#but I tried my best and think most of them are rather fitting

[pinkaditty]

Love Type (Tokyo Debunker Ghouls)

hey me again i said id be back quickly and i did mean that.

this will have been queued for an hour at least by the time u see it. rn as i type this im debating using the taglist. i think ill use it. sorry 4 so many tags in a day, i bet ur sick of me

anyways! i had this idea while i was writing the perv!sho x reader thing. i thought about the differences between the ghouls and how they all love differently. at first i wasn't gonna post this, but then my brain wouldn't stop thinking about it so now this exists. its not meant 2 be a useful organization tool 4 the ghouls it's just something i had a little bit of fun with.

note that not every single ghoul is going 2 match the category he was put in exactly. for example, ghouls like luca, yuri, romeo, and even haru could probably fit in more than one of these categories, but i put them in the ones i thought suited them best. wanna discuss? leave a comment or an ask! ill be happy 2 talk it through with u <3.

yes i DID put in hcs about how long they last sexually. no i do NOT regret it. im speaking my TRUTH!!!

The Lover Boys:

Haku, Haru, Sho, Luca, Zenji, Rui

do not last long but recover fast and can go multiple rounds 

prefer switching up their roles (dom→sub, sub→dom) more often 

they love like it's an incurable chronic terminal disease. it's never leaving them.

all-consuming, takes up most their time, they're drowning and falling and losing their minds 4 u

You like to tell yourself you're prepared, but is that ever really true? No, not really. The way his voice drops several octaves into a low purr just from seeing you should've been warning enough as to what you were in for. You didn't expect the all-consuming, suffocating love he'd trapped you in, but were you really complaining? As far as you were concerned, you were also convinced it was meant to be, and if he was a little crazy about it, that was a small price to pay. Of course, you eventually learn why he's crazy about it - he's never had it. The truest feeling of connection, the ability to just let it all go in one person's presence, the time to really feel another person. It's eluded him for so long, and now he has it, but it's threatened by a curse, something he cannot control. It's frightening, and though he tried not to, he ultimately buries you in his love, trying to find a way to make it last. It's okay though. As the threat wanes, so will his suffocation. The love will always be intense, but he will learn how to do it right. 

The Lost Boys:

Towa, Taiga, Jiro, Ed

they last so unbelievably long u don't know how they do it

love in more subtle ways bc 2 them, true love is quiet 

they will do loud and bold professions of it, but the real love is displayed quietly 

prefer 2 stick 2 one role (either dom or sub), not super flexible 

The occasional huge flower bouquet, expensive jewelry set, or new bag were thoughtful, but mostly just for show. He reveled in the attention, the jealous stares, the sucking of teeth, the eye rolls - all of it. Because he had you, not them. But that, of course, isn't all there is to it. While he may be relatively distant in public despite the extravagant gifts, he's rather sweet and attentive in private. He hides it better than a LoverBoy, but in truth, his heart bleeds just like theirs, and he feels the need to consistently strive to win your affections. You're amongst great people, after all. How can he make sure he stands out, all the time, just for you? You understand this, of course, and you're always quick to reassure him. He will give and give and give and give, in so many ways. You almost think he's bottomless, what with how much of himself he offers up, nearly all the time. But it's alright. He will learn to remind himself that he need not give himself away to bits simply to keep your attention, especially when he's already the apple of your eye. The gifts never stop though, and neither does his obvious enjoyment in the attention it gets you. He will never stop showing you off.

The Tragic Boys:

Leo, Subaru, Ren, Kaito, Yuri

love fluctuates. intense then quiet, hot then cold, all-consuming then insignificant 

very transparent ghouls with few layers. what u see is what u get.

often don't last long and take longer to recover 

a little more flexible with role changing, but do have solid preferences 

You are never, ever prepared. He's like a pendulum, swaying back and forth between endless, bountiful devotion and a cold shoulder the following day. He's not sure how to handle this love he has for you. It's unfamiliar, it's big, it's loud, it's petrifying. He's scared he'll do something wrong, and on those days when the fear eats him alive, he closes up, rejecting your presence. But then, he sees how down you are, and knows that wasn't right, so the following day he's at your beck and call. He'll do whatever you ask, just say the word and it's done, for you. His fatal flaw is that he never communicates his deep-seated fears, instead choosing to let them rumble in his gut and disrupt your relationship as a consequence. He wants you, though, and he never wants you to doubt that. He'll communicate eventually, the words spilling out before he can think much of them, apologies and desperate sobs with them. He won't shut down anymore after this, choosing to remain like an open book for you to read at any time. He will learn to hold you the right way, without clamming up nervously when you tell him he's perfect. 

The Silent Boys: 

Tohma, Romeo, Ritsu, Lyca, Alan, Jin

their love is consistent 

never changes, always with immense depth, but never readily apparent 

love is like a pretty serene waterfall with unseen strong currents capable of killing someone 

like to switch it up every now and again (mayyybe dom→sub, sub→dom yk)

last moderately. some might finish fast, some might take a while.

His attitude and demeanor towards you hardly change. He loves you, and he's serious about it, but that won't mean special treatment, extra gifts, or public displays of love. He will love you exactly as he always has, and sees nothing wrong with it. His love is in how he looks out for you, how he worries for you despite himself, how he may allow himself a small smile when you approach, or a sigh heavy laden with devotion, after you wrap your arms around him, and before he pushes you off of him. It's okay because you know how his heart beats erratically in his chest when you approach, which he's strangely good at hiding. You know how his breath hitches in his throat every time he sees you, his eyes glazing over like you're a vision to be committed to memory. You know how he treasures you, his love hidden under his vast sea of responsibilities. Peel the layers back and you'll see he's yours in all ways that matter, but he also knows he can't let that get in the way of his daily life. Once he has the time, and is no longer bearing the weight of prying eyes and overwhelming expectations, he'll build his life around you, to make sure you feel centered in his life, as he does in yours.

well if nobody really likes these at least i had fun. amen!

no blurb 2 put here except that i have a ren fic incoming soon bc my regular [🐟] anon went crazy in my inbox about that boy and his damn collarbones.

y'all have a wonderful day im so tired.

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[scribblecon]

the fort max fic was so cute!! 😭😭 I’d definitely love to see a part 2 (maybe where he and the reader get some time to interact with each other one-on-one? perhaps max finally gets a chance to pet them) if you’re up for it c:

How can I refuse? I love the big guy so much 😭

A Minor Fascination Part 2

SFW, fluff, GN reader

—

Fort Max suppresses a groan. He can see you staring at him and the perplexed look on your tiny face is, frankly, adorable. The urge to cross the room and squish your cheeks is real, but he resists. He looks away. He will not make a fool of himself again.

It feels like there’s some kind of role reversal going on. Up until a few days ago, Fortress Maximus was staring at you whenever you were in the same room as him. Now, ever since his stilted greeting and abrupt exit, you’re the one staring at him. The way he tries to subtly turn away from you whenever he catches your eye makes you think he’s too embarrassed to speak with you again. Not that you can blame him, but the other bots have been teasing you and it’s getting on your nerves. If he has a problem with you, best resolve it sooner rather than later. When Max makes his way to the bar’s exit, you’re ready and waiting.

“Fortress Maximus!” You call out to him as he walks past your table. He turns, frowning, until he realises it’s you and you swear his optics widen just a little bit. “Could you give me a ride? My hab’s a bit far to walk by myself.” You give him a grin that you hope comes across as sheepish, definitely not singling him out on purpose.

He stares down at you hesitantly, then looks to the ‘bots sharing your table. Surely one of them could- slag. Chromedome, Rewind and Tailgate. Three of the biggest lightweights on the ship and none of them look fit to drive right now. He sighs in resignation and holds a servo out for you, which you gladly clamber onto with thanks. Fort Max does his best not to react to the sensation of your tiny frame in his palm. How are you so small? So soft? Slowly, he lifts you until you’re cupped against his chest, making absolutely certain you’re secure, before he starts walking.

The two of you traverse the Lost Light in silence for several minutes, you enjoy the view peeking over Max’s hand from where he’s holding you, definitely higher up than any shoulder perch you’ve experienced with other ‘bots so far, and making the most of being surrounded by the heat radiating off his frame. Maximus, meanwhile, is trying to focus on finding your habitation suite, but is preoccupied with anxiety. Doesn’t want to drop you by accident. It is only when you reach an empty stretch of hallway that you speak up.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Can it wait until we get to your quarters?” Max keeps looking ahead. He knows where this is going.

“No, because I think you’ll drop me off and then immediately leave.” You look up at him, trying to make eye contact. Even when held against his chest, his face seems miles away. God he is massive. “I want to know why you’ve been acting so weird around me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been staring at me practically non-stop for two weeks. Also, that introduction of yours the other day…”

Fortress Maximus stops walking, opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. Frag. The botched interaction was one thing, but he really thought he was being subtle before that.

“I promise I will explain. When we get to your room. I can’t-” His voice drops to a near whisper. “I can’t talk about it out here.”

“Okay…” Eyeing him sceptically, you sit down in his servo and lean against his chest. “Let me know when you get there.”

—

“This is your hab suite, correct?”

You look over Fort Max’s giant hand to see a number and a door. Giving the affirmative, the two of you enter your room and he gently deposits you on the desk. You waste no time in looking for answers.

“Time to ‘fess up. What’s going on with you?”

Watching him deliberate on how to answer, shifting his weight slightly, you can’t help finding his awkwardness around you slightly charming.

“Your hair.”

“Pardon?”

“I… wanted to touch your hair. But I didn’t want to accidentally hurt you.” Fort Max looks away from you to his servos. “You look so soft but you’re just so… tiny.”

That’s… kind of sweet of him, actually. Even if he did just admit he wants to pet you like a dog. You give him a sympathetic look.

“I appreciate the restraint, but you could have just asked.”

Max looks back to you. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Only if we redo our introductions. You ran off before I could tell you my name the other day.”

“Yeah,” He allows a small smile to cross his face. “Okay.” The smile falls when he hears you stifle a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just— that’s what you said last time, too.” You take a moment to compose yourself, then stick out a hand. “Let’s start over. I’m Y/N. Pleased to meet you.”

“My name is Fortress Maximus.” He reaches a digit out to meet your hand. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Okay, now that’s out the way…” You crouch down next to Max’s outstretched digit. “Stay still.”

“What are you do- oh.” Fort Max vents as you lean your head against his finger. It’s even softer than he imagined. He closes his optics, focussing on the sensation. Can feel some of the anxiety that has been gnawing at his spark since First Aid jump started him fade.

You admittedly feel a bit silly, rubbing the side of your head against a giant robot finger like a cat marking its scent on something. But said robot doesn’t want to hurt you and there is a real risk of him doing exactly that if he isn’t careful. He’s certainly more self aware of that risk than other ‘bots you can think of. So this is the workaround for now.

“You know, if you want to hold me or feel my hair again.” You stop moving, and place your hands atop Max’s digit, looking up at him. “You can let me know. I’m cool with it.”

Fortress Maximus opens his optics and looks down at you. How are you so kind to a mech like him?

“I think… I would like to hold you again.”

You smile up at him, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, okay.”

He sighs, the corners of his lips twitching as you collapse into giggles and he scoops you into his servos as gently as he can. You’re lucky you’re so cute.

—

previous

[pennyplainknits]

A new project I've just finished, some overalls modded from the Megan Nielson Flint pattern, using grey linen and Liberty Tana Lawn. They have front release pleats, back darts, and you actually get in and out of them via a false pocket on the left hand side (where the buttons are).

There were quite a few changes made. The trouser length in the original pattern is a high ankle crop, so lengthened them to be full length (though I also intend to wear them cuffed). The legs are very wide and I tapered them in dramatically, taking in about 12cm each side, tapering down from the lengthen/shorten line. This tutorial shows roughly what I did.

The overall bib and straps are an add-on and the best thing is that they are detachable, so you can also wear them just as normal trousers! There are press studs on the bib and inner front waistband, and again on the straps and back waistband

I took a really long time on these, (well, about a week) because I wanted to make the inside as nice as the outside. The pattern in common with most patterns nowadays instructs you to overlock or zigzag your seams to finish the raw edges. I don't own an overlocker, they are expensive, heavy, take up a lot of space and as I don't sew a lot of stretch or knits I've never felt the need. I also don't love the feel of zigzagged seam finishes, and the joy of making your own clothes is that you can use the seam finish of your choice, rather than the quickest and most cost-effective one.

Here you can see that I've bound the pockets, crotch seams, and outer leg seams with a Hong Kong finish, using bias tape I made from leftover fabric. The colourful rainbow one is a Liberty lawn which I used to make a blouse. The pinky-purple one is a silk organza. I chose it because it's very very lightweight and I didn't want extra bulk at the crotch. You can also see the press studs for attaching the bib at the waistband, and how to pocket opens up to allow you to get into the trousers.

The inner leg seams are flat-felled. It's the first time I've used this finish and I love it! It's so neat and flat and very strong, so useful for the inner thigh seams which gets a lot of wear. As I will wear these cuffed you'll get a little flash of the bias tape at the ankle, which I love.

I also love all the interior details where I used the Liberty lawn. That fabric is so expensive, I wanted to use every scrap I could.

The pocket bags facings, interior of the waistband, bib lining and the backs of the straps are all in the lawn. The bib lining is cut in two pieces and seamed, so that made it easier to fit it on my scraps.

The pocket on the bib is also lined (the pattern just called for the edges to be turned under). You can see the pocket facing for the trousers here too, and if you look very very closely you can see it's pieced with a French seam as I didn't have a big enough piece to cut it out in one. I really did use almost every scrap!

This is the fourth time I've made this pattern (I like to get my monies worth as the designer's patterns are not cheap) and I'm so pleased with it! There was a slight hiccup when I tried them on and they were tighter than i felt was comfortable (I hadn't bothered to remeasure myself and new linen has very little 'give') but the seam allowance is very generous so I let it out approx 1cm each side and added a bit to the under-lap of the waistband and now they fit perfectly!

I think these will be great to wear through spring, summer and autumn and I'm excited to do so!

Pattern: Megan Nielsen Flint

Fabric. Grey linen from Doughty's. I used about 2.5m. Tana Lawn scraps from Liberty of London. The print is Tudor Dream

Moon shell buttons from Textile Garden

[cuteniarose]

I'm bored and can't sleep because of cramps so I decided to mess around with an incorrect quotes generator using the latest OCs @katkastrofa and I created that I unfortunately cannot talk about in detail here because I'd get nerfed in an instant:

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all—something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Oikawa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie helps Jeff and Grant move into their freshman college dorms. Eddie's not going to college; it took him six years to graduate high school. He's not about to put more time and now money into a dead-end education, but he respects the guys' decision.

