#and to have watched it live!! i'll never be over how good and sad and literally every emotion it is

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 4 of the Danny is Tim's 99th attempt at cloning Kon. A 3 year old Danny finally meets his not dead anymore template.

[Pt 3: here] [Pt 5:Here]

Danny is so nervous he feels like he's going to throw up. His Template, who was dead and now isn't, is coming over to meet him. He knows his dad wouldn't let the guy near if he thought he'd react poorly to Danny, and Danny is excited about maybe having an adult (barely, technically, since he's 18) to help him figure out his new alien heritage, but he's still scared shitless. He wants this to go well so badly.

"Danny," Tim sighs in fond exasperation, "Come here, sweetheart."

Danny floats himself into dad's lap, tucking himself to his chest.

"Kon has been just as nervous to meet you." Tim kisses the top of Danny's head, just before Danny turns a wide-eyed look towards him. "He's the sweetest himbo and has been gushing about meeting you, but he's terrified you won't like him."

"Rweally?"

"Yeah, one of his deepest desires and deepest traumas is his want of family. But he doesn't want to pressure you into accepting any sort of relationship with him." Tim explains before cracking a sardonic smile. "Which is a big mood. I'm pretty sure most of the younger heroes have imposter syndrome."

"Why?"

"For many reasons. Kon was, and sometimes still is, discriminated against and frankly abused for being a clone. I forced my way into the Wayne family and was repeatedly told I didn't belong. Jason never had a stable life. Damian was a rape baby and raised in the LoA til he was 10. Dick was kicked out by Bruce once he aged out of fostering age. Jason's "not" boyfriend, Roy, was shunned for developing a drug habit after gaining significant trauma." Tim lists off. "A lot of the younger heroes couldn't lean on the adults in their lives, and it leaves scars. We've all found our footing, and deserve everything good we have in our lives, but the feeling of unworthiness is hard to escape."

Danny hugs his dad around the neck. He knew some of this dad and co lore, but it makes him sad each time. No one in his new family family has had easy lives, but are still so nice.

Tim suddenly looks mischievous, "All that to say, Kon has been texting me all morning about what he should wear, do I actually think you'll like him, if he should bring a gift or would you think he's bribing you to like him-"

"Tim!" A guy whines as he enters. He's wearing a leather jacket over a band t-shirt and black jeans. He clothes don't hide how he's shredded and probably 6 inches, at least, taller than Tim. He's holding a puzzle box and looks flustered and embarrassed.

"It's true!" Tim grins at the newcomer, before adjusting his angle to give Danny a slightly better view. "Danny, this is Kon, your DNA donor. Kon, this is my- our son, Danny."

Danny shyly waves as a blushing Kon sputters and protests Tim's choice of introductions.

"What? I did all the work, you just provided the DNA. Maybe if there's a next time, I'll let you help." Tim teases, and is hilariously oblivious to the gutter Danny can see Kon's mind drop into.

Danny has found his dad to be absolutely oblivious to anytime someone is into him, outside of Ra's. Danny watched so many people try to shoot their shot, and Tim cluelessly rebuff them. Danny thought he was doing it on purpose at first, but soon realized, no, his dad just has low self-esteem and truly doesn't think anyone finds him desirable. It's as funny as it is sad.

"So mean." Kon pouts before holding up the puzzle box for Danny to see the design. It's a thousand piece nebula puzzle. "I ended up getting you this puzzle. Tim- Your dad told me you love space and are super smart, so I thought you'd enjoy this puzzle."

Danny blinks, looking between the barely adults, before deciding to be funny. He says in his gravest voice. "So you chose bribery."

Danny gets the glorious view of Kon's face dropping in shock. Tim is literally shaking as he tries not to laugh, knowing Danny is pulling the guy's leg. The Drakes let him flounder for a moment, trying to find a response to that, before Danny can't help giggling, which pushes Tim over the edge and start cackling, startling Kon into silence.

"You should have seen your face!" Tim wheezes.

Kon gets a dopey look on his face. "You're just messing with me."

Danny nods with a grin. He wiggles to be put down, which Tim complies with, still giggling. Danny trots up to his template.

"You're silly." Danny informs him before holding his arms up and demanding. "Up!"

Kon quickly sets the puzzle on an end table near him before picking Danny up. He looks a little nervous when Danny stares hard at his face. "Um?"

Danny takes in all the shared features between them, some harder to see with the 16 year age difference, but it's sort of soothing to see. He gets distracted when he notices Kon's piercings, gasping and taking a closer look.

"How!?" He excitedly, but gently grabs Kon's ear piercings. Danny had gotten similar ear piercings when he was a ghost, and he misses them, but figured he wasn't going to be able to get them done in this body. It being nearly indestructible and all.

"Oh, my piercings?" Danny nods, leaning forward to take a closer look. "I'm sure you noticed it's hard to hurt us, but there's a rock called kryptonite, and depending on the colour, different things can happen."

"I thought kryptonite just hurt?" Danny asks, pulling back to look at Kon's face.

"It can. Green kryptonite is the most common, and it will hurt you. It turns off your powers and slowly poisons you, and if not taken away quickly, can kill us. Gold kryptonite is the rarest type and will permanently remove kryptonian abilities and usually leaves permanent injuries. So please do your best to avoid those types." Kon explains, "Red kryptonite should probably also be avoided, it makes kryptonians angry and turns off your inhibitions, but it won't technically hurt you to be exposed to it. The last colour I know of is blue. Blue kryptonite doesn't harm you or mess with your mental abilities. It just turns off all of your kryptonian abilities for however long it touches your skin. I have a blue kryptonite necklace I wear whenever I want tattoos or piercings."

Danny turns pleading eyes to his dad. "Can I get ear piercings??"

Danny can't help, but notice an infatuated smile on Tim's face before the man huffs a laugh and walks over. He runs a hand through Danny's hair.

"If you still want them when you're 5, I'll let you." Tim hums, "I don't want it to be an impulsive decision, and people will be less weird about a five year old getting their ears pierced. You might still get weird looks since you're a boy, but that's their problem, not yours."

"Okay!" Danny cheers. He hasn't told his dad about his past life/afterlife, so he can understand the hesitance over letting 3 year old get a body mod, even if it's just a single set of ear piercings, on what seems like a whim. He's honestly surprised he only has to wait til he's 5. Tim can be a bit of a helicopter parent, but then again, Tim really wants Danny to be his own person, never once shaming him for not fitting into a mold.

His aunts and uncles and grandpa have all made comments when they think he can't hear about how different or similar he is to Kon. Or when he shows gender non-conforming interests. Tim gets mad at them anytime he realizes Danny heard them. He doesn't want Danny to feel bad about any of it. Siting that "no shit" there's going to be similarities and differences, that's how children work, clone or not, and how gender is a social construct. He usually starts picking apart all of his siblings' behaviors at that point, pointing out what they inherented from Bruce, what is trauma born, and what's uniquely their's so he assumes they're from their respective parents, as well as all the things they do that don't fall under what society thinks their gender should do. It's funny, but also very nice. Danny loves his dad.

The true question right now, though, is: will he love, or even just like, his template? Danny doesn't hate what he's heard and seen so far, but actual fondness or affection needs time.

"How about we head to the gym?" Tim says, "Kon can show you some of his powers."

"Can I fly higher?" Danny isn't allowed to fly more than 4 feet in the air. Which is annoying, but fair. Again, he's 3.

"Only if you stay in arm's reach of Kon when you do."

"Okay!!" Danny cheers, purposely flailing around. Kon's hold on him tightens slightly to make sure he doesn't fall, but it's not painful. Another point to the DNA donor. That's about five in his favour during this interaction alone.

"Already flying, little man?" Kon grins.

"Yeah!"

"He figured out how to fly before how to run." Tim chuckles, "Now he does both any chance he gets. It keeps things lively."

"I imagine." Kon's grin turns a little gooey, before letting himself float and zip to the gym. "Let's have so fun!"

Danny can't help his chuckles. Kon flies there faster than Danny's allowed currently. It's fun!

Danny also can't help but notice Tim isn't in a rush to catch up. Meaning Tim fully trusts Kon with Danny's life. That's a trust that took the rest of the family months to gain, even though Tim knew they wouldn't hurt him. Danny isn't sure what to make of that knowledge, but it definitely makes him more inclined to like his template.

And by dinner time, Danny does genuinely like the guy. He respects everything Tim and Danny have to say, shows Danny a bunch of fun tricks with their powers, and let's Danny lead their games. He's fun, nice, and most importantly, not creepy. He clearly likes his dad in a more than friends way, but is hesitant to act on it, clearly not wanting to fuck up with either Tim or Danny.

Unfortunately for Danny, he can see Tim likes Kon back, but his dad is an idiot and doesn't realize it. So now he has to figure out how to get his dad to realize he's into his template without it being weird.

But really, what was Danny expecting? Trying to clone your "best friend" a hundred times isn't exactly hetero behavior. He decides he's going to enlist Uncle Damian and Uncle Jason. It's for his dad's own good at this point.

He also debates on if he's going to try to parent trap them. He likes Kon, but he doesn't know him well enough to commit to the bit just yet. He'll decide later, once he knows more.

[sukunacest]

cw:: incest, slight exhib, dubcon??? (she def wants it lol)

i can't stop having icky thoughts :((

all day ive been thinking about going home and gaming with older brother nerdjo. he's easily a top 10 player and is always the highest rank on every game he plays.

he knows you like gaming too, but you're not as naturally skilled as him :( that's okay though, he enjoys playing and carrying you <3

at some point you make a joke to having matching duo accounts and satoru laughs but quickly agrees to the idea.

this won't be the last time you guys make matching accounts, but for the current game, you guys finally decide on "his pocket" & "her carry". they were cute and adorable and perfectly matched how you guys played together.

you liked playing everything, but the support role was your favorite. you would stay in the backline, healing and supporting your team (by team i mean satoru, he's a 1 man army) and staying safe in the back :)

whenever someone brave and stupid enough to dive you tried to kill you, satoru was always right there to peel and protect you. he wouldn't ever hesitate to turn around and kill whoever attacked you.

when you guys were feeling dangerous enough to make a play, you both would flank — you pocketing him— and he would kill the entire enemy team.

you would be lying if you said the gameplay wasn't absolutely hot. infact, it was so hot, you could feel wetness pooling in your panties as you played. good thing you had your own setup in your room.

when you finally reach your goal of hitting the highest rank, you should be happy, but it makes you a little sad. playing in the higher lobbies meant less players, which also meant facing the same groups of people.

more and more girls started to notice how good satoru was and would invite him to play :(( of course, he'd flaunt his ego and tease them about carrying or boosting them. one girl even added you as a friend, just to see if you'd be her wing woman and hook her up with satoru... :(

but there never was a need to worry. every single new friend request from a girl (and a couple gay guys) satoru received, he immediately declined. telling all the girls "im not interested. i already have my duo and she's the best."

your heart stuttered, and so did your lips — the lower ones. you shouldn't feel this way, he was your brother for christ sake.

but he was just always so sweet to you. always there to play with you and protect you, whether in the game or in real life.

you couldn't help it though. the moment you two became official duos, your attraction to him only grew tenfold.

he wasn't just your online duo. you both started to enjoy doing everything together now. eating, studying, even falling alseep watching anime together <3

one weekend night when your parents were both gone, you guys got into a high lobby match against a famous player. it was tough, way too close of a game, but you guys ended up winning! satoru aka "her carry" being crowned mvp of the match.

that didn't sit well with the enemy famous player. he immediately messaged satoru, calling him out for cheating.

cheating? really? the guy was that upset over a loss, he was making anything up to discredit his loss.

satoru tried to shrug it off, but the streamer was relentless.

you were the one who came up with the bright idea to settle the issue. a classic 1 v 1, live on the guy's stream. satoru will prove he didn't cheat and the streamer will have to accept the loss and move on.

"you nervous?" you pulled up a chair to satoru's gaming desk, ready to cheer him on.

"nah, i'll win."

you nodded and smiled. of course your big brother will win. he always does <3

the streamer went live and the 1 v 1 began. you would call it close to give the streamer some credit, but that was being generous.

satoru won the set, with the final score being 8-1. the only reason he lost the 1 match was because your hand 'accidentally' brushed by his lap — distracting him enough for the streamer to kill him.

the streamer invited satoru to a party and announced him the winner. he actually ended up asking satoru for some tips and while your brother was answering the questions, your hands once again brushed against his lap (as you did nearly the whole match).

"and if you set your sensitivity to —" satoru stopped mid sentence, finally taking his headset off.

"if you don't stop that, there will be consequences," he whispered into your ear

"im not doing anything," you murmured back innocently. "i just wanna congratulate my brother for the win." you flashed your cutest smile and gave him your best bambi eye impression

he hissed your name as you brushed his lap again, this time with your ass. "that chair is uncomfortable, i think i wanna sit right here"

you lowered down and immediately felt his hardness, poking into you :(

"im warning you"

you giggled and kept squirming in his lap, trying to find a comfy spot.

"that's it!" satoru pushed back in his gaming chair and stood both of you up. he slammed both of your hands to his desk and pulled down your skirt.

"i think i will take my reward now for boosting you out of bronze"

he pulled down your panties next and immediately stuck his long fingers in your folds—your slick covering them.

"t-toru!"

"i bet you got real wet watching me play," he whispered into your ear.

you ashamedly nodded and got a spank for it.

"tell me, sis."

"yes!" you yelped. "i love watching you play!"

"what else?" for a nerd, satoru was still extremely arrogant and confident, but it makes sense when he can always back up his ego.

"i love playing with you and i love how good you are, and —"

he spun you around. you didn't even notice when he took his pants and boxers off, unleashing the monster that is his cock.

"w-wait, toru" you tried to reason, even though you didn't mean it. "we can't go this far, you're my brother"

"you should've thought about that earlier before teasing me." he smiles and pats your head like he always does. "but don't worry, I won't be too rough."

he sits down in his gaming chair, pulling you onto his lap with him. his cock is red, angry, and wants any kind of friction. he taps your entrance with it. once, twice, getting it wet with your dripping slick — your fluids mixing with his pre.

your brain was spinning with every thought as to why you shouldn't be doing this. your parents could walk in. no— they're not even home. you have feelings for someone else — there really is no one else for you. you are blood related — maybe that just makes the sex even better.

you never once considered that you didn't want him, because on the contrary, every vein in your body is telling you that you do.

satoru's voice gets low, serious. "do you want me to stop?"

