meet yours, and he's leaning ever so slightly across the table towards you. should you do it?

"i know i was stringing you along, but i don't think i waited for a minute to actually think about what i was doing."

even though every pang of sadness and ache from the past five months is telling you not to, something stronger behind your ribs is telling you to take his hand.

and so you take it.

"this bear is gonna need two parents," you muster up the courage to say, a bashful smile shining through.

tim even grins — something you're not used to being because of you — and he stands up slightly to lean into you, his hand still gripping yours, but the other comes to place lightly on the side of your head. a soft peck lands on your crown, possibly the softest tim has ever been with you.

when he sits back down, his free hand finds his burger again. "can i eat yet?"

"yes, you can eat," you chuckle in response.

although it's clear he's trying to hide it behind his big bite of burger, tim's grinning, and his eyes fold into soft crescents. "so, does this mean i'm your boyfriend?"

"it fucking better, you dick."

the words are harsh but your tone is sweet, spoken alongside a smile that causes your cheeks to hurt.

[secretlysamcro]

CHERRY PIE PT. 1

Female reader x Jax Teller SMUT, explicit language, possible spoilers. if you’re under the age of 18, haven’t finished the show, or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Jax takes a final drag of his cigarette, his whole demeanour radiating confidence. With a slight touch of cockiness, he turns to ask you, “you really don’t think I can do it, huh?” He flicks away the butt, turning his attention back to the fair game, ready to prove his skills.

You can’t help but smile at his confidence, also amused by his unwavering self assurance. It wasn’t the selfish kind, more of a charming quality that made him even more intriguing. “Just get on with it Teller” you teased, “and if you do, I want that one” you point to the giant sized brown bear hanging from the top of the stall.

Jax turns to you, grinning victoriously as he hands you the giant brown bear. His smirk growing larger as he comments “good thing I drove the car” he adds a playful wink at the end.

You let out a coy laugh, “I knew you’d win it, just needed to give you a little push” you joked, enjoying the sight of your new prize. With a thankful smile, you express your appreciation “thank you” you lean into Jax’s side lightheartedly, an embrace without actually wrapping your arms around him.

You stroll through the fairground alongside Jax, only a slight gap in between you both. The giant teddy bear clutched in your grasp. Jax observes you closely, noticing how you seem lost in your own little world, taking in the sights and the details of everything going on around you. As you approach a narrow section of the path, it’s packed tightly with people, Jax gently places his hand on your lower back, guiding you through the waves of bodies. A protective gesture that shows his concern for your safety, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

He leads you to a less crowded spot, pulling softly on your arm as you escape the crush of the crowd. He leans against a wall, a serious expression now on his face. “I’ve been wanting to apologise to you…” he begins to admit “…I wanted to do something more, you know… conventional but I just have some shit going on with the club and-” you cut him off quickly with a reaussuring smile.

“Jax, this is perfect… honestly, I’m really enjoying myself” you assure him, with your angelic smile.

He releases a sigh of relief, nodding his head in agreement as he realises you are genuinely enjoying yourself. He was a little apprehensive bringing up the club, he thought that it might have bothered you, having been rejected several times in the past due to his involvement with it.

Jax observes your gaze lingering on the Ferris wheel, “You wanna go on it?” He asks quietly, a small smile forming on his face.

“You’ll come on it with me?” You question, with a hopeful tone.

Jax chuckles at your answer “Do I look like the kinda’ guy to make you ride solo?” he pushes himself off the wall now, “how about we put this guy in the car first” he says as he gestures towards the oversized teddy you still have in your arms.

The line for the Ferris wheel is a little long, but the wait doesn’t seem to bother either of you. Jax stands towering behind you, his hands gently resting on your hips, guiding you subtly as the line moves forward. In that moment, is when you become acutely aware of the effect that Jax’s gentle touch has on your entire body. You take note of the tiny hairs on the back of your neck, now raised. Your breathing becoming the tiniest bit laboured and a certain throbbing sensation that is hard to ignore. The intensity of your bodies reaction throws you off slightly, you hadn’t expected such a response from a touch so simple.

"You okay?" Jax murmurs, his breath warm as he leans in, his face nestled against the curve of your neck. What you don't realise is that Jax too, is experiencing the same intense sensations. His mind drifting to other scenarios, which may involve him having his hands on your waist.

You spin round, forcing a calm breath as you try to steady your over racing heart. "Yeah, all good" you smile, although its more of a nervous curve of the lip, your mind scrambling to find something, anything to say. "When's the last time you've been on one of these then?" you ask, hoping he doesn't notice the desire taking over your entire soul.

He chuckles, a knowing glint in his eyes. He can sense something is off with you, but he cant quite put his finger on what. "Its been a while" he responded, as he tries to recall the last time he stepped foot in a fair. As president of SAMCRO, these kinds of moments are fleeting. Jax is usually tangled up in the messier side of life. You laugh softly at his response, knowing full well this isn't his usual scene. "Thought so," you tease, the smirk on your lips clearly playful.

"What's that suppose to mean?" he leans into you mischievously.

"Nothing..." you push back against him softly, the sexual tension getting thicker. "...I just know you're obviously busy with your club...and everything that comes with it" you let him know.

He nods, an understanding smile tugging at the corner of his lips and lets out a easy laugh. "Yeah... well, it ain't easy being King" he lets you know, the humour in his voice masking the weight of everything that comes with the title of President.

You look up at him, your eyes wide and innocent, the flickering fairground lights causing a soft glow. "Maybe you need a Queen to ground you" Jax is momentarily taken back, his focus shifting between the warmth in your eyes and the subtle desire in your expression as he bites his lip, responding to the unspoken tension between the two of you.

As you reached the peak of the wheel, the gentle sway of the ride somehow made the night feel more intimate. There was a warm glow highlighting the sharp features of Jax's face. His usual confidence was there, but something was different, something softer almost as if he was savouring this moment, away from the chaos of the club and simply existing in this moment, with you.

"Look at me" he says, his voice low and steady. The illuminations from below casting a warm halo around him. The intensity in his blue eyes is strong as they move between your gaze and your lips, lingering for a moment longer before meeting your eyes again. He locks eyes with you, the air thick with anticipation. He goes to close the distance between you both when the ferris wheel suddenly jolts, coming to a sudden stop and you’re both frozen in place as the first kiss you would have shared, slowly slips away.

Jax can sense your nerves, so does his best to reassure you. “Hey, look at me. It’s okay, it’ll start again in a second”. He watches as he notices the hint of panic creeping in. “Come closer” Jax says, pulling you closer and draping his arms around you in an attempt to calm your nerves. Your face is now buried against the patches of his kutte. The rough fabric scratching your skin just enough to feel it, but it doesn’t matter because you finally feel at ease.

“You good now?” He asks as you both make your way back to the car, you feel a tinge of embarrassment for how you reacted but grateful that Jax was there beside you.

You try to mask your embarrassment with a small laugh “I’m all good” you reassure him, though the stolen kiss keeps playing in your mind. As you get closer to the car, you slowly reach for his hand, a silent urge to let Jax know you wanted it too.

Jax opens the car door for you, giving you time to grab the huge Teddy and toss it into the backseat. He lights a cigarette as you’re doing so, the smoke disappearing into thin air as he watches you.

As Jax starts driving, a thought suddenly hits him, without contemplating he turns to you and asks “you wanna’ come see the clubhouse?” You laugh, glancing at him as he keeps his focus on the road, you can see the small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You gonna give me like a VIP tour or somethin’?” You tease.

The smirk on his lips deepens as he nods his head slowly, his fingers smoothing down his beard as if he was in thought. “If that’s what you want” he mumbles, the subtle heat obvious in his voice.

“So I’m just allowed to like…walk in?” You ask, your mind racing a little at the thought of stepping into the Sons Of Anarchy Clubhouse.

Jax can’t help but find your lack of biker knowledge a little charming. “It’s a clubhouse y/n, not a god damn cult” he laughs as he answers you. “Besides, it’s my clubhouse, anyone with my invite is good to go” he adds with a grin as his hand rubs over your leg in a soothing motion, the earlier sensations flooding back, literally.

You hadn’t felt nervous until now. A few days ago, being in the Teller-Morrow garage was the closest you’d ever been into the SAMCRO domain, and now, you were about to step right into the heart of it.

Jax turns left and pulls through the familiar gates. It’s quieter than you had expected, but then again it is nearly 9pm. “Only a few of the guys will be around” he says “it’s Friday, most of them will be at red Woody” he states, as if you’re familiar with their extra curricular activities.

“Red woody?” You question, completely clueless.

Jax shakes his head laughing, “trust me, you don’t wanna’ know” He starts walking towards the entrance, his hand gently guiding you once again.

Jax swings the door of the clubhouse open, gesturing for you to step inside first. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for a taste of a world you knew nothing about, a slice of life that is entirely foreign to you.

The moment your foot steps over the threshold, you’re hit with a thick haze of smoke and the sharp scent of liquor, wrapping you in an intoxicated embrace. You step to the side, waiting for Jax to enter, your nerves prickling against your skin as you feel the weight of the stares from wondering members and a few half-naked women drift past, their eyes lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and distrust. That is, until their eyes land on Jax, and the mood shifts instantly. The glares soften and are replaced by a hint of respect as they realise you’re with the President himself.

Jax picks up on your slight unease and without a word, reaches out. Taking your hand in his. The little gesture grounds you, his touch reassuring. “I feel a little underdressed” you joke, in a whispered tone, as Jax leads you towards the bar. He chuckles, leaning in so only you can hear “Don’t mind them, they’re just croweaters” he can tell from your facial expression that you have no idea what that means, so he adds “they’re just here to please the guys and drink the free booze” as soon as he finished speaking,he realised it came out sounding like he was one of those who actually enjoyed the company of the croweaters. “Not me though” he adds hastily, noticing you laughing as he scrambles to cover his back. “Hmm, how could I be so sure?” You retaliate, Jax takes not of your tone, certain that you’re only messing around.

“Jackie boy!” a voice echoes from around the corner, the accent is unfamiliar to you, but if you had to take a guess, you’d say Scottish. A tall man steps into view, dressed similarly to Jax, though instead of the pristine white trainers, he’s wearing rugged biker boots. His salt and pepper hair pushed back, away from his face, revealing a distinctive scar that stretches from one cheek to the other, almost like a smile.

The two of them collide into a hearty embrace, each giving the other a solid slap on the back, the sound echoing like an encore. As they pull away from the hug, his gaze shifts to you.

“And who’s this tantalising young lady?” He asks with a mischievous grin, waiting for Jax to offer an explanation.

“This is y/n” Jax says with a smile in your direction, and id you weren’t mistaken, there was a hint of pride in his tone. “And this…” he gestures towards the Scotts man “…is Chibs, my VP”

You return a friendly smile. “VP… Vice President” you say, nodding as you recall Jax explaining the title back when you came in to get your car done.

"The one and only" he chuckles, a rouge grin on his lips. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance" Chibs can feel the tension between you both and his instincts telling him that there's more to this than a one night fling. He knows its a rare thing for Jax to bring women to the clubhouse, so its clear he has more than just ill intensions.

A phone begins to ring, Chibs pulls it out, pressing it to his ear. "Yeah.." he rolls his eyes "Well, he's clearly been occupied" his tone shifts, becoming more sharper as he casts a glance towards Jax. "You might wanna take this Jackie" he says, handing the phone over to the President. Jax gives you an apologetic look, mouthing the words 'sorry' before stepping away to take the call.