They're upset the university's stupid roommate questionare didn't pair them together. They answered everything exactly the same, and yet they still got split up. It's bullshit. Eddie knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. But it is what it is. Jeff doesn't want to make waves with the school, and Grant's just happy they accepted his sorry ass, so they'll have to live with it.

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are currently figuring out how they're going to smuggle a microwave into Grant's room. Eddie leaves them to it, already holding a box marked for Jeff in his hands. He saunters out of the elevator and down the hall toward Jeff's room, nodding his head at anyone who does the same to him.

College is weird, he thinks. No one has sneered at him -- not even the frat dude bro type who checked Jeff and Grant in earlier. Maybe it's true what they say, college is full of open-minded people. He'll let the boys be the guinea pig on that one.

Jeff's door is half shut when he gets there, which is weird because he knows they left it wide open. They still have to bring in his record collection, and even though he ditched hundreds at home, the box is still way heavier than it should be. Having to put it down to open the door is a no go.

Thankfully, the box Eddie is carrying now is rather light so he turns and uses what little ass he has to bump the door open before sliding inside.

He stops dead in his tracks as Jeff's roommate turns to meet his gaze.

Eddie doesn't believe in God, doesn't believe in angels -- he likes to think Demons exist, but that's more of an aesthetic thing than anything else -- but he's pretty sure he's in the presence of an angel.

No, he's certain he is.

The large window between the beds shoots rays of sunshine through the horizontal blinds, painting the guy in beautiful shades of yellow and orange. And jesus h. christ the shadow gives off the illusion of a halo around his gorgeous, lush, perfectly styled hair.

He's wearing a sweater -- how he's wearing a sweater in the sweltering heat, Eddie doesn't know, but he is -- with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Eddie can't help but let his eyes take in the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin, unmarked with ink like his own but decorated with freckles and moles that Eddie wants to trace, connecting them like constellations he spent decades staring at on the roof of the trailer back at home. And, okay, maybe a few other unholy thoughts also pop into his head -- sue him.

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that. Of course Eddie's first thought upon stumbling on an angel is to wreck them.

"Hey, I'm Steve," the man says, extending a hand out to Eddie.

Jesus H. Christ, it's bigger than any hand has any right to be. Eddie's mind immediately wonders what else might be bigger than most. He can't help it.

"You must be Jeff," he smiles. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yep, that's me!" Eddie says without thinking it through. He scrambles to put the box down and reaches out to shake Steve's hand.

It's a firm handshake, what Wayne would call "business-like," but it sends a burst of electricity coursing through Eddie's body. It's silly, really silly, but Eddie doesn't think his hand has ever fit so perfectly in someone else's before.

Maybe they're soulmates. He doesn't believe in those either, but he could if this Steve guys is his.

Steve smiles and drops his hand a second later and Eddie tries his best not to buckle under the loss of touch.

"What do you think of the place?" Steve says. His hands shoot to his waist, settling there as he gives the room a bitchy glance over. "It's a lot smaller than I was expecting."

"At least it's only a double," Eddie says. "My friend's stuck in a triple."

Poor Grant. As if losing out on rooming with Jeff isn't enough, he really got fucked.

Steve whistles lowly. "Damn, man, that sucks."

He squats then, digging through an already unopened box, and Eddie feels faint. His jeans were already tight, but with his new angle, they're stretched to the max, leaving very, very, very little to be imagined. And Eddie has no problem imagining anything, much less what the skin under those pale blue jeans looks like.

Steve's shirt rides up a bit as he leans over more, really sifting through the box now, and the tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers is enough to send Eddie into full-blown gremlin mode.

Maybe he should have applied to college.

"So, Jeff," Steve says, standing again and glancing between the two beds.

Neither has seemed to claim them yet. Jeff -- the real Jeff -- didn't want to be rude, and judging by the single box Steve's been looking through, he's only just started the move-in process.

"Got any bed preferences?"

Sharing it with you.

No, no! he scolds himself.

"Nope, have at it," Eddie says, casting his arms out wide and bending at the waist. He's not sure why he's done it, but by the time he registers how weird it might be, it's too late. So he commits to the bit, and it's worth it when Steve chuckles.

"Cool, cool," he nods. "I'll take this one, then." Steve shuffles over to the bed farthest from the door and tests the firmness with his hand. It gives just enough to make Steve smile. "I can work with this, if you know what I mean."

Eddie thinks he's really gone and died then because Steve honest to god winks at him.

Winks!

At. Him.

Eddie!

What the fuck.

"Yeah," he croaks, a little awkward and a whole lot aroused. He needs to get out of here before he jumps Jeff's roommate and accidentally gets him kicked out. Better yet, he needs to figure out how to get enrolled and kick Jeff out of his room himself. "Alright, well, I've got more shit to bring up, so I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Eddie nods then bolts, ditching the elevator altogether and taking the three flights of stairs two at a time. Jeff's still arguing with boys when he gets down there, sweaty and out-of-breath.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Gareth snaps.

"Oh no," Jeff winces. "Is my roommate a dick? Did he chase you out?"

"No," Eddie pants, shaking his head widly. He reaches out with both hands and slams them down on Jeff's shoulders way harder than he needs to. "Your roommate, Steve-- he's-- I think I'm in love."

The guys burst into laughter.

"Here we go again," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"You just met the guy," Grant adds. "How could you possibly be in love?"

"You can't be in love with my roommate," Jeff scolds, shaking Eddie's hand off of him.

"Jeff, Jefferson, Jeffery," Eddie rambles. "I am in love. He is the man I am going to marry. The one who will father my children. The one to tame this wild horse--"

"You've slept with two dudes, Eddie. I don't think that makes you a wild horse," Gareth scoffs.

Eddie ignores him. He doesn't have time to deal with Gareth. Not when Steve is upstairs waiting for him.

"I need to go back to him."

Eddie moves to step around the three, eager to grab another box with Jeff's name on it and get back to Steve. Back to the love of his life. But Jeff blocks him.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jeff says, reeling Eddie back in. "I have to live with this guy for a year. You are not going back up there and making it weird."

"Well then I have good news for you," Eddie says, wicked grin already breaking out onto his face.

"This can't be good," Grant mumbles.

"You don't even have to go up there. He thinks I'm Jeff."

"Okay, but you're not Jeff," the real Jeff says, crossing his arms. "I'm Jeff and I'm going to go to my room and introduce myself to my roommate and you're going to stay far, far, far away from him."

Eddie shakes his head. "You can't do that! He'll think I'm a liar."

"You are a liar," Gareth butts in.

"Eddie," Jeff groans. "I have to go up there! I live here. I'm Jeff. He needs to know the truth."

"Or, or!" Eddie shouts, full of frantic energy now. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, mind reeling a million miles an hour as the plan starts to form in his head. This could work. It could totally work. "How about I pretend to be you for the next year and you can be me."

"Dude, no!" Jeff scoffs. "I worked my ass of to get here. I'm not trading lives with you so you can try to fuck my roommate."

"Oh, I won't have to try," Eddie says. "He might have already offered."

"Oh my god. My roommate thinks I want to fuck him."

"Your roommate doesn't even know you exist," Grant corrects.

"What were you thinking?" Jeff shouts.

"He clearly wasn't thinking with his head," Gareth says.

"This is a disaster."

"No," Eddie says, shaking his head. He doesn't know why they're being so catastrophic about this. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. "Okay, new plan, I'll pretend to be you but only in your dorm. You can still go to class and do all the college shit. I'll only be Jeff to Steve."

"And where am I supposed to live?"

"With Grant."

"Asshole! I'm already in a triple! We can't house another person."

"And you're not even enrolled!" Jeff adds. "What happens when the RA finds out? I'll get kicked out and you'll--"

"Go to jail."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't think people go to jail for impersonating college students, Gare."

"They might!" Gareth says, throwing his hands up. "Are you really going to risk going to jail just for a chance at fucking Jeff's roommate?"

"Well, I hope it would be more than fucking. I did say I was in love."

Gareth doesn't get it. The only thing he's ever loved is his drum set -- and he can't marry that. Not even in bumfuck Indiana.

He goes back to ignoring Gareth and focuses on Jeff. He braces his hand on his shoulders again and slinks down to his knees. He's not above begging. Not for this. Not for the angel that is Steve who is probably wondering where he is right now.

"Jeff," Eddie says, hitting the pavement. He retracts his hands from Jeff's shoulders and clasps them together in prayer. He's making a scene.

"Get up, you're making a scene," Jeff hisses, yanking him back to his feet. Eddie goes willingly and Jeff huffs. "Alright, alright. Let me think."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Grant chimes in. "Eddie's plan is shit. It'll never work."

"I know that!"

Eddie watches as Jeff paces in a circle with his eyes closed. If he wanted to, he could bolt right now. Grab a box and make a run for it. Lock himself and Steve in the room and not come out until he's sure Jeff won't rat him out. Holding Steve hostage might not be the best impression to give Steve though, so he stays put.

"Okay, how about this," Jeff says and Eddie gives him his undivided attention. "The two of us are going to go back to my dorm and we're going to set the record straight--"

"No! That's--"

"Eddie," Jeff says, firmly. "If you really do love my roommate or well, you want to eventually love him. You have to tell him the truth."

Jeff's right. He's always right that's why he's going to college on a scholarship and Eddie's not. But he doesn't like it. Steve's going to think he's a total weirdo and he'll never get a chance to see what's actually under those tight ass pants.

Still, Jeff's right.

"Fine."

Steve really is an angel because he doesn't even bat an eye at the truth. He does laugh, but Eddie doesn't mind that. He wishes he had his cassette recorder and a mic so he could record it. It's music to his damn ears, and he knows a thing or two about music.

Jeff and Steve hit it off and Eddie tries not to pout about it as he continues lugging in box after box. When Eddie's van is finally empty, Grant and Gareth meet up with them in Jeff's room. Steve introduces himself and Eddie can tell they're both silently judging him.

Yes, this is the dude he would risk going to jail for, Gareth. Eddie thinks, he hopes Gareth gets the message in the glare he shoots his way. He thinks he does.

It turns out Steve also has a best friend who just moved in, too. She's in a different building than them, but he's meeting up with her for pizza at the parlor down the street. He invites them all to go and Eddie says yes on behalf of all of them a little to quickly.

When they get there, Steve introduces them all -- Jeff, Gareth, Grant. He gets all their names right, even Gareth, but when he gets to Eddie, he smirks. "And this," he says, smiling as he slings an arm around Eddie's shoulder. "This is not-Jeff my not-roommate."

"Hi, Not Jeff," Robin says.

Eddie laughs and introduces himself to her with his real name and Robin nods before her eyes lock on with Steve. He can tell they're non-verbally communicating with each other. It's not unlike the way he is with the boys. One look is all it takes sometimes for them to know what he's thinking.

It's weird watching it happen from the outside and especially difficult when he's still stuck under Steve's arm. Not that he minds that part not at all.

Finally, her lips quirk up into a smile and she pulls her gaze from Steve, letting it land on Eddie. At the exact same time, Steve's name gets called and he excuses himself to get pizza, leaving the two of them alone.

Robin's smile falters just a bit as she takes a step closer to him, replacing the spot where Steve just was. "Just so you know, I'm obsessed with Murder, She Wrote. If you hurt him, I know where to hide your body."

Eddie doesn't have time to even think of a retort before she's scampering off to help Steve with the pizzas.

He might not be enrolled in college, but he has a strange feeling he's going to spend a lot of time up here from now on.

[no-144444]

melbourne- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries, mentions of panic attack and crying (in this part)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | more to come...

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“Oscar?” The awkwardness in your voice wasn’t lost on you, but you’d rather have Oscar see you in your bra  (or lack thereof) and underwear than have to be in that dress one moment longer. 

“Yeah?!” he called from the other room.

“Can I have some… help?” you asked and held his footsteps approaching. 

“Everything alright?” He asked, poking his head into your room. He made eye contact with you in the mirror and smiled. 

“Can you unzip my dress?” you asked, shy and uncomfortable. 

He swallowed. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Sure.”

He tried to act cool about it, but he was shitting himself. He apprehensively started pulling on the zip, one of his hands on the curve of your back. 

“Can you… close your eyes Osc?” you asked, feeling humiliated. “I’m not wearing a…”

Oh. “Yeah, of course,” he smiled and closed his eyes, gently pulling the zipper down. God almighty he was hard. No bra under the most gorgeous dress he’d ever seen on you? He was glad he’d been your ‘date’. He felt you quickly pull on a hoodie and the loss of contact made him frown. 

“Coast is clear,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I’m dressed.”

He opened his eyes and saw you standing in front of him, the image of exhaustion, but you still looked beautiful. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, his mouth moving before he could think. 

“Goodnight Oscar.”

He couldn’t read the expression on your face. The disappointment, o-or was it happiness? Were you annoyed by him? Did you want him to stay?

“Goodnight,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek and going back to his room to have a mini-freakout. 

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Funnily enough, Kigali to Australia is a 22 hour-long flight. A long, warm, uncomfortable 22-hour flight, even though you were in business class with Oscar beside you. 

“Why is it so hot?” you complained, fanning yourself with your hand. 

“You’re wearing a fleece,” he pointed out, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Of course you’re warm.”

“I don’t have any other clean clothes,” you sighed. 

“I have a t-shirt if you want it?” he offered, taking it out of his hand luggage.

“You just have a t-shirt in your hand luggage?” you questioned, taking it out of his hands and pulling off your own fleece, replacing it with his t-shirt. 

“Yeah,” he answered, shrugging. “It didn’t fit in my suitcase.” 

“Well, thank you anyways,” you said, putting your headphones back on. “I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

He nodded, trying to seem casual. He was anything but casual. You were wearing his shirt. In what world would he be casual about such a momentous occasion? He let himself stare at you as you closed your eyes, turning toward him to lie down, and he just… admired. He didn’t know how long it had been until the overhead lights went out and the plane went into low-lighting, so as to let people sleep.

You opened your eyes to see Oscar looking at you. “Can’t sleep?”

He nodded. Lie.

“Want a panadol?” you offered, getting out the cold medication that was infamous for knocking you out. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he yawned, taking one from your hand. You both tried to ignore the way the touch gave both of you shivers. “Night.”

“Night,” you smiled. 

It was going to be a long Christmas break. 

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Honestly, the first few days in Australia were hectic. You got past the run-up to the holidays without any more awkward incidents between you and Oscar, mostly because his sisters ‘stole’ you from him. While he wasn’t totally happy about that, it was nice to see you have a bit of freedom and enjoy yourself. They showed you all around Melbourne, brought you shopping, brought you to the beach, and everything else. 