"...no"

and he gently pulls you down onto his cock. you feel so full, so blissful, so happy. you use one hand to hold onto the desk and lock your fingers with his free hand.

he guides you up and down his length until you're finally bottoming out on him.

he soflty pulls your chin towards him, locking his waiting lips with yours <3 everything felt so perfect. he let you ride him until you begged him to fuck you. and as much as he wanted to utterly fill you up, he thought it would be better if he got you on the pill first :((

you both finally looked up at the screen after satoru rearranged your guts and realized the streamer sent satoru 30 messages to mute his mic. oops.

(i didn't mean for this to be so long. i lost the plot lol)

m.list

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (thirteen)

jenson button - "I want to make you mine."

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/45), flirty!reader, unprotected sex & baby trapping, doggy style, jenson is smitten (read: unhinged), dark-ish themes

sinful sentences catalogue

you were a flirt, that was what you were good at. flash a pretty smile, wear a low-cut top and any man would happily give over some cash. flutter your eyelashes and give them a sweet laugh at their corny jokes, and the bills grew in value.

jenson was smitten, needy for your attention. he loved how you felt in his hands, how his lips felt against yours. and when he was lucky, his cock snug inside of your achy, soaked cunt. maybe it was time getting to him and missing so-called glory days. but he liked the little flirt he often saw at the bar, and he liked taking you home.

but he believed that you could do a hell of a lot better than the bar you frequented. someone quiet, secluded, with an apron around your waist, dinner on the table and his child growing in your belly.

"hey, beautiful." he purred as he draped an arm around you, "look a little lonely tonight." his lips grazed your jaw, "sad that no one's giving you attention, tinkerbell?"

"shut up." you replied and when you looked at him. when your gaze met his, he pulled you in for a heated kiss. that shut you up quite quickly. you hated it, he had this way with you that made your core simmer.

"i want to make you mine." he said, "tonight."

"i could never be yours, jenson. don't be stupid." you laughed.

there was a reason why all the men got to look but not touch, but jenson often got handfuls of your flesh and his cock buried inside of you. when he pulled away from the kiss, he smiled at you, " are you done, tinkerbell? gonna be good for me?" he leaned in, "because my wallet is feeling a little heavy, and i think you could lighten the load."

and then like a lamb you tucked yourself closer to him. you knew you were a slut for his attention, he was older, wiser, wealthier. he knew what he could get from you and it made you aroused. it didn't hurt that his cock was rather big and he knew exactly how to use it.

"when have i ever been good for you?" you asked playfully.

jenson chuckled lowly, "that's what i like to hear. causing my problems, making me watch you be a total fucking flirt. but you always come back to me." he kissed your cheek.

"are you going to give me what i want?" you asked softly as you played with the top button of the light blue shirt he wore. you then spread your hand across his chest, "please?"

jenson's smile grew, "of course, honey. i'll always give you what you want. but, you have to be a good girl for me. so put away the teeth, angel, and let's have some fun tonight."

you ended up back at his home, the expensive kind of apartment with a price tag that made most raise their eyebrows. he had the money so why not spend it.

he was quick to undress you, and while the couch was closer he did have the capacity to be a gentleman and guided you to the bedroom. your clothes remained in a pile on the floor in the living room as he shepred you into the bedroom. then, when you got through the door he got you up in his arms and onto the bed.

"hands and knees, beautiful."

"are you going to use a condom?"

jenson flashed that winner's smile, "of course, tinkerbell. gotta play it safe for you, right?" the plan was turning in his head. easy to lie with your face in the covers. he patted your cheek and leaned in to kiss you on the lips. you tasted like cranberry juice and vodka, and he tasted like rum and coke.

his other hand on your thigh as he held you. his cock stirred in his jeans at the taste of you against him. you felt like something else, you could scam your way into some cash with just a few smiles. but jenson was greedy.

"hands and knees, beautiful. i want to see that pretty pussy and that lovely ass of yours." he chuckled before he pulled away and you got on your chest and knees with your ass in the air. perfect for him.

jenson played with your pussy as he got undressed, he dragged his fingers across it. played with your clit and even sank his digits into you. he felt the tight wet heat and he wondered how many men ran through you before. but, that didn't matter now. not when he had you in his metaphorical jaws.

it'll be the only cock you needed now, jenson would take care of his wife. there wasn't even a question if you would be his wife or not. he knew you'd walk down that aisle. he wasn't raising his baby without a ring on your finger.

you held onto the pillow under your head and heard him move around once he was undressed. you looked over and saw him get a condom out a desk drawer and you exhaled a sigh of relief. he smiled wickedly when you put your face back into the pillows.

when you weren't looking at him, the unused condom was dumped in the waste bin. he said as he approached you, his heavy cock bobbed as he got up behind you on the bed. he admired the glossiness of your cunt and licked his lips.

all for him, only for him.

he sank into you, no protection keeping that pretty pussy of yours safe. no, tonight you were going to take jenson raw. the thought excited him as he shifted his knees on the bed to get a better angle to fuck you. he pressed you at the middle of your shoulders, pushing you further into the bed with your pretty ass up against his hips. you felt amazing, the tight heat of your cunt wrapped up around him.

jenson button was one lucky bastard tonight.

he rocked up into you. his movements started off slow yet powerful. he moved up against you, both hands at your hips. he used it as leverage to move against you. it felt amazing, your cunt held onto him tightly.

like your body knew it wanted to get pregnant. and who was jenson to deny a beautiful woman what she so desired. your words said one thing and your body said another.

"fuck, jenson." you shuddered as the thrusts grew. his pace had his cock pressed up into your deepest parts. it made you panting against covers as he fucked you further into them. your breathing was heavier as you cunt fluttered around him.

the pleasure clouded your mind, all rationale was out the window. you didn't even question him that he actually put the condom on. your brain was flooded with the intense heat of pleasure. you gasped into the covers as the pleasure grew in your core.

there was something thumping in your soul from his movements and your core swam with a yearning for him. the way he fucked you, even when it was rough, quick sex. there was something about it that made your head swim with lust.

damn jenson button for knowing exactly how to get you going, how to pull orgasms out of you like a rabbit from a hat.

"you feel like heaven, honey. my little fucking tinkerbell with your fairy wings that i wanna pluck from you." he wrapped his arms around you and battered his cock into you. this pace quickened and you felt your foundation shake. his words were filthy and it lit a fire in your belly.

he continued to fuck you. he pressed his weight further down on you and made you squirm when his pace became brutal. he knew exactly how to keep you under him. you thought you were getting a nice payday from this, but you were going to walk a way with a bit more than some fresh euros stuffed in your purse.

more like his cum stuffed into your slick pussy, right where it belonged. don't worry, after you have his first kid he'll let out have a break, but he hoped within a decade you two will have three little button kids running around. of course he'll buy a nice house for your little growing family. but tonight, the logistics weren't important, tonight he was on a mission.

get his little tinkerbell, the girl desperate for male attention, nice and pregnant with his kid. then everything else will fall into place. his movements quickened till he was fucking you right into the mattress. his breathing was heavy and his body tense as he fucked you.

the bed creaked a little as you panted heavily into the covers. you whined, "fuck, jenson! i'm close!" then arched your back quite a bit as you felt climax begin to take its hold on you.

"that's it, beautiful. let it out for me. good girl, good girl." he cooed lowly and it made you head swim with heated want as you felt the throb in your body of climax. jenson knew your body better than you knew it yourself.

jenson kept up his pace. he fucked you with a simmering heat. he didn't last much longer, he couldn't have. he could feel the pleasure in his gut as soon finished inside of you. as climax hit, he shoved his entire length into you. made sure that the tip of his cock became familiar with the base of your cervix. they'd become quite acquainted over the next few months.

"fuck, jenson." you gasped as his pace slowed down and he gave you a playful smack on the behind.

"better than the rest, huh?" he said as he leaned over you, kept his softening cock inside of you for a moment. he kissed the shell of your ear and felt your tremble.

in a moment of post-orgasm weakness you croaked, "yes." and jenson felt nothing but a sense of pride that tonight he got you pregnant.

-

large hand on a swollen belly. been a whine since you've been at the bar and it's been only a few weeks since you became jenson button's wife. no late nights seeking the flirty attention of men older than you.

one of them finally got you tied down and in a few months you were going to be the mother to his child. his hands were still greedy for the softness of your hips, his tongue still wanted to explore your mouth. now he could whenever he wanted.

his hand grazed your middle, he loved the feeling of it. you looked so good. looked proper even when you struggled a little to get off the couch. you carried the baby well, even if it made you rely on jenson a little more (not that he was complaining)

you still don't know how it happened, but jenson simply shrugged and said, "miracles happen every day. and this one is ours." shutting down any questions about misuse of protection. all it took was one night and one little lie, and now jenson button clipped the wings of his little tinkerbell. <3

[hirsheyskisses]

When You're Sober.

RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)

Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..

A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣

"..are you going to stay this time?"

Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.

"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.

"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"

It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"

Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.

It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.

As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..

..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.

What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.

"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"

"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."

He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.

"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."

He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.

Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,

"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"

He never did.

Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.

"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"

Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.

"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.

"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."

You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"

"No. I'm not."

He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.

"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"

Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.

"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."

His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.

"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..

You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."

"...yea?"

"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."

Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.

He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.

I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.

"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"

Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"

"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.

"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."

You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.

As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,

"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.

"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.

"..zoro?-"

"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."

"Marry me."

He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.

He..

"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."

The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.

"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.

"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,

"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

Mine // Luke Hughes

a follow up to The Manuscript, where Luke has some words to say.

part one - here

WC: 1.4k

CW: tears, a lil bit of self deprecation if you squint, post breakup sad, pet names, he lowkey fixes it

He was sitting in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car, riding down the road that now left a foul aftertaste in his mouth. Your house was coming up, 2 miles ahead on the right. The house with the big pine tree and endless kisses and now broken promises lived. 

A promise he'd always come back to you, promises of forever, promises of "I'll come whisk you away. I’ll be on one knee and it'll be you and me.”

That ring felt like it was burning a hole in his luggage. Almost like he could feel the hurt. He could feel hurt. All he felt lately was hurt. He had no one to blame but himself. 

“You could fix this Luke.” Quinn’s voice held a level of support for his brother but also an anger for her. For the girl who was his sister. Maybe not by blood, or even marriage now, but Quinn always supported her. “She’s hurt, but she wouldn’t just forget about you and everything you had in two weeks. Give her some time, get a plan, and bring her home.” 

Luke just nodded.

It had been 2 weeks since Luke had been in Michigan. 3 weeks, 3 days and 12 hours since the doorbell footage he couldn't stop watching. “I loved you, Lukey” playing on an endless cycle in his brain. Loved. Past tense. Had he really fucked this up so badly that she had time to fall out of love with him?

He was staring at the basket that was on the counter. The basket with everything you loved, the basket of proof he never stopped thinking about you. 

That stupid hoodie you always stole, a note front and center, some candy and other snacks, a blanket, the comfiest socks he could find and some books he knew you had been eyeing. Thankful for your goodreads being public enough he could see what books have been bought and what hasn't. 

Quinn had talked him out of waiting at the door with the basket, “That’s basically cornering her, Luke. You can’t do that. Drop it off on the porch, knock on the door and go back to the car.” and maybe Quinn was right. As much as Luke needed to see your face, needed you to see he wasn’t okay either– he knew that wouldn't end well for either of you.

So here he stood, oversized basket in his hand and the iced matcha with white chocolate and strawberry foam from the little coffee shop 20 minutes away that was your favorite in his other. Now all he had to do was knock. Knock and leave. No matter how much he didn’t want to leave, he knew he had to. 

The sound of a hard knock brought your attention away from your rewatch of Love, Actually. Waiting a couple minutes to see if whoever was there would knock again. The thought of social interaction was the last thing you wanted. All you wanted was this bottle of wine, stupid love stories with happy endings that you’ll never relate too and tears. 

Everyone told you, cry over him for a couple days and forget him. But Luke, he wasn't someone you wanted to forget. Luke was all you wanted. He was your safe space, your shoulder to cry on, your support. And for the first time in almost 6 years, you broke down fully alone. 

Finally willing yourself to get up, you wiped your tears and opened the door. 

There sat a basket and a drink. Not just any, yours. Your drink, from the cafe Luke took you to on your first date. 

Closing your front door, you sat on the porch pulling the paper with your name written in the messiest handwriting. 

Handwriting you’d never forget. Handwriting you had grown to know like it was your own secret language. Handwriting that belonged to the one guy you ever wanted. Luke’s handwriting.

Unfolding the paper you scanned over the scribbles. Eyes closed, taking a breath before you were ready to read this properly.

Hi baby,

Am I allowed to say that? Probably not, I'm sorry. I’m not off to a good start here. I've rewritten this 3 times, I decided it's better to just word vomit. That way i dont forget anything. 

God, baby, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I was stupid. Stupid is really just putting it lightly. I was dumb, selfish, cold, and gone. I left you alone. I broke promises. I missed dinner. I missed hearing about your day. I missed hearing about your books. I missed hearing what your new favorite song was. I missed all of that, and more, for months. Months you waited for me to come back to you. I was so stuck in hockey, I was stuck giving more to a team than I was to you. 

I will never forgive myself for that. I will never forgive myself for allowing something so bad to happen. I will never forgive myself for setting you up for the perfect plan of falling out of love with me.

I never wanted to hurt you, seeing you cry on the camera broke me. It broke me in a way I don't even have words for. It felt like my heart was ripped out of my body. I never wanted to ever be the reason tears stained your pretty face. 

I was on my way, I texted you and when you didn't answer I thought you were napping. We were on break, we had a couple weeks before playoffs. I was coming home to you. Just you and me. And when I walked in and your bag was gone my heart dropped. Then I saw the box, and the necklace on the very top. I've never held something in my hand that hurt so badly. 