Chibs turns to you, checking to make sure you're comfortable. "Jax show you our wall of fame yet?" he asks, trying to fill the silence with something light.

"He hasn't" you reply with a laugh, raising an eyebrow "Do I even want to see what that is?" You already know to expect the unexpected in this place.

He chuckles along with you. "Lets get you a drink first, aye?" he suggests, leaning over the bar. "Anything in particular?"

You're not usually much of a drinker, but then again, you don't usually spend your free time in a notorious biker clubhouse, so why not? You scan the bar, searching for something of your taste. "I'll have a Cuba Libre" you let him know.

"What the hell is that?" he says, his Scottish accent thickening with each word.

You laugh, realising it’s probably just a clash of cultures. "A little bit of rum, a little bit of Coke," you say, still laughing as the words leave your lips, your hands gesturing the little bit you speak of.

His grin widens, as he begins to make your drink. "Well, why didn't you just say that" he cackles to himself. He hands you your drink with a grin "Not too strong, I hope?" he winks as he pops open his own bottle of beer.

"The stronger the better" you joke, lifting your glass and clinking it against his bottle. You take a sip, the drink burning with its strength, You force yourself not to react to the taste in your mouth "You gonna show me this wall then?" you look around, taking in the environment you're currently in.

"Sorry about that" Jax says as he re joins you both, a beer in hand. "admiring our pretty faces huh?" he chuckles, noticing you and Chibs standing in front of the mugshots belonging to each of the members. Chibs gives you a playful wink, then pats Jax on the back before stepping away, leaving you two alone.

He watches as you take in each individual mug shot, your expression softening with recognition when you stop at a specific one. "That's Harry right?" you ask, your mind drifting back to high school, Jax and Harry being the inseparable two.

He laughs, amused at the fact you're still calling him Harry, even though he's been known as Opie for years. "Yeah, that's our Ope" he smiles, impressed by your memory.

The night continues to flow effortlessly, you and Jax are getting closer with every conversation, sharing looks and touches that linger a little longer than usual. Chibs moving in and out of discussions, always with a quick grin, making sure your glass is always full, and stronger than the last. The alcohol making you feel much more at ease now. You’ve had casual chats with the barely clothed women, met some of the other SAMCRO members, and even spent some time playing darts, loosing to Jax of course. The sense of being an outsider has faded, and you’re starting to feel like you could see yourself being here on the regular.

Jax leans in closer, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His ring covered fingers warm against your skin. The faint touch of alcohol and cigarette smoke clings to his breath as he exhales softly. “You Okay, do you need anything?” He asks, his voice low and concerned, a slight touch of protectiveness in his tone.

A soft laugh along with a smile escapes your lips as you lean back into him, his warmth grounding you. You start playing with the rings on his fingers, adjusting them and tracing patterns on his hand. Jax takes a quick glance around and notices the mood starting to fade. Some are too drunk whilst others are distracted with the women offering their advances.

You’ve both enjoyed the company of the others, but Jax feels it’s time for some alone time, just the two of you, and unknown to him, you’ve been thinking the same thing too. He gets up, extending his hand towards you, leading you to a quieter part of the clubhouse. At the end of the short hallway, there’s a blue bike that sits proudly on display. Jax presses three fingers to his lips before gently touching the bike, as if giving it a kiss. It doesn’t take long for your mind to quickly piece together that the bike likely belonged to his late Father.

You tighten your grip on his hand, a little gesture of affection. “Your dad’s?” You ask, curious if he’s willing to talk about him. He answers quickly, keeping it brief “Yeah, that’s JT’s bike” he squeezes your hand in return, a silent signal that he doesn’t want to dive into this topic at the moment. Respecting the unspoken boundary, you quickly shift the conversation “so where are you taking me?” You ask with a laugh.

Jax glances down at you, laughing quietly as he opens another door within the clubhouse. He leads you inside, his eyes locked on yours. Once the door is shut behind you both. He steps closer to you, using his body to gently push you against it. You look up at Jax lustfully waiting for him to make the first move. Your eyes reflecting that you want this just as much as he does.

Your lips crash together in an intense collision, his hands gradually trailing down your face towards your neck, holding you with a firm grip. The kisses begin soft and gentle before turning intense and desperate. Your hands glide smoothly to remove his kutte, as he rushes to take off his own t-shirt. You take in Jax’s half naked body in front of you, your eyes tracing over his tattoo, the scars, and the nearly healed bruises scattered along his rib cage.

He steps forward once again, closing the gap that remains between you, his hand reaching down to slowly pull the zipper on your shirt. He makes sudden eye contact with you, almost as if silently seeking your permission. “please” your voice strains, the desire so close to boiling over, you begin tugging lightly at the waistline of his jeans.

He laughs, a low almost amused sound. All those years ago, it was him pleading for your time, and now the tables have turned. You lean into him, feeling his hard cock rubbing against your thigh, which only serves to heighten your arousal even more. Your hands trail lower, grasping him in your hand, you can feel him twitching beneath the fabric. "you think I’m giving you my dick that easy?” He grins, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, reminding you of all the times you had previously let him down in the past. You bite your lip, realising he’s in it for the long game, you always had a feeling he was the type to tease. With a sudden surge of energy, he lifts you up effortlessly, one of his hands gripping onto to each ass cheek. He strides over to the bed behind him, where he lays you flat beneath the star speckled flag of the USA, a somewhat patriotic scene.

he gently lifts your shirt over your head, his lips leaving a path of warm kisses down your neck, until they reach the top of your leather mini skirt. His touch against your bare skin sends shivers down your spine, and makes your needy pussy tremble.

as your heavy breathing increases, so does the blood flow to Jax’s cock. He removes your skirt, unveiling the dampness between your legs. Covered by just a small piece of black lace, the moisture clinging to the fabric making it shimmer and almost become translucent. You can feel his hot breath hovering over you, you raise your head slightly admiring what he’s up to. He’s off the bed now, on his knees bowed down in front of you, literally worshipping your cunt. He looks up, catching you watching him. His gaze now locked with yours in a dominant manner. Without breaking the eye contact, he pulls down the thin material of your underwear, your body instinctively submitting to his command. You arch your back slightly allowing him to remove them with ease. “do you know how long I’ve waited to taste your pussy?” He murmurs, practically salivating at the sight of you. The words almost magnetic as your body unconsciously lifts towards his mouth.

He swiftly pushes you back down, his large hand covering your mound with absolute dominance. He then pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed, before he effortlessly folds you into a pretzel like position. The moment his tongue meets your sensitive flesh, you throw your head back into the mattress, huffs and moans leaving your lips. Your unable to control the reaction of your body as your legs push back against his firm grip. His hold loosens as he continues delivering sweet little licks either side of your swollen clit. You feel the disappearance of one of his hands, raising your head slightly again you notice him fumbling with his belt buckle. Releasing his stiff length from the fabric. He begins stroking it, teasing you as he submerges his face back into you. You notice his beard, glistening with your desire whenever he comes up for air. As your neediness becomes more apparent, Jax responds by making his movements more aggressive, rougher and more urgent. He’s tongue fucking you now, teasing your hole with what’s more to come.

“How do I taste?” You ask, between breaths, fully aware you’ll get the exact response you’re hoping for. “So fucking good” he says, as he crawls back onto the bed, licking his moistened lips and hovering over you. “Let me show you” he whispers, kissing you slowly, giving you the chance to taste yourself on his lips.

You can feel the hardness of him grinding against you, knowing he’s doing it on purpose. Teasing you with the feel of blood filled veins, the throbbing making it hard to resist. “Are you gonna make me beg for your dick?” You whisper, your fingers tracing down his tattooed back. His signature grin spreads across his face as he reaches into the top draw. “nah I think we’ve both waited long enough” he mutters, you turn your head to see his hand rummaging through the belongings. His body falls flat on you in defeat, as he realise there isn’t any protection to be found. “Fuck” he says, frustrated, neither of you wanting this moment to slip away. You place your hand against Jax’s face, gently guiding him back to you. “Jax, I trust you” you assure him, your eyes locking with his. He looks back at you, fully understanding the undertone behind your message. “y/n I don’t know if I can trust myself” he admits, unsure if he could pull out in time. You repeat your previous words, “I trust you” with conviction, wanting to make sure he knows you’re equally dedicated to this as much as he is, despite the potential risks.

To be honest, he needed little convincing, as even before the words left your lips, he was already positioned at yours. His desire, as well as yours, had already reached a point of no return. He guides his tip tenderly between your soaked folds, the touch gentle yet deliberate, like an introduction before he proceeds any further. “You think you can handle me?” He asks, in a playful but challenging tone. The question was pointless, he doesn’t even allow you the chance to reply. He shoves himself inside of you with such a pleasurable force it causes your back to arch inches off the bed. Your mouth opens wide, gasping as if you’re trying to inhale all the available air, your chest rising and falling with each desperate breath. Jax is unable to form coherent words as he is consumed by pleasure, his grunts and moans blending together.

He hovers closely over you, but manages to maintain his balance, holding himself up on one elbow as the other holds your face firmly, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip, pushing it slowly into your mouth. It’s clear he’s struggling to form the sentence he’s trying to get out. He bites his bottom lip, snarling at you before saying through gritted teeth “so… fucking tight” he laughs lightly as he finally manages to get the words out, in disbelief he’s finally fucking you.

It had been a while since you last had sex with someone, and even longer since it felt this fucking good. The connection with you both feels almost soul-tied but that just could be your pussy talking.

He changes position, now perpendicular to your body, holding your waist allowing him to go deeper into you. He watches as his two toned dick slides in and out of you, glistening from your wetness clinging to his body. His thumb is positioned just at the height of your hole, his thumb balanced on his hard piece, enjoying the way it feels as it ploughs into you. His stance is dominant, looking down at you smiling when you both make eye contact. He lowers himself down onto you again, grabbing your left tit, moulding it within his hands, he begins paying attention to your erect nipple, kissing it sloppily, spitting on it and lapping it back up again. Your hand lazily gripping his head, pulling him up towards you. “I only want you to fuck me from now on” you whisper in his ear, all it took was one fuck with Jax to never want to lie with another man again. “I’m only… fucking… you from now” he responds, now paying attention to your neck. He could have just said that because he’s in the heat of the moment, but either way you know you’ll hold it against him.

His thrusts become irregular now, both of you so close to reaching your peak. He pounds into to you, his sensitive tip recoiling off of your G spot. You’re both so in the moment, you don’t realise the voice echoing down the hall.

“JAAAAAX!” The Scottish voice rings out, booming through the thin walls, Chibs walks towards the dorm door, the unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin ringing in his ears. If it wasn’t important he would have let you both be but without hesitation, he knocks on the door. No answer of course - not that either of you would have heard, with Jax being balls deep inside of you. “Jesus Christ” he takes a deep breath, rolling his eyes, preparing for what he’s about to walk into.

“Pull ya dick out Jax! we gotta to go” Chibs looks up towards the ceiling whilst simultaneously banging his fist upon the desk next to the door, trying to avoid seeing anything he shouldn’t, but needing to get Jax’s attention, quickly. “Sorry y/n” he adds a small apology at the end.