But you slept in Oscar’s bed every night. Not enough room in the house meant you had to share and despite your offer of getting a hotel, he insisted. You two brushed your teeth together in silence and then fell asleep together, every single night. It was slightly maddening for him, and you, but neither of you spoke about it. It was all so… intimate. Quiet nights with him behind you in the mirror, listening to him go on about his day with his friends or family, nodding your head slowly as you drifted off, helping him with his skincare, or him helping you dry your hair. It was nice. It was very you. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar woke up to the sound of sharp breaths and hiccuped sobs beside him, and he knew something was wrong. Immediately, he turned around to see you sat up in bed, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm down. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up beside you. 

“I… I can’t breathe,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. 

He felt his heart break for you. “It’s alright,” he whispered, he wrapped an arm around your waist and situated you in front of him before taking one of your hands and letting you squeeze it. “I want you to breathe with me, alright?” he guided, his voice as calm and smooth as it usually was. He took a deep breath and you tried to match it, hiccuping as you did so. He exhaled, you followed suit. 

Inhale. You squeezed his hand.  Exhale. You relaxed. Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax.  Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax.  Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax.  Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax.  Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax. Inhale. Squeeze. Exhale. Relax. 

Until you had your breathing back to a normal rhythm. 

You took another deep breath, leaning your head on his shoulder as you wiped your tears on his t-shirt. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told you. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” your voice was smaller than usual, exhausted from the panic attack. 

“What happened?” he asked, his voice gentle and he smoothed a hand down your back. 

You were quiet for a moment. “I had a dream about the crash. I get them sometimes. It’s just… a lot.” 

The crash. Of course. He knew he should’ve insisted you see someone about the mental impacts of it. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head. 

“I know, but I’m still sorry,” he smiled sadly. “I wish I could do more to help you.”

You took your head off his shoulder. “You do everything to help me,” you reminded him, a hand on his cheek. “I wouldn’t be where I am today without you.”

He shrugged. “I still wish I could do more.” 

Both of you just sat there for a moment, staring at each other with sad eyes. Neither of you could deny whatever was brewing between you two, especially not after tonight. The electricity between you two was ridiculous, and you genuinely couldn’t deal with your heart beating 30x faster than it should. Oscar was safe. Oscar wouldn’t hurt you. Oscar was… well, Oscar. Perfect, sweet, kind, gentlemanly, hilarious, talkative Oscar. He loved you like it was breathing. 

“Do you remember Abu Dhabi?” you whispered. 

“Me getting drunk and you having to take care of me?” he chuckled. “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you remember what you said to me?” you asked, your eyes transfixed on his. He looked at you confused. He could feel the weight of the moment, feel the atmosphere change. He just hoped it was for the better. 

He shook his head, his hands still soothing you, going up and down your back. 

“You said loving me was as easy as breathing,” you repeated the words for the first time, and though they felt strange and foreign on your lips, when they’d come out of his, they sounded beautiful. “Did you mean that?”

He was stunned by his drunk self, artistic and pathetic, impressive. He nodded gently. “Yes.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you whispered, your eyes drifting down towards his lips. “But I want to give this- us a try,” your voice shook, but you said it regardless. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”

He could’ve sworn he’d died and gone to heaven. Never in a million years did he ever think that he’d be sitting with you on his bed, with you telling him that you wanted him. His brain short-circuited, but his mouth had always worked faster than his brain anyway. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours and everything that had been building for around a year exploded. 

He was all passion and love, you could feel it in the way he kissed you. He wasn’t doing this just to kiss you, no. He wanted this. He’d yearned for this. He’d waited for this moment, and he wasn’t letting it go, letting you go. Your hands on either side of his face were cautious and delicate at the beginning, but once he kissed you, your hands were suddenly in his hair, pulling. Adding the perfect pressure to the kiss. His hands held you in an almost bruising grip, digging into the back of your neck and your side. It was everything either of you had ever wanted. 

You broke apart, a smile on both your faces.

He smiled, answering your question. "I fucking love you."

You just kissed him again. You could do that anytime you wanted. He was yours.

And, the most important thing, you were finally letting yourself be open. You weren’t scared of him or how he’d react when he’d learn certain things about you. You had finally let yourself breathe. Let yourself love. 

What a fucking wonderful feeling.

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[cherryswisherz]

Oh boy I just had a thought of Paige tracking you on find my friends and her being PISSED that you’re not where you’re supposed to be/where she thinks you were going to be AND DRIVES THERE to confront you and the backseat of her car goes crazy after she drags you out of there.

She purposely parked way in the back in a dark corner for a reason, she’s MAD.

FEEL IT

♱ CONTAINS: girlfriends that solve problems with sex

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: lil request n stuff

"i'm gon make you feel it"

feel it (jacquees ft. lloyd & rich homie quan, 2014)

♱♱♱♱

shitshitshitshitshit

the look in paiges eyes told me all i needed to know. 

that i was royally fucked. she was gonna kill me. 

SHIT.

as she marched me to her car that was parked all the way in the back of the lot, i kept looking at her, trying to read her. to find out what was about to happen. but i couldn't t and that stressed me out even more because paiges face always spoke before she did. 

when we reached her car, i went to open my own door and paige snatched me up, pulling me back into her side. 

"don't piss me off right now bro." she muttered, opening my door for me, as she always did. 

now we were in the car... protected by tinted windows and distance. no one could see or hear us. 

paige didn't start the car. she didn't turn on a light. she didn't speak. it was just silent and dark. 

i heard her take a deep breath and mutter something to herself before turning the ignition, allowing the cars overhead light to come on so i could see her perfect fucking face. 

but my admiration was interrupted by her leveled voice.

"are you out of your fucking. mind?" she asked, turning in her seat so she was looking at me. her hands were folded in between her legs and the leg that wasn't propped up against the seat was tapping. 

i was too nervous to speak. my mouth was dry. my hands were clammy and suddenly the floor of this vehicle was very intriguing. 

but then paige said "it's in your best fucking interest to answer me right now." and i'd miraculously  found the will to activate my vocal chords enough to whisper "no."

"you're not? great. then why the fuck are you all of a sudden lying to me?" her head ticked to the side a little before she continued. "and i'm not saying the fit isn't hard, but why the fuck are you half naked right now?"

her leg tapping got fast to the point the car shook a little and i knew i was in some deeeeep shit. "because i didn't want you to be worried about me." i lied. i didn't tell her because i simply didn't want to. 

i wasn't cheating, or drinking or anything, but i liked doing what i wanted, when i wanted, without anyone's permission and i thought paige would have just told me to stay home or tried to come with me and i needed the time away from her. 

"baby. you're a 5'10 basketball player from fucking inglewood. you're 180 pounds of straight muscle. you have a fucking six pack. when have i ever ben concerned for your fucking safety?" her eyes cut as she leaned over the arm rest. she grabbed my jaw and turned me so i was looking her in the eyes again. "stop lying to me."

"i'm not lying baby." i put the puppy dog eyes on her and tried to butter her up, but it did nothing because her next words made my heart drop to my literal ass. 

"get in the back." her tone was soft, and i could feel her anger as she pulled away from me, opened her door and stepped out of the car. "and take your pants off for me." she said before she shut the door. but rather than getting in the back seat herself, she leaned against the driver door, and pulled out her phone as if this was the most normal night ever and she needed fresh air. 

but wasn't about to see what would happen if wasn't in the back when she returned so i climbed over the armrest and took off my jeans, sitting with my back to the door and my legs across the backseat.

i don't know how long i was waiting for her, but when paige joined me in the back seat, she simply slid in, picked my feet up and placed them in her lap. 

"you know i love you right?" she asked. 

"yeah..." i answered her, confused as hell. "why?"

she didn't answer right away. instead she grabbed my arms, gently pulling me into her lap. her big blue eyes were looking across my face and my spined tingled when she gave me a shit eating grin. "because you've clearly lost your mind, but that's okay because we're about to find it."

"oh?"

"yeah." she nodded, sliding her hands up and down my thighs. "you've been pissing me for the past 30 minutes and now you finna feel it. "

fuck.

she leaned over pulling me down for a kiss that felt more like a battle. our lips fighting against each other, hers winning. 

i started to grind on her lap, trying to get some sort of friction and almost instantly, paige halted all movements, holding her hands at my waist.

i rested my head against hers, my eyes still closed, as i tried to catch my breath. 

"look at me." paige said, raising a brow as she dipped her hand between my legs, drawing her fingers down my wet folds. 

i drew in a visible breath, clenching my jaw as she caressed me in a way that left me with virtually no air left in my lungs.

with her eyes on mine-and mine on hers, i couldn't help the fire that burned onto my cheeks. 

it was the way she was looking at me, and knowing i couldn't look away from her without a particular consequence. 

"tell me why you lied to me." paige suddenly said. 

i furrowed my brows. "i already told you." i forced out breathlessly. 

"that wasn't the truth."

i blinked a few times- inevitably moaning when paige slid a finger into me. 

"it was the truth." i quickly spit out, digging my nails into her covered shoulders. 

paige raised squinted her eyes as they darted between mine, searching for the truth in my lies, "why you keep lying to me mama?" her voice was so calm. calm to the point where it was unsettling. 

"i'm no-" a whimper vibrated in my throat when she slid a second finger into me, "paige." i whine, unconsciously arching into her fingers. 

"why didn't you tell me where were you were going, y/n?" she asked her voice lowered and her stare bore into my soul. 

i realized she wasn't gonna let this go, and it was pointless to keep lying. plus i really wanted to cum and she wasn't gonna let that happen until she had her answer. 

"because and i don't need to be at your hip 24/7. i knew if i told you where i was going you were gonna want to come, or tell me to stay home or-"

i was cut off my my own whimper, feeling paiges pace quicken. 

"oh please. don't stop on my account. keep telling me what you think you know." paige practically laughed, now deepening her strokes.

i clenched my jaw, shaking my head a few times as i desperately tried to get my moans under control. but even when i pressed my lips together, the guttural moans still vibrated in my chest.

especially when paige gripped my hips and guided me deeper into her strokes, causing me to tighten around her. 

"i always thought you were smart, babe," paige murmured, "but now i think you might be one of the stupidest motherfuckers i've ever met." she bit out, making my face grow hot. 

her words should have pissed me off in their insulting nature. but instead i felt a pit form in my stomach. 

a long drawn out moan fell from my lips as soon as my orgasm washed over me, arching entirely into her body as her eyes never left mine. 

"faster." paige demanded. 

i shook my hand like a mad woman "paige-" 

"ride me faster y/n." she cut me short. 

a breathless whimper fell from my lips, suddenly guiding my hips back and forth against her fingers which made my legs tremble on either side of her lap. 

"fuck-��i cant," i forced out shaking my head as moan after moan vibrated form my throat. 

paige only guided my hips herself now, quickening my pace even more, curling perfectly into my spot with each grind. 

my face burned under her stare and she never slowed down, only pushing harder into me. 

my second organs hit me like a mac truck. 

"paige" i breathed out, digging deeper into her shoulders as my whole body shook against hers

i thought we were done. i thought she'd taught me whatever lesson she was trying to teach and we were gonna go back to her place and argue some more, but instead she began drilling into me father than before, moving her free hand from my hip and rubbing circles on my clit. 

"oh shit-" i yelled out, trying pushing away from her, my head hitting the back of the driver seat. but my attempt at running didn't deter her, only egged her on as she tugged my shirt up, leaned forward and wrapped her soft lips around my hardened nipple. 

i felt everything and it was all too much. 

her fingers were digging me out, her thumb on my clit had me seeing starts and her tongue swirled around my nipple in a way that just made everything too much. 

not even two minutes later, my jaw dropped and a scream from the pits of my soul fought its way out . i wasn't even shaking, it was like tremors ran through my whole body as i fell apart in my girlfriends lap. 

tears wet my face and a i whined as paige pulled out of me after i'd calmed down a little. she continued rubbing my back and placed a soft kiss to my forehead. 

then she pulled my head off her shoulders and made me look her in the eyes. "all you had to do was tell me you wanted to go out. i hate clubs and i would have understood that you needed some non-relationship related activity. don't lie to me again ma. okay?" her eyes were almost pleading with me in a sense. 

i guess it was the fact that i'd never been in a relationship where proper communication was encouraged, but hearing that made me ache for her all over again.

"okay... but since we're not mad anymore... can we go home for round two?"

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[marvelwitchergilmore]

Simple Gestures

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> You and Logan, despite getting off on the wrong foot, find yourselves falling in love through simple gestures.

Disclaimer: Mostly cute fluff, an almost kiss in the snow, stargazing, stealing clothes, a little violence in the beginning, a meet ugly, simple gestures of love. Light swearing, happy ending. Not Proof Read.

Yourself and Logan had fallen in love through simple gestures. Although, that wasn’t how it always was. 

In the beginning, neither of you had exactly been in the other’s good books. Though, you supposed that had something to do with what Rogue would call your “meet cute” rather than your individual personalities. 

Your “meet cute” (as Rogue put it) had been when Xavier had first tried to recruit you to join X-Men. 

At the time, you had been living in Colorado and was spending most days either working at the library or working at the local bar. And one evening when you got home, you found three strangers on your veranda meaning they had misread your “Keep Out” sign at the pathway entrance, or had completely elected to ignore it. 

“I don’t know what you’re selling but I’m not buying.” 

You walked through the three of them and their huddle, opened up your screen door, unlocked your front door and slammed both in their faces. 

“Logan,” you heard a British voice sigh before an American one replied with; “I’m on it.”

Maybe he was Canadian?

Either way, he didn’t sound thrilled to be having to do whatever he knew was being asked of him. 

But you soon found out what that was because a few moments later, he was opening up your back door. 

So, as any woman would do when a stranger is ignoring her polite “fuck off, please” and trying to get through the back door of her home. 

You threw a book at him. 

And it wasn’t just any book. 

It was a hardback copy of Kings and Queens of Britain. 

“Wha- Jesus!”

Stumbling back, Logan caught hold of the door frame as his head mended his new found concussion. 

“Get out!” you screamed. 

Finding yourself walking towards him, you were about to shove him out when he noticed what had hit him and before you could throw a punch to his face, he caught your wrist. 

“Whoa, hey, wait. We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Said every intruder ever.”

“Please, Ms Y/l/n.” The British guy was back. “We only wish to talk.”

“Yeah?” You looked around at the three of them before you looked back at the book. Logan’s grip squeezed on your wrist to get your attention. 

He had it. 

“I wouldn’t think about it.”

Glaring from Logan, you turned back to the Brit. “Please. Just five minutes of your time.”

Once more you looked around them and yanked your wrist from Logan’s grip. Turning, you picked up your book and placed it back where you had found it. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you grumbled to yourself as you walked further inside. 

The three of them entered and stood around your living room as you walked from your kitchen and back in again. It was more of an open floor plan so they could still see you. Not that you were trying to hide from them. 

“So why are you here? Other than trying to break into my home?”

“We wish to offer you a job,” the woman said. 

“And you are?”

She smiled at you. So far, she was the only one you liked. “Ororo. But you can also call me Storm. And this here is Logan.”