I know none of this is going to fix what I did. I know that, but I needed you to know im a fucking mess without you. Nothing’s been the same. There's no sunshine anymore, because you're not here. You brought the sunshine. You ARE the sunshine. You are everything that is pure and good in this world all wrapped up in one little person. One little person who I had the privilege of loving. No past tense, no loved. I will never stop loving you.

Jack told me I shouldn’t tell you, so did Quinn, but I can't lie to you again. I had a ring. In the closet, hidden in an old box on that shelf you never could reach. I had booked a little cottage up north in June. I was going to ask you to marry me on the 3rd day there. I had a whole script I wrote 7 months ago. I read it daily, I have it burning in my brain. I wasn't going to forget all the things I wanted to say that day.

Anyways I'm rambling real bad and a novel wont fix what I did to us. But please know, youre my past, present and my future. It will always be you. Even if I'm not your future. I'll cheer you on from afar.

I love you,

Lukey.

You couldn't stop the tears. The rest of the basket was forgotten. Reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. You clicked his name and held your breath.

Luke sat at the island in the kitchen. Quinn is cooking some sort of chicken. He wasn't sure, he stopped listening 15 minutes ago. Jack was digging around in the fridge and all Luke could focus on was if you got the basket. 

Everyone went silent as the bridge of Mine by Taylor Swift started blaring. Staring at the phone on the counter, your smile taking up the screen.

“Fucking answer it Luke!” Jack yelled, pushing the phone to his little brother. 

He forgot how to breathe, he didn't think you'd call. He didn't think he'd have the opportunity to ever hear your voice again.

“Hello?” His voice was soft, scared really.

“Did you mean it? The letter, did you mean it?” she was crying. He could tell and god that broke him.

“Every word of it. All of it.” He left no room for questions. No room for doubt.

His brothers watched with worry, Jack whispered, “put it on speaker!”

Quinn smacked his head, like he asked for the stupidest thing. They were too busy quietly arguing with one another that all they heard again was Luke.

“Yeah, honey. 10 minutes okay? I’ll see you in a few minutes.” It's almost like he knew what you were about to say. “You’re never going to have to wait again. The world can wait, my world can’t.”

[thebestsetter]

He has never been afraid of dying.

Death doesn't fright him. He sees it as a natural part of the cycle of life. One must be born, live their life, possibly reproduce so their species can keep on existing and then die. All animals, be it a big magnificient whale or a little insignificant ant, have to do this too. This is what they all have in common (and honestly, it's beautiful how all animals have to experience this. It brings humans and animals closer).

Everyone dies, be it the sinner or the saint, the rich or the poor. Death doesn't discriminate people. It just comes and takes everyone (which is kinda funny, since people think that money or looks make them different from the other. They don't. We're all equal. The bullet that kills the powerful is also capable of killing the weak). And frankly, he's okay with that. He knows it'll happen.

Given his work condition, he knows he's more inclined to die than the average person. Everyday, he has to go out there and risk his life, saving hundreds of people he doesn't even know and sometimes not even getting a "thank you" back. It's frustrating, but it's not like he's giving up. Before he dies, he wants to make this world a little bit better. It probably won't be much, but he still wants to feel useful. He wants to feel like he did something good.

"Oh God! You're okay! You're really okay! I was so worried about you!"

He doesn't fear death. Which is why he doesn't understand why he feels like crying when you visit him at the hospital he was staying at after a mission that went wrong. Death doesn't scare him, so he's not quite sure why his hands tremble when they reach to pat your head. He shouldn't react like this. He's never reacted this way before

"Please, don't ever do that again! Never ever!" Your grip in his waist tightens to the point where his lungs are burning for air, but he still doesn't want you to let go.

"You have no idea how scared I was. When the hospital called me saying you were here, I felt like my mind was going a hundred per hour! Please, don't die..."

How can you ask him this? You both know it's impossible. He's going to die one day, it can't be helped. You can't escape death's claws. No one can escape their funeral. You're torturing him. You know he doesn't like to lie to you. He can't just say "I won't die" cause it's simply not true!

"Please don't die" you repeat, and his hands movement comes to a halt "Because I'll be lonely if you die. Don't leave me alone, please."

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

He still isn't afraid of dying. But suddenly, the mention of death leaves an itching feeling at the back of his throat. It makes him sick thinking about you going on with your life, possibly mourning over his death for a long time (he doesn't ever want you to be sad, especially not because of him. Strangely, a sick, twisted part of him wants you to cry when he dies. To be sad. To not move on fastly. He quickly supresses those thoughts though) and then completely forgetting him and starting a new family (this thought makes him sick to the stomach. He feels like a very bad guy when thinking about how he doesn't want you to find another man to replace him. You always said he was irreplaceable after all).

He will forever be someone who was, not someone who is. He'll be lost in time, a name you'll mention once or twice on a conversation while smiling and thinking about the good times you had together.

He'll never hear your laugh and your voice again, will never take you out on extravagant dates and have movie nights watching silly movies and laughing at the special effects. Leaving you alone in this dangerous world feels almost criminal.

Death doesn't make him feel bad. Having you forget him after he dies makes him feel like absolute shit.

And so, even though he can't promise you that he won't die, he can promise one thing. He grabs one of your hands in his, looking at you as serious as he can be.

"You won't ever be alone." He says, and you feel like crying. He then smiles weakly "I promise. I love you. Our love is too strong to be stopped by death." He kisses your hand and then quotes the same sentence he uttered at your wedding day "Remember? 'And if death do us apart, I promise to find you in every other timeline.'"

And just like he did that day, he props up in the hospital bed and kisses you.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, ITADORI YUJI, Gojo Satoru, Inumaki Toge (or maybe I'm just a glazer ☹️), Nanami Kento (idk, I just feel like it fits him), TODOROKI SHOTO, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Ejirou, Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa Shota, HAWKS + any character you think fits this!!

~ A/N: this can be read as a sequel of another fic of mine. It also can be read on it's own though (but please, do check the other one if you're interested!!). Also, you can see some Hamilton songs' references here and there (cause I'm a theater kid 😔) AND this was inspired by a line in "Cowboy Beebop"

Masterlist

[octaneink]

Easy Love

Will Lenney x Reader

Summary: The Reader tries a new scent, Will definitely notices. Warnings: None! Notes: Not an ask, just a random idea I thought would be cute ☺️☺️☺️

You'd been meaning to reorganise the junk drawer all week.

It was a task that nags at you every time you fish for a pen and come up with nothing but dried-out pens and a handful of foreign coins. Today, the mess had reached critical mass when you'd been searching for the spare key to your place and instead unearthed three dead AA batteries and what might have been a receipt from 2019.

So at 2 PM on Sunday, with golden afternoon light pooling across the kitchen tiles, you'd upended the entire drawer onto the counter. The contents formed a sad little monument to domestic chaos: twisted phone chargers, a single cufflink, half a dozen IKEA Allen wrenches, and at least three pens that definitely didn't work.

Will had watched this from his throne in the living room armchair, one eyebrow arched over the top of his novel. "Spring cleaning?" he'd asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's making me itchy just looking at it," you'd grumbled, aggressively untangling a knot of cables. "How do we even accumulate this much crap?”

That was an hour ago.

Now you're kneeling on the kitchen floor, elbow-deep under the sink, fingers brushing against the cold pipe as you search for the trash bags you could have sworn you bought last week. The cabinet smells faintly of lemon cleaner and something metallic, and you're fairly certain your jumper is collecting dust bunnies the size of tumbleweeds.

"Will," you call, voice slightly muffled by the cabinet, "did you move the—"

The only response is the soft whisper of a page turning. You twist to see him through the doorway, still curled in the armchair with his book propped against his knees. Afternoon light gilds the curve of his shoulders, catching in his hair where it's fallen across his forehead. His thumb moves absently along the edge of the page, but his eyes never leave the text.

"Will?" You try again, louder this time, knocking your knuckles against the cabinet door for emphasis.

"Hm?" It's the kind of distracted noise people make when they're only physically present, their mind still wrapped around a plot twist or character's fate.

You give up with a huff, the cabinet door swinging shut with a hollow thud as you rock back on your heels. The floor had left angry red impressions on your knees, and your shoulders ached from being hunched in that cramped space for so long. When you finally straighten up, your spine cracks in three distinct places—the kind of satisfying pops that make you feel both ancient and temporarily relieved. The clock above the stove reads 3:07—if you leave now, you can make it before everything closes at 4.

"I'm running to the shop before it closes," you announce, brushing dust from your clothes. "Need to grab milk anyway. I'll pick you up a snack for work tomorrow—want anything specific? Those protein bars you like, or should I see if they have more of those weird spicy nuts?"

Will makes a noncommittal noise, but you’re already heading for the hallway, stripping off your dust-streaked jumper as you go.

In the bedroom, you tug on a fresh top and pause, eyeing the little glass bottle on your dresser. The perfume was a gift from a friend last month—“It’s so you,” they’d insisted—but you’d barely used it. Today feels as good a time to use it for the first time. You spritz it on, the scent blooming: vanilla, bright and sweet at first, then something deeper, spicier, like amber melting into skin.

You give your wrist an absentminded sniff. Nice. Maybe your friend was right, it does suit you. Leaving your bedroom, you walk to the door and grab your tote from the hook, digging through its depths for your keys. They jangle somewhere near the bottom, buried under crumpled receipts and a pack of gum.

That’s when you notice it.

The silence.

No rustling pages. No absent tap of Will’s fingers against the armrest. Just the weight of someone’s gaze, like a touch between your shoulder blades.

You turn.

Will hasn’t moved from his chair, but his book lies forgotten in his lap, spine bent at an unnatural angle. His eyes lock onto yours, then drop—slow, deliberate—to the curve of your neck. His throat bobs as he swallows.

“Going out?” Will asks again, his voice gravel-dipped. It’s not really a question. There’s an edge to it, a tension that makes your pulse skip. You finally fish out your keys with a triumphant jingle. "Yes, Sherlock," you say, shooting him an amused look over your shoulder. "Like I said five minutes ago when you were too busy with your book to listen."

His abandoned novel lies splayed on the armrest like a wounded bird, pages crumpled under his restless fingers. The sight gives you pause, Will never treats books this way. “Want anything else?”

His answer comes in movement rather than words. He rises with sudden purpose, the book tumbling to the rug as he crosses the space between you in three long strides. Before you can react, he's shrugging into his coat with uncharacteristic haste, the wool collar sitting askew, his hair mussed from where he'd raked an impatient hand through it.

"I'm coming with you," he says, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You blink. "Since when do you volunteer for grocery runs?" The tease in your voice falters as he steps closer, shrinking the hallway with his presence. The heat of him radiates through the scant space between you, his hand brushing the small of your back as he reaches past you for the door. His touch lingers just a beat too long, sending an unexpected shiver up your spine.

The intensity in his storm-grey eyes betrays his usual calm—something restless simmers beneath the surface. You notice the faint tremor in his fingers as he holds the door open, the taut line of his forearm muscles as he gestures you through.

Outside, the evening is crisp, the streetlamps casting honeyed pools of light on the pavement. Will walks closer than usual, his shoulder bumping yours whenever you round a corner. You catch him staring again, his gaze snagging on your throat, your wrists, and the pulse point behind your ear. When the wind tosses your hair, he inhales sharply, as if stealing a secret.

“You’re quiet today,” you say, half-turning to face him.

He stops short, his eyes darkening. For a heartbeat, you think he might say something—do something—his breath warm against your cheek. But then he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just thinking,” he says, the words rough, like they’ve been dragged through gravel.

What’s got into him?

The shop's sign buzzes louder as you approach, flickering in the gathering dusk. Will lingers by the door just long enough to hold it open for you, his arm brushing yours as you pass through. The warmth of his body lingers where he touched you, even as he falls into step beside you.

You grab a plastic basket from the stack near the entrance, its handle creaking in your grip. Will reaches for the same one too, his fingers briefly overlapping yours before you both pull away. There's a charged moment where neither of you move—just stand there in the harsh light, baskets in hand, breathing the same air.

You tug one free, its grip creaking under your fingers. Behind you, Will shifts closer than necessary—his chest nearly grazing your shoulder—as if drawn by some magnetic pull. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his hand twitch forward, fingertips skimming the air just above yours before curling into a fist.

For a heartbeat, neither of you move. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, bleaching the linoleum into a sterile white. You can feel the heat of him against your back, smell the faint cedar of his shampoo mixed with something sharper, almost feral.

“Right,” you say, clearing your throat, pivoting toward the dairy aisle, "Milk first."

The aisles are narrow enough that Will has to walk behind you, his presence a constant warmth at your back. When you stop to examine expiration dates on the milk cartons, he crowds closer than necessary, reaching past you to grab one. His chest brushes against your shoulder, solid and warm.

"Got it," he murmurs, his breath stirring the hair at your temple. The milk carton drops into your basket with a dull thud, but neither of you move away immediately.

At the coffee display, the rich, roasted scent wraps around you both as you survey the options. You reach for your usual blend at the same moment Will does, his hand covering yours completely. His skin is warm, his fingers slightly rough against yours. Instead of pulling away, his thumb strokes once—slow, deliberate—across your inner wrist where your pulse jumps.

"Sorry," he says, though his voice is anything but apologetic. His eyes drop to your mouth for a heartbeat too long before he finally steps back, leaving your skin tingling where he touched you.

You swallow hard, focusing on the coffee labels with sudden intensity. "S'alright," you manage, dropping a bag into your basket with slightly unsteady hands. When you glance up, Will's watching you with that same dark intensity, his fingers flexing at his sides like he's resisting the urge to reach for you again.

The moment stretches, thick with something unspoken, until Will clears his throat and reaches past you for the sugar. His arm brushes against yours, his chest nearly pressing into your shoulder as he leans in. His breath ghosts warm over the shell of your ear, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Forgot we were out of this," he says, voice pitched low just for you. The words vibrate through you, and you're suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact between you.

At the checkout, the cashier—an old woman with a knowing smirk—watches with undisguised interest as Will crowds into your space while you unload the basket. His fingers keep brushing yours as you both reach for items, each accidental (or not-so-accidental) touch sending little electric jolts up your arms.