The both of you fumble, thrown off by the interruption. Jax quickly moves to straighten the covers, in an attempt to preserve your dignity, he isn’t worried about his own. It wouldn’t be the first time his VP has seen is bare ass. “Chibs! What the hell brother” Jax shouts, pissed off is an understatement.

“I’m sorry, Jackie boy, but we’ve gotta move. Marks is at the warehouse…so is Alvarez” He shoots Jax a knowing look, clearly unable to share more details with you present. “Shit!” Jax retorts. You can tell from Jax’s reaction that this is serious. “Make it quick” Chibs instructs Jax, pointing directly at him, before slamming the door shut, waiting for the president on the other side.

Jax hurries off the bed, throwing his clothes back on. His boxers and jeans pulled on in a frantic rush. You watch from the bed as his messy hair - now tucked behind his ears, still clings to the clammy dew on his skin, some strands still poking out of place, adding to the chaos of the moment.

For a split second, you almost expect Jax to tell Chibs to fuck off, so that he could get back into bed, back into you, finishing what you had both started. But as you see him yank the laces of his trainers tight, reality hits. “Wait… Jax, you’re really leaving me here… like this?” the surprise obvious in your tone.

Jax bites his lip in frustration, “y/n, babe, I’m so sorry… but this can’t wait… I have to go” he grabs his kutte from the floor, slipping it back on like a suit of armour. “Don’t leave though… please, stay here. I’ll be back… I don’t know when but just promise me you’ll stay” he bends down, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before grinning. He leans in a little closer, whispering into your ear “it was worth the wait” he gives you a subtle wink, before heading out after Chibs, leaving you in the quiet aftermath.

You lean back against the headboard, the covers tucked tightly underneath each arm, protecting your modesty. A nasal laugh escapes you as you shake your head, glancing around the room. One minute, Jax was right here with you, fucking you senseless and then the next minute, he was gone.

As you sit there, processing the madness of the night, a part of you wonders if this is just the start. The chaos, the uncertainty. If you and Jax were to ever become more serious, would this become your new routine?Jax disappearing at the most inconvenient times, off to protect his club as he leaves you behind to wonder when he’d be back.

Perhaps the more tempting road may lead to more heartache.

photos, gifs & music do not belong to me. Apart from being edited slightly.

I hope I did part 1 justice lol, the amount of times I reread this back and changed 2625 things, would love to hear your feedback.

Please please please request some more Jax stuff!

Jax Teller Masterlist

xoxo secretly samcro

[pucksandpower]

Mine

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos wants everyone to know you’re his and he knows exactly how to make that happen

Warnings: 18+ content heavily implied, manipulation, tampering with birth control, pregnancy

“Who was that?”

You glance up to find Carlos’ gaze fixed on the rearview mirror of his sleek Ferrari, eyebrows furrowed. His usually cheerful brown eyes are clouded with something you can’t quite place.

“Who?” You ask, feigning ignorance though you know he’s referring to the tall, blond man who had lingered just a bit too long by your side during the after-race party.

“The cabrón in the blue suit,” he grinds his teeth. “Never seen him around before.”

“Ah,” you laugh, reaching out to playfully flick at the bridge of his nose, “just someone from the event planning team. Harmless.”

Carlos doesn’t smile back. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and the set of his jaw becomes more pronounced. “He touched your arm.”

“He was just being friendly,” you reason but a hint of defensiveness creeps into your voice.

There’s a pause as Carlos winds the car through the foreign streets. You can feel his frustration.

“You’re being naive,” he finally says. “It’s not just him. Everywhere we go, I see them looking at you. The way Daniel winks at you, how Lewis always finds an excuse to chat, even the staff and the fans. Don’t you see it?”

It’s not like you can deny that. Ever since the two of you went public with your relationship, attention has been inevitable. You’re the envy of many and the object of desire for countless others. But Carlos’ brooding possessiveness is new and you’re not sure how to address it.

“They’re just our friends,” you murmur. “And fans are fans. They’re excited to see you and by extension me too. That’s all.”

He exhales heavily. “It’s not just about them being friends or fans. It’s the entitlement, the audacity they have, thinking they can just ... approach you like that. Like they have any shot with you.”

You roll your eyes even though he won’t see it while focused on the road. “I can handle myself. Besides, I chose you. They’re nothing to me.”

The car pulls up to the entrance of a crowded nightclub, its entrance flashing with neon lights. Carlos stops in front of the valet, swiveling in his seat to face you.

You’re taken aback by the intensity in his eyes.

“Yes,” he says in a husky whisper, “you chose me. And I chose you. But I can’t stand by and watch these pretenders think they have a shot with you.”

You swallow hard, shocked by the raw emotion in his voice. “You can’t control who talks to me or looks at me. I love you and that’s all that matters.”

He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know,” his lips brush your skin. “But I also know how men think and I won’t stand for them disrespecting you or our relationship.”

“We’re in the public eye. This is something we will always have to deal with. Trust me, trust us.”

His gaze searches yours, dark eyes imploring. “I trust you,” he says. “It’s them I don’t trust.”

You wrap your fingers around his much bigger ones. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Carlos sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I just … I can’t bear the thought of anyone else ever having you.”

Your heart swells. “Mi amor, I’m not going anywhere. The ring on my finger is there because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He pulls you across the console, setting you on his lap as he wraps his arms around you while ignoring the valet waiting right outside the car. “I know. I just ... I need to make sure that everyone else knows too.”

***

Carlos finds himself in a dimly lit pharmacy aisle, heart racing. The overhead fluorescent lights throw ghostly shadows between the narrow rows. He can hear the soft hum of a distant conversation, punctuated by the rustling of paper bags and the occasional beep of the cash register.

But for Carlos, everything feels distant, like he’s viewing the world through a thick veil.

He stops in front of a shelf, his gaze locking onto the birth control pills. Rows upon rows of them, each promising freedom … autonomy.

His mind rushes back to the countless conversations he’s had with you.

“I want to finish school first,” you would always say earnestly. “Kids are a big responsibility. We have all the time in the world for them later.”

But Carlos doesn’t feel like he has time. He has fought with this internal battle for months. The thought of marking you as his, of the world knowing through the unmistakable swell of your belly, appeals to his most primal instincts.

“Can I help you?” A voice interrupts his thoughts.

He turns to see the pharmacist looking at him with a tentative smile. He tries to gather his thoughts, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “I, um, need some pills. Sugar pills.”

The pharmacist frowns. “For a placebo effect?”

Carlos nods, trying to seem nonchalant. “Yeah, something like that. My little cousin needs them for her science fair project.”

She hesitates for a moment then reaches behind the counter, pulling out a small box. “We have these. They’re usually used for clinical trials but they should do the trick.”

He pays for the pills and quickly hides them in his pocket. He thinks about how you would react if you ever found out. But the thought of you carrying his child, the undeniable mark of his claim clear for all to see, is too much to resist.

The next morning starts as it always does. You stretch and make your way to the bathroom, your daily routine staring with the familiar sound of the pill package being opened.

Carlos stands at the doorway, watching as you take your daily birth control. He knows he should feel guilty but instead he is consumed by a heady mix of anticipation and possessiveness.

He imagines your body changing, growing round.

“Morning,” you smile up at him.

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Morning. How did you sleep?”

You lean into his embrace, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “Like a baby. Must have been the post-race celebrations.”

Carlos chuckles but there’s a tension to it, an undercurrent of something more. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins.

You pull back slightly to look up into his eyes, “Mmmh. About?”

“Us. Our future.”

Your heart skips a beat. “What about it?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “I want to start a family with you,” the words come tumbling out in a rush. “I know you want to wait but the thought of you carrying my child … our child ... I can’t get it out of my head.”

“I love you," you choose your words carefully. "So much. But I’ve told you how I feel. I’m not ready.”

He lets out a heavy breath, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. “I know. I just can’t help how I feel.”

“We’ll get there when the time is right,” you press a kiss to his bare chest. “I promise.”

***

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, feeling his eyes linger on you as you change out of your dress. The dimly lit bedroom is filled with the ambient sounds of Mallorca nightlife. From the open balcony door, you can hear the soft crash of waves and distant murmurs of evening revelers.

Carlos chuckles lowly. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning something,” you eye him suspiciously but your voice is playful

He stands, taking a few purposeful steps towards you. “Maybe I am,” he corners you against the wall. The heat of his body warms your own, even through the layers of clothing.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Planning what?”

He leans down, lips grazing the curve of your ear. “To remind you,” he whispers, “that you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, the dominant tone sending a thrill down your spine. “Is that so?” You challenge, arching a brow.

His hands slide down your waist, pulling you impossibly close. “Very much so,” he replies, sealing his words with a searing kiss.

As the two of you move to the bed, there’s an urgency, a raw need that wasn’t there before.

Every touch, every kiss, every caress feels even more intense than usual.

“Why are you so ... insistent tonight?” You gasp out through the overwhelming rush of sensations.

Carlos halts momentarily, gazing down at you with hooded eyes. “I want to make sure you never forget,” his voice is rough. “Forget what we have. Forget how deep this goes.”

“I could never forget,” your fingers move with a mind of their own to tangle in his hair.

His lips find yours again. “Promise?”

You nod, getting lost deeper and deeper in the moment. “Promise.”

Hours pass in a blur of passion and whispered confessions. The intensity of Carlos’ actions betrays an underlying need and desperation that are hard for you to place.

As the sun rises above the horizon outside, you find yourself curled up against Carlos’ chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

“You were different tonight,” you murmur as your eyes slowly lose their battle against sleep.

Carlos tenses momentarily. “I just wanted to make sure you know," he says lowly. “Know how much I need you. How much I want you.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, studying his face. “I know,” you brush a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “But what brought this on?”

Carlos hesitates, searching for the right words. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to try to come between us,” he admits. “And I need to make sure that never happens.”

Your heart aches at his words and the vulnerability in his eyes. “Nothing is going to come between us,” you lean over to capture his lips tenderly. “We’re much stronger than that.”

Carlos smiles and flips himself on top of you once more. “I’ll make sure of it.”

***

“Ouch!” You exclaim, pulling away as Carlos’ hands brush against your chest. The sudden sensitivity catches you off guard.

Carlos raises an eyebrow, eyes darkening with a mix of concern and something else — something unreadable. “Mi corazón? What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the unexpected pain. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling kind of ... off lately.”

He moves closer, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “How so?”

You shrug, “Just more sensitive, I guess. And tired. And don’t even get me started on how my clothes have decided to stop fitting properly.”

Carlos smirks, a hint of smugness playing on his lips. “Maybe you’ve just been enjoying Spanish cuisine a little too much.”

You roll your eyes, swatting him playfully. “Funny. But seriously, it’s weird. I’ve been doing my workouts, eating right, and still ...”

He pulls you close, fingers tracing the smooth curve of your waist. “I like the changes,” his voice is muffled as he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

You shiver, torn between the pleasure of his touch and the lingering feeling that something just isn’t right. “It doesn’t feel like me,” you try to shake off the unease.

Carlos tightens his grip, gaze intensely locked on yours. “Maybe it’s just ... natural changes. You know, as we get older.”

You frown, pulling away slightly. “But I’m in my twenties. I shouldn’t be feeling like this.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, bodies change. I’m sure everything is fine.”

You’re not convinced but you nod, pushing the uneasy feeling to the back of your mind. “Maybe.”

Carlos watches you closely, the smugness returning to his features. “Besides,” he says, voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I kind of like the changes. You look ... fuller.”