You looked at him. “We’ve met.”

Logan mirrored your look to him. 

“And this is-”

“Professor Charles Xavier.” He introduced himself. 

You nodded. “What sort of job?”

“It’s to be a part of our team. The X-Men.”

You took a gulp of your drink. “And I want to be a part of this…why?”

The Professor rolled forward. “Ms Y/l/n-”

“Y/n.”

The Brit smiled. “Y/n. Our team is made up of some of the best people we know who are like us. Mutants.”

You paused. “Mutants?”

“Ororo here can control the weather. Hence her nickname, Storm. And Logan-”

“Is what? Catwoman? I mean, with the breaking and entering and the little kitty ears for hair, it sure does fit him.” 

Storm chuckled and Logan looked less than amused. The Professor held back his laugh, too. “Actually, Logan is, well…”

Turning his head to look at him, Logan rolled his eyes a little and gave a short sigh before bringing his fist up and clenching it just as metal claws came out. 

You grimaced. “That’s super gross.”

Logan rolled his eyes once more and put his claws away. 

“Like I was saying, our team is made up of mutants, who can help people. And with your reputation preceding you, I figured we might as well come down here and ask you ourselves.”

Looking around them all, you debated the idea. 

“Why me?”

“Your mutant abilities might prove a successful part in building our team.” Ororo explained. “With talents like yours and by joining our team, you’ll be able to help more people than just the locals here. Those in serious danger could use your help, just like they could use ours.”

“And you just expect me to join you? Like that?”

“There are other parts to your job, such as becoming a teacher. I run a school for the gifted. For mutants. To help them earn a well rounded education as well as helping them learn how to control their powers.”

Logan was baffled. “I thought we were here to put her on the team, not give her a teaching position. She can’t be a teacher.”

“Why not?” Storm asked. 

“For one,” Logan gestured to you. “She works in a bar.”

Your arms crossed your chest. “Someone’s been reading my CV.”

“You really think making a bartender a teacher is a good thing?”

Your brows knotted for a moment. “I’ll have you know I do have a teaching degree and working in a bar is only part time. I also work at a library.”

“She has a teaching degree and she’s not even a teacher.”

The Professor shrugged. “This gives her a chance to put it to good use.”

“What will I be teaching?”

“Well, considering your degree is in English and History, you’ll primarily be teaching English to our students.” The Professor smiled. “And you can take some of Logan’s classes as we move closer to final exams for our older students.”

You looked at Logan, a little shocked. From the jeans and leather jacket, you figured he’d teach something like gym or shop. That’s if he was even a teacher and not just hired muscle. 

“You,” you pointed at Logan. “Teach History?”

A little offended by your shock, Logan nodded. “I’ve lived through most of it.”

“How old are you?”

By your tone, Logan was nowhere near being less offended by you.

After more than just a five minute conversation, you agreed to take the job. And six weeks later, you had your things packed, had moved into your new room and was already teaching some new classes. 

However, considering you were already taking one of Logan’s classes a week as he helped the older students prepare for their mock exams, and neither your or Logan had gotten off on the best foot, things were a little…icy. 

“You need to get neater handwriting.” Logan blurted out one afternoon as you were both sitting in the teachers break room. 

“Excuse me?”

Logan practically slammed another paper beside his thigh. “You write like a five year old.”

“Fast handwriting is a sign of intelligence,” you pointed out. 

“Fast, maybe. But illegible isn’t.”

Another paper went down by his side. 

“You know, maybe if you took your time to actually read, you’d be able to see what it said and it wouldn’t look so much like a blur across a page.”

Logan sighed, marking another paper. “I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have.”

“Logan, I practically read for a living. I’m living every introvert's dream.”

Logan sighed, shuffling his finished papers. “And I mark for a living. Fixed your handwriting.”

Placing half of the papers back with you, Logan walked out carrying the rest with him. And as he did so, you took the top paper from the pile and read where you had written your feedback for the student. 

“It’s not illegible.”

Six months in, not much had changed. 

You and Logan still held small hostilities to one another. Though, on the handwriting front, Logan stopped mentioning it after three months so either he gave up on ever trying to change your handwriting, or he got used to it enough that he could finally understand it. 

And as time went on, the students started to gather their own opinions on you and Logan, both as individuals but also…

As a couple. 

And it was simply by luck that neither you or Logan had found out about it. 

The first teacher to find out was Storm during one of her classes, to which she mentioned it to Jean who later heard the same from her students before she shared it with Scott in the privacy of their bedroom as they were getting ready for bed one night. 

Soon enough, all the teachers save for you and Logan knew of the group of students “shipping” yourself and Logan. 

But things between you and Logan began to change almost a year into you starting your position at the school. 

“But she’s annoying.”

You already knew Logan was talking about you. Over the course of a year you’d somehow become accustomed to the tone and tune of Logan's voice when he was talking about you. 

“Oh, please,” you grumbled as you entered the Professor’s office, still dressed in your pjs. 

Though, considering you had fallen asleep in lounge wear that consisted of joggers, an old t-shirt and a black hoodie which you were 40% sure had been Logan’s at some point, you figured you could get away with being dressed the way you were at eleven in the morning. 

“I annoy everyone,” you told Logan.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Logan mumbled. 

“You’re nothing special.”

The Professor smiled to himself. Storm and the others would get a kick out of this later. 

“Thank you for joining us.”

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

You drank your coffee. “Not all of us sleep in jeans, Logan.”

“I don’t sleep in jeans.”

“Please, you’re never out of them.”

The Professor cleared his throat. “As I was just telling Logan, since final exams are coming up, I would like you and Logan to work through a plan together for next semester's classes. It seems we have a few more students than we had planned, taking History as an option next year. I’ll leave it to you both to work it out, but when you’ve finished, please give me a copy of your schedule.”

“Oh,” the Professor continued. “And please let it be an actual plan this time, Logan. Not a scribble on the back of a napkin from the kitchens. I’ll make sure the library is free tonight so you can both work without any interruptions.”

So there it was. 

After almost a year, you and Logan were being told to spend time alone together after half of the team had worked their hardest to try and make sure someone else was in the room when it came to you two in fear of you both finally snapping and doing more damage than what an encyclopaedia could do to an adamantium skeleton. 

And when Logan found you that night, he felt something shift. 

Both universally and inside of him. 

Walking into the library, he was expecting to find you absent from your chair. But instead he found you sitting at one of the desks, your ankles crossed beneath your chair, multiple notebooks around the place, two pencils in your hair, one between your teeth, pens across the desk (some without caps) and you frantically searching for something. 

On one of the smaller tables behind the sofa, Logan found a familiar notebook which he knew belonged to you, flipped open onto a page. 

Somehow in the past couple of months he’d become fluent in you. From comparing your handwriting to that of a five year old, it wasn’t long until he began to pick out words and eventually became a master in your handwriting. 

Even the others came to him, most of the time shoving your note in front of him and asking him to read it. 

“Looking for this?”

You looked up at Logan and gave a look of relief. “I thought I’d left it upstairs.”

You took it from him. “Thank you. Now where did I put my pen?”

In a similar fit of desperation, you started looking around for your pen, but something made Logan smile. Leaning across the desk, his palm on top of a couple of sheets of loose paperwork, he raised his other hand and you stopped. 

“What? What is it?”

Reaching up and behind you, you felt Logan pull something from your hair before he presented it to you with a soft smirk. 

“Is this what you are looking for?”

You looked from the pen to Logan and back to the pen before plucking it from his fingers. “Thanks.”

Logan watched as your gaze flicked from his back to your work. He stood up. “What’s all this?”

“Just things for lessons. Oh, uh, here.”

You pulled a different notepad from beneath the chaotic pile. “This is my plan for the lessons next semester. Tell me what you think.”

Logan watched as you went back to scribbling before he opened up the notepad and read through it. 

“This is good. I can take a couple more classes closer to Christmas, though. Kids’ are gonna need you for the English exams.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“How long have you been sitting here?”

You shrugged before holding down the paper you were writing on, almost like it was about to fly away. “Couple hours. I’m almost done.”

Logan looked from you and back to the pad. “I can take more lessons before Spring Break, too.”

Picking up one of the uncapped pens, Logan made his adjustments to your plan before pulling out a chair and sitting across from you. 

And for the first time, there was peace between yourself and Logan. He used your notepad to draw up a copy for the Professor on his laptop whilst you finished up your rougher lesson plans for the next couple of weeks. 

It was in the moments Logan looked at you, sitting across from him, that he felt something shift. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but somehow, rather than arguing with you over the fact you were wearing his hoodie that had gone missing a few months ago, he found himself admiring you in it. How cosy you looked. How warm and comforted you looked. 

And something sparked in him when he realised something of his brought you that. 

Time pressed on and those civil moments that seemed to be saved for one day out of the year, became less and less rare. 

In fact, you now found yourself looking forward to spending time with Logan. 

A sentence you never thought possible. 

You’d spent so long bickering and fighting and glaring at each other over the smallest things, that you’d both failed to realise that you could actually be quite good friends.

At the beginning of the new academic year, the students and even some of the teachers thought someone had lost complete control of their power and had set something on you and Logan. 

But no. 

You had both simply…made friends. 

Now rather than frosty mornings spent poking fun at each other, mornings were calm and a little warmer. Of course, you and Logan still bickered occasionally. Mainly when you had pointed out the change in your dynamic. 

“No, this is too weird.”

“What’s too weird?”

“Us,” you gestured between yourself and Logan. “We’re friends.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

You almost whimpered. “Don’t you find it weird?”

“That we’ve gone from not being allowed alone in a room together to being friends?” 

You nodded. 

“No.”

Logan continued hanging up the posters around your classroom. 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes you can agree with me?”

He nodded. “I know. But it is fun watching you squirm.”

“I don’t squirm.”

“You’re squirming right now because rather than bickering, which we are still doing, we’re friends.”

 You sighed and handed Logan another poster. 

Soon the days began to feel like they were bleeding into one until finally Christmas break came around and you found yourself sitting in the kitchen on a snowy day, eating some soup. 

“What is it?”

Logan had walked in to find you looking at your soup with a confused look. 

“Something’s missing.”

Less than twenty seconds later, Logan dumped some crackers beside your bowl. That’s what was missing. 

“You’re missing snow day, by the way.”

You dipped one into your soup and ate it. “I’ll be out later. If I can just find my hoodie.”

“You mean my hoodie?”

“It became my hoodie a long time ago,” you told Logan. 

Then you watched as he smirked a little before walking out of the kitchen and towards the laundry room. When he returned, he was carrying the black hoodie and handed it to you. It was still warm. 

“You left it in the library the other night after you spilled some milk down it. So I washed it.”

You smiled, almost vibrating in your seat with excitement to have a freshly washed and warm hoodie. It warmed you instantly, for more than just being fresh out of the dryer. 

A few hours later, it was keeping you warmer still as you were being pelted with snowballs by a couple of the students and eventually found yourself being chased by Logan down the field after you had sent one flying to the back of his head causing it to run down the back of his clothes. 

He caught you, spinning you both before you both found yourself rolling in the snow. Except, as you both came to a stop, Logan was flat on his back, his arms still around you and you were lying against his chest, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

And as the laughter died down and the smiles remained, you felt something shift. 

Looking from Logan’s eyes, you own dropped to his mouth for a moment before coming back up again. And you couldn’t help but notice he did the same with you. Suddenly, his hands that had kept you steady were now creeping across your back and his touch was practically seeping into your skin. 

Only, before anything could happen, you were both hit with a snowball. 

“Come on you two, we’re dying out here!” Rogue yelled before narrowly missing a snowball being thrown at her. 

You and Logan laughed before scrambling to your feet and heading back into the game. 

Later that evening as you and Logan were doing the last rounds of the school, you’d found a couple of kids fast asleep in their pjs, clearly having snuck out of bed at the last minute to watch the late night snowfall. 

Yourself and Logan carried them back to bed, you shutting the light off as Logan closed the door quietly. And as he bid you goodnight, a part of you couldn’t help but wish that you weren’t going off to a different room, two hallways down from him. 

However, it was only a few mornings later when Logan came and woke you earlier in the morning than usual to bring you down to breakfast where everyone was up and ready for the day. It was a surprise field trip and by the time you had gone back to your room to get dressed, you gave a small yelp as you opened the door back up to find Logan already standing there. His fist was held up, just getting ready to knock on. 

“Jesus, Logan. Give a girl a word of warning before you go to knock her out.”

Logan chuckled a little. “You ready?”

You grabbed your bag. “Yeah, let's go.”

The day was fun but it was long and after spending half of the night convincing yourself of “one more chapter, then sleep” – it was safe to say you were knackered. 

So when Logan pressed his hand to your head and brought it down to rest on his shoulder as he leaned back, you didn’t protest. 

Only, since your eyes were closed, you had missed the small smile on his face when he noticed you were nodding off and the comfortable sigh that left him when he realised you were fast asleep against him. 

Halfway back to the school, he’d felt you shiver a little. 

“Rogue?”

She pulled out her headphones and looked back at him. “Yeah?”

“There’s a blanket in the cabin above your head. Pass it to me.”

Unbuckling her seatbelt, she did so, but took time to take in the picture before her as Logan covered both himself and you up as you slept. 

“What?”

Rogue just smiled, “Nothing.”

And she sat back down. And for as much as Logan wondered what Rogue meant by her smile, the thought left his head when he looked back down at you and you snuggled in closer to him. 

Once you all finally got back, Logan led you to your bedroom and slipped the shoes off your feet as you climbed under your covers. But as he went to walk away, you reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. 

And for a moment, he soaked it all in. 

The feeling of you holding his hand. The feeling of you falling asleep against him. The feeling of you. 

Until you let go.

It was only a few months later that you held onto his hand again, except this time you were fully conscious and didn’t let go until after the plane had landed. 

You had known Logan was afraid of flying since you first met him. You’d gotten onto that plane to take a short tour around the school before you officially accepted the job. Only, as you stepped onto the plane, you noticed Logan became tenser. And when it finally took off, he seemed like he was either wishing to pass out or he was gonna puke. 

“You’re afraid of flying.” You said almost with a smile, delighted to find out that the gruff man you’d thrown a book at merely an hour before, was afraid of something. 

Logan's stomach churned. “If man was meant to fly, he’d grow wings.”

You leaned back watching him with a smile. “Some already have.”

Logan just looked at you and tried to put his focus elsewhere. 

Knowing this, and finally being his friend, you found a seat next to him. The flight was going to be a long one. 

“How can you be afraid of flying? Weren’t you in the army for like…a gazillion years?” You asked as you boarded on with him. 

“You try nearly dying each time you get in one of these things, see how bad you’re itching to get back in one again.”