When your hand trembles slightly while handing over cash, Will's fingers cover yours again, ostensibly to help but really just another excuse to touch. "I've got it." he says, his deep voice resonating in your chest as he stands close enough that you can smell the faint remnants of his cologne mixed with something uniquely Will.

The cashier arches an eyebrow as she hands back your change, her eyes flicking between you two with amusement. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your pulse hammering in your throat, as Will's hand finds the small of your back to guide you toward the exit.

Outside, the cool evening air does little to calm your racing heart, especially when Will's fingers slide down to tangle briefly with yours before he seems to think better of it and shoves his hands in his pockets instead. The charged silence between you is louder than any words could be.

The walk home stretches taut between you, the grocery bag’s handles digging into Will’s palm as he walks just a half-step too close. His sleeve brushes your arm with every other stride—cotton whispering against cotton—and each incidental contact lingers like a brand. The city sounds fade into background static: a distant ambulance siren, the click-clack of a dog’s nails on pavement, the hum of a faulty neon sign above a shuttered laundromat. All of it feels muffled, drowned out by the rhythm of Will’s restless energy.

When you pass beneath a flickering streetlamp, its sickly yellow light catches the sheen of sweat at his temples. His gaze flicks to your neck again, lingering on the damp tendril of hair clinging to your skin. You watch his throat work as he swallows, the sharp line of his jaw flexing like he’s biting back words.

“You’re being weirdly intense today,” you say, nudging him with your elbow. The gesture aims for lightness, but your voice betrays you—it comes out breathier than intended, almost a challenge.

Will’s laugh is a rough scrape of sound. “Am I?” He shifts the grocery bag to his other hand, plastic crinkling like cellophane fire. His free arm swings briefly toward yours, fingers grazing your knuckles before he shoves both hands into his coat pockets. The fleeting touch leaves your skin buzzing.

You slow your pace, studying him. Moonlight bleeds through the clouds, silvering the tension in his shoulders, the way his collar sits crooked against his throat. There’s something feral in his profile—the dilated pupils, the slight flare of his nostrils as the wind shifts—that makes your stomach swoop. For a heartbeat, you think he might press you against the graffiti-tagged brick wall to your left, his body caging yours in the shadows.

But he keeps walking.

Three more steps, then he stops dead. You nearly collide with him, catching yourself on his forearm. The muscle beneath his sleeve jumps at your touch.

“Will—?”

He doesn’t turn. Just stands there, head bowed, breathing audibly through his nose. The grocery bag hangs forgotten at his side, a litre of milk threatening to slip free. When he finally speaks, his voice is ground glass. “You should’ve worn a jacket.”

You blink. “It’s not that cold.”

A beat. Then his coat hits your shoulders before you can protest, his hands linger at your collarbones, adjusting the lapels with unnecessary focus. His thumbs brush the hollow of your throat, once, twice, before he steps back.

“Better,” he mutters, already striding ahead like he can outpace whatever’s clawing at his ribs.

You hurry to catch up, the coat sleeves swallowing your hands whole. Up close, you notice what you missed before—the tremor in his left hand, the way his pulse thunders visibly at his neck. When he catches you staring, he angles his body away, jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts.

The remaining blocks pass in a fever dream. Every rustle of fabric, every shared glance, every time his shoulder bumps yours feels amplified. By the time your building comes into view, you’re both breathing like you’ve run a marathon, though neither of you will admit it.

At the front door, Will fumbles the keys twice before managing the lock. His hand covers yours on the doorknob, pressing down hard enough to feel the ridges bite into your palm.

“After you,” he says, but doesn’t move aside—just crowds you through the doorway, his chest grazing your back, his breath hot on your nape.

You tell yourself it’s relief that makes your knees weak when he finally retreats to the kitchen, the grocery bag abandoned on the counter. But as you hang up his coat, you press your shoulder to hide the wide grin on your face.

Dinner unfolds in a series of fractured moments. Will stands at the counter, chopping carrots, each thwack echoing off the tiled walls. You sit at the kitchen table, sorting through the junk drawer’s survivors: paperclips glinting like insect legs and rubber bands coiled tight as nerves.

The air smells of ginger and soy sauce. Every time you glance up, his eyes snap back to the cutting board, shoulders rigid. He’s wearing that grey Henley with the stretched collar, the one that exposes the hollow of his throat when he leans forward. You notice sweat dampening the fabric between his shoulder blades.

“You’re hovering,” you say, louder than intended.

He doesn’t answer. Just sets down the knife with exaggerated care and reaches for the kettle. You track his movements—the flex of his forearms as he fills it, the way his thumb rubs compulsively over the handle’s curve. Steam rises as he pours boiling water into two mugs.

The tea appears at your elbow without warning, Earl Grey swirling amber in your favourite mug he’d bought for you last winter. His pinky grazes yours as he withdraws, a spark of contact that lingers.

“Movie tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the sink. His arms cross over his chest, biceps straining the sleeves. Will leans back against the sink, the edge of the counter biting into his hip, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The sleeves of his Henley strain against his biceps, fabric pulling taut where his muscles flex unconsciously. A droplet of water slides down his wrist, tracing the ropy veins of his forearm before disappearing under his rolled cuff. You track its path, hypnotised by the way it catches the flickering kitchen light, until his throat bobs with a hard swallow.

He clears his throat. The sound is sandpaper-rough, startlingly loud in the cramped kitchen. You drag your gaze upward, past the smudge of flour on his collarbone and the damp hair curling at his nape, to find him watching you through his lashes. The fluorescent light overhead buzzes, casting sickly shadows under his eyes. For a heartbeat, he looks almost feral—jaw clenched, nostrils flared, the pulse at his temple throbbing visibly. Then he blinks, and the illusion shatters.

“Sure. Your pick.”

He nods but makes no move to leave the kitchen. His gaze burns a hole through the back of your head as you resume sorting. Rubber bands snap into a jar. Paperclips clink like loose change. The silence stretches, taut and humming, until—

“Casablanca”, he says abruptly.

You blink. “Since when do you like old movies?”

“Since never.” He pushes off the counter, mug abandoned. “But you do.”

The admission hangs between you, fragile as the steam still curling from your tea.

The couch has never felt this small.

Will’s usual sprawl—all loose limbs and careless angles—has been replaced by a coiled tension that makes the cushions dip dangerously toward him. His left arm rests along the back of the sofa, not quite touching your shoulders, but the heat of him bleeds through your thin jumper anyway. On screen, a spaceship disintegrates in silence. Neither of you registered the title when he queued it up, too busy pretending not to track each other’s movements.

His fingers find your hair first.

It starts as a graze—the rough pad of his thumb brushing the nape of your neck as he tucks a stray strand behind your ear. You stiffen, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he twirls the lock around his index finger, the motion hypnotically slow. His breathing hitches, audible even over the movie’s sudden explosion of gunfire.

“Will?” you whisper, turning your head just enough to see his profile.

He freezes. Moonlight from the half-open blinds stripes his face, sharpening the hunger in his expression before he can school it into something neutral. His thumb presses harder against your neck, a silent plea for you to stay still.

Then he sniffs.

A slow, deliberate inhale, his nose dragging along your temple. His breath fans hot over your skin, uneven and shallow, as if he’s been running. You feel the flutter of his eyelashes against your cheekbone when he blinks.

“You smell different,” he rasps, lips grazing the shell of your ear. The words vibrate through you, low and frayed at the edges.

Your heart stutters. “I—what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just buries his face in your hair, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind your ear with a low groan that makes your thighs clench. His free hand grips the couch cushion, fabric tearing under his fingernails.

“Your perfume,” he mutters, voice thick. “It’s… new.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out as a gasp. “Since when do you notice my perfume?”

His teeth graze your earlobe—a split-second scrape that might’ve been accidental. “Since it’s this one.” The hand in your hair tightens, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. His other palm lands heavy on your knee, fingers digging into the denim. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t—vanilla? Amber?” You’re babbling, hyperaware of his thumb tracing circles on your inner thigh. “Why?”

Will huffs a laugh against your skin, his arms tightening around you. “Been driving me fucking mental all day.” His voice rumbles through your chest where you’re pressed together, warm and honey-thick with confession.

Heat floods your cheeks. “You—” You twist to face him, but he catches your chin, calloused fingers tilting your head up. His eyes are heavy-lidded and gleaming, the blue-grey irises gone stormy at the edges.

“Yeah,” he admits, unashamed. “Full stalker mode. Followed you around the shop like a starving dog.” His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, daring you to scold him. “Pathetic, really. Nearly growled at that old lady for smirking at us.”

You laugh, swatting his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Guilty.” He nuzzles your jaw, scruff catching on delicate skin as his earlier intensity melts into something softer, sweeter. “Should’ve warned me. That perfume’s a biological weapon.” His nose trails down your neck, inhaling deeply with an exaggerated sniff that sends you into giggles.

“Oh, please,” you snort, tangling your fingers in his hair. “You’re just dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Will nips your earlobe, gentle this time. “You leaned over the milk cartons. Practically waved your neck under my nose.” His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs. “Sabotage.”

“I was checking expiration dates!”

“Cruel.” He kisses the offended pout off your lips, slow and lingering. He groans, flopping back against the cushions and dragging you with him in a tangle of limbs. “Going to have words with your friend,” he grumbles, even as his hands settle possessively at your waist. “Gifting chemical warfare disguised as perfume. Criminal negligence.”

“Hey!” You pinch his side, laughing as he jerks away with a yelp. “She has excellent taste!”

“Taste?” Will rolls his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “That stuff’s lethal. Bet she’s cackling in her evil lair right now.” He tugs your wrist to his nose, breathing deep with a mock-agonised sigh. “Probably spiked it with pheromones.”

You prop yourself up on his chest, smirking down at his ridiculous pout. “Jealous she found my signature scent first?”

“Devastated.” His hands slide up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. For once, there’s no humour in his stormy gaze—just raw, disarming honesty. “Should’ve been me.”

The kiss starts soft, a barely-there press of lips that quickly deepens when your fingers find his hair. Somewhere in the apartment, the forgotten movie’s credits music swells dramatically. Will breaks away first, forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“For the record,” he murmurs, nose bumping yours, “you’re banned from wearing that to Ikea. Or libraries. Or—”

The protest dies in his throat as you kiss him—really kiss him—your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His lips part instinctively, a low hum of satisfaction vibrating between you as he tilts his head to deepen the angle. There’s nothing tentative about it now: his hands slide up your back, anchoring you against him with a possessiveness that steals your breath.

He tastes like Earl Grey and the dark chocolate bar he’d pocketed at the shop—bitter-sweet, addictive. His stubble scrapes your cheek as he breathes you in, but neither of you care enough to pull away. When your teeth graze his bottom lip, he lets out a ragged groan, fingers tightening in your hair.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, the word more prayer than curse. His thumb brushes the hinge of your jaw, coaxing you to open for him again, and you do—gladly—melding together in a rhythm that feels older than either of you. The couch creaks as he shifts, pressing you into the cushions until there’s no space left between hips, between heartbeats.

Before you can protest, his arms lock around your waist like steel bands, dragging you sideways into his lap. His legs loop over yours, pinning you to the couch in a tangle of limbs. A shudder runs through him as he buries his face in the junction of your neck, nose pressed to your pulse point.

“Will—?”

He doesn’t answer. Just holds you tighter, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin. Slowly, you relax into the vice of his embrace. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. He lets out a sound, half groan, half sigh, and nuzzles deeper into your neck. The tension bleeds from his shoulders incrementally, his death grip on your waist softening to something almost reverent.

“You’re clingy tonight,” you murmur, smoothing the rumpled hair at his temple.

“M’not,” he mumbles into your collarbone, though his legs immediately tangle with yours, pinning you to the couch. His nose nudges the hollow of your throat, inhaling deeply, as if memorising the scent. “S’your fault. Drugged me.”

You snort, fingertips tracing idle patterns down his spine. “Dramatic to the end.”

He hums, noncommittal, his lips brushing your pulse point. The credits still roll, bathing the room in shifting blue light, but Will’s breathing already slows—deep, even pulls of air that stir the neckline of your shirt. His grip loosens incrementally, heavy limbs going lax as sleep claims him.

You don’t dare move. Not when his lashes flutter against your skin, not when his fingers twitch against your hip in some dream. The weight of him is solid and warm, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath your palm.

“Will?” you whisper.

A soft snore answers, his exhale warming the hollow of your throat. You stretch carefully, fingertips grazing the crumpled throw blanket at the foot of the couch. The fabric whispers as you drag it upward, dust motes swirling gold in the TV’s dying light.

He stirs when the blanket settles—a grumpy murmur vibrating against your collarbone. His arms tighten reflexively, legs cinching around yours like living rope. “Nuh,” he slurs, half-asleep, protest muffled in your skin.

“Octopus”, you accuse under your breath, laughter softening the word.

His only reply is to nuzzle deeper, lips brushing your pulse in unconscious affection. You let your hand drift back to his hair, carding through the messy strands. His sigh is a quiet surrender, breath evening out as he sinks deeper into dreams.

The credits fade to black. In the sudden dark, his heartbeat becomes your compass—steady thuds beneath your palm, syncing with yours until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin. His legs stay stubbornly tangled with yours, a human anchor keeping you grounded.

Sleep comes slowly, tethered to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. His breaths paint the silence—a soft whistle in his nose, the faint tick of a swallowed snore. You press a kiss to the damp hair at his temple, lingering just long enough to memorise the warmth of his skin. Your eyelids grow heavy, the last thing you feel is the weight of his arm across your waist, anchoring you to this moment—to him—as the world dissolves into the slow, heavy pull of sleep.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Beard (John Walker)

Description: John loses a bet and has to shave his beard.

Word Count: 825

She sat on John’s lap while she tried not to laugh. John looked unhappy and not ready for what they were about to do. He would never bet on anything ever again, he thought as she grabbed the razor. He let out a deep sigh as she turned it on, his body tensed up. This caused her to look at him, “You okay?” She asked, no judgement in her eyes.

He nearly lost his thought process looking in her eyes, her lovely eyes that held nothing but love for the man she straddled, no matter what. “I hate this.” He whispered and she gave him a sad smile, “We haven’t even begun.” She reminded him but he didn’t need to be reminded. He was aware of what he looked like and why he hated that look, why he decided to grow a beard. All of his shame and burdens hidden by the beard that was about to be gone.