You blush. “Thanks, I guess.”

He laughs, pulling you close again. “Always so modest,” he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

You melt completely against him, the warmth and familiarity of his touch pushing away the unease, at least for the moment.

But as the days pass, the changes become more pronounced, the nagging feeling that something is wrong growing stronger.

Carlos, on the other hand, seems happier than ever, his possessiveness reaching new heights. He is constantly by your side, his touch lingering, his gaze intense.

“You’re glowing,” he comments one day, eyes tracing your body.

You roll your eyes but hide a smile. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

“I’m serious. There’s something … different about you. I like it.”

You frown, trying to make sense of his words. “Different how?”

He thinks for a moment, searching for the right words. “You just seem more radiant. More alive.”

You shake your head, laughing softly. “I think you’re seeing things.”

Carlos smirks. “Maybe,” his hands slip under the material of your shirt, caressing your slightly bloated belly. “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

***

“I’m what?” Your voice wavers as you clutch the edge of the doctor’s desk in shock, the coolness of the surface grounding you.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, looks between you and Carlos. “You’re pregnant,” she repeats gently, handing over the sonogram.

Carlos breaks into a wide grin. “That’s incredible!” He pulls you into a tight embrace, placing kisses all over your face.

But as the news sinks in, panic sets in. Your future plans — graduating with your degree, establishing a career — all seem to crash around you.

You gently extricate yourself from his hold, taking a deep breath. “How is this possible? I’m on birth control! We’re always so careful.”

The doctor tilts her head, looking through her notes. “No birth control method is 100% foolproof,” she says. “It’s rare but it can happen.”

Carlos’ fingers lace through yours, his touch warm and reassuring. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, squeezing your hand.

Tears well up in your eyes, the overwhelming emotions threatening to drown you. “I still have a year of school left. I wanted to be established in my own career … this wasn’t part of the plan.”

Carlos cups your face. “Hey,” he murmurs, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. You have me.”

You blink. “Carlos, I want to work. I want a career. I don’t want to be dependent on you.”

He smiles. "You won’t be dependent. You’ll be cared for. Isn’t that what you want?”

You take a step back. “I want to be my own person. I want to make my own choices.”

Carlos’ gaze darkens, the dominant edge returning. “You will be. But you’ll also be mine. That’s what is important now.”

***

You’ve quickly come to love the sensation of your growing belly, cherishing each gentle flutter and kick from the perfect being within, knowing that it’s a bond that only you and Carlos share.

“Good morning, little bean,” you whisper, rubbing the gentle swell of your belly. Every morning, this small act helps you bond with the life growing steadily inside of you.

Carlos enters the room, his hair still tousled from sleep. The morning sunlight casts a warm glow on his chiseled features. “Frijolito is lucky to have a such a beautiful mama,” he murmurs, sidling up to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. His hand finds its place on your belly, fingers splayed and feeling for any hint of movement.

“I am huge,” you complain with a mock pout.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss then pulling back to tilt your chin up. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

“You have to say that,” you tease. “I’m carrying your baby.”

“Partly,” he admits, sliding his hand up to cup your face, “but mostly because it’s true. You would put Helen of Troy to shame.”

Weeks pass and your body continues to transform.

There’s a softness, a roundness, that wasn’t there before, and it’s something that Carlos revels in. His hand is constantly on your belly, possessive and protective. Every time another man’s gaze lingers a little too long on you, Carlos’ lips curve into a smirk, silently declaring his ownership.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You ask one evening as the two of you settle into bed.

Carlos raises an eyebrow. “Enjoying what?”

“Having every man that looks at me know that I’m yours,” you poke him playfully on the chest.

“Maybe,” his hand slides down your body. “Is that a problem?”

You sigh, nestling closer to him. “No,” you admit. “It’s kind of nice, actually.”

Carlos grins, pressing a kiss to your belly. “That’s my girl.”

The months fly by and soon the reality of your impending motherhood sets in. There are nursery preparations, birthing classes, and endless discussions about baby names. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, excitement never wavering.

“Can you believe we’re going to be parents?” You marvel one day, looking around the nursery.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Carlos says. “You and our frijolito are my everything.”

Happy tears well up in your eyes. “I love you,” you whisper, burying your face in his chest.

Carlos tightens his grip, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yo también te amo.”

The next race day arrives and as always, Carlos calm and collected. But recently there has been a different kind of energy to him, an intensity that was never there before.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” you clutch his hand.

Carlos smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips and then another on your belly. “I promise,” he says, eyes locking with yours. “I have too much to come home to ever do otherwise.”

***

“It’s time,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets as another contraction hits.

Carlos lets you grip his hand impossibly tight. “Breathe, mi corazón,” he urges, wiping the sweat off your forehead.

Hours pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Through it all, Carlos is by your side, his touch both comforting and grounding.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a small cry pierces the air. Tears stream down your face as you catch your first glimpse of your son, his tiny face scrunched up in protest.

“He’s absolutely perfect,” Carlos says thickly, tears gathering as he kisses you gently.

You smile weakly, the exhaustion of a long labour weighing you down. “Our little bean,” you whisper, cradling your son close.

Carlos wipes away an escaped tear. “Our frijolito,” his gaze never leaves your son’s face.

As you start feeding your son for the first time, Carlos’ face softens and his eyes fill with awe. “I can’t believe we made something so amazing,” he traces a finger over your son’s tiny hand.

You smile, heart swelling with love. “He’s perfect,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face.

Carlos leans down to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead and then another to yours. “You did incredible. Thank you for giving me everything I could ever ask for.”

You smile. “We did this together.”

Carlos nods, his gaze locked onto your son’s face. “I promise you that I will always take care of you both. You will never have to worry about a thing.”

“I know," you whisper as you let contentment and tiredness drift you off to sleep.

As the days pass, Carlos becomes even more possessive and protective, his love for you and your son deepening with each passing moment. He is constantly by your side, reluctant to leave either of you for even a second.

One evening, as the two of you sit on the balcony, watching the sunset while your son dozes away, Carlos turns to you. “I want to give you more.”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “More what?”

Carlos smirks and pulls you close. “More children,” he murmurs, pecking your lips. “I want to fill you with my babies.”

You laugh, “One is enough for now.”

Carlos chuckles but his face is serious. “We’ll see.”

Carlos knows that he will ensure it happens just like he did before.

He’ll keep you bound to him forever.

[yesimwriting]

Okay, so, secretly pining best friends with Logan! Very fun! Loved it!

But also, adults do have "sleepovers," (too tired/drunk/late to drive home, so you crash overnight on the couch) and depending on the dynamic of your friendship, can actually be a little taste of what domestic life would be like together. Just. Sitting together quietly, winding down from a good day, then getting ready for bed when one of you decides it's time to be A Responsible Adult and get a decent night's sleep (you're not kids anymore, after all. Sleep is important).

Waking up in the morning, knowing your best friend is here. Quietly making breakfast together, laughing over how sleepy you both are before coffee, lightly teasing each other over bed head and morning breath. Doing your morning routines together, pointing out stupid shit in the news or bitching over work emails, just drawing out the time before you have to get ready to face the real world.

Imagine Logan being one of those sleepy bear types who grumbles until he fully wakes up, who's soft and warm and domestic when he's with someone he trusts. Also, I imagine that if you tease him about needing to shave in the morning, he'd be the type to chase you down and rub his scruffy face on you in revenge, which is basically how a scruffy guy marks you as his. (His best friend? His potential future partner? No, just his in general.)

a/n yes, a hundred percent yes to all of this

----

The soft glow of the bedside lamp has transported you into another world. A universe made up of the faint scent of detergent and the feel of warm bedding beneath your fingertips.

You blink. There's no reason to feel as drowsy as you do, not when Logan's spent the last ten minutes scolding you. Still, though, something about sitting at the foot of his bed makes it easy to give into your lingering haze. It'd be easy to fall asleep like this.

"Don't," the instruction is flat, "Stay awake."

His back is still to you, which means there's no harm in openly frowning. "I am."

Logan's sigh is nearly masked by the gentle groan of a drawer being pushed shut. He turns around, expression still pinched but much less irritated than before. "Barely." You part your lips, some nonsensical protest waiting on the tip of your tongue, but Logan beats you to it, "Here."

He's extending an arm, a piece of fabric clutched loosely between his fingers. You blink again, this time focusing on the weight of your eyelids. The gesture is such a sharp contrast from his earlier attitude, you're nearly overwhelmed by your whiplash.

You stand before accepting the T-shirt. "Thought you were mad at me."

He lets out a breath, the sound sharp enough to constitute a warning. "I'm not--" His gaze shifts towards the ground. "You should have called me."

This again. "I was fine." His eyebrows draw together with the same level of offense that he used when you first presented this argument. "And I wasn't even alone, I was with Jean and Scott." He scoffs. "And you said to call you if anything went wrong, and nothing did."

Logan walks forward slowly, his steps measured until he's close enough to fully deteriorate your already fragile train of thought. In an attempt to regain control, you lift your head to look him in the eye. He frowns as he raises a hand, his fingers coming to rest beneath your chin.

He's careful as he tilts your head back. There's a weight to his silence. "You're drunk." All you can think to do is blink. He's known this, it's the main reason he's been lecturing you since the couple that graciously allowed you to third wheel all night dropped you off. "You're unreliable."

"Not that drunk."

The correction doesn't ease him. He studies you for another long moment before releasing you with a tired sigh. Maybe you should take it easy on him. It's not his fault he has the heart and patience of someone that's lived two centuries. You sigh. "Fine, next time I go out, I'll wake you up to come get me, even if I'm totally okay."

He ignores your sarcasm with expert ease. "Knew you'd get it, Princess."

You squeeze the T-shirt's fabric between your fingers in an attempt to ignore the warmth threatening to crawl up your neck. "I'm full of understanding."

"Yeah," he mumbles flatly, turning away from you as he walks towards his bed. You watch him with an openness that a more sober you would have never gotten away with. Logan had come to the door in a pair of loose sweats and no shirt. It had been easy to ignore his appearance when you were still in the giggly stages of being drunk. "Go change."

An instinctual desire to argue almost has you protesting, but you are tired of your going out clothes. And the thought of getting to pass out in Logan's bed for a few hours isn't exactly unappealing.

You pull the T-shirt over your head. Logan says your name, but you're too focused on adjusting the hemline to react. The shirt's large enough to cover most of your upper thigh, falling only an inch or two above the dress you're wearing. You slip the dress's straps off of your shoulders before reaching beneath the shirt's loose fabric. You tug at the dress's zipper before slipping the material down your legs.

You pick up the discarded fabric, folding the dress before placing it on top of Logan's dresser. He's uncharacteristically quiet as you approach the available side of his bed. "You seem tired."

He leans towards his nightstand, arm stretching outwards to turn of his bedside lamp. His eyes settle on some point a little past your shoulder. "Not all of us are 20-somethings that can stay up all night."

It's a teasing comment, likely an attempt at preemptively limiting your usual 10 to 15 minutes of yapping before actually attempting to fall asleep, but it digs at you. Jean was the one that insisted on letting Logan babysit you, you wanted to let him sleep. "I didn't want to wake you up."

Logan shifts, his bent leg nearly brushing against yours. "I wasn't asleep," the words are low, careful, "But if I had been--you wake me up." He pauses. "I'd rather that than know you're walking around drunk and looking like that."