Logan put his bag in the compartment at the back before taking yours and placing it with his. As he buckled his seatbelt, you found difficulty with yours and just as you were about to give up or, at the very least, swear at the inanimate object, Logan’s body turned and helped you do it up. 

“These can be tricky.”

He clipped it together. “Thanks.”

He looked at you before sitting back in his seat, trying to find something to concentrate on as the jet started to lift. 

Only, his search to find something else became distracted when your hand reached across and held onto his. And for a moment, he was shocked. And then he smiled. And relaxed a little. With a little bit of turbulence, he squeezed your hand but never enough to truly hurt. 

But you never let go. 

And when the jet finally landed and you both found tarmac under your feet, you felt the climate hit you a lot more than you had been expecting. Except, less than a minute later, the familiar scent of Logan surrounded you and you found his jacket spreading over your shoulders. 

You smiled, letting your senses drown in his scent and warmth before you slipped your arms through the holes and found your way to your intended location. 

A week later, you were all sitting around in the living room, reading different things or watching TV. However, Logan lay on the sofa with his head in your lap, slowly dozing off to the sound of the TV, you turning your book pages every now and again and your heartbeat which only seemed to be amplified when he pressed his ear to your leg, hearing the blood rush around your body. 

By the time he woke up, everyone had disappeared, the lamps were on, the TV was on low and you were sitting on the floor, not too far from his head, going through a small pile of essays. 

“Hey.”

His voice sounded a little rougher than usual. You turned your head and smiled. It wasn’t often you got to see sleepy Logan, let alone comfortable Logan. 

“What are you doing?”

“Just some marking. Ooh, now you're awake, can you read what this says?”

Logan took the paper from you and looked at it. “This is your handwriting.”

“I know but I can’t tell what it says.”

But Logan could. 

You thanked him before taking the paper back. “Sometimes I think you know my handwriting better than I know my handwriting. Case in point.”

“You’re your own language.”

You smiled. “And after a year, you’re an expert. Maybe you missed your calling. Logan, the Language teacher. Read and speak in English, grunts, kitty cat and my handwriting.”

Logan groaned, trying to hide his smile. He was still waking up. His muscles couldn’t fight it off just yet. “I’m not a cat.”

“You have quite literal claws.”

“I’m Wolverine.”

You jokingly scoffed. “You’re a cat. But it’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

Logan just rolled his eyes with his smile and brought his hand over to cover your mouth. “You done?”

You eventually nodded and went back to marking the essays whilst Logan simply watched you. 

He’d found himself doing more of that recently; watching you. Not in a stalker kinda way- at least, he hoped not. But just small things you did in the day. Grading papers, scribbling on paper, walking down the hallway and somehow avoiding every pillar and post on the way despite your nose being buried deep inside whatever book you were reading. 

And he’d noticed more things about you, too. 

How you walked, how you moved. And when you were in the zone, it was almost like watching you dance. You knew what you were doing, ten steps ahead of time. You’d caught more students talking and passing notes more than even he had. 

Some days, when he was on his lunch break, he’d sneak into the back of your classroom. The class would be fully engrossed in whatever it was you were talking about, so he mostly went unnoticed. So, he’d pull up a chair at the back and sit in the sea of students. 

And when he forced himself to pay attention to what you were saying, rather than just checking you out and watching you, he managed to learn a thing or two. 

It was also on some of those days, you’d find a protein bar and a coffee at your desk by the time you returned back to class. 

For another year, these small gestures continued. You, holding his hand during a plane ride, him bringing you coffee and a snack, both of you falling asleep on each other, him routinely finding lost pens and pencils that most of the time were stuck in your hair or behind you ear. Even going so far as to bring each other meals when you knew the other had missed one. 

That was how the “dates” started. Sometimes in the library, other times in the kitchen or out in the garden. If one of you was missing for a meal, the other would wrap leftovers on a plate. 

Across a couple of these nights, some of the students had gone unnoticed when passing the rooms. Because, when you and Logan looked at each other, everything else faded away. 

And then one night everything changed. 

Everything went from the small moments and small gestures and a friendship that made you question if that’s all you wanted when it came to Logan, to both of you confronting your questions with the answers you’d both known, deep down, for a long time. 

Or maybe it was just one answer. 

“Yes.”

Logan turned and found Rogue leaning in the hallway. He placed down the photo frame he’d been holding. 

“I was just looking at some pictures. Found one of you.”

Logan picked up a second and held it out for her to see. “Cute. But, I don’t think that’s why you were looking here.”

Rogue put the photo down and picked up the familiar frame. The picture Logan had just been holding. 

“You know, if you asked her, she’d probably say yes.”

Logan put the photo back down. “Say yes to what?”

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Rogue gave a smirk as she watched Logan walk away. And she followed after him. 

“You can’t just run away from feelings, you know. They’re inside of you. Unless you can outrun your own skin, you can’t leave them behind.”

Logan looked at her. “Don’t you have a class to be in?”

“My final exam is tomorrow.”

Logan pushed open the door. “Then shouldn’t you be studying?”

“Giving my eyes a break.” Rogue hopped down the steps behind him. “It’s just a date, Logan. Everyone already knows you’ve completed steps 4 through 20. Just need to complete the first three.”

“Three?”

Rogue followed Logan into the garage. “Ask her out on a date, first kiss and first…time.”

Rogue smiled up at Logan a little, watching him blush a little before awkwardly walking away. “I forget you’re old enough to know about stuff like that.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just sex, Logan. But the more important part here is step one. Asking her out on a date.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Step twenty.” Rogue told him. “You’re in love with her.”

Logan paused what he was doing and turned to look at Rogue. “Logan, you can’t just keep running away each time you feel something for someone.”

“I’m not running away.”

“Then where are you going?”

“To the store. We need some things.”

Rogue sighed, getting back to her point. “Look, I get your whole “lone wolf” act, but you keep forgetting something.”

“Really? And what’s that?”

“A lone wolf can still find a pack. Better yet, build one of their own.” 

Logan took in Rogue’s expression as she held onto the door on the other side of the truck. He sighed. 

“Do you need anything from the store?”

“Period pads.”

By the time Logan got back from the store, it was almost nightfall. He left the bag of products inside Rogue’s door before he headed into the kitchen and found it…quiet.

“Where is everyone?” Logan asked as he put the milk away. 

You looked over your shoulder from the stove. “Jean and Scott are out on a date, Ororo took the kids out with the Professor. Last minute deal – they get to spend a night inside a museum.”

“Anyone else home?”

You shook your head. “Just us.”

“So,” Logan eventually found his seat across the kitchen island from you. “What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really have a plan outside making dinner and eating outside.”

So that’s what you both ended up doing. Sitting outside, under the stars, backlit by the lights from the kitchen, eating dinner. 

Logan washed up inside, looking over his shoulder every now and again to see you stood outside, looking up at the sky. 

“You know, back home you could see all the stars. I think I was about ten when I finished mapping out all the constellations I could see.”

Logan leaned against the backdoor, listening to you explain. Then with a smile and a kick of his feet, he made his way over to you. 

“Here.”

“What?”

Logan opened up his jacket for you and you thanked him quietly as he helped you slip it on. It was big, the sleeves managing to cover your hands more than your own jackets did. 

Twirling you around, Logan pulled the jacket close by the collar and you found yourself inches from him. 

“Figured you’d get cold.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

And for a while, you both just looked at each other. You’d noticed Logan always had this look on his face when he looked at you. You just couldn’t pin it. But then it shifted. Like you could see the cogs turning in his head, but he had come to a conclusion before you could ask. 

“What?”

“Do you want to go on a date?”

You felt yourself reel back a little, trying to decide if he was bullshitting you or not. And it took a moment or two, but once you realised he was being serious you said…

“Yes.”

“With me?”

You nodded with a smile. “I’d love to.”

“Are you sure?” Logan asked, his hands still holding onto the jacket. 

You raised your brow slightly. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“Good.” You gave a short nod before looking back at him. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Brushing the hair from your face to behind your ear, Logan smiled. And so did you. Feeling his warmth through his palm as he caressed your face, he drew you in. 

And when his lips finally met yours, something seemed to click into place. 

That feeling that had been growing inside of you, ever since you saw him for the first time when he’d pulled the pen from your hair all those nights ago, was finalised. 

This had been the shift. This was the change. You’d both taken a step forward without realising it and had found not only comfort but love in each other's presence. 

“Are you busy now?”

You shrugged, your arms looping around the back of Logan’s neck. “Depends. What for?”

“For our date.”

“Now?” You asked, a little shocked. 

Logan nodded. “Come with me.”

Holding onto his hand, he hurried you down the stone steps and towards the garden. You laughed. 

“Logan, slow down. Where are we going?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

And you did. 

He’d taken you to the greenhouse, climbing up the spiralling staircase and out onto the small rooftop. 

Looking up to the sky, you took in a breath. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

You were in amazement. The greenhouse was far enough away from the school that none of the lights from it polluted your vision. The sky was as clear as it had ever been and you felt like you could see for miles on end. Most of it was woodland, covered with a blanket of stars. 

It was one of the most extraordinary things you had seen in a long time. 

However, when you looked to find Logan to gauge his reaction, you just found him looking at you. 

[lilacs-stars]

burning passion of twilight

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is ariel's daughter and a mermaid) SUMMARY: as an enemy of the infamous pirate captain starts making advances on you, you are caught between the waves of your lover and the beaming rays of light given to you by another. GENRE: yandere, quite a bit of angst, comforting fluff at the end, a touch of spice CW: a bit of cursing, mentions of violence (sword fight, small injuries, threats), mentions of blood (just a few cuts), lots of hurt moments (from arguing), reader gets harassed, jealousy, possessiveness, suggestive material at the end, also uses of the word 'lover' instead of boyfriend or girlfriend because it fit the setting more WC: 5.5k (did I go overboard? ...maybe)

A/N: me? obsessed with this man? yes, yes I am. the things I felt when writing this...ahhh we love ourselves a jealous man. shoutout to everyone who read and supported part 1, I really didn't think people would actually enjoy reading my writing loll. I know this one is kinda long, so please bear with me. also thanks once again to the anon who requested this, this was a super fun idea to do! all feedback and suggestions are highly appreciated, I'd love to know your thoughts!

“…and then, out of nowhere, BAM! The entire thing explodes!” cries a boy not much older than you, with ginger hair and dressed in a simple green button-up shirt. 

Your entire table erupts in laughter, with you sparing a small giggle. It is early morning, and you are sitting with your usual group in the dining hall. You’re only close friends with a few of them, and merely friendly acquaintances with the others. After all, you aren’t really the extroverted, talkative type. Not like the boy retelling the story of how he pranked the headmaster last quarter, somehow with the same enthusiasm as the first ten times he told it. 

Peter Pan is one of the members of your large group that you aren’t really close with. Although he is considered to be on the “good” side of the hero-villain spectrum, he sure has his mischievous side. 

He is also incredibly extroverted, chatting up anyone he lays his eyes on. Which is why you've always chalked up his attempts to start a conversation with you to his gregarious personality, and nothing more. 

Still, you try your best not to get too close to him. Although James has never directly said anything about him to you, you can sense that there’s some…tension between them. Although he tries to act discreet, you’ve still caught on to the way James glowers at Pan whenever you’re with your group—although he doesn’t take much action, as villains and heroes don’t really mix. How he slips his arm around your waist and pulls you in tight whenever he catches sight of Pan, and even the few times he’s used his hook to pull you into a kiss right in front of the person who appears to be his enemy. Not to mention how he always happens to find you with some urgent matter or other that desperately needs your attention whenever you and Pan are having—or trying to have—a conversation. Although, now that you think about it, James does do that quite often whenever you speak to any guy besides him. 

Pan catches your eye from across the table, and you can tell he’s waiting for some sort of reaction for his latest joke. You give a polite smile, not really knowing what they had been talking about anyways, and turn away to chat with one of your friends. Whatever’s going on between those two, you don’t care, and you sure don’t want to ruffle any feathers. 

Your morning class this semester is Potions and Elixirs 101, in which you happen, by some cruel stroke of fate, to be seated next to the one and only Peter Pan. What is especially annoying about this class—or rather, about your table partner—is that you always end up doing most of the work yourself, being the only one out of your duo that actually listens to instructions. 

The teacher explains how today, your class will be making Shanty Serum, an anti-seasickness remedy. After he goes over the requirements a dozen times, you finally set off on the mission of brewing the potion, which is always done in a pair with your table mate. 

Everything is going fine, of course; you crush the siren teeth into a fine powder, and Pan, following your careful instructions, manages to brew the kraken saliva until it comes to a soft boil. Just as you reach the final steps, you crinkle your nose as a strange smoky odor fills your senses. You look up from your textbook to see your potion, which you worked so hard on, bubbling and overflowing from the cauldron. 

“Ah, I’m so sorry professor! I could have sworn I only put in two unicorn hairs!” Pan cries, jumping back to avoid getting purple goo all over himself. You shoot him a glare, and he adds on, “And I’m sorry to you too, Y/N! I really am!”

You sigh and shake your head, flipping through your textbook to find the page where it explains how to counter excess unicorn hair. Through a bit of luck and a decent amount of skill, you manage to save your potion and not get a terrible grade on it, either. 

The last few minutes of class, Pan walks up to you. “Look, Y/N, I’m really sorry about earlier. I know you tried really hard to get the potion right, and I just messed it up. God, I’m such a clutz.” He scratches the back of his head as he looks down at his shoes sheepishly. “Hey, but if you’ll let me, I can make it up to you! Say, you got any plans Friday night?”

His eyes light up as he looks at you with a puppy-dog gaze, and your heart melts a little at his attempt for redemption. But then again, you did promise yourself to keep a good distance from him…

“I-I’m, uhm, well, I was planning to study that night,” you say, which isn’t really much of a lie. “I mean, with midterms coming up and whatnot,” you tack on with a bit of an awkward laugh. 

“Saturday night?” Pan pushes, eyes still alight with hope. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m, uh, I’m going out with friends that night. But maybe some other time?” you flash him an apologetic smile, guilt gnawing at your insides as a result of pushing him away. Honestly, you don’t know why James has it out for the poor guy. He seems like the friendly sort to you. 

You quickly duck away and move to the other side of the classroom, deciding to meet up with some friends to get away from the stifling silence between the two of you. Deep down, you knew you wouldn't be able to resist Pan’s offer if you had stayed behind to see the disappointed, rejected look on his face. Still, you couldn’t help but glance back at his direction, feeling endlessly shameful for your cold actions. 

You thought that would be the end of that, but little did you realize, in that moment, how wrong you were.

School finally lets out and the afternoon rolls around again, which means you stand patiently waiting in the courtyard again for James. You pace around the water fountain, fingers lightly tracing along the rim, humming a tune under your breath. 