“You might not like what you see.” He tells her, voice a little shakier than he would like. Her hand that wasn’t holding the razor reached up and cupped his face, running her fingers over his facial hair. He leaned in to her touch, eyes closing for a moment. He loved her touch, loved how she never put him down for all he’s done. He did think about what her touch would feel against the soft skin of his face, “It’s just a beard, John. It’ll grow back. I love you and I'll love you after this as well.” She whispered and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face.

The smile that she loved and hoped to see more of, “Are you ready?” She asked, excited. He chuckled at her excitement and nodded, letting out a small ok. The razor turned on and she held it up to his face, he let out a deep breath as she began shaving. He watched her face closely as she concentrated, looking so in thought about what she was doing. As the hair fell he started to feel naked, the cool air hitting his chin. It made him shiver or was that his pretty girlfriend in his lap that made him do that?

Each part she shaved felt like a burden set in harder than before. He let down Lemar, his best friend. As she shaved his right cheek, he killed a flag smasher in front of so many people with the shield, dishonoring it. As she shaved his left cheek, he never could live up to the face of Steve Rogers, someone he looked up to at one point. As she shaved his mustache, he didn’t pay attention to his kid for the last time and never got to see him again.

He missed when Y/N turned off the razor and set it down, her eyes racking over his clean shaven face. He watched her expression as she took in what she’s only seen pictures and videos of. Her eyes held a soft expression, one filled with love that calms his nerves. She saw the fear in his eyes and the wait as to what she thought. Was he afraid that she didn’t love him anymore?

She cupped his face, her hand running over the smooth skin, feeling his actual face. “So soft.” She mumbled and he leaned in to her touch, giving her puppy dogs eyes. She bit her lip, “so handsome.” she mumbles as well, giving him a soft smile. She leaned in and ran her lips against his skin, his eyes closed as he felt her wet lips trail where his beard once was before hitting his lips.

He kissed her back, softly and pulled her body closer if that was possible. The kiss was soft at first, it was her telling him that she loved him and that she didn’t care about his past. Then it turned a little heated as his hands moved over her body and she deepened the kiss. All the bad thoughts he was having went out the window as things progressed between them. 

He looked in the mirror, seeing himself without his shield from all the bad things he did. His eyes staring at his chin and above his lip, wishing that he still had his beard. He couldn’t wait for it to grow back. Y/N entered the bathroom as he stared at himself, nothing but resident and regret in his eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him and looked at him in the mirror, “You look so good, John.” She tells him and he looks at her in the mirror. He looked like he did when he made all these bad choices that haunt him. What was so good about that? She could tell that he didn’t agree with her and wished he had the beard back. She would spend all the time she had with him proving that he looked good no matter what.

[racsow]

after seeing the godawful trailer, I did a reread of the Electric State and i cannot physically understand how the russo brothers did not "see potential" in the story

i'll admit, i underappreciated the writing on my first read! going over it again there is so much richness to the character building and the dread of the atmosphere. There's a vibe that I can only describe as desiccated americana and i love it. The world is rotten and dying, and there is really nothing left to do but go on for going on's sake.

anyway i'm doing a very large essay on Stålenhag's whole body of work, but the Electric State holds a special place in my heart as the first of his books I discovered and the most resonant to me, so i just had to share my thoughts right after the reread.

This is less about the artwork, which i could talk about for ages, and more just a general overview of the story themes specifically!

(Moderate general spoilers? i don't go into much detail, and it's not a story overly reliant on its plot twists anyway)

The hopelessness of The Electric State is rather unique among Simon Stålenhag's works - his other books, set in Sweden, are much more fondly nostalgic, though they of course offer strange horrors of their own - but of a much more physical, immediate level.

The Electric State is different. It takes place in an alternate 90s US even more drowned in consumerism and blind greed than our own. A civilization that is crumbling, not from nuclear war or global crises or meteors, but by its own hand, by capitalism driving itself into the ground. The perfect pleasure machine, the neurocaster headset, leaves people twitching, comatose creatures whose minds lie in vast Silicon Valley servers as their bodies are left to starve.

Michelle does not have the privilege of escapism. She is one of the few left to wander a silent world, an apocalypse without people to see it. She is privy to the horror of watching the inevitable trajectory of a world falling to its death, and feels only recognition that it's probably better this way.

Michelle is never sad about the end of America. She doesn't ever reminisce about how good things used to be, or how we should have "appreciated it while we had it." But she certainly does reminisce.

She has the memory of her foster parents, who derided the government "coddling neurine addicts" like Michelle's mother. She has the memory of her grandfather coughing himself to death in their tiny apartment, irradiated from his lifetime of underpaid work assembling gigantic war drones. She has the memory of her mother overdosing on a drug the government hooked her on during her service in the military. She has the memory of her first and only love, a love which the world hated, how it kept her alive in her foster home of Soest City, and how it was ripped from her by the pastor.

Unlike Stalenhag's other stories, there is no element of nostalgia or quiet undertone of hope. Only disgust for what came before, and quiet fear for what comes next.

The horror of the Convergence, the eldritch machine god hivemind, is not even very relevant to the story - if anything, it's a side plot. When Michelle faces actual danger, it's never from giant robot gods in the mist; it's from cops and hotel clerks, from doomsdayers hoarding guns and a FBI agent hunting her down. She lives in fear of other people, of people who say they want to protect her.

But when she sees the gigantic silent machines wandering through the mists of Oregon, she isn't afraid. It's almost peaceful. The Convergence is beyond understanding. It grew out of the servers where millions of minds seeking oblivion from the world went to escape, and they converged into something unknowably vast who wanders the world in a hundred million thoughtless bodies. It's otherworldly. It does not fear, it does not dream, it does not hope, it does not hate. Maybe that's better.

I was scared. But I also felt something else when that thing stepped out of the mist in front of our car. I can't think of a better word than awe. Like when you suddenly become aware that you've walked into the wrong part of the woods and come face-to-face with a gigantic wild animal. Beyond the grotesque, there was also something else - something majestic.

And in its wake, the citizens of Point Linden, hundreds of people linked together, their neurocasters connected to the oily god in the mist, floated across the ground in front of the car, and they looked almost happy. Calm and peaceful, they moved past the car and formed a single group again behind us, and soon disappeared into the mist again.

[mrsshabana]

𝐄𝐱-𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaroxfemale!reader, 18+ MDNI, modern au, Gyutaro is your ex, smut, vaginal sex ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. I've had this idea in my drafts for a super long time so I decided to go ahead and finish it! I hope you all enjoy it and thanks for reading ♡

Gyutaro missed you so goddamn much. The first and only girl he ever fell in love with.

At first, he was angry, but now he's just depressed. Everything reminds him of you. And he feels so incredibly lonely.

You broke up with Gyutaro over a month ago.

Your relationship lasted about 4 months until you just couldn't take it anymore. He was a decent enough boyfriend at first but as time passed it became more and more toxic.

He was controlling and extremely jealous. Getting angry anytime you'd try to hang out with your friends. Especially other men. He never trusted you even though you'd never dare cheat on him, and you never gave him a reason to believe you would.

He'd go through your phone without your permission and get into fights with you anytime you went out with your friends. You loved Gyutaro but it was exhausting dealing with this on a regular basis.

His insecurities got to be too much and he never stopped trying to control you no matter how many times you tried talking to him about it. So you eventually broke it off. Breaking Gyutaro's heart in the process.

Now that he had some time to process the breakup, he realizes what an asshole he's been. His biggest regret is taking you for granted.

You were so good to him, so sweet too. No girl has ever looked at him the way you did. Like he wasn't some ugly freak, or someone to be pitied. No, you made him feel normal. More than normal actually. He genuinely felt loved and attractive even.

Not to mention the sex was good too. God, it was phenomenal. Gyutaro told you he'd delete the videos and photos he had, but he lied. He still watches them on a daily basis. He can't bring himself to get rid of them. He's still so madly in love with you.

The thought of you lying beneath anyone else but him makes him furious. No other man should be able to touch you like he did. Maybe it's selfish, but you're his girl. You always will be in his mind. And he just hopes that you'll give him a second chance because living without you by his side is unbearable.

"Hey... r u free tomorrow?" he nervously texts you for the first time since you've broken up.

You sigh and roll your eyes when he texts you. A part of you misses Gyutaro, but you don't miss how controlling he was. However, you are willing to hear him out so you respond a few minutes later. "Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking maybe we could hang out or something? If u want to."

"Ok, that's fine."

"Cool! There's this new place I wanted to try, I'll send u the address. Meet me around 6."

And just like that Gyutaro successfully asked you out on a date! Well, in his mind it's a date to win you back. But in your mind, it's just a meetup to get closure about your relationship.

When you meet up with Gyutaro at the restaurant, you're suddenly overcome with emotions that you didn't expect yourself to feel. A longing for the man you once loved. You thought you were over him but maybe you were wrong.

"Hey Y/N!" He smiles, masking his inner sadness as he stands and gives you a hug.

A surprised sound leaves your lips when he embraces you. Feeling his arms wrapped around you again feels so familiar. So comforting that you can't help but long for it.

But you know you must resist. Remembering all of the turmoil and emotional pain he's put you through, you know you can't go back to that.

So, after a few seconds you pull away from the hug and give him a cordial smile, "It's good to see you again. How have you been?" You ask as Gyutaro pulls your seat out. How strange... he never did that when you were dating.

"I've been alright," he laughs nervously, obviously lying, "How about you? You look great."

"Thanks," you chuckle, "I've been good. Just focusing on work mostly..."

There's an awkward silence after the chit-chat ends and the waiter takes your orders. Neither of you know what to say. Gyutaro is sweating buckets right now, going through hundreds of scenarios in his head. Wracking his brain for the best things to say so he can win you back. But he can't decide so he just blurts it out.

"Listen Y/N, I want you back," he states with a shaky voice. And as you open your mouth to sternly decline, he quickly cuts you off before you can do so, "I know I was a dick. And I'm so sorry, for everything. I didn't treat you right at all, I realize that now... and I understand if it's too late. I know I'm an idiot for not treating you right the first time. But now that I've been living without you my life feels so empty. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I fucked it up! I fucked up real bad," he tears up, "Every day just feels so fucking cold without you. There's no one else to blame but myself, I know that... but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least try to get you back."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, full of desperation. Like this is his one and only chance at happiness. The regret he feels was evident in how his voice quivered and his eyes filled with tears. There's no doubt in your mind that his words are genuine. But do you really believe he'll keep his word and change? Do you want to take that chance when you've already experienced a toxic relationship with him once?

"Gyutaro..." you say as you look down at the table, avoiding looking into his eyes because the longer you stare into them the closer you come to tears, "I-I don't know what to say."

This is a lot of pressure he's putting on you. But honestly, you should have expected it. You feel stupid for not thinking of this as a possibility when he texted you.

Gyutaro takes a deep breath, "It's alright. Sorry I did all that... you probably think it was pretty pathetic. I didn't mean to make things weird... we can just forget I said anything," he looks defeated as he slumps back in his chair.

"No, it wasn't pathetic at all. I actually really appreciate what you said," you say as you reach out and take his hand, "It means a lot to me that you owned up to your mistakes and apologized. I know it's not easy to do."

His eyes widen as he feels your soft touch, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as you continue to speak.

"I'd love to have you as my boyfriend again, Gyutaro."

"R-Really?!" his face lights up, full of joy just like the first time you agreed to be his girlfriend.

Standing from his seat, he rushes to your side and hugs you tightly before you even get the chance to get out of your chair. Almost knocking you over in the process. He's just so damn excited, he can't help himself.

"I promise I won't make you regret this, Y/N!"

The rest of the evening goes well enough, that after dinner you find yourself in Gyutaro's apartment. Being pounded from behind as he holds you in a spooning position on his bed.

Throughout the whole date at the restaurant, the sexual tension between the two of you was palpable. He's obviously missed fucking you, but you missed it too. You hadn't had sex at all since you had broken up, though you thought about it often. Images of Gyutaro would flash through your head every time you'd touch yourself.

You'd curse yourself for thinking of him, getting annoyed that the memories of you two being intimate wouldn't stop. But you couldn't help but think of him. No one has ever made you feel the way Gyutaro did.

He may have been an asshole at times, but he was amazing in the bedroom. He craved you day and night, and would worship you like a queen. It felt good being so desired by the man you were in love with. Not to mention the toe-curling, bed-wetting orgasms he'd give you too.

Now you lay here in his bed, practically screaming his name as he plunges into you. Fucking you just how he's learned you like it.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he groans as he pushes you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and holding them tightly as he thrusts into you again, "God, you fit like a glove. So perfect for me... it must be meant to be, huh? Don't worry babe, I won't let this pussy go unfilled ever again."

He whispers into your ear as he feels you tighten around him.

As you feel your climax approaching, you realize no one could ever make you feel like Gyutaro makes you feel. With every touch he graces upon your body, you're given another reason why you were meant to be his.

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🌸 [ Second Times - 산 ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

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Summary: Eunhee was by now over three years old and a little darling, so how would San react to a little suprise? Pairing : Dad! San x Mom! Fem! Pregnant! Reader Word count : 3.4K Words Genre/Warning : Fluff, Angst if you squint - Reader is a bit nervous of Sans reaction, but Ateez helps her a/n : Decided to write this as a little warm up right now to continue Barista! Yunho and the Pirate Story!💜

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Clutching the small pen-like test in your hand, the two lines smiling brightly back at you. It's just been over a month since Eunhees third birthday and here you're sitting on the edge of the tube, holding the test in your hands. Tears rimmed your eyes. Were they from sadness? Not really, maybe a tinge of anxiety of Sans's reaction to a second pregnancy, but they were more like tears of happiness. San never mentioned any aversion to a second child, so you were happy about this.

Your hand softly rubbing over your stomach now, it's probably barely been a few weeks, but knowing you're carrying a child of San yet again, makes you feel nothing but warmth and happiness. Taking the test, you quickly rush into the bedroom, hiding the test somewhere in your things, so well that San nor Eunhee would ever find it, before joining your two favorite people in the living room again. San was lying on the floor, legs straight up into the air as he balanced Eunhee on his feet playing airplane. Her little giggles sound through the whole room and make you smile before she looks up and screeches upon seeing you. "Mommy!" Being let down carefully, she quickly runs over to you, hugging your legs tightly as she grins up to you.