An uneasy heat spreads through your chest. You focus on the bedding pooled over your lap. Like that--the kind of comment that'd usually have you insulting the person making it for attempted slut shaming. But Logan's voice is too distant for you to find any insult in it, even in a teasing context.

You bend fabric between your fingers, pressing the nail of your thumb into the material. You nod once.

He shifts towards you, his warmth becoming impossible to ignore beneath shared bedding. "I sleep better like this anyway."

The words are uncharacteristically soft, almost cautious. You lean into the feeling of them, allowing your back to relax against a pillow.

You've shared a bed with Logan before, usually after hanging out with him a little too late and once on a mission where you had to pretend to be recently engaged to avoid blowing your cover. It's not exactly common, but you know how he sleeps enough to know that he's not exaggerating. As soon as he's asleep, he loses the ability to be aware of personal space, an arm across your waist and chin pressed into your shoulder.

"Considering the way you take up the entire bed, I'm sure."

He exhales, the sound more pointed than it needs to be. "You steal blankets."

You scoff. "That's so not true." The corner of his mouth pulls itself upwards, the look much too triumphant. What a lame argument--you don't steal blankets, you're not given a chance to. As soon as Logan's on you, it's nearly impossible to move. "Like I can steal blankets out from under your adamantium skeleton."

Logan tilts his head, eyes narrowing in a way that promises nothing good. "You're saying I'm heavy."

Well, when framed like that, anything can sound rude. "No." You press your lips together to keep from laugh. "I"m saying your skeleton is literally made of metal..." You straighten in an attempt to make yourself focus. "...And metal is--" Your mental hold slips, a soft laugh tumbling past your lips as you try to think of a politically correct way to make your point. "...Heavy."

He leans forward, his knee brushing against your leg. There's a tact to his movement, a deliberateness better suited for the violence of the outside world. A warning, you realize, a moment too late.

Logan shifts his weight. You laugh as his hands find a place on each of your shoulders. "That's the same thing."

Helplessly, you press a palm against his chest. Your halfhearted protests do nothing to sway him. You laugh again, elbow pressing into the mattress in an attempt to steady yourself. Logan moves a hand to the back of your head before letting the brunt of his weight fall onto you.

You let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a squeal as you're pushed down. Your head hits the pillow, but the suddenness of the motion doesn't hurt. His forearm is resting near your head, turning him into more of an implication than an actual force capable of crushing you.

You let yourself smile openly. For someone that's always willing to remind you of his age, he has no problem acting like a child. Your lips part, but the laugh attempting to crawl up your throat dies before it can slip out.

Logan's watching you, his eyebrows drawn together in a way you can't interpret. His warmth, the feel of him against you, all of it, loses its humor.

He stays like that for what could be awhile, or no time at all. Then, Logan shifts, his arm moving away from the side of your head. Before you can overthink the change, he's resting his head against your upper stomach.

He's--there's never been this much openness about physical contact. Sure, you guys are comfortable with each other, with you having no issue resting your head against his shoulder during movies or reaching for his hand after a particularly rough mission, but that's--that's usually you.

You force yourself to recover, focusing on your breathing to keep from outing yourself. With the kind of care you'd use to keep from scaring off a skittish stray, you move a hand towards his back. He briefly stiffens as you drag your fingers against his skin, but after a second, he exhales. "You're like a house cat."

You feel Logan's sigh more than you hear it. "I'm not answering that." That's okay. You're happy enough without his validation.

Things stay quiet, and you slip further into the realm between sleep and consciousness. "You--you're um--okay, right?" The question is stiff, maybe even a little awkward. You're so close to sleep, you can't bring yourself to get what he's asking. "Comfortable?"

You're glad to not have to hide your smile. "Yeah," you mumble, voice distant, "It's nice."

You're not sure what you're referencing, but Logan doesn't ask, so you decide it doesn't really matter.

----

The light is a tangible thing, felt against your skin before you can squint your eyes open to see it.

You shift, noting the dull ache of your head as you lift your hand to wipe at your face. Wait.

It comes back to you all at once--the drinking, the after drinking, Logan.

You open your eyes fully. It's instinct to shift, but it's nearly impossible to do much more than lift your head. Logan's asleep, his head resting against your ribs and arm draped over your waist. How did you not notice this?

It would make sense for Logan to be a light sleeper. Even when he's at ease, he never seems fully settled in the feeling. So you're careful as you move, head turning as you try to look at him.

Logan's breathing loses its consistency before you can fully embrace the privacy. His fingers press into your hip so briefly you almost convince yourself the contact is only a product of your early morning haze.

He moves onto his back, palm brushing against your shirt as he leaves you. "Morning, princess."

There's something comforting about hearing his voice first thing in the morning. "Good morning." The words are a little raspier than you thought they'd be, difficult to force out around your hazy discomfort.

The corner of Logan's mouth pulls itself upwards. "I thought 20-somethings didn't get hangovers."

You roll your eyes. There are a lot of aspects of Logan's personality that warrant old man jokes, but his alcohol tolerance isn't one of them. You roll onto your side, propping your head up on one elbow. "I'm not hungover."

The almost-smile grows into something more assured. You let yourself enjoy the easiness of it. "Sure you're not, bub." The response is so warm you have to work at keeping your halfhearted pout.

Logan shifts, the mattress dipping as he sits up. "C'mon." He turns his head, looking at you from over his shoulder. "You'll feel better after you eat something."

The mention of food makes you aware of a hollowness you hadn't yet noticed. The thought of breakfast feels perfectly settling. You sit up with a smile, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "You're not gonna make me eat weird hangover cures, are you?"

He pushes himself to stand. "You're going to have to take that chance."

There's no humor in his tone, and his back is to you so you can't read his expression, but something tells you it's safe to follow him out of his room, anyway.

[lafaiette]

So, the localization file of Veilguard was found thanks to datamining, and it contains Some Stuff about Solas, Solavellan, and some cut ending stuff.

No idea if these lines were cut because of budget/resource reasons, if they are old scraps left of Joplin or if the writers simply changed their minds. Please keep in mind they are in jumbled order/there are different responses, probably due to different choices and the dialogue wheel.

Under the cut because of spoilers.

Solas and Fen'Harel

"I must hold back the blight! My wolf will distract Elgar'nan while you take the dragon!" "Did I see that right? The Dread Wolf is a separate spirit from Solas?" "Nice. Why does he get to be part wolf?" "Yeah. Seems like Fen'Harel is a merging of the two."

It seems like Solas and his wolf self are two separate spirits - perhaps similar to Falon'Din and Dirthamen, who are confirmed to be the same spirit who split into two different aspects.

Final dialogue with Solas (Solavellan edition)

"The blight is its prison. The world is safe." "Until the Veil collapses, and demons kill thousands of people." "If there were another way…" "There [i]is[/i]. Let the Veil stay in place." "The elven people must be restored. They do not deserve what was done to them." "Neither did the Titans." "Neither did Mythal. Either time." "Those are my mistakes. Only I can correct them." "I'm here to help you." "You think you have to do this alone. But you don't." "Every time, it has come down to my choices." "Are you a god?" "I am the furthest thing from it." "Then stop acting like one. Let someone else help you." "Do the right thing." "You want to be a hero? Then save the world. Right now." "The restoration of the world as it was meant to be…" "That's not saving the world, that's saving your pride." "Is that why you think I am doing this?" "I think you're doing this because you think that you have to. But you don't." "You have to forgive yourself." "You know how I got out of the Prison of Regrets? I let it go." "Varric's death was never truly your fault." "And you didn't cause every problem. You tried to fix them." "And every time I failed." "The world's still here. You got some of it right." "I cannot. To stop now would dishonor those I've wronged to come this far." "Even if those you wronged asked you to stop?" "Vhenan. And… Morrigan?" "One appellation among the many I wear, Dread Wolf." "I have been advisor to Orlais, Witch of the Wilds, daughter of Flemeth… and once, long ago, an old friend." "Mythal…" "You never would have left the Fade and taken on that humble form had I not been the one who first convinced you." "The things that I have done…" "Are not for you alone to bear, my friend. The many wrongs we did, we did together." "It is not too late to stop this. Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhenan." "My life force now sustains the Veil. With every breath I take, I will protect the innocent from my past failures. " "The Titans' dreams are mad from their imprisonment. I cannot kill the blight, but I can help to soothe its anger." "What I've done, I will atone for." ""But you do not have to go alone." "Thanks to you, I can see the way."

Rook and Solas' final confrontation if Rook tries to convince him to stop was apparently supposed to be much longer, with Solas mentioning the elven people and the Titans, Varric's death, and Rook acknowledging he always did try to save the world.

It seems there was also one more line Solas would say to Lavellan after her "But you do not have to go alone." -> "Thanks to you, I can see the way."

The Inquisitor's happily ever after

"So you have to stop Solas, but not in a way that prevents him from stopping the blight." "Let Solas put the blight into its nice new prison, then we'll put him in there with it." "So with Solas and the elven gods out of the picture, where does that leave us?" "Nothing. He didn't deserve his little happily ever after." "If there's anyone who can reason with the blight, it's him." "The Inquisitor believed in him. [i]She [/i]deserved her happily ever after, even if that's helping Solas fix his mistakes." "And so the Dread Wolf shall spend eternity in the knowledge that he stood at the precipice of disaster and was saved by a mortal's wisdom." "Then why maneuver matters so as to deliver it to him?" "Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain were villains trying to conquer and blight the world." "Solas did terrible things, but he was trying to help. I can understand that." "He was wrong, not evil." "She waited many years for him. You are kind indeed to ensure those years were not in vain." "I am surprised less that he would seize upon such a chance for redemption, and more that you would offer it. " "The Inquisitor earned it." "He's working off his debt. After all, I don't think there's anyone else alive with the power and perspective to try to heal the blight." "Few would react with such compassion to the Dread Wolf's trickery. What merits him a fate fairer than Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain?" "True. Even had I Mythal's full power, she and I often struggled to mend feelings we might have broken." "'Twould not be the first time he accomplished something Mythal herself thought impossible." "And so the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things, love." "Surprised?" "He's fixing his mess."

Lines for the different ways Rook can handle Solas' fate. Rook and Morrigan discuss Lavellan and Solas' chance at happiness, with Rook deciding to help them reunite despite Solas' trickery; Rook deciding to lock Solas away with the Blight; probably a line referencing a friend Inquisitor or Rook themselves ("Solas saved by a mortal's wisdom") and one referencing Lavellan ("Solas saved by love").