This fountain has always reminded you of the sea, the rolling waves of the ocean, how the cold water brushes against your skin while it hugs you in a tight embrace. Just thinking about swimming makes your legs ache to morph back into a tail and take off into the blue depths. The worst part about going to the Academy, in your opinion, is that it’s so far from any bodies of water that the only times you get to finally enjoy yourself in your mermaid form is when you’re off for the holidays.

Just as you make your way halfway around the fountain, you see something move on the other side of the water out of the corner of your eye. “Y/N?” a voice calls out. 

You walk back around the fountain to be met with… “Pan?” you ask, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I saw you come this way after school, and um, I’ve been feeling really bad the whole day for how I screwed up in P&E earlier,” he explains earnestly. “And so, I was thinking, I really want to make sure that I don’t mess up like that again. For both your sake, and my grades’.” He gives a little chuckle at his joke, before straightening his face out again.

“So, uhm, I was wondering, would you be willing to help me out? You don’t have to fully tutor me or anything, but maybe help me study and give me a few tips?”

There it is again. That spark of hope in his eyes. And honestly, how could you turn him down twice? After how sincerely he apologized earlier, and now with how he’s still thinking of you and trying to prevent himself from causing more trouble. You may have your priorities when it comes to relationships, but you still have morals, too. And there is absolutely no way you can reject him again, especially when he’s so desperate to improve. 

“Well…yeah, all right. I’ll help you out,” you say, trying to force a smile on your face. 

Pan beams, excitement lighting up his features. “Wow, really? Thanks so much, Y/N! You won’t regret it, I swea—”

Pan’s eyes quickly dart to a point above your head, perhaps catching a glimpse of something behind you. Whatever the cause, he stops dead in the middle of his sentence, face dropping. He goes pale for a second, before morphing his features into a hard and cold gaze. Shocked, you turn around to see what could have caused such a sudden change in his demeanor. 

And lo and behold, behind you stands a dark, glowering James, still half-concealed by the shadows behind him. He holds Pan’s cold gaze menacingly with a dark, furious, yet somehow misleadingly calm look of his own. Then, with no warning, he stomps towards you, ensnaring your arm within his hook as he drags you away. You barely catch his grumbled “Come on, we’re leaving” as you stumble backwards from his tug, practically running to keep up with his wide strides. 

He leads you down a number of empty corridors and doesn’t let you go until you finally reach a deserted staircase. The second he stops hauling you away from the courtyard, you yank your arm back to your side, panting from the difficulty of keeping up with him. 

James spins sharply on his heel, angry glare locked with your confused, half-mad, half-hurt gaze. 

“Care to tell me what the hell all that was about, love?” he snarls. Darkness swirls around in his vicious eyes, deep and unrelenting like the crashing waves of the ocean, and equally as violent.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” you spit back. 

“What the hell does Peter Pan want to do with you?”

“First of all, he’s my partner in Potions,” you reply heatedly, trying your best to hold back the angry tears you can feel already forming in your eyes. “And he was asking if I could help him study. As an apology for messing up earlier today. What’s so wrong with that?”

James laughs darkly, muttering, “Damn it, that bastard,” under his breath. He rocks his head back and forth, pairing it with a wicked, twisted smile that sends cold chills down your spine.

“I don’t understand what’s so wrong with that!” you cry out, feeling hot tears already start to trickle down your face. 

“Don’t you see?” spits James, taking a step towards you and waving his hook wildly in some form of gesture. “He’s trying to steal you from me!”

At this, you recoil, blinking slowly. You can feel the emotions simmering in you, deep down. The calm before the storm. 

“Steal me? From you? Steal me?” you ask, the emotions and fury building inside you like a rising wave. You take a step back from him, your voice rising. 

“Look, Pan and I may not be mates, but I know him well,” James snaps, clearly pissed. “And I can tell you right now that he doesn’t have any good intentions towards you.”

“Steal me? Like I’m some sort of treasure to be claimed? Like I’m an object?” you cry out, exasperated and relentless.

Something flashes across James’s eyes for a split second, some emotion or thought that is rather undecipherable. His features soften slightly, reminiscent of how he was when you sang for him under the moonlight not so long ago. As if his rational mind is finally catching up to his emotional words, his face falls, furrowed brows loosen a bit, and the cold anger in his eyes gives way to a more tender side of him. Maybe if you looked hard enough, you could also see a hint of regret laced in there. 

“No, I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that,” he calls out after you. But it’s too late; you’re already running down the empty hall, away from James. Away from all your problems. 

You’re half-asleep when you show up to Potions and Elixirs 101 the next morning. After your fight yesterday with James, you simply couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. It’s the first time you two fought like this, and you honestly don’t know what to do or how to feel. Sure, you’re still angry at him for the way he acted, but at the same time, you miss his comforting embrace, his soft laughs, the touch of his skin against yours. 

You sit down at your assigned table, trying your best to ignore the ginger next to you. Today, you’re taking notes on a lecture the teacher is giving, so you thankfully won’t have to do much talking to Pan. 

You make sure to listen as intently as possible to the professor, wanting to fill your mind with something other than thoughts of your argument earlier. You pay attention to taking notes so closely that you nearly forget all about your problems. That is, until you’re reminded again at the end of class, as you’re putting your things away alongside everyone else. 

“Hey, Y/N?” Pan asks from beside you. 

“Yeah?” you reply, feigning nonchalance. You make sure to keep your head down as you stuff your notebook into your bag. Oh, please let this be about the homework we were just assigned and nothing else. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday.”

Well, damn it. 

You think about giving a quick response to end the conversation, but in all honesty, you don’t really know if he expects you to accept his apology, or give one of your own. You aren't quite sure who is in the wrong here, but you are sure of one thing: saying the wrong thing will not do you any favors in solving your problems.

“What about yesterday?” You try to keep your tone light, as if it’s all water under the bridge, but you can’t help the apprehensiveness that leaks into your voice. 

“Well, I wanted to apologize if I was interrupting something between you two back there,” Pan starts.

You give him a small, apologetic smile, “No, don’t worry, you weren’t interrupting anything,”

“In that case…” Pan runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a quick exhale, before locking eyes with you and asking, “Why are you still with him?”

His blunt question startles you, sending your mind reeling for a response. “I-I don’t know…I just am,” you say, wishing this conversation would be over already. You had never been a big fan of difficult questions that made you doubt everything you knew, or thought you knew, about yourself. 

“He treats you terribly. I’ve seen the way he acts. He’s a terrible lover, Y/N.”

You turn to face Pan directly, a defensive glint in your eye at his accusatory tone. “No, he’s not!” You turn away again as you mumble a small, “And he’s not my lover.”

At this, Pan quirks an eyebrow and gives you a look with a very obvious meaning behind it. “Oh please, have you never seen how he is around you? Of course he’s your lover.” Without missing a beat, Pan tacks on, “And a shitty one at that.”

You huff angrily, but you can’t think of anything to shoot back at him besides blatant denials. Pan must have taken this as an offer to continue, because he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. 

“I’m saying this because I care about you, Y/N. You deserve someone a lot better than the likes of James Hook. Someone who will treat you right, take you out on dates whenever you want, and proudly walk around in public with your hand in theirs. Not someone who only meets up with you after school so nobody sees and acts like you don’t exist half the time.”

Your anger only grows at his words, knowing that his accusations aren’t true and that James does care about you…right? Because underneath the part of you that is always ready to defend James entirely and completely, is a part of you that doubts it, doubts him. It’s always been there, lingering in the back of your mind ever since your unusual relationship started to blossom. And now, with a new layer of hurt and confusion having been peeled back during your fight last night, that part of you wondered, deep down, if Pan was right. 

“You need a better lover, Y/N,” Pan continues. “Someone who truly cares about you. Someone…someone like me.”

Your eyes blow wide at his revelation as your mouth parts slightly in shock. You take a step backwards, shrugging off Pan’s hand as you stumble away from him. 

“Wait, please, just hear me out,” he pleads. “Just give me one chance. One chance to prove myself to you. You gave Hook a chance when you started trusting him, didn’t you? And he’s a villain. So why can’t you give me a chance? You won’t regret it, I promise.” He moves closer to you and you keep inching away, until your back collides with a wall and you realize that you have nowhere to run. 

Pan continues forward, your fear skyrocketing at his increasing proximity. “Please?” he begs. “I could treat you right. So much better than Hook.”

He finally reaches you, standing far closer than you would have normally let him, or anyone else, for that matter, as he cups your cheek with his left hand. Truth be told, it feels nice to sense warm flesh on your skin instead of the cold, harsh metal of James’s hook. But you shake that thought away almost instantly, chastising yourself for, even for a moment, putting Pan above James. 

Pan places his free hand on the wall next to your head and leans in even closer. “Please?” he whispers, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. 

The feeling of his exhale, paired with his natural scent that you only smell now when he’s this close, takes you back to that day when you first met James. He had leaned in too, whispering in your ear. You had felt his breath on your skin, breathed in his scent.

You feel an odd sense of deja vu, but for some reason, this interaction causes your heart to race out of pure fear, rather than the exhilarating rush you felt when you were with James. The realization causes you to snap out of your trance and go into full-on panic mode. “N-no, I’m sorry, I…”

Pan growls, not backing away. “Come one! How come you gave a villain a chance and you won’t give me one? That’s not fair!”

Your breathing quickens in pace, the panic settling over you and dragging you deep under like a wave at sea. Your palms start sweating profusely, and you can hear your heart racing a thousand miles a minute. You’re pretty sure this is what people mean when they mention one’s fight or flight response. 

“No! Just, just leave me alone!” you cry, ducking under his arm and rushing away from him just as the bell rings. You run into the hallway, trying to put as much distance between you and him as possible. 

You finally make it to the dining hall, plopping down at a table far away from your usual spot. You don’t care if you have to eat alone; anything to get away from Pan. Your mind is already wandering to thoughts of how to convince your Potions and Elixirs teacher to let you switch seats when you notice a lot of commotion next to the entrance of the dining hall. 

People have started crowding around the doors and murmuring to each other. Curious, you get up from your seat, wandering over to see what’s causing the commotion. As you near, you hear distant shouting and the sound of metallic clinking. You move even closer still, and finally catch snippets of people’s conversations.

“...fighting…”

“over…girl…” “Wait, who’s winning?”

“...did you see that?” “Oh my god…he’s gonna kill him!”

You try to stand up straight to get a look at what's causing the commotion, but the large crowd that has amassed blocks everything from view. “What’s going on?” you ask, not really to anyone in particular.

“Didn’t you hear?” a short, round boy, with big glasses to match his wide eyes answers. You recognize him as Smee from some of your classes. “James Hook is fighting a duel against Peter Pan!”

James…fighting…what? You blink in absolute disbelief. There is no way this is happening right now.

You manage to push your way to the front of the crowd, albeit not without many disgruntled mumbles thrown your way, until you get a clear view of the corridor in front of the dining hall.

You stand there, petrified, as you watch. Hell, it is really happening. James and Pan each have their swords unsheathed and are violently swinging them at each other’s heads, parrying the other’s attacks with deafening clashes of steel.

“You bastard!” James yells, taking another swing at Pan.

Pan jumps back, floating a few feet in the air as he does so, with a laugh. “Oh please, all I wanted to do was treat her right. Unlike you.”

James grits his teeth, countering Pan’s blow with one of his own. “You tried to steal my girl!”

Pan rolls his eyes, continuing the back-and-forth between their swords. “Your girl? As she said herself, you’re not even her lover.” James ducks down to avoid Pan’s latest attack. “Ha, how amusing indeed.” A dark glint shines in his eye as he lets out a cold and malicious laugh, before charging forward once again. “Of course I’m her lover, you bilge-sucking scoundrel! She belongs to me!”

Your eyes grow impossibly wider at those words. It shouldn’t come as much of a shock to you as it does; after all, it’s not like you and James haven’t been acting like a couple for the past few months. But still, you had managed to convince yourself that it was nothing serious, since he had never once directly talked about what you were. And hearing him say it out loud…declaring to the whole school that you were his…it made your heart feel unspeakable things.

“Well, you sure as hell don’t act that way,” Pan bites back, nicking James’s cheek. James recoils for a second, raising his hook to his face and wiping at the gash. He looks down at it, and from your front-row seat you can see the blood smeared against the glistening metal. 

James looks back up at Pan, raises his cutlass, and resumes the fight with a new vigor. Every hit more violent than the last, every offensive move aiming at a critical point. “I’m gonna kill you!” James yells as he lands a blow on Pan’s right arm. 

This gash seems rather deep—far deeper than the one previously inflicted on James—the blood already leaking out and staining Pan’s sleeve. He winces and steps back, but continues the fight. 

You stand there, motionless, too afraid to do anything. Maybe a braver person than you would step in, tell them to stop fighting. But your feet remain planted to the floor, your jaw aching from being clenched so hard as you pray for no one to get seriously hurt.

Pan parries one of James’s attacks and does a quick spin, rapidly gaining momentum with his sword as he turns around and aims the blade…

…directly at James’s head.

A small whimper escapes your throat as the roar of metal hitting metal echoes through the hall. You gasp, heart in your hands, as your eyes take a moment to register the scene in front of you.

James has caught Pan’s blade in the curve of his hook, holding it just inches away from his head. Their arms tremble with strain, with Pan trying to break James’s defense and slash through his neck, and James fighting to prevent him from doing so. They lock eyes, an endless, unspoken conversation passing between them in that moment. Pan’s sword inches closer to James’s head, whose back is bent as he struggles to hang on. 

With a sudden swoosh, James yanks his hook in a downward motion, spinning Pan’s sword inside of its arch. A terrible screech sounds at the rubbing of metal against metal as the sword gets wriggled free from Pan's grasp. James jerks his hook backwards, and the sword launches out of his opponent's hands.

The entire audience lets out a collective gasp as Pan’s sword lands with a clang! against the rough marble floors, off to the side. Everyone is dead silent, holding their breaths with anticipation of what’s to come.

You watch as the realization of his defeat dawns upon Pan, the fear blossoming in his eyes as James extends his cutlass to Pan’s throat. He presses the sharp tip into his neck, lightly enough not to break skin, but still firmly so no one, not even Pan, doubts his opponent's defeat.

“Apologize,” James demands, voice booming across the corridor, tone rather befitting for the captain of a ship.

“I-I’m sorry!” Pan pleas, just now aware of what a dangerous predicament he had gotten himself into.

“Not to me, you moron. To her.” James jerks his head backwards to where you’re standing, in the front of the audience, eyes blown wide. 

Pan turns to face you, eyes locking with yours amidst the crowd. “I’m sorry! Truly, I am! Please, forgive me!” he cries.

James snarls, pulling his sword back, poised to strike a lethal blow. He thrusts his hand forward, straight towards Pan’s chest…

…but doesn’t ever reach it.

Everyone watches, confused—James more so than anyone else—as his hand remains suspended in midair. A soft blue force field shimmers around his arm, just as loud footsteps and an old, yet assertive, voice fills the hall.