"Having fun?" You ruffle her dark hair softly, bending down to pick her up and hold her on your hip, she has grown a lot recently. "Yeah! Daddy said we'll visit the uncles this weekend for dinner!" Her tiny arms are around your neck now to hold on for support as she tells you smiling. "Oh really? Then we'll have to make you look extra pretty hm? Want all of them swoon over how cute you are!" Softly poking her tummy now as she lets out giggles while kicking her feet now. Setting her down now she rushes over to San again who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the endearing moment now.

"Are you two fine? I wanted to go out for a bit and get some chores done." Walking over to them, you crouch down placing a soft kiss on both of their cheeks. "Daddy got it all handled no worries!" San told you, he really was an amazing dad, he loved his little girl so much. After saying goodbye to them, you grab your purse and leave the apartment smiling with a plan.

The first stop is the printer shop, which takes on orders for personalized clothes. Entering you take a quick look around, before spotting the old man working there. "Good day!" You greet him, making him notice you and greet you back. "I need seven Shirts for man and one for a toddler, the big ones should have something along the lines of 'We'll be uncles again soon' and the little one 'I'll be a big sister soon'" You explain to the man, his eyes light up upon hearing your instructions, congratulating you. He said it would be done in around three days which was perfect timing, just done before the dinner with everyone.

Leaving the shop with a thank you, you make your way to the grocery store to cover up that your chores at hand were to get a few items there in case San asked you what you did.

Coming back home your eyes immediately catch San lying on the couch sleeping, with Eunhee on his chest also fast asleep. Putting the groceries you got away, before walking over to your little family, watching them for a few seconds. It was exciting how soon you'd be a little family of four.. five. Looking down at the cat moving around your feet now, slowly patting Byeols head. Scoping Eunhee up into your arms now, you softly wake up San. "Baby, let's go to bed, you got a schedule and need to sleep in a proper bed." After making sure San would go to bed, you bring Eunhee to her room. She just recently got it done, everyone of Ateez helped along, some put together the furniture, and others painted the walls. It was adorable how dear your little daughter was to everyone.

Laying her down now, you put the blanket over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Turning on her bed light now, before leaving the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Walking into your shared bedroom now, San was lying on his side waiting for you, typing away on his phone mindlessly. "She's sound asleep, I still left the door a bit open in case she has a nightmare again. I'm a bit worried she's been having them more often lately." You talk to him while getting changed, before laying down beside him, resting your head on his chest. "Don't worry it's normal, her brain is starting to understand and notice more things, it's normal for her to process more in her dreams and therefore get a few more nightmares, it'll settle down again baby." His hand was running through your hair mindlessly now, pressing a kiss to your temple, before closing his eyes, ready to fall asleep.

The next few days went by quickly, Eunhee though was getting a bit more restless, even sleeping in your and Sans's bed the last two nights. Waking up this Friday now you look down at her, noticing how there is a sheen layer of sweat on her forehead and her cheeks are pink. Laying your hand on her forehead now, she was burning up, oh my poor baby you thought. Getting up quietly, San was already gone for work. You quickly get a pair of new clothes, before making her a quick breakfast so she can take some fever medicine, taking along a bottle of water for her. Just as you were picking everything up, your poor baby started crying and calling for you. Rushing into the room, you place everything on the nightstand now before scoping her up in your arms, softly swaying her side to side a bit as her tiny body clutches herself to you.

"It's okay baby, mommy is here, mommy just got you some things that will make you feel better again soon.." Whispering soft words as her cries didn't seem to stop. Probably from feeling unwell and waking up alone. You wish San was here right now, speaking of the devil as your phone starts ringing, picking up and hold it to your ear. "Hello baby.." You greet him, still hushing your daughter as she slowly starts to calm down. "Is Eunhee crying? Is everything okay? Should I come home?" Worry seeped from his voice upon hearing his little princess cry so harshly. "No don't, I got this. She's running a little fever so I don't think she'll be able to come along tomorrow, I'll give her some medicine now and then rest with her." You explain to them, hearing Wooyoung cooe sadly in the background, you were probably on speaker right now. "Okay, if you need anything or need me to come home call me, I'll make it work!" He assures you before ending the call, Eunhees cries quieted down now.

"Let's get something in your tummy so you can take your medicine hm?" You helped her sit on the bed, before helping her eat, but she still insisted that she could eat alone. Giving the medicine to her now, you were glad she never put up a fight when it came to this, before handing her, her water bottle. "You'll feel better soon baby, just rest, do you want something from your room?" Patting her head softly she shakes her head and only points to the TV in your room. Turning it on, she immediately points to one of the new Wanteez episodes that recently came out making you smile turning it on for her. Byeol has settled down on her lap by now, as Eunhee munches on the fruits you brought her.

"Mommy will be in the kitchen yeah? I'll make some soup for you for later." She simply nods, too engrossed in the show watching her dad and uncles be silly. Standing up now, you get changed into some home attire before moving to the kitchen, writing one of your close friends to please pick up your order from the shop, as you won't be able to do it today with Eunhee having a fever. Getting started on the soup now, before moving on the cleaning a bit, checking up on Eunhee every now and then, she at some point falling asleep cuddling Byeol, before waking up again hungry and then continuing to watch the show.

At some point at noon, your friend brought your order, asking what it was as the old man didn't tell her, telling her she'd know soon and that it was a secret for now, before handing her a little thank you for helping you out. Hiding the bag now as San would soon be home and you didn't wanna spoil the surprise.

"Welcome home darling!" You shout from the bedroom, sitting beside Eunhee now as you two watch a Barbie movie, her eyes immediately moving to the opening door. "Daddy! You're home!" Moving to get up, she stumbles a bit before running up to her dad who picks her up, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "How is my baby doing hm? Feeling better?" She nodded, even though she was still feeling unwell, the fever down a little bit due to the medicine. "How about you and Daddy spend an amazing day tomorrow hm? I'll get those amazing little cakes for you from across the street." Sitting down with her on his lap, he leans against the headboard, the movie long forgotten as she nods. "Don't you wanna go to the dinner tomorrow?" Your eyes but his now as he shakes his head. "You took care of her the whole day, the first day is always the worst for a fever, I'll take over tomorrow and you go to the dinner, the boys will still be happy to see you," San explains making you nod and agree, this was actually perfect, that way you could give the boys their little presents first before planning to tell San.

So the next day came, you got ready for the dinner, before grabbing your purse and the bag with the shirts, saying goodbye to them before leaving for the restaurant.

"Y/N! We're here!" You hear Wooyoungs voice call out to you from one of the private rooms in the back, making you smile as you join them. "Hello everyone!" You greet the seven men, making them smile at you as you take a seat beside Jongho and Wooyoung. "How is Eunhee doing? San mentioned she had a fever? Poor thing.." Seonghwa asks you making you nod, telling them she was doing a bit better right now and how she was probably enjoying those little cakes right now San got them while you were still at home so Eunhee wouldn't be left unsupervised.

"So actually I'm rather glad San stayed at home today, that way I can give you guys this." Standing up now, you place the bag on the table before handing out the neatly wrapped shirts. Mingi and Yunho first as they had the biggest size, before continuing, instructing them to wait with opening till everyone had theirs. "Okay! I hope you guys will like this.. You can open now." Some were neatly opening the package like Seonghwa, while others ripped them open like Mingi and Wooyoung. Watching each boy look at the writing on the shirt now, mostly with big eyes, before Wooyoung springs up. "I'LL BE AN UNCLE AGAIN?!" His eyes were full of tears as he looked at you, nodding softly before being pulled into a tight hug. "Congrats dear, if you need any help from us tell us." Seonghwa was the next to speak up, hugging you tightly. Before Mingi approached you, being visibly excited about the news, softly jumping a little bit before hugging you tightly and even lifting you up slightly, making Jongho scream at him to be careful with you two. This made tears prick your eyes. "Jongho.." You softly whimper, laying your arms around the man, who seems to be unsure if he wants to accept but has no real choice, in the end, he places his arms around you carefully. Everyone else told you their congratulations and hugged you.

"So the plan is, I'd like all of you to wear these next Monday, I'll come around with Eunhee, she has her own shirt, before San arrives and that's how I want him to find out!" Everyone cheers now, liking the idea, looking over to Hongjoong now for his approval. "I like that idea, let's do it." He nods now, you were glad he was so supportive. The first time he was rather unsure of the pregnancy, of how the fans and society would react, but the moment he held Eunhee for the first time it was all over, he was absolutely smitten for the little girl like everyone else of them was.

"Do you hope for a boy or girl?" Yunho speaks up now looking over at you. "Honestly I don't care, I'd love him or her unconditionally either way." You smile softly, your hand rubbing over your still flat tummy, knowing fully well it will be bigger in a few months. The boys nod as they agreed, before the orders finally arrived, enjoying a nice meal with them, laughing and joking around.

It was a nice evening, the boys were talking a lot about how excited they were for the new baby, arguing over who would be the baby's favorite, as Eunhee's favorite uncles were by far Mingi and Yunho since her birth.

The evening soon ended, and they promised to keep quiet till the big reveal as you packed everything together and made your way home, hoping San was fine and that Eunhee was doing a bit better slowly. At home you peek inside the apartment, noticing the TV playing as you take your shoes off and make your way into the living room. "Baby, did daddy fall asleep?" You giggle quietly upon seeing Eunhee sit beside San and watch another Wanteez episode, Sans's arm around her as he was sleeping tightly. The little princess looks up as she hears your voice and nods to your question, as you crouch down in front of her. She probably wasn't tired yet from napping through the whole day, softly feeling her forehead now and sighing relieved feeling her fever down finally.

"Let's get you to bed hm? Did you have fun with Daddy today?" You pick her up, San waking up from the movement, blinking softly as he sits up and watches you carry Eunhee to her room, he luckily had changed her into her sleepwear already in case she was to fall asleep while watching the show. "Mhm.. Daddy showed me the new episode with the uncles.." Getting sleepy slowly, Eunhee rests her head on your shoulder as her arms hang loosely around your neck. "Oh wow, that must have been so exciting, we can watch more of that tomorrow. Let's sleep for now baby." Pressing a kiss to her forehead now as you enter her room, sitting down on her bed and laying her down, before pulling the blanket over her.

Leaving her room after taking one last look at her and joining San in the bedroom, watching him fight to stay awake waiting for you. "Sannie sleep if you're tired." Shaking his head, he mumbles a little tiredly watching you change out of your clothes and into one of his shirts to sleep, before laying down beside him. Opening your arms, he immediately scoots over, his arms wrapping around your waist as his head comes to rest on your chest, softly running your hands through his locks. He had recently dyed them red again, it suited him well.

Sunday went by rather quickly, Eunhee was better again, playing around with San and Byeol, helping you cook, and watching another Ateez show again.

So Monday came around, you got up quite early and got ready, making sure you packed Eunhees shirt and the pregnancy test, San looking at you confused still half asleep as you finished getting ready. "I'll visit Lotte World with Eunhee today, I promised her." Pressing a soft kiss to your husband's temple as he nods, a little bit sad he can't join due to work before you leave the room getting Eunhee ready now.

"Where are we going?" Eunhee looked at you curiously, her tiny arms holding onto your neck, her tiny legs kicking a little bit as you walked along the sidewalk in the direction of KQ. "We'll visit the uncles and prepare a little surprise for Daddy." Her eyes light up upon hearing that there will be a surprise for her daddy.. or because she'll see her uncles. Entering the elevator you press the floor of the practice room and let Eunhee stand on her own now, taking her hand as you lead her to the dance practice room. "Yuyu!!" Eunhees high voice screeches upon seeing the tall man, everyone turning to the two of you as Eunhee runs up to Yunho who immediately picks her up. "Hello little princess!" Yunho beams at her, he was always so sweet to her, often being the one to offer to watch her for a weekend or evening when you and San wanted to spend some romantic time.

"Eunhee darling come here for a second." Yunho sets her down again as you sit down on the floor, softly taking her hands when she reaches you. "What do you think about being a big sister hm? Would you like that?" She thinks for a second, looking at you nodding slowly. "If I stay Uncle Yuyu and Uncle Min's favorite!" She answers, making everyone laugh and Mingi cooe at her answer. "You'll always stay my favorite baby!" Mingi calls over, making you smile. "But yes.. I'd like to be a big sister!" She beams at you, making tears rim your eyes as you pull her into a hug, she has grown so much. "You'll soon be a big sis baby." You tell her, making her giggle and smile. Soon she was wearing her personalized shirt along with all of her uncles, Yunho holding the little girl in his arms right now.

"Okay, San should be here soon! I'll wait for him outside and then bring him inside!" Rushing outside the room, you close the door, looking around for your husband. After around ten minutes he finally arrived, looking at you confused. "Darling? I thought you and Eunhee were at Lotte? Where is she? Is she okay?" He looks around for his little princess worried now. "She is with the boys right now, you have to put this on though!" Holding up the blindfold now, he grows even more confused but lets you put it over his eyes. "I'm a bit scared, but I'll trust you." He tells you, taking your hand softly as you lead him into the room.

Taking one last deep breath, before taking off Sans's blindfold. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the lights, as he now looks at his fellow members and little princess, at first not noticing the shirts, but after ready them a few times his eyes grow wide as he now looks over to you, who was now holding the positive pregnancy test. "This isn't a joke, right? Are we getting another child? You're pregnant again?" His bag lying on the floor now as he looks at you with tears in his eyes and a big smile on his lips. "Yes, I wanted to surprise you." Your own tears in your eyes now, as San pulls you into a tight hug, picking you up and spinning you around laughing. "I'll be a dad again!" He giggles as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you so much." Laying his forehead onto your forehead, before looking down he sees his little girl tug on his pants softly to be picked up. "Who will be the best big sister?! You will be Eunhee!" He smirks at her as he picks her up onto his hip.