Epilogue

"It may mean nothing. Or everything. What matters is that the Solas is content, and we need no longer fear him tearing down the Veil." "So, Rook, what's the plan?" "[i](Sighs)[/i] Damn it." "Thank you." "Then it sounds like you have work to do. I'll leave you to it." "Good luck, Rook. Enjoy the adventures to come. " "I'm sorry, vhenan. If there had been another way..." "And now he'll spend who knows how long trying to heal the blight? What does that even mean?" "I can think of few things he'd have hated more." "He made a cage with bars made out of his worst weaknesses. He's not getting out on his own." "And we're certain there's no way for him to escape?" "Trapped forever in a prison with the blight." "Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain are also both dead. 'Tis no great loss there, the blighted fools." "So, Rook: How does it feel to have saved the world?" "Honestly, I have no idea." "Don't be so shy with your feelings, Morrigan." "We were all young once, were we not? 'Tis from such humble seeds that great things are grown." "Tell that to Mythal." "When the next aspiring deity lays claim to our world, you are the woman who shall remind them that even gods can die." "You are really bad at inspiring speeches." "Despite these rough edges, you forged a team that saved all of Thedas. Precious few can claim that." "I notice you left out one elven god—the only one still here in any capacity." "When the next aspiring deity lays claim to our world, you are the one who shall remind them that even gods can die." "You're leaving me to handle this?" "Were Mythal younger, she might have wished to rule again. Were I younger, I might have agreed with her." "Hey, the world is still here and isn't blighted or covered with demons. I think we did okay." "Says the woman carrying the god who made most of the mess I had to clean up." "And prepare yourself for whatever storm next clouds our skies." "I did save the world." "Who else? Make no mistake, you could do with a finer touch in matters of politics. " "You're not very good at this." "Even with Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain dead, the Venatori remain a threat, as do the Antaam and darkspawn. "

It seems there was supposed to be an additional scene after the ending, with Rook and Morrigan discussing the future. The dialogue would change depending on Solas' fate/Rook's choice about him.

That "Solas is content, and we need no longer fear him tearing down the Veil." probably refers to the ending with Lavellan, while it's not clear if that "I'm sorry, vhenan. If there had been another way..." is supposed to be there (maybe Solas apologizing again for bringing her to what he believes will be a terrible place?) or if it's referring to another scene.

The lines about him being stuck in a prison made out of his worst weaknesses, being unable to get out on his own, and spending a very long time trying to heal the Blight, something he hates, all sound like lines that would fit his bad endings.

One last mission

"Rook gives the team their seventh pep talk after the Finale." "We're sticking together. The gods might be dead, but there's more to do in this world." "We'll find Harding or Davrin. Somehow." "The eighth pep comes after nearly all content has been completed." "Weird shit is going on. What are the clues we have? The Executor, the Devouring Storm - what does it mean?" "We don't actually know. But it sounds bad. So we need each other more than ever." "On return to Rivain Island, defeat the Executor and collect the Memento for Davrin/Harding"

There is a cut scene + mission with Rook talking to their team after the ending and going to Rivain for one last mission. It's pretty much confirmed the cutscene was supposed to take place in the Lighthouse, there are old files and flags for it. If you pay attention after the ending sequence, you will see your Rook appear in the Lighthouse for a millisecond, the only trace left of that scene.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

If you do take requests at this moment, can I request a Hualian x GN reader where reader feels like the third wheel, and when Hualian look further into reader, they find out that reader is hurting themselves/trying to change in the way they look

That Hualian would baby reader, like take sharp objects out of arm’s reach, or spoon feed reader when it’s time to eat. Giving reader kisses and words of affirmation every time they’re around

Lol, I’m feeling very angsty, but if this request is a little too far, you don’t have to do it (I hope you’re doing great! Make sure to drink enough water!) 🥰

Shape Shifting Heart

HuaLian x gn!reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

Made up looks about reader for plot

Tyyy Pepsi zero has become my hydration 😔🙏

Also I'm so sorry for disappearing but I've had like the worst few months of my life ever so 😃🙏 bear with me

____________________________________

Being with Xie Lian and San Lang is the best thing that has ever happened to you. There's so much love to go around with three people and everyone is always taking care of each other! So you never listened to people being hateful about it, whether that be other gods or ghosts. You guys are happy and that all that matters right?

What happens when all of you aren't happy, when it's just one person bringing down the mood and the whole relationship? That's how you've been feeling lately. You haven't been much use to Xie Lian and San Lang these days. Often, you've been curled up in bed and staying hidden under the covers. For what reason? They don't know. You won't talk to them, and while Xie Lian and San Lang pride themselves on knowing you inside and out they can't figure out what's wrong.

You can't tell them. It's kind of embarrassing, humiliating even. How do you tell your lovers, "I feel like the third wheel, I feel neglected and left out" to the two kindest people you've ever met. Everything you do seems to make it worse and you're trying your best so you don't understand why it seems to put your relationship more on edge.

You had honestly just wanted to sulk and pout for a few days in bed over something silly. When they stopped visiting the bedroom it became a problem. All you do is lie here so what could possibly have made them want to leave you alone? You aren't even doing anything to warrant them off! Xie Lian and San Lang easily coddle each other all the time so why don't they think to do it with you? They stopped coming to the shared bedroom, even going as far to sleep in another bedroom together, but by themselves without you.

It only made you feel worse, are you so depressed and off putting they don't want to be near you now? Sadness becomes frustration and it fuels you to get out of bed in what has been weeks. You leave the room disheveled and groggy hoping to find one of your lovers to receive some affection, to you it feels like you haven't had in forever.

You find them together in the kitchen, an awfully domestic scene. Xie Lian cooking dinner and San Lang attached by the hip. The way San Lang holds Xie Lian's waist and stays close while Xie Lian bustles around the kitchen. Where you had once been and would usually love to hear the sound of their laughs and love filled giggles all it sounds like is mocking joy of what you once felt. How many nights has it been like this? How many nights have they been content without you?

"Making dinner without me?" You pipe up, leaning against the kitchen counter. Making dinner is a silly thing to be upset about. A part of you feels awful for being so jealous but the other doesn't. It's not like you're jealous of San Lang or jealous of Xie Lian. You don't spite a specific person. You're just jealous of the love they share, of their bond. You're envious of their happiness, you just want to be included too!

"Ah, y/n!", Xie Lian gives a wobbly smile, "Of course not" Xie Lian didn't know how to bring up that they've been trying to give you space. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that would sound reasonable to you. These days you've been a little irritated and you easily take words they say but add a whole new meaning to it. They know it's not your fault, it's one of your episodes maybe.

No one moves. They don't know whether to extend a hand to invite you or not but you seem to take it upon yourself. You walk closer and stick right up to Xie Lian's and San Lang's side. The tension - you can't tell if you're imagining it or not, you've been imagining a lot these days - is thick. "Well I feel a little better so I'll join from now on, what are you making?" You try to make conversation, you try to move closer in hopes that the domestic scene will just continue.

It doesn't. The room is tense and so are your lovers. You hate it. It makes you want to lash out, cry, and scream. Xie Lian and San Lang seem to be walking on eggshells around you and you don't know why. You've never gotten angry with them before, you've never been violent or aggressive with them so why are they acting like you're a ticking bomb?

San Lang attempts to break the tense atmosphere first. Wrapping hesitant hands around your waist and nuzzling into your hair, hair he will not mention is a bit notty. "We missed you" he murmurs into your long, bright locs. "We're glad you feel better" this seems to get the night moving smoothly again. It's pathetic how quickly you melt into San Lang's touch and preen at his words. It finally feels like you're included in the domestic picture they make.

The three of you eat dinner and enjoy it, Xie Lian's cooking has been getting a lot better but that's probably because you and San Lang were in the kitchen to help him. You're filled with a deep satisfaction when Xie Lian gently grabs your hand and all of you go to your shared bedroom together. Xie Lian pulls you into bed and They cuddle up next to you under the covers, placing gentle kisses on your face and shoulders.

You feel suddenly energetic because of the affection you're receiving. Making you giggle and kissing them back with new found passion. You won't lie you guys haven't had sex in a while so. . . You easily climb on San Lang, and straddle his hips. Kissing him eagerly and nipping against his lips. They weren't expecting you to be so eager but who are they to deny you.

Xie Lian gets behind you and slips off your robe, running his hands over your body. Your back, arms, hips, and thighs- your thighs. Xie Lian's hands freeze, and moves his hands as if he's been scalded. The sudden movement catches San Lang's attention and he sits up but he keeps you in his lap. "Gege what's wrong?" San Lang stares at Xie Lian and suddenly all the attention is off you. Somewhere inside you, you feel a little miffed at Xie Lian's reaction.

But you're concerned too so you turn your head to your other lover with concerned eyes, however Xie Lian is the one staring at you with pity. He turns on the light and sits next to San Lang. "His thighs, San Lang. . ." You scrunch your face. Of course that's what Xie Lian reacted so strongly about. While you were rotting in bed you were feeling so down in the dumps. So- so maybe you took it out on yourself and used your sword on your own skin.

It's not that big of a deal, they're already healed and just remain thick scars across your thighs but it matters to your lovers greatly. They've explored your body many times, and they know these are new. "Baobei, what happened?" Xie Lian cups your face with gentle hands but you turn your head the other way. You're irritated the night has stopped over something so trivial. "Nothing important, I was just feeling upset a few weeks ago, it's trivial now. Can't we just- can we not focus on that?"

Your face is scrunched in irritation and you try to roll your hips against San Lang but he removes you from his lap and onto the silk covers. You groan in frustration. The night was going perfectly and now it's all messed up! San Lang's eyes narrow as he gazes over your legs, and you swallow nervously. "This isn't something we can just ignore Y/n. You know that. . . Let's stop here for tonight" If it were San Lang saying it you wouldn't have minded as much but it's Xie Lian.

Xie Lian loves San Lang's body even with the scars on it so why won't he love yours?! "We don't have to stop! Just- ignore it, would you please?! I can get rid of them, I can look like whatever you want me to be! " You never notice when you start heaving for breath, when tears line your eyes and you try to cling to one of your lovers. You don't notice when you subconsciously change your body into something else because it's something you've always had the power to do.

So when your skin becomes smooth again, and unmarked it's something you don't even look over. But for Xie Lian and San Lang it's completely different. It's like looking at a stranger's body. Like looking at somebody who's never worked a day in their life, someone who has never gone to battle, something you are not but you're desperately trying to be. You have no scars, and the callouses on your hands have disappeared. They've memorized everything on you and now you've made yourself look completely different.

To you, it feels like they look at you with disgust and anger. You're breaking down and it's not something you're even registering. "Y/n stop!" San Lang gives up on keeping you on the bed and he lets you crawl into his lap, he cups your face with surprisingly gentle hands that contradict his angry voice. "Breathe Baobei" he rubs comforting circles into your hips and Xie Lian rubs your back. They're trying to get you to breathe and to stop hyperventilating.

San Lang never looks away from you, and he plants tiny kisses in your cheeks to get rid of your tears. When did you start crying? You don't remember. You eventually calm down from listening to your lovers instructions and their loving touches. When you're finally breathing normally again and the tension leaves your body they try talking to you again. Xie Lian rubs his fingers through your hair, he doesn't like how you've easily changed yourself. He misses your bright locs not the dark ones you've decided to take on. He kisses your head. "I want to talk to my Y/n now. Can I?" Xie Lian asks sweetly.

You've always been you but he wants to talk to his lover not the made up version of yourself. You sniffle and San Lang pats your waist. You take the encouragement and change back to your original body. When you make a weird noise in your throat that sounds close to a sob Xie Lian wraps around you and kisses your nape. "That's good Baobei, we're proud of you." San Lang and Xie Lian glance at each other and in that moment decide to drop the topic about your new found scars. They can only try to find the root of the issue now.

San Lang kisses your forehead and then below your eyes and then your lips. "Tell us what's wrong?" San Lang poses it as a question. As in, you don't have to but it would greatly help them if you did. You feel pathetic and selfish. You don't know why you broke down over something so silly and foolish. "I-I felt, I felt like a t-third wheel. You guys seem so happy without me and all I do is mess up, I'm sorry " you start to cry again and you rub at your eyes harshly but San Lang holds your wrists gently and keeps them away from your eyes.