“Fighting on school grounds is strictly against school policy, you know.” The headmaster, Merlin, walks in from the opposite side of the hall. His steps echo loudly against the high ceilings, filling the otherwise dead-silent area. “Boys, you come with me. The rest of you, get to your classes.”

The crowd slowly disperses as Merlin whisks James and Pan away. You still stand there, feet glued to the floor, watching their backs until they disappear from sight.

You didn’t see neither James nor Pan in your classes for the rest of the day, and you assumed you wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. The headmaster was generally a kind soul, but he was strict when it came to breaking rules. You didn’t know what punishment he had come up with for them, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

Which is why you’re rather surprised when you open your locker at the end of the day to find a note flutter out and land at your feet. Curious, you pick it up and read it. “Meet me at our spot after school. -J.”

A small grin makes its way across your face, although you try your best to help it. You don’t know why, but reading James’s little notes always brings you joy, even if you are in a tight spot with him. 

You make your way to the courtyard, where James is waiting for you by the water fountain once again.

“Y/N,” he says, voice back to being gentle and soft. You open your mouth to respond, but he puts his hook against your lips, quieting you. “I need to get this out first before you yell at me.”

“I wanted to see you to apologize for my actions. After hearing what Pan said…” His eyes wander down to the ground as a grimace spreads across his features. “I’ve come to the realization that he’s right, love.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement, shocked at the confession. Cocking you head to the side, you wait for him to continue.

“I haven’t been treating you the way I should. And that is going to change, starting today. I also have to ask for your forgiveness for my actions earlier…it was wrong for me to get upset at you for speaking to Pan. But seeing you act so kindly to my enemy…it really struck something inside of me.”

“James,” you breathe, lifting his hook up to your cheek and placing your hand on top of it. “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“Even for dueling Pan?”

You let out a small giggle. “Yes, that too. Although, I must admit, I did find you fighting for me to be kind of attractive.”

“Oh?” James asks with an intrigued smile dancing on his lips. He uses his free hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. “Then I suppose I’ll have to start more fights then.”

You giggle again, happy to finally be in your lover’s arms. Truth be told, you had mentally forgiven him long ago. Ever since the night of your argument, you had just wished it would all end, that you two would go back to the way things were.

“Why...why did you start that fight with Pan?” you ask, the question having been on your mind for a while.

James slowly lets out a breath before responding. “Let’s just say, a little birdie told me of how he harassed you in class earlier today. The thought of him putting his hands on you…making you uncomfortable…it was just unbearable, love. I don't care what it cost me; he had to pay for what he did.”

You process this, giving a small nod. Although you don’t quite agree with his methods, you still find his protectiveness endearing.

“I have something to ask you, as well, darling,” James inquires. You meet his gaze, signaling for him to go on. “Did you really say that I wasn’t your lover?”

“I, well, uh…” your voice trails off. You were hoping that he hadn't quite caught that when Pan said it, but apparently he had. Glancing back up at James’s face, you wish you didn’t see the pain etched into his features, all but hidden by the mask he always puts up.

“Well…” you start. “You never said anything about us officially dating, and I didn’t want to presume…” You look down at your shoes, avoiding his burning stare.

James removes his hook from your cheek and slips it under your chin, gently tilting your head upwards towards him. “And here I thought that it was so obvious, I didn’t even need to mention it to you, my little mermaid.”

You give a small grin, finally at peace within your lover’s arms. “You can never be too sure,” you whisper, leaning in and intertwining your lips with his in a passionate kiss, the intensity building around the two of you.

James takes a few steps backwards as you lean into him, still locked in your embrace, his leg hitting the stone of the water fountain you two love to meet at. He maneuvers his way down and sits on the rim, pulling you on his lap. 

You wrap your arms around his torso, straddling his thighs. James puts his good hand on your waist, using his hook to pull you in by the collar of your shirt. You moan softly, the sound melodious as your rampant emotions spark the magical abilities inside you, one hand leaving his back and creeping inside his loose shirt.

You open your mouth as he slips his tongue inside, gently rocking on his legs. A groan escapes his lips as you rub your fingertips along the bare skin of his chest, moving lower to trace his rather well-defined abs. He moves his good hand down to your leg, gripping it tightly as he continues kissing you with a deep fervor. Everywhere he touches, he leaves a trail of fire on your skin. Your body ignites at even the slightest of brushes, a blaze consuming you inside and out.

Which is why when he raises his hook and brushes your cheek with the cold metal, the feeling is all-too welcomed. You nearly melt as your mind completely blanks, your senses overwhelmed. James doesn’t quite understand why his small gesture elicits such a reaction from you—you were now kissing him and moving with much more rigor than before—but he revels in the way you make him feel. You, on the other hand, get lost in the sharp contrast the coolness of his hook provides to your burning cheek, the inferno that swells around you ever-growing as you continue to have a passionate night with your lover.

The moon has its cycles, coming and going. When it disappears at the first rays of dawn, the tides yearn for its alluring and familiar presence yet again. And although it may seem like an eternity away, nightfall always comes, bringing with it the gentle serenity of being with the one you belong with.

You think back to the question you asked yourself not so long ago, If you could go back, would you change what happened, that fateful day you met James? In that moment, you decide, no, you wouldn’t. Because the life you have right now is the only one your heart will ever yearn for.

end x

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[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool onwards. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore but have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who have the same cut. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouts really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[loafysainz]

Accidentally, Forever | LN 4

lando norris x fem!reader

warn: 10000% fluff

happy reading!!!

Lando Norris and Y/N had been best friends for as long as they could remember. Their love story wasn’t one of grand confessions or slow-burn realizations—it was pure chaos, endless laughter, and the kind of bond that made people around them question how they hadn’t gotten together sooner.

Lando had spent years calling Y/N every ridiculous nickname under the sun—idiot, gremlin, monkey, even “bro” sometimes—but never anything remotely romantic. Not seriously, anyway. But now, standing in their dimly lit bedroom on their first night as husband and wife, the reality of their new titles suddenly hit them both at the same time.

“Honey?” Lando tested out, his voice soft but uncertain, like he was tasting a new flavor of ice cream.

Y/N, already sitting cross-legged on the bed in her oversized pajamas (because there was no way she was spending her first night as a married woman in some cliché silk nightgown), looked at him with wide eyes.

Lando swallowed. “Baby?”

Silence.

They stared at each other.

Then, as if a switch flipped, they both BURST into uncontrollable laughter. Lando bent over, clutching his stomach, while Y/N fell back against the pillows, gasping for air.

“NO, NO, NO,” Y/N wheezed, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “YOU DID NOT JUST CALL ME BABY.”

“I THOUGHT—” Lando tried to defend himself between fits of laughter, his face turning red. “I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE!”

“IT’S NOT!” Y/N practically screamed, smacking him repeatedly with a pillow. “YOU’RE DISGUSTING. GET AWAY FROM ME.”

“I’M YOUR HUSBAND NOW, YOU CAN’T ESCAPE!” Lando yelped, grabbing another pillow and weakly swatting her back. He wasn’t even trying to fight back properly because he was still laughing too hard.

Y/N rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow like a lifeline. “No, but actually, it’s so WEIRD hearing you say that! Like—YOU? Calling ME that?”

Lando flopped onto his back beside her, dramatically throwing an arm over his forehead. “Oh my god. We’re actually MARRIED. Like, legally.”

“Yeah,” Y/N snorted, wiping her tears. “And you just ruined our first night by calling me BABY.”

“Would you rather ‘darling’? ‘Love’? ‘Sweetheart’?” Lando turned his head towards her, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N fake-gagged. “Don’t you DARE.”

Lando smirked, shifting onto his side to face her. “What if I called you ‘Mrs. Norris’?”

Y/N’s whole body tensed. Her mouth fell open. And then she let out an earsplitting squeal before grabbing a pillow and SMACKING him in the face.

“OH MY GOD, NOOOOOO,” she shrieked, kicking her legs. “I HATE IT. I HATE IT SO MUCH.”

Lando was crying with laughter now, barely able to hold onto the pillow in his hands. “STOP HITTING ME, WIFEY.”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP,” Y/N yelled, still flustered beyond belief. “WHY DID I MARRY YOU? I REGRET EVERYTHING.”

“No you don’t.” Lando grinned, tossing his pillow aside and yanking her into his arms despite her weak protests. “You love me.”

Y/N let out a dramatic sigh, finally giving up as she melted into his embrace. “Unfortunately, yeah. I do.”

Lando kissed the top of her head, his voice teasing yet impossibly soft. “Good. Because I love you more.”

Y/N groaned. “Gross.”

Lando chuckled. “Better get used to it, Mrs. Norris.”

“STOPPP.”

But despite her exaggerated protests, she snuggled closer into his arms, feeling a kind of happiness she’d never known before. Because as ridiculous as he was, Lando was hers. Forever.

A comfortable silence settled between them, their laughter finally dying down, replaced by the quiet hum of contentment. Lando turned his head, looking at Y/N with the softest, most heart-melting smile she had ever seen. It was the kind of smile that felt like home, like warmth, like he had never been happier in his life.

“I’m so happy it’s you,” he whispered, voice laced with pure sincerity. “I don’t think I’d ever want to do this with anyone else.”

Y/N felt her heart squeeze, her breath hitching at the overwhelming adoration in his gaze. She didn’t even think before she smiled back, mirroring the softness in his eyes. And then, she leaned in, pressing the gentlest kiss against his lips, slow and sweet, as if sealing the words he just said into her heart forever.

Lando melted instantly, his hands slipping around her waist, pulling her closer. When they pulled apart, his forehead rested against hers, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m so, so in love with you.”

Y/N let out a small, breathless laugh, cupping his face. “Good. Because I’m so, so in love with you too.”

—

The morning after their utterly chaotic first night together, Y/N woke up earlier than Lando. She was still comfortably wrapped in his arms, his body pressed snugly against her from behind. His warmth, the soft rise and fall of his breathing, the way he unconsciously nuzzled into her—it was all so new, yet oddly familiar. 

She didn’t dare move too much, afraid of waking him up, so instead, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and started scrolling through social media. Lando, blissfully unaware, remained buried in the crook of her neck, his face slightly smushed against her shoulder. Every now and then, he’d unconsciously tighten his arms around her, as if making sure she wouldn’t disappear. 

Y/N bit back a small smile, finding his clinginess endearing. She continued scrolling, her screen now playing an edit of Gojo Satoru—white hair, blue eyes, smug little smirk. She watched, completely engrossed, until she felt the slightest shift behind her. 

A low, playful voice broke through the quiet morning air. 

“Good morning, baby,” Lando mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, yet teasing all the same. 

Y/N, caught off guard, let out a small laugh and immediately swatted the hand that was still wrapped around her waist. 

“Ew, stop—so cringe,” she giggled, scrunching her nose. 

Lando only chuckled, his arms refusing to let go. Instead, he pulled her even closer, his lips pressing lazy kisses into her hair. His voice was huskier now, laced with amusement. “You love it. Admit it.” 

Y/N only hummed in response, too distracted by the video still playing on her phone. Lando, finally cracking open his eyes, blinked groggily at the screen in front of her. It took him a second to process before he groaned dramatically. 

“Wow. Nice. Watching edits of another guy first thing in the morning.” 

Y/N grinned before turning in his hold to face him. She looked up at him, eyes playful, and simply said, “Hehe… Gojo’s hot.” 

Lando’s reaction was immediate. With a scoff, he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him as he started attacking her face with kisses. “Excuse me? Say that again? Go on, I dare you,” he teased between kisses, his hands already trailing down to tickle her sides. 

Y/N burst into laughter, squirming under him. “No, stop—Landooo!” 

But Lando wasn’t done. He pulled back slightly, his gaze softening as he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real. Like she was the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen. 

“You know… do you ever just—realize how insanely beautiful you are?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Like, what kind of dream did I wake up from to actually end up with you? I don’t even know what I did in my past life to deserve you. I must’ve saved the whole damn world or something.”

Y/N felt warmth bloom in her chest, her teasing smile faltering just a little. Instead of answering right away, she reached up, cupping his cheek gently. 

“Do you ever realize how insanely handsome you are?” she countered, voice soft. “Like… what kind of dream did I wake up from to have you?” 

Lando stared at her for a moment before groaning, dropping his head against her shoulder dramatically. “Okay, yeah, that was unfairly cute. My heart can’t handle it. I’m literally never letting you go.” 

And, well—he didn’t. At least, not for the next several minutes. 

Because one second, they were teasing and giggling like the best friends they had always been… and the next, the air shifted, laughter turning into something softer, something warmer. The way Lando’s lips brushed against her skin, the way his fingers skimmed lightly along her waist—it was slow, unhurried, almost like he was memorizing every inch of her. 

And before either of them realized it, the playful morning cuddles turned into something a lot more heated. 

—

After spending the whole day holed up in their honeymoon suite, Lando and Y/N finally decided to step out for dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. It was one of those fancy, candlelit places—low lighting, soft music playing in the background, the kind of atmosphere that practically screamed romance.  

They were seated at a cozy little corner table, the flickering candlelight making everything feel a little more… intimate. Y/N was skimming the menu when Lando, in the softest, most honey-drenched voice, leaned in slightly and asked, "What do you want to order, baby?" 

Y/N’s head snapped up instantly. 

Their eyes met. 

There was an immediate spark of amusement in both their gazes. They tried to hold it in, but their lips twitched as they struggled not to break into laughter. 

Y/N pressed her lips together, dropping her gaze slightly, while Lando squinted at her with a knowing smirk, as if daring her to say something. But neither of them spoke—they just sat there, exchanging barely contained giggles like two idiots in love. 

Finally, when the waiter arrived, Y/N took the lead, clearing her throat before speaking. With a sweet smile, she said, “My husband will have…” 

Lando froze. 

She didn’t even say anything crazy. Just husband. A completely normal term for a newly married couple. But oh, that didn’t stop his entire brain from short-circuiting on the spot. 

Poker. Face. Activated. 

He was sitting up straighter, lips pressed together, and staring ahead like he had just been personally attacked. But it was useless—because right after, his lips twitched, and before he could stop himself, a slow, completely flustered smile stretched across his face. 

Meanwhile, the waiter nodded, completely unaware of Lando’s internal crisis. Y/N, as if nothing was wrong, continued, “The Filetto di Manzo with truffle sauce, please. And for me…” She went on, placing her own order effortlessly. 

His wife—HIS WIFE—just called him her husband so casually. And not to him, but to someone else. Out loud. Publicly. 

The moment the waiter left, Lando exhaled, looking down with a bright smile and—without even thinking—reached up to fix his hair. His perfectly neat hair. 

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, watching as he unnecessarily smoothed a hand through his curls, biting back a grin. 