Soon everyone joined the hug, San was beaming all over his face. You were glad that he was this happy and excited and how supportive everyone was. This would be a long 8 months again, but you cannot wait to soon hold the new addition to this already big family.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his former/ex significant other. Sure you were mad at him at first because why, why couldn't you be enough for him? Why can't he choose you over his family? You used to be so mad at him. Used to.

Imagine accepting the fact that the two of you were not meant to be together. Sure you were each others half, a perfect piece of puzzle that just suit each other but you were not what he needed and probably never. But he does needed you, it was just he was selfless. He needed you but they needed him too, his family needed him too. You were just aren't the best choice for his family. You used to hate him. Used to.

Imagine having to come up with the fact that he still loves you. Even after all the heartbreak and tears, he still care about you. But not as openly as he does anymore.

"You know. You don't have to do this anymore." You hate him. Looking at him kneeling in front of you trying to inspect your perfect fine ankle after accidentally tripping when you saw him in front of you. "I know." He replied, not looking up at you. "Then why-" "It doesn't mean that we're done that I stopped caring. I still does." He cut off before standing up. "I think it's all fine." "I told you it was nothing..." You trail off as he gave you a smile, a small sad smile while his eyes looked at you with love. So muh love that disappear in a blink of an eye like it was never there. "I'll get going now. It was nice seeing you again." You hate that even without asking, you forgive him. "Hey commisioner." He stop mid walk but never turn around. "Feel free to drop by the cafe if you need a break." Before he could turn around, you turn your back at him.

Imagine Kamisato Ayato who was in a good term with his ex. The way the two of you slowly went back to what the two of you were before. Friends. Acting like none of the heartbreak, tears, happiness and love happened. Things were much better of this way. Sure it still hurt when you saw him with his fiance that would surely bring back their clan to their former glory but. It was fine. It felt weird that it was fine. Not too long after he got married, you does too.

Imagine often coming to the estate with your kids. Life is okay. You are happy on how things played out, you are contented with the life you have. But sometimes, you would often catch gaze of Ayato looking fondly of your children. "Strange." You spoke out of the blue that caught his attention. "Now none of your children looks like you." You chuckle. "It would nice." Is that an insul- "A child that looks like you would be nice." "My spouse said that alot, maybe we should have one last try." "You should." Fool. You thought as you look away, stop looking like that while saying that. "But hey! Maybe you and-" "No. Once is enough." "... You have a twin though.."

Imagine once in a while, a small get together would happened between just the two of you in the first place the two of you met. In that old cafe you and your spouse now manage. "Are you happy?" It was a question that came out of the blue with a very serious tone that makes you look into him as you gently set your drink down. Following his gaze, you saw a familiar teenage blue hair guy and one of your children a few years younger than his son. A chuckle left your lips. That made him turn to look at you. "We're not getting any younger aren't we." You smile and continue to look at the teens from afar, fingers playing with your wedding ring. "I've been living the happiest moment of my life ever since, Ayato." "I see." Once again, there was a small sad yet genuine smile on his lips. "Are you, happy?" You asked back. You then watch him look outside, "I'm fine."

Imagine as you bid him goodbye, staring at his back. Its strange how the man who seemed to have everything looked so lonely as he walk away from you. But then once again, you just turn your back at him like he did. Walking inside your home were your family is waiting for you.

There was a saying that if who people remained friends after ending their relationship. There is a possibility that they never loved each other and the other being one of them still hold a lingerie feeling for the other. But who knows. Maybe in another life. He wouldn't have to chose anything else before you.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024° ;)

:start na ng ojt ko the day after tom. I am so fucking nervous being a front desk trainee, wish me luck on the VIP desk.

[rosenclaws]

Restless night | Variant!Logan x reader

summary: Logan has nightmares about his world and you want to help.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of bodies (not graphic), sad logan, possibly ooc bc ive never written for him im sorry dfslj. Reader has like, memory manipulation powers? Ig that's how you'd explain them??

a/n: Hello! This is my first Logan fic ever and I am very nervous but after watching Deadpool I have fallen in love with wolverine, particularly this wolverine. I don't know if I'll ever write again for him but I wrote this and felt like sharing so I hope you like it too <3

wc: 1.7k

"Logan!" You yell angrily. He grits his teeth as you slam the door wide open. Curious heads turn towards the two of you as you storm after him. 

"What." He bites back as he continues to walk. 

"Can you just stop for one fucking second!" Your fists clench at your sides as you stop right in front of the front doors. "You are a real asshole, you know that? You're a mutant whether you like it or not. So how about doing something good and helping us." He pulls out a cigar and lights it, blowing the smoke directly into your face. 

"For the last fucking time, I don't want any part of your X-Men bullshit." You sigh and shake your head. So fucking stubborn. 

"We need you Logan, please. I need you please." You place your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb over his leather jacket. For a moment you think he might stay. Maybe he'll admit for once in his life that he wants the family that waits for him here. Instead he pushes your hand off. Rolls his eyes and walks straight past you. 

"Fuck off." He walks out the doors, letting them slam loudly.

Those were the last words he ever spoke to you. Well, the you that he knew.

"Logan?" He flinches hard as your voice snaps him from his spiral. 

It makes his stomach turn to see you. You look exactly how he remembers. Except you have a scar on your forehead. His eyes focus on that, a reminder that you're not the you he knew. No, in this universe you're Wade's next door neighbor. A mutant who retired from teaching at the mansion and lives a quiet, happy life. At least you're happy in this world. 

"M'fine." He mumbles as he stands up from the table. No one was really paying attention to the two of you as dinner was dying down. You want to say more but he leaves before you can. Sighing, you watch him retreat into his room. He's barely said two words at a time to you. No matter how hard you try he refuses to speak to you. At first you thought you had done something but the few times you've caught him staring you see a terrible sadness in his eyes. You know he's from another timeline and that something went terribly wrong. Your room shares a wall with his and as hard as he tries he can't hide his nightmares.

"Don't worry about him, he's got that tragic backstory kind of character development going." Wade comments. "God knows he could use some therapy but I doubt Marvel would ever green light that movie." You nod absentmindedly, not really listening to Wade's rambling. 

You float around for a little longer until you can silently excuse yourself and go back to your own apartment. Logan stays on your mind the whole time. You wonder if he knew you in his world. If something had happened that made him like this. As you lay in bed you close your eyes and listen, you can hear him tossing and turning. He settles and you silently hope that for once he can sleep through the night. 

It's eerily silent as he stumbles back to the mansion. He stops right outside of the door. His ears alert for the sound of you to see if you were awake yet. Except no matter how hard he listens he can't hear anything. A horrible scent fills his nose and it makes him sick. The smell of blood. Barging through the door's he's met with destruction and bodies.

This is a nightmare, it has to be. He calls your name frantically. Racing through the mansion, begging for anyone to be alive. Instead he finds body after body. Until he stumbles upon yours. He falls to his knees, his hands ghosting over your face. You look so peaceful but you're cold to the touch. Maybe if he had been there, he could have saved you.

His claws unsheathe themselves as white hot rage bubbles to the surface. Without another word he walks out of the mansion with only the thought of killing on his mind. Blood for blood.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. Even through the walls you can hear him. You can't quite make out what he's saying but it's clearly a nightmare. He's turning wildly. You knock on the wall, hoping maybe it would wake him somehow. Worry builds as he gets louder. 

Suddenly through the walls you hear a resounding shout before metal claws burst through your wall. You can't help but scream as they miss you by only a few inches. Breathing heavily you slowly reach out to touch them but they retract before you can.

"Fuck!" You hear him shout. The sound of scrambling and frantic footsteps following his outburst. A loud knocking fills your apartment as you shake off the shock. Quickly you rush to the door and open it, finding a shirtless Logan standing before you. His eyes scan you for injuries, injuries that he would have caused. He grabs your arms firmly and pushes you inside, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

"Logan I'm okay, just a little startled." You try to reassure him but he doesn't hear you. His mind is snowballing out of control. 

"Logan!" You say louder and he finally looks at you. 

"I'm okay." You say softly. Slowly he loosens his grip as he lets his body relax, but only a little. 

"Another nightmare?" You ask and he nods. His eyes drift to your open bedroom door. He can see the holes left by his claws. Just how close they sit next to your pillow. Guilt floods him as he deflates.

"I..." He doesn't really know what to say. This would be your first real conversation since he came to this world. For years he's thought about what he'd say to you if he was ever gifted the chance. Yet, he stands here completely silent. 

"They're getting worse." You say, breaking the silence. 

Cautiously you reach to take his hand. He closes his eyes as he feels your thumb rub along the top of his hand. He lets you guide him to your bedroom. When you let go he almost reaches out to take it back, but he doesn’t. Instead he turns his attention towards your wall. He’s ruined a fair amount of bed sheets before but this was new. He traces the holes with his hand. Wincing as he notices just how close he was to cutting you open. 

"Sit." You gesture to the empty side of your bed. He hesitates and you huff. 

"Humor me." You plead and he can't find it in himself to say no. 

It's almost too much as he sits down, everything smells like you. Your hands move towards his temples but he grabs your wrists before you can go any further.

"Logan, let me help." He half smiles at that. 

"You were always so persistent about that." Your eyes widen as you realize he's talking about his universe’s you. 

"I told you I didn't want you poking around in my head but you just wanted to help the nightmares. I never let you though" He admits. 

"I should've. I should've stopped being a stubborn ass and just listen to you." His voice wavers and you have a feeling he's not talking about dreams anymore. 

"Then listen to me and let me help you." He lets go of your wrists and looks up at your face. Savoring the look of kindness in your eyes. 

"You don't want to go in here, once you do..." Wordlessly you place your fingers on the side of his head. Suddenly you're overcome with visions of bloodshed and anger. A tear slips down your face as you see flashes of Logan's memories. 

The rage, the hopelessness, the darkness that plagues his mind. Through all of that there was a lurking feeling of indescribable guilt. So much pain, so much sorrow. Logan knocks your hands away as he watches more tears pour down your face. You open your eyes and wipe the tears away. 

"I told you baby," He waits for you to move away from him. To call him a monster. It's what he deserves. To his surprise you wrap your arms around him instead. He buries his face in your shoulder and hugs you tight. 

"I'm so sorry." It’s the last thing he expects to hear and it nearly breaks him.

"What I did.." 

"You were in pain, so much pain." You know it's not easy for him to see but all of this pain led to him becoming the hero he never thought he could be. 

"You saved the world Logan. You're a hero whether you like it or not." He winces as he remembers you say something similar to him before. "And a hero deserves to sleep peacefully, for one night at least."

"You won't stop will you?" You shake your head and he finally relents.

He sinks down into your bed, resting his head on your lap. You bring your fingers back to the side of his head and use your powers to calm his mind. Searching for happy memories and temporarily suppressing the bad ones. Calmness washes over him, a feeling he hasn't felt in years. He's already drifting in and out of sleep but something nags at him from the back of his mind. 

"I loved you. My universe's you." He admits in a whisper. The words he never got to say. It's been eating him alive for decades. He never got to say them to you, he was too much of a coward. 

Your heart skips a beat at his confession and he can hear it. You don't respond, instead offering a comforting hum. He doesn't know you. The similarities are there but he knows you're two different people. But he wants to know you and he hopes you feel the same way. For a moment he thinks that maybe the universe is finally giving him what he's always wanted, a second chance.  

"Sleep well Logan." You watch his breathing slow and his mind settle. Though you could stop using your powers now, you hold on for a while longer.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan sleeps.

[brujaluas]

WHAT YOUR PAST SELF WANTS TO COMMUNICATE TO YOU

WHAT YOUR PAST SELF WANTS TO COMMUNICATE TO YOU

pile 1

Well, the first thing I saw was "I know you miss the past", your past self doesn't want you to be sad about the memories of the past, because it seems like you were happier years ago, your past self wants you to see these memories with pride and good nostalgia, not that your heart aches.

It also doesn't want you to be so focused on your traumas and sacrifices, what's past is past. It's not something you can just get over and that's it, but you need to understand that there's no way to change the past, and that remembering bad things only hurts you, your past self asks you to see things from another perspective too! see how you have changed for the better, there is a phrase that goes like this: "evil is never complete", even if you have suffered a lot in the past, something beautiful can blossom now, you may have become more resilient, a person who knows how to take care of themselves in a loving way, you understand, I wish you the best, feel at home here on this blog, I welcome you with open arms! and I apologize for the words, I am not trying to tell you to pretend that things never happened, but to see things in a way that does not make you suffer.

pile 2

There must be a song that talks about this, I'll look for it, wait, ok after searching for hours, I found one that fits, I didn't know it but it's Black Swan by BTS, it talks about an artist losing the will to make art and having this as a deep fear (at least that's how I interpreted it), and it also reminds me that when an artist give up making art is a form of suicide and that kind of happened to some, some people in this pile completely abandoned what makes them happy, like painting as example to dedicate themselves to more rigid things, like something from the office, your past self knows that you miss doing the things you used to do, be it watching birds, nature, painting, drawing, you miss that, because nowadays everything seems so boring and tiring, right? I see a childhood nostalgia here, well, your past self thinks that you don't need to let it die completely and you don't need to feel guilty for having abandoned it for another reason either, that's okay, an artist never stops being an artist. Remember that, my dear.

pile 3

You may want to see the other piles too and that's okay, I'll be waiting for you here. Did you see? Well, let's go to this one now. You may be missing a male figure in your life, something brotherly, Christmas may be important to you, but nowadays things are no longer the same as when you were a child, here I see a very mysterious energy, your past self misses and regrets the happy child you were in the past, you had good memories of life, but you grew up, it's the natural cycle of things, sometimes you may want to go back in time just to live that again. Be happy.

[virtualvault]

Finish What I Started

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara  x f!reader

Summary: After being called away while he's between your thighs, Miguel comes back to finish what he started.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, brief angst, oral(f receiving), fingering, brief somno, kissing, dirty talk, pet names( baby, good girl), kissing, unprotected p in v, creampie. Let me know if I missed anything

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I know reader starts off sad but don't worry, Miguel fixes it with his dick lol I was determined to make Miguel his regular dirty self, but spice it up with a bit of angst. Also, no explicit consent for somno given by reader beforehand, but I wrote it as if there is general consent within the relationship to do so. As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

For the past few months Miguel has been gone more than usual. He's home a few days then called away again and it's starting to weigh on you. He's just returned from a week away and he's finally back. He was taking care of some 'business', which he of course doesn't tell you anything about. You know it's for your own good, but sometimes it would be nice for him to open up a bit about his work. At least vent to you. You know he's under an extreme amount of stress and it would do him some good to open up about it.