Xie Lian kisses your shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for baobei. No one's at fault." He runs his hands over your thighs, making circles with his fingers. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out, we just wanted to give you space. We thought that's what you needed" Xie Lian explains softly. You nod and sniffle. That's more reasonable than whatever your mind came up with. San Lang pulls you closer by the waist. "If we make you feel like that tell us Baobei, we'll fix it immediately" he says with narrowed eyes. You know he isn't upset with you and he's probably beating himself up for not being able to tell. You kiss him deeply and sigh against his lips.

"M'sorry, I know you love me I just- my mind tells me awful things." You whisper in San Lang's lips and kiss him again. San Lang grunts and playfully tugs a piece of your hair. "Should I beat it up for you?" It makes you giggle.

🦊🪷

For the next few days and even few weeks they baby you endlessly. Xie Lian keeps an eye on sharp objects and makes sure you can't get into the weapons room. He also confiscated your sword and he won't even let you hold knives in the kitchen. The only sword you're allowed to be around is E'ming and they know you wouldn't do that to him or San Lang.

They have no problem with dragging you everywhere they go and often San Lang likes to feed you during meals. At first you blushed and insisted you could do it yourself but San Lang waved your concerns away and said "Let me take care of you". They coddle you a lot and one of them is always in the room with you. You know now that you need to work on your communication and not let your mind get to you. It was a big misunderstanding but San Lang and Xie Lian treat it as if it was a genuine problem.

You're suffocated with love but you wouldn't change it for the world.

[ultimate-marysue]

I made some sort of alignment classification based on whether they're impulsive or if they plan ahead for the Batfam. Feel free to correct me (politely please, I'll cry) or to add your opinion. I'm not trying to be super canon, just based on their characters' vibes.

Bruce Wayne: 100% planner. This man could be a Bene Gesserit, plans within plans, and they always work even if they shouldn't (because DC can't have him be wrong). It's like a choose your own adventure, you follow the plan and each time something new happens that is sure to chase things up he pulls a subsection specifically for it. Senior Justice League Members just don't question him anymore no matter what. "You had a contingency for getting invaded by mind controlling ballerina spiders? Yeah, sure, tell us all about it".

Barbara Gordon: she plans around her impulses. She is self aware enough at this point to know she's a bit of a hot head. It is what it is, she's called Batman an Emo Boy's idea of Therapy enough times to his face to know she just can't help herself with some stuff. So instead of working against it she plans around it. In the end, it was her plan all along. Canary thinks she could just hold her tongue, but considering the vigilantes Oracle manages, her experience in planning for these situations is invaluable.

Dick Grayson: Impulsive, not because he can't make plans or because he isn't smart. Quite the opposite. He just has that ADHD dog in him. He would be guiding the Titans through a mission and they'd be thinking "Woah, everything is going according to his plan", meanwhile inside his head is Bear Grylls saying "Improvise, Adapt, Overcome". It's not so much that he comes up with plans on the spot but he ends up changing it along the way because he thought of something better for that specific situation. He may use B's protocols for a general structure but then trusts his instinct to come up with something better on the spot.

Cassandra Cain: Neither. She's not one to be coming up with elaborate schemes but, as much as she relies on her instinct, she's able to stop before jumping. She doesn't need to plan, she knows what works. She observes and then takes the best course of action. When Bruce goes on and on about the importance of planning she just answers "Skill issue" and leaves.

Jason Todd: impulsive planner. This is a man that makes plans, okay? He's theatre kid coded, he needs to know his little monologues by heart. The thing is, he's also very emotional and has the impulse control of a toddler in front of the cookie jar. He can't help himself, he has to punch the asshole and make the witty comeback or he will explode. The outlaws have been grilled to death on the importance of following the plan but then watch him like ten minutes later throw it out the window. They find it both endearing and annoying.

Stephanie Brown: Queen of Chaos. She can plan. She's good at it too btw, she just doesn't want to if she can avoid it. She works best when she's improvising and it drives Bruce and Tim up the walls. They just hate to see women winning. She's the best one out of all of them at turning a mistake to her advantage in a matter of seconds. It's quite impressive.

Tim Drake: Chaotic planner. Everyone is so sure Tim is a mini Bruce and to a certain extent, if you squint your eyes, then yes. But Young Just Us know the truth: his plans are extremely effective but only in the most chaotic way possible. There's the Batman plan, and there's the Red Robin plan, which is like the first one but faster and with more fire. He also has to be periodically reminded to take into account his own wellbeing when making his little schemes.

Duke Thomas: plans on the go. I don't know how else to explain it but it's like those sequences in the Sherlock movies (the ones with RDJ) where he's watching his surroundings and opponents almost in slow-mo till he puts together a plan. It's similar to Dick from the outside, but if you pay attention you can see the wheels turning in his head as he goes along. He actually stops and thinks (metaphorically, most of the time his thinking is done while he distracts enemies).

Damian Al Gul Wayne: he's a strategist, not a planner. This is an important distinction because whenever Batman or Red Robin are explaining one of their convoluted plans he feels like he's actively losing braincells. He's closer to Cassandra in the way he prefers a more direct solution. He also gets palpitations anytime Jason or Stephanie just start doing things without thinking. If he knew what Dick's thought process was he would have probably developed an anxiety disorder in his time as Dick's robin. He doesn't understand the need for such high detail planning and hates the idea of making it along the way. No, he just needs to come up with the most efficient strategy and that's all.

[power-chords]

Every time I see a post about Nabokov I am reminded of the fact that my cousin's quick thinking and lightning reflexes are the only reason Lolita even exists, an insane family story that I've mentioned here before but is so wild it bears repeating:

Accustomed to advertisements for himself, Nabokov’s students grew accustomed to his advertisements for a pinch-hitting driver. In June 1949, at the end of his junior year, Richard Buxbaum accompanied the family to Salt Lake City, where Vladimir had been invited to lecture at a writers’ conference. The trip got off to a terrifying start. In western New York State Véra drove into the dead-man’s lane in the middle of the highway to pass, but found herself facing a truck carrying a combine, the chute of which extended into the lane. Buxbaum reflexively reached for the steering wheel; the vehicles missed each other by a matter of inches. Chilled, Véra pulled over. She suggested quietly that it might be better if Buxbaum drove.

From Véra (Mrs. Vladimir Nabokov): Portrait of a Marriage, by Stacy Schiff, originally published 1999. He never told me about this, so I stumbled upon it by chance in this biography of Nabokov's wife. (That branch of the family is also why my incredibly rare and wacky surname is present in All The Places You'll Go! by Dr. Seuss, as Seuss was a friend of Richard's father, Henry. "So whether your name be Buxbaum, or Bixby, or Bray...")

Of course the only reason I exist is because my grandfather Martin vaulted himself out a window at the tender age of 14 and stabbed a bunch of Hitler Youth with a kitchen knife, forcing his family to smuggle him out of Nazi Germany just before the mass killings started. I used to curse my lousy genetics, but hey, that pressure-fueled impulsivity has apparently been good for something!

[honeycreammilkshake]

at first you couldn't stand the idea of an afterlife with him...

but now you want to live the rest of your life with him?

seriously though.

yuuji went from hating him on sight to wanting to take him home with him. and honestly, i can't stop thinking about that.

the time yuuji spent with sukuna showed him there was much more to the monster than he first believed..... the fact that this whole story began with yuuji wanting to consume all 20 fingers so he could kill sukuna but ending with him wanting sukuna to come back to him so they could become one again..... and no, i don't care what anyone else says, it's canon that yuuji genuinely wanted for them to coexist with each other.

also. i just want to point out how full-circle they've become. sukuna screaming "your future is mine, brat!" at the beginning but dying in the end when yuuji offers (not surrenders, not gives in, but truly offers) that future to him. yuuji is willing to give sukuna his heart, soul, and body in the most compassionate, honest sense. it's such a display of kindness and warmth, such softness as yuuji cradles sukuna's remains, that sukuna probably couldn't take it.

i think it was more or less a split-second decision for him. and he chose to die as he was born: a curse.

i could be wrong but it seems to me like yuuji was breaking sukuna's resolve over the last few chapters, especially chapter 265, which focuses a lot on yuuji's empathy for sukuna... and also sukuna's mask starting to slip and reveal more of his contradicting nature.

i can't get over this scene. yuuji wants to talk to sukuna. he asks sukuna to indulge him. and sukuna does.

this entire chapter sukuna is uncharacteristically willing to go along with it. he's listening to yuuji the entire time because he responds to what yuuji is saying even when it's over such small things. and even his insults are for more subdued and strangely sound more affectionate/light-hearted compared to the stuff sukuna is usually spitting out.

i've said it before and i still think it's canon that yuuji has had the most power and influence over sukuna.

sukuna doesn't fight with anyone as closely or possessively as he does with yuuji (he treated todo like an unwelcome third wheel after todo crashed sukuita's violent little date entered the fight). sukuna isn't as moved as he is with others when yuuji challenged his ideals. no, he literally stopped mid-fight to wonder why the brat had such an overwhelming effect on him. he wanted to crush yuuji's ideal apart because they started to make him doubt himself as well.

yuuji gets under sukuna's skin and stays there like a thorn. like the parasite sukuna was supposed to be inside of yuuji. but the brat is now sukuna's own curse.

and i think he knew that if he'd accepted yuuji's offer, that curse would kill him. love is the worst curse of all.

sukuna knows his own nature. he's selfish and evil and cruel. yuuji embodies the opposite of all those qualities: he is the shades of love and hate that are far away from sukuna's mask of indifference. they could coexist but overtime sukuna's persona would begin to erode because yuuji has the most power of anyone else to change him. to make him rethink. and he can't have that. he needs to remain the static cruelty he was made into. he doesn't know any other way and he'd fall apart if yuuji showed him another fate.

it's really tragic when you realize yuuji's soul has been tied to sukuna's for so long. and in a sense, yuuji completes sukuna. he is kind of like the embodiment of the humanity and empathy that was probably forced out of sukuna. he's the missing whole that makes sukuna's whole a matching set. like yin and yang, the opposites that complement each other and cannot be separated.

in both a poetical and literal sense, yuuji was made for sukuna. he understands that they're like reflections of each other, one brighter and one darker. and yuuji still accepted and was willing to bear sukuna's monstrosity. because he saw him. studied him, even. loved him in the most selfless sense of the word.

it's so tragic.... i hate them.

[jackalope-patronus]

Wait but ur my new fav writer and I just thought of another one. Y’know in the game when there’s the option to do crucio on seb or yourself? I’d love a fic like that but where seb has a better reaction and just holds us and comforts us and ominis is lowkey third wheeling but also being comforting. Sorry I’m literally in love with Sebastian. Just something where he shushes us and kisses our head or something. I feel like the game (and movies) the cruciatus curse was very underwhelming, compared to how it was described. It’s used to torture and can make the victims go insane, it is so excruciating. It can even make people forget where they are.

Im so sorry. Tell me if im being overbearing. Thank you so much

summary :: You find yourself in an all too familiar situation, with Sebastian’s wand pointed your way and the words “Crucio.” Coming from his mouth.

warning :: torture, crucio, trauma!

note :: you’re not being overbearing at all! I really enjoy interacting with you and your ideas. A few different writers have created their own version of this scenario so I’ve done a little spin to make it just a tad bit more original.