But of course, he tells you he doesn't want to burden you, even though you've told him a thousand times that it wouldn't. He does have his own way of communicating, though. It's just usually through actions instead of words. Like when he holds you close and locks you into a needy kiss and you can feel the desperation and all his pent-up emotion. It lets you know he's back where he wants to be. Home with you.

Which is where you are right now. He kisses down your stomach, taking his time not only to savor you, but show you how much he's missed you. He makes it to your folds and places a few light kisses there before diving in. You let out a long sigh, reveling in the feeling you haven't gotten to indulge in for what feels like forever. He never fails to take your breath away, though. The way his tongue glides against you and prods at your entrance. You wrap your fingers in his hair, lightly dragging your fingers across his scalp and he leans closer into you, and he groans.

His hand comes up to join his mouth, and just before he can push a finger in, you hear it. That dreaded sound. A high-pitched ring accompanied by a buzz, letting you know he has to leaves you. Again. You try to put things into perspective any time he gets called away and try to find the restraint to not get on your knees and beg him not to go. You know he helps people, and he puts his life on the line for the greater good, but you can't help the sadness that blooms in your chest each time.

He doesn't say anything, just pulls his mouth from you and rests his head on your thigh, letting out an exasperated sigh. A pathetic whine falls from you lips in return. You cradle his head in your hands and hold it against you, silently pleading with him to stay. He gently pries your hands off and kisses each wrist before sitting up and tapping his watch, answering the distress call. He shares a few quick, and quiet, words with someone before leaning back down to you.

"Baby-" he starts. "I know," you respond, sounding dejected, and he looks back at you apologetically. He knows he asks a lot of you. You live your life around his work and are always left waiting for him to return. The unpredictability and the time away are a lot to deal with. You do it happily because you love him, but he knows it takes a toll on you. It takes a toll on him too, and he finds it harder and harder to leave you every time.

 He kisses your forehead and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." He pulls you in for a kiss, then makes his way to the door.

You hear it close and are immediately overwhelmed by the emptiness. It's dark and the silence is deafening. You look over to his side of the bed and pull his pillow into your arms. Usually, you'd at least give yourself a pitiful orgasm to let out a little of the sexual frustration he left you with alongside the emotional, but you don't have it in you. You roll over and hold the pillow close. You can smell him on it and the comforting scent lulls you to sleep.

Miguel returns in the dead of night, and he shuts the door softly behind himself to avoid waking you. He was only gone a few hours, which is something of a rare occurrence. Turns out he just had to assist in a little damage control and then he was racing back home to you. Part of him was hoping you'd still be awake, but he knows that'd be unfair to expect of you. It breaks his heart to think of you curled up in bed, sad and alone, waiting up for him.

He walks into the bedroom, and he's met with a wonderful sight. There is a feeling burning hot within him at the sight of your exposed backside. He ripped the pleasure from you upon his departure and is determined to give you what you deserve. He wants to express how grateful he is that you stay by his side, giving so much to him and the relationship. That you are the most important thing to him and that he cherishes you above all else. These are things he makes an effort to tell you all the time, but right now he wants to show you.

You wake up to a pulsing heat in your core. You're on your stomach, one leg hiked up, and Miguel's pillow still held against you. Your eyes flutter open, and you attempt to roll over, but two pairs of hands hold you in place.  You let out a soft moan and you shake your head, clearing the last bit of haze as you become fully conscious. That's when you feel it. Miguel's tongue firmly, yet slowly, rolling against your exposed nub.

"Miguel?" There's a slight drowsiness to your voice. It doesn’t last long as you exclaim his name at full volume when he slips a finger inside you. "I'm here, baby." He lifts his head long enough to offer you the reassurance and flip you over, then he resumes his position between your thighs. He slips two fingers in this time. You gasp and you grab the pillow beneath your head.

"You're home," you pant out and he chuckles. "Yes. I am. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

He brings his thumb up to your clit while he speaks to you and rubs in slow, teasing circles. "I left you all desperate for me. That wasn't very nice, was it?" He asks and you quickly shake your head 'no' as you tilt your hips up and start grinding your hips in time with his movements. "Did you touch yourself when I left?"

Again, you shake your head and let out a ragged "No," and he cocks his eyebrow. "Why not?" He asks. You don't answer as he starts moving his fingers faster and biting across the flesh of your thighs. "I bought you that wonderful little toy to keep you company when I'm away." You blush as you think about the vibrator sitting in your nightstand. It was a very thoughtful gift, and you do get a lot of use out of it, but there's no substitution for the real thing.

 "It's not the same," you moan. He lets out a pleased hum at your answer. "I want your fingers…your mouth… your cock." Your last word is punctuated by a whine as he probes deeper inside you. He groans and you see him grind his hips into the mattress. "Well, I'm happy to give it all to you, baby." He places his tongue back on your clit and before you know it, you're cumming around his fingers.

"That's it, good girl. God fucking girl," he praises, admiring the way your arousal gushes out of you and down his hand. When he slips them out of you, you pull his fingers up and into your mouth. His breath hitches as your tongue slides along each digit. When he looks up at you, you can see the desire dancing in his eyes. His kisses up your stomach, across your breast, and up your neck until his face is hovering over yours.

"That's two out of three. You gonna give me your cock?" You speak in a teasing tone, but you're dying to feel him inside you.

He chuckles. "Happily."

He sheds his clothes and settles between your thighs. "How do you want it, sweetheart? On your back? Stomach?" He asks, wanting to give it to you exactly how you want it. "Um…" you take a second to think and realize what you really want. "I want to feel your arms around me while you fuck me," you respond, looking up at him through your lashes. He nods and moves your body into position. He puts his arms under you and flips the both of you over. He plants his feet onto the mattress and wraps his arm around your waist, using it to move slide you up and down his length, effectively coating him in your slick. The friction feels wonderful, and you gasp when his tip catches on your clit.

 Once he feels he's properly lubricated, he slowly guides himself inside you. You both breath out a sigh of relief at the feeling you've both been waiting so long for. He's got one arm around your waist while the other goes to cradle the back of your head and he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your shared longing and need are apparent in your movements. You slide your tongues over each other's messily and only pull apart when you become desperate for air. Then, urgent with need, you begin grinding yourself down on to him, earning a throaty moan from the man below you.

"I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?" You nod and nip at his lower lip. "Please, Miguel. I need it so bad."

He starts slow, stretching you out deliciously and you melt around him. You drop your head to his shoulder and nuzzle into his neck as he picks up the pace. His deep, steady strokes cause pleasure to ripple over your body. You can hear his ragged breathing and the noise of your skin slapping together and it adds to the warmth building in your belly. You begin placing sloppy kisses on his neck and nipping at the flesh. That always drives him crazy, and he holds you tighter against him. He grips the back of your neck and starts pulling you down to meet his thrusts.

"Oh, god baby, you're gripping me so tight," he groans, speaking against the crown of your head. He breathes in deeply, relishing in your scent. You whine into his shoulder as you feel him fucking you at just the right angle. Pleasure pulses through your veins and you can tell you're close. So can he.

"Let go, baby. Make a mess on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me." You keen at his words as they vibrate against you, and it has you tumbling over the edge. He grits his teeth as your walls quiver around him and you babble out thank-yous and sweet nothings while you ride out your high.

Before you can fully come down, he rolls you over and before you know it, he's rutting into you again. He pushes your legs up by the back of your thighs and admires the way his shaft disappears inside you. "You take it so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" He brings his thumb down to circle your clit and you writhe under him.

"C'mon, say it." he brings his other hand to the back of your head and angles so you're looking at him.

"This pussy was made for you. I was made for you" you say, raggedly. He moans at your confession before wrapping his arms around you once more. You're completely enveloped by him now. By his body, his scent, and his sounds. It overwhelms your senses int the best way and you can tell you're about to succumb to the pleasure again. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, holding him to you, and run a hand through his hair. You give it a tug each time he hits that soft spot inside you and he groans at the feeling.

You gasp with each measured thrust, although they're getting sloppier, and you can tell he's close too. You'd love to cum with him, so you contract around him again and again. Now he's the one whining into your shoulder.

"I'm never leaving again. I wanna stay buried inside this pussy forever," he admits, breathily. He voice is barely above a whisper, and you think he's saying that not only to you but himself as well. You know he will inevitably leave again, but he speaks with such passion. So, you both let yourselves believe, even for just this moment, that it's true. When the words leave his mouth, you allow yourself to let go.

You arch your back and drag your nails across his skin as you let the ecstasy wash over you. It pushes him to his own release, and he presses his lips to your forehead, and you feel him twitch inside you. You pulse around him, and he stills as he spills himself inside you with a strangled moan.

He pulls away and cradles your face, looking deep into your eyes. "I know I'll have to leave again, but I will always come back to you. Always." He vows.

"And I'll always be here when you do. Always," you reply, then seal your promise with a kiss.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Your stories have definitely scratched that Astarion itch that I've had since I started the game!

One thing that's diffently not sat right with me at the end of the game, is how tav and the gang don't run after astarion after he loses his immunity to the sun. I would imagine that if the player character was romantically involved with the guy they would atleast try to shield or comfort the poor guy. A short drabble on that would be awesome!

That's so sad, I heard that's what happens 😭😭 I'm in act 3 and haven't had to see it for myself yet so yes, let's do some preemptive therapy there! And just warning since I haven't beaten the game yet I'm sure this will be inaccurate as fuck, but also with spoilers somehow ~

~

It was an exhilarating feeling, to win against all odds. One that Astarion had never been confident he would experience. It felt good, final. The official beginning of his new free life, even if it was bittersweet.

This was the bitter part, the end of his illithid protection. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the burn was already starting. He was being an idiot, standing there with the rest of you like he belonged, waiting for the last possible second before he had to scuttle down in the darkness. But he wanted to see this out. Hadn't he earned that right?

According to the laws of reality, no. No he hadn't, because you had barely opened your mouth before the pain started to overwhelm him. The others would be able to hear it, the sickening sound of his skin crackling.

He was out of time. But before he could make a break for it, you happened. Astarion had been a little preoccupied with his impending doom to pay close attention to what you had been mumbling. But then sudden blackness was blanketing above your heads, opaque enough to make it as dark as night.

Astarion's eyes widened as the pain subsided, surprised beyond belief.

You were looking at him with concern in your eyes, gesturing to the think cloud of darkness above your head, "Will this be dark enough? Can it still get through?"

Astarion stared at you, momentarily confused on why you would do something like that. Before he remembered, oh. Yes. The extended care for his well-being was probably included in the whole love thing. Of course. Obviously.

That was definitely going to take some getting used to.

But the reasoning didn't stop an idiotic smile from blooming on his face.

You grinned back at him, somehow still managing to read his mind even without the tadpoles, "Did you really think I would forget about you?"

He had, but through no fault of your own. One of these days he was going to actually remember that he was worth the effort to keep alive.

"Thank you darling," Astarion said, ignoring the quested as he waltzed up to you. He grabbed your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips to kiss, "Just what would I do without you?"

"Speaking of," You turned to the Emperor, a question in your eyes as you vaguely waved upward, "Is there anything we can do about this particular problem?"

"The astral tadpole is still-"

"I'll pass on that, thank you very much," Astarion interrupted, cringing at the very thought of willingly letting another worm into his brain, "But I appreciate the thought."

There were worse things than living his life in darkness. And Astarion was counting becoming a mind flayer in the top three.

He watched, participated even in everyone's final goodbyes, always eyeing you at of the corner of his eye. It's not that he thought you would leave after you both declared your eternal love for each other, but... the two of you hadn't exactly talked about the specifics of the future either.

But that didn't stop you from leaving together. Astarion hadn't expected you to keep the dark cloud above his head as you walked the streets, startling nearly every passerby. But hells, the heroes of Baldur's gate had earned the right to a little strangeness.

You both had decided on going to the nearest, most windowless inn that you could find. Astarion wanted nothing more than to scrub the brain viscera from his skin and sleep for three days. Preferably with you in his arms.

But before all that... he had to know something.

The question was out of him as soon as you both were behind closed doors, "So what happens next to the great hero of Baldur's Gate? I'm sure you have something in mind."

He was just praying those future plans still involved him.

You blinked at him, head cocked like he was asking a silly question, "We go and find you a cure so you can walk in the sun again of course. What else would we do?"

That took Astarion aback, "I-Do you think that's really possible?"

"Well," You started, counting off on your fingers, "We know that illithid powers can do it. As well as devil contacts and ritualistic demon sacrifices. If that's all possible then that means there has to be something else on the other end of the spectrum, right?"

Astarion didn't exactly share your blind confidence. But you did have a point. The two of you had managed so many impossible feats in such a short amount of time. What was one more?

"I suppose there's a chance," Astarion said, hope fluttering in his chest with every word, "And if there is a chance no matter how small, I'm going to take it. But..."

He didn't want to ask, but he needed to know, "Are you sure this is what you want? I would... understand if you wanted to go your own way."

In all honesty, Astarion would not understand. He'd be absolutely furious. Especially after everything you'd been through. This was more of a confirmation for his waning self-confidence than anything else, versus a sincere to desire to let you go your own way. He had no intention of letting you go, not if he could help it.

But his near certainty in your feelings was the only thing that gave him the confidence to ask the question in the first place. And you did not disappoint.

"No, this is what I want," You insisted, reaching out to take his hand in yours, "You're what I want."

That was exactly what Astarion needed to hear. He used your joined hands to tug you closer, face to face.

"Good, because as selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go," Astarion smiled, leaning in to lightly press a kiss to your lips, "I hope you realize that my love has made me a tad bit obsessed with you my dear."

"I'm sure it's no worse than me," You sighed, resting your forehead against his own, "You've really ruined me for anyone else haven't you?"

Astarion grinned, leaning in for another kiss. He had every intention of making it stay that way, for as long as you would have him.