“Anything to do with Salazar Slytherin is dangerous.”

You remember Ominis saying that some years ago, although you think you’ve misremembered a word or two from his original warning. The scriptorium was years ago. Sebastian, Ominis and you had long since graduated and settled down.

You and Sebastian had even married.

Although your school days felt distant your body seemed to remember because it was shivering at the sight of Sebastian holding his wand towards you.

“Cast it on me.” You’d said. And at first he said no, absolutely not. He would never cast such a cruel curse on his wife! The anger recollected in Ominis’s eyes spoke the words you already have.

That’s why you told him it was okay, and that it was nothing you hadn’t handled before. Opening a chamber kept by Salazar Slytherin by casting crucio, all three of you had been there! It was almost nostalgic. Almost.

“I can’t. You must cast it on me.” Sebastian’s grip on his wand faltered.

“No, Sebastian. You know I won’t.” You shook your head gently.

“Ominis—”

“Don’t you dare ask me, you know I would never.” Ominis had found a corner of the darkly lit tunnel to retreat to.

“You have to mean it. I’m not sure I’ll be able to— not again. You’re my wife.” Sebastian sputtered.

“Please Sebastian, don’t drag it out. I’d rather not stay trapped in this place much longer.” You tried to smile softly, but you knew it was no use. Your husband knows you, he can see past every fake smile.

He didn't utter a word but instead his face grew graver and he observed you carefully. You know his thoughts, you can practically hear them. Is she too frail for this? She’s handled it before, but what if it’s somehow different this time? Will there be a lasting effect? His eyes darted quickly to your tummy, but you placed a hand over your stomach to sheild yourself from his thoughts. What if she’s pregnant? It’s intrusive at best, you both know you’re not pregnant. You began to feel your stomach churn sickly in anticipation so you hardened your face. Sebastian got the signal and regained a strong grip on his wand.

You remembered seeing his knuckles blanch, before he cast the curse.

“Crucio!”

It’s familiar, a pain you recall from nightmares. One your brain liked to remind you of on sleepless nights whilst Sebastian laid beside you. You don’t blame him for it, you were children. Would you have blamed him for it now? Blame him for relenting and casting this torture on you, his wife? But you couldn’t bear him feeling it, feel the charring of nerves and the agony of retracting muscles. He doesn’t deserve it. Nobody does, but especially not him. You love him too much to think otherwise.

By the time the magic relented, you’ve regressed into a fetal lay on the floor, with twitches of remaining aches and quiet, voiceless cries coming from you.

You’re quickly scooped up into Sebastian’s warmth.

“The book Sebastian… you’ve got to get the book.” Your eyes are foggy, but you can recall only that you need to help Sebastian get a spell book to cure Ann.

However, you weren’t inside the scriptorium hidden in the walls of Hogwarts and you weren’t looking for Slytherin’s spellbook. Sebastian gazed at Ominis with a fraught face. The blonde only clutched his wand and turned his head away miserably.

“For Ann, For Ann,” you murmur.

“It’s alright. We found the book, my darling.” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse with emotion and he brought your head to his lips, uttering another reassurance before kissing your temple. He had hardly noticed the path to your exit had finally opened, he didn’t much care for anything other than your abused body.

Another incoherent mutter came from you, although the tight embrace of Sebastian’s arms matured you to reality, but a woozy reality.

“She's barely lucid. We must get her to a healer.” Ominis’ voice came as a strong command, but it barely moved Sebastian from holding you on the cold, stone floor.

You uttered something again and Ominis couldn’t be sure what it was, but Sebastian knew it was filled with sorry and regret. Whatever lingered in your mind, whether memory or illusion, made you small and weak. The complete opposite of how Sebastian knew you.

Warm lips still at your temple, Sebastian hushed you calmly, although the lump in his throat threatened to ruin him. “Ann is well. You are well.” He whispered. Both lies. His hand began to pat down your hair, removing stray strands from your face.

“Sebastian,” Ominis barked and this time, he listened.

His arms around you tightened and you were lifted further into him and away from the floor that made you shiver. “What should we do?” He pleaded.

You could now see a blurry Ominis lean over you. “Put her to sleep, give her mind a rest from the pain for a moment.”

The last thing you could hear was Sebastian muttering the sleep charm whilst both of your dearest friends looked upon you with misery. Then a peaceful rest finally found you.

[naamahdarling]

Jasper's poor little hind leggies. He has the jumping ability of an 8- to 10-week-old kitten. He can do it, but it isn't easy for him and he misses a lot and has terrible balance as he lands. (Some of it is his weight relative to his hind leg strength. He would do better if he were the size of a kitten, and not a meatloaf.)

But god save you if you're on the top platform of a cat tree because he can CLIMB just fine. He has arms and shoulders like a little bear, he is VERY strong.

I think it might be lack of climbing surfaces where they were raised, and that's all. It still worries me, and if he doesn't improve in a couple of weeks of working with him I'll take him to the vet for it.

He was willing to jump high today going for a toy, and he cleared the ground by several inches a few times; he did very, very well. So that's an improvement over what I have been seeing. His feet still often splay out to the sides when he sits, but it has improved a little. That he was willing to jump the way he did is a good sign.

Junie, who initially had the same problem, has done very well for herself. She is small and light and prefers to jump rather than climb, and she runs everywhere. She also likes the wheel and while she doesn't use it on her own, she will run like crazy on it to chase a toy or a treat. So her back legs are much closer to normal. She's sitting with her hind feet properly under her most of the time.

She goes flat-out on that wheel. I need to get video of her going at top speed, because it's really, really impressive. She gets creative with it, too. She will run, stop, and let the wheel swing her back, then use the more solid footing there to jump forward and catch anything on the opposite side of the wheel, and she'll jump when running, too. She's smart and pretty fast, and she's fearless.

Their behavior needs a lot of work but they're just babies who have never been asked to be nice. I was expecting Jasper, as the stupid one, to be harder to deal with, but he isn't. It's Junie. She's terrible. But she also looks like this:

So one forgives her almost immediately.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Hii!! Can you do a Wonka x Male!reader fic where reader owns a toy shop and makes toys? And Willy enters the toy shop and becomes friends with reader and then Willy would visit every now and then, and could it be like a slow burn? Thank you!

Toy shop

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

(should I make a part 2??)

A/N: omg i love this sm its so cute. s/n= shop name, also I have no clue how old noodle is but I’m gonna say like 12 just for the fic.

warnings: lots and lots of pining.. nothing rlly

“Where would you say, is the best place to go for Noodle’s present?” Willy asked Abacus one day after closing. He decided to pack up early to go run some errands, like buying some things for his apartment and also for Noodle.

It was almost Noodle’s birthday, and Willy had been making her her favorite chocolates but he felt like she deserved more. Besides, he had more money now.

“Mm… I passed by this toyshop not so long ago, its on that street somewhere. You can’t miss it.” He pointed, Willy smiled and thanked him, and began to walk over.

Now he wasn’t too sure on what to get a young girl. He hadn’t thought of it until he entered the shop.

You were smiling and helping a family out, pointing to an aisle. Your eyes then landed on the door, an oddly dressed man walked towards you. You smiled and greeted him.

“Hi, welcome to S/N, how can I help you?” You asked him.

He looked at you and smiled back. “Hi, I’m terrible at gift picking, forgive me.” Willy said with a small laugh. “But I was wondering if you could help me try and find a gift for a little girl? A 12 year old girl, to be exact.” He for some reason felt himself getting nervous as he talked, he’s never felt that before.

“No worries, I would love to help.” You said with a smile, you looked to one of your employees and asked for them to fill in for you for just a second.

“Of course, sir.”

“This place is…” Willy started as you walked through the aisles with him.

“Huge? Yeah. It used to be some old restaurant. It took a while for me to fix it up but..” you shrugged.

“You’re the owner?” He asked you, turning his head to you now. You nodded.

“That’s amazing. Oh- I’m Willy, Wonka.” He held his hand out for you to shake, you shook it and just the feeling of your hands made him feel like he was floating.

“Y/n.” You paused, the name sounding familiar.

“Wait, you’re that new chocolate shop owner, right?”

“That’s me.” He said with a grin, tipping his hat.

“That’s amazing, I went actually the other day, and just the outside looks beautiful, and the inside is just.. wow.”

“Really? I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah… so, uh, what does this girl like?”

“Not too sure. She’s been cooped up in work all her life, really. So I’m not sure she knows..”

“Working at 12?”

“It’s a.. long story. She hasn’t really been able to live a life.” He shrugged.

“Well, I think I have some ideas. We have dolls, tons of teddy bears, a lot of three wheeled bikes have been pretty popular as well. Like this one.” You gestured to one on display,

“Yeah. I think that’s perfect for her. How much is it?”

“5 sovereigns.” You responded, he thought for a moment and pulled out some.

“Only 5?” He was shocked, cheap for such a product.

You shrugged with a small smile. “I like to make sure that every kid has something they love.”

He smiled back at your thoughtfulness. He wished he had met someone like you when he was a kid.

You rang it up, and you both talked for a bit more after.

"It was nice to meet you, Y/n." he said with a smile.

"Nice to meet you as well, Willy."

And he could already tell this was not the last time he would be visiting your shop.

He visited one day after closing, and you had just closed up as well.

“Hey, Y/n!” He called your name, you turned around to see him running over to you.

“Willy?”

“The one and only.” He said with a small smile, and walked next to you. You both talking and laughing for a while, and he had asked to walk you home which you obviously said yes to.

The next time you both saw each other, he came into the store.

“Hey! So, did Noodle like it?” He had told you the name of his friend before.

“Hey! She loved it. She’s still learning, but you know..”

“I’m glad.” You said, looking into his eyes and felt yourself almost getting lost in them.

“What are you here for? Something else?” You questioned.

“Just wanted to talk.” He said, “you know, you’re a fun person to talk to.”

You quirked an eyebrow as you opened a door and motioned for him to come in behind the counter. You walked over to the break room and you both sat down.

“That’s a compliment I’ve never heard before.”

“It’s true.” He said, you laughed and shook your head to yourself.

“What?” He asked, laughing along.

“Nothing, nothing.” You waved it off, and you both smiled at each other for a while before one of your employees came up.

As she approached them, the woman stopped mid-sentence, feeling like she was interrupting something.

“Oh- yes?” You turned to her quickly, snapping out of it and feeling your cheeks heat up. Willy felt the same as his cheeks turned a shade of pink and he looked the other way, trying to hide his large smile.

“There’s a customer asking for you…”

You sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

He watched you, following you as you got up and over to the counter.

“Hello, what seems to be the problem?” You asked.

“They’re wondering if they can get this fixed. I told them we wouldn’t know how-“ your employee started.

The little girl held up a broken wooden toy.

“We can’t afford another one..” her mom started.

“Luckily, I know exactly the solution to your problem.” You said, a small smile on your face as you swiped your hand over it, as it seemingly fixed itself, looking brand new.

The girls eyes widened as you handed it back. She looked up at you.

“Thank you, sir!”

“Of course.“

Willy watched from a distant, a small smile on his face as he watched you interact with the girl and her parents. You were amazing, in his eyes.

You turned around, your employee also seemed shocked at you as you walked back into the room with Willy.

“Well, I’m not even gonna ask how you did that.” Willy started.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” You held your finger to your lips, you both smiling at each other again.