“Did you just—” 

“Shut up.”

Y/N smirked, tilting her head teasingly. “Are you blushing?” 

Lando scoffed, shaking his head, but the growing pink tint on his cheeks told another story. “No.” 

Y/N leaned in with a knowing grin. “Mhm. Sure.” 

Without another word, Lando suddenly cupped her cheek and pressed a quick, warm kiss to it. The simple gesture made her entire face heat up, and now she was the one frozen in place.

By the time he pulled away, Y/N’s face was on fire. “Lando!” she squeaked, hands instinctively flying to her warm cheeks. 

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence, though his smirk completely betrayed him. “I just wanted to thank my wife for ordering for me.” 

That did it. 

They both burst into nervous giggles, laughing into their hands, kicking each other lightly under the table, both way too overwhelmed by the sheer cringe and cuteness of it all. 

Best friends to lovers was a really, really adorable mess. 

—

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of soft gold and warm amber. Gentle waves rolled onto the shore, their rhythmic hum blending seamlessly with the occasional distant laughter of seagulls. The air smelled of salt and coconut, a perfect blend of nature’s embrace and the luxurious scent of sunscreen.

Lando stretched his arms above his head, tilting his face toward the sun as he relaxed into the plush lounge chair. His fingers idly played with the end of Y/N’s beach sarong, a teasing habit he’d picked up over the years of knowing her. They had been talking about the most random things for the past hour—why crabs walk sideways, whether pineapples belong on pizza, and the absurdity of seagulls looking like they always had an attitude.

But then something clicked in his head.

His brows furrowed, a sudden realization making him sit up slightly. Five days. They had been in this private beach villa for five whole days. Five days of stolen kisses, shared sunsets, lazy mornings tangled in sheets, and yet—

“Wait a sec,” Lando blurted out, turning to her with an exaggerated look of betrayal. “You haven’t called me ‘baby’ once this entire honeymoon.”

Y/N, who had been sipping on a fresh coconut with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it, nearly choked. “Huh?”

Lando crossed his arms, his lips pressing into a pout. “You heard me. Not even a ‘babe’ or a ‘love’ or—or—I don’t know, a cute little nickname. It’s been five days, Y/N. Five. Days.”

Y/N’s face warmed instantly, and she shifted uncomfortably, staring out at the waves as if the ocean might offer her an escape route. “What are you even talking about?” she mumbled, trying to sound unbothered.

Lando scooted closer, his face inches from hers now, grinning like the little menace he was. “Don’t ‘what are you even talking about’ me,” he teased, nudging her shoulder with his. “You’re telling me you can’t call me something cute? You call Max ‘dumbass’ more affectionately than you call me anything.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Lando, shut up.”

“Oh-ho, no, no, no. This is important. This is a honeymoon emergency.” He turned on his side, propping his head up on one hand as he smirked at her. “Alright, we’re gonna do this step by step.”

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers. “What?”

Lando grinned mischievously. “Repeat after me. B—A—B—Y.”

Her jaw dropped as she immediately shot him a glare. “Lando, stop.”

“Nope. C’mon, love, humor me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “B—A—B—Y.”

Y/N sighed heavily, clearly regretting every life choice that led her to this moment. But under his persistent, teasing gaze, she finally relented. “B—A—B—Y,” she mumbled.

Lando beamed. “And what does that spell?”

Y/N hesitated for half a second before deadpanning, “Bro.”

Silence. Then—

Lando’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief before he burst into uncontrollable laughter, collapsing onto the lounge chair in a fit of giggles. Y/N, unable to hold it in anymore, joined him, her laughter ringing through the private beach like music.

“Oh my god, you’re actually the worst,” Lando wheezed between laughs, wiping at his eyes. “You really just friendzoned me on our honeymoon?”

Y/N nodded, her shoulders shaking. “Bro, I guess I did.”

Lando groaned dramatically before pulling her into his arms, nuzzling into her shoulder. “Unbelievable. Actually unbelievable.”

She hummed, resting her chin on his tousled curls, still giggling. “You’ll live.”

“Oh, will I?” Lando huffed before tilting his head up, pressing his lips to her jaw. Then another kiss—on her cheek, then her nose, then the corner of her lips. “What if I never recover from this heartbreak?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks burned under his touch. “You’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” Lando sighed dramatically again before wrapping his arms tighter around her, pulling her onto his lounge chair so she was practically half on top of him. “Guess I’ll just have to cuddle my way through the pain.”

Y/N smiled against his chest, inhaling the scent of salt and sun-warmed skin. “Such a tragedy.”

“The worst.”

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, as the sun began its slow descent into the horizon. The sky transformed into a masterpiece of pinks, oranges, and purples, casting a warm glow over the private beach. The waves continued their endless dance, whispering secrets to the shore, but in that moment, nothing else existed but them.

Lando tilted his head slightly, peering down at her. “You’re really not gonna call me baby, are you?”

Y/N grinned sleepily against his chest. “We’ll see, bro.”

Lando groaned, dropping his head back against the chair. “I hate you.”

She chuckled, pressing a small kiss to his collarbone. “No, you don’t.”

“…Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed happily, his fingers drawing mindless patterns along her back. “I love you, actually.”

Y/N lifted her head, meeting his gaze, something soft and unspoken passing between them. “I love you too, bro.”

Lando let out an exaggerated whine before flipping them over, caging her beneath him with a playful growl. “You are the absolute worst!”

Y/N shrieked, laughing as he tickled her sides, their laughter mixing with the sound of the ocean. And just like that, under the golden glow of a perfect sunset, Lando kissed her breathless—because even if she was the worst, she was his worst.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[celli-ohs]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 TXT's Hello Baby!

. . . aka TXT as "fathers" starring in the variety show 'Hello Baby'

genre: headcanons, fluff, a lil bit of crack, a teeny bit of angst warnings: none! word count: 2.3k

author's note: I've been having baby fever, so I was rewatching Hello Baby, specifically SHINee's season (my fav!). it got me thinking of how TXT would be on this show. I spent way more time writing this than I should have, it's been in my drafts for so long with how much I added over weeks lmao. lmk if you guys like this! i might do other groups depending on how well this does lol

comments/reblogs appreciated!!✗♡✗♡

WHAT'S HELLO BABY?

Hello Baby is a variety show by KBS in which idols experience parenthood by caring for one or more babies or toddlers for a certain period of time, usually a couple of months. They also perform "missions" throughout the show to test their skills as parents. The show aired from 2009 to 2013 and starred popular idols like Girls' Generation and SHINee!

The idol groups are usually given letters from the families regarding the children's health, habits, and likes. The show also shines a light on how each child has a different personality, how they express their feelings, and how the idols themselves learn to raise children and help them grow as individuals. Their missions can consist of something small, like making the children snacks, or something larger, for example creating a musical with the kids (MBLAQ did this in their season!). Usually, every episode each group member will compete to see who is the best "parent" by having the children pick who they like the most.

For TXT, I imagine them having to care for two children. To make it fair in this headcanon, one boy and one girl, both between the ages 3-5. (All of my headcanons are based off of interactions TXT has had with children from various videos and media found off the internet!)

CHOI YEONJUN ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

the type of “dad” that is extremely affectionate to the children, he’s a sucker for aegyo, smiles, kisses, etc.

he can't help but spoil them, he will buy them as many gifts as they want if that makes them happy, even if his wallet goes empty

he loves skinship the most: giving/receiving hugs and kisses, tickling, cuddling, and he'll even wrestle with the kids for fun

but sometimes this can feel suffocating for the kids, they’ll push him away at times

he is really good at playing with them, specifically in role-playing! he can be a monster, a patient, a superhero, whatever the kids want

he likes to dress up for them too, even if the kids costumes don't fit his long lanky body he will wear it with pride

is really dramatic when he plays, if he's a doctor's patient expect him to be howling in pain

will definitely make a fool of himself in hopes of making them laugh

he tries to impress them with his dance moves, but they don’t really care, this hurts his pride lol

he makes sure those kids eat good, and will make/order any food they want

while he’s really good with the children when they’re happy, he has a harder time when they’re upset, sad, or angry

when one or both of them cry, he will panic and try to make the situation better rather than comfort them

when they’re feeling down or upset, he will try to make them laugh, which works sometimes, others he will fail

when the kids are angry, whether at him or another member, he has a hard time trying to diffuse the situation

he doesn’t want to be too aggressive and scare them yet he also wants to be able to discipline them, usually it ends with the kids crying anyway

he's voted the 3rd most popular "dad", a position he excitedly accepts, he’s happy the children like him so much

at the end of the show, when giving his video letter to the kids, he will tear up and cry a little, he didn't expect to become so attached to them but he's happy and grateful to have met them

I think he'd keep in touch the most after the show, video calls, little dates, he'd even invite the children to showcases/fan meetings if the families allow

CHOI SOOBIN ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

the type of "dad" who is responsible and reliant but he’s a worrywart

is always checking up on the kids: making sure they like the food, the clothes they wear, and how they’re feeling

he used to not like/really care for kids, but now has a soft spot for them

he’s absolutely baffled and in love with how tiny the kids are compared to him, he thinks it’s so cute how someone can be so tiny and not know

he’s probably the most gentle of the members around the children

he holds them like they're made of glass

he loves it when the children talk to him, whether it’s intelligible or not he likes their baby talk he finds it super cute

likes to imitate them because of this (he, Yeonjun, and Kai do this the most)

he doesn't ask for kisses or hugs bc he doesn't want to feel like he's forcing the kids to show him affection so he really cherishes when they do

when it comes to playing with the kids though he's lacking, mainly because he has difficulty immersing himself in their games

he will still try his best though, and because of that the kids still enjoy playing with him

will play video games with the kids! something family-friendly, like Mario kart, will have one of the kids sit in his lap and "help" them

soobin is really good at comforting the children though! If they cry he will gladly hold them, pet their hair, rock them back and forth, sing a little, anything to make them feel better

when the children become upset or angry, he panics bc he feels the need to fix the situation as fast as possible, he doesn't like to see the children upset or fighting each other

he's voted 4th best "dad" and honestly he's upset, but at least he's not in last place

still petty as hell though, so he's complaining that he's 4th despite all of his efforts to get along and close to the children

he cries in his video letter. 100%. He just loves the time he got to spend with the kids and he's going to miss them so much, he's really thankful

he keeps in touch, but not as often as Yeonjun. he will call once in a while and go visit with a couple of members every few months

CHOI BEOMGYU ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

the type of "dad" to act silly and plays with the kids, he wants to relate to them so they like him more

yet bc of this he often embarrasses himself in front of the kids, his members, the audience...

except he's rough, and often goes overboard; he forgets how young they are

also has a tendency to make everything a competition?? will literally brag to the kids that he's better than them (like bro ur a grown-ass man??)

has definitely made the children cry more than once, proceeds to fake cry louder than them

he doesn't mind skinship or affection from the kids, he accepts it graciously

he just won't initiate it himself, he doesn't feel the need to(?) he'd rather have the children verbally tell him they like him or show it by choosing him over the other members

he really likes talking with the children he finds that their perspective on life and how the world works is a bit refreshing, it reminds him of simpler times

when the kids ask him questions, he gives them silly answers

for example: "will a watermelon grow in your tummy if you eat a seed?"

beomgyu will say that it's not true, then eat a watermelon seed in front of them and the next day stuff his shirt and show the children his watermelon tummy

and yes he will scream about how they need to be careful the next time they eat fruits (they started crying because they thought he was sick)

another one who freaks out when the kids cry or get upset he really doesn't know what to do!

he will be visibly panicked, trying to calm them down with promises of a new toy, looking around the room for a member who can help him

but like I said, he's the cause for half of the children's breakdowns, so most of the time when they cry, he gets put in time-out

is voted last place... I mean are we surprised...

will literally start arguing with the kids for picking him last

in his video letter, I don't imagine him crying, but you can tell he's very sentimental, so much so that you would not recognize him to be the naughty "dad" of the group, he seems so pure

surprisingly he will visit them the second most often after the show! the kids love to play with him so he likes to take them to the park or just hang with them at their homes (he still makes them cry though smh)

KANG TAEHYUN ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

(im ngl i have the least info based on taehyun, there's like even fewer interactions of him with kids that I could find but these are my assumptions with what I could see)

the type of "dad" who is cool and knowledgeable, he's himself but like toned down for kids tbh

is incredibly sweet to them, will indulge in their questions, imagination, etc

knows that children's brains are like sponges, so he tries to turn everything into a fun learning experience!

the way he plays with the kids is through arts and crafts, reading/storytelling, and of course exercising

loves to take the kids to the park, he will most definitely teach them to stretch before running/playing to help their muscles

does magic for the kids! omg they eat it up!! once they know he can do magic they fall in love with him, they call him a wizard

similar to Soobin, he lets the children choose when they want to give kisses and hugs but he also will ask for them as well when he feels like it, just not as frequently as Yeonjun

is surprisingly good at mediating whenever the kids are upset or angry; sure he panics a little, but he's good at hiding it and talking to the kids through their feelings

his only downside is that he doesn't seem to realize the kids are not feeling happy until it's too late, one too many times he has been confused as to why they're crying (if beomgyu isn't the reason)

he has a really calming energy that the children like, it's like it transfers to them they're the best behaved with him

The kids listen to him the most, but no one can pinpoint the exact reason why (Yeonjun and Soobin think it’s because his voice is stern yet reassuring, while Kai and Beomgyu believe it’s because the kids think he's a real wizard and are scared of getting cursed)

is voted 2nd place! he's very proud of this! and yes he does make fun of every member who's below him!

his video letter is very heartfelt, he doesn't cry but you can really feel his sincerity through his message and you can tell he learned a lot about parenting

I like to think that he tends to visit the kids after the show sporadically, sometimes he's alone, sometimes with members, sometimes for hours, sometimes for minutes

HUENING KAI ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

the "type" of dad who is like a best friend! he's so supportive and loving it's hard to not love him back

is not only kind, he's also very observant and understanding of the children, is the best of the members when it comes to communicating with the children

out of all members I'd say he's the most quipped to being the best "dad" (all thanks to Lea and Bahiyyih!)

they feel a lot of security with him, he's really reassuring and trustworthy

is the best at playing with the kids! no matter what the kids want to do that day, he will give his all and is really quick to adapt to the kids' quick thinking and rule-changing

will play harmless tricks on the other members with the children!

he takes a genuine interest in whatever the kids like, he wants to know why they like it even if he's unfamiliar or not good at it

likes to try and make even normal things fun for the kids, like brushing their teeth, grocery shopping, cleaning the room etc

like Soobin he plays video games with them but always lets the kids win (unlike Beomgyu)

this guy will pull out his guitar and play songs for the kids! actually, any instrument he can get a hold of he will play for them

forms his own lil band with them, teaches them to be gentle with the instruments

will learn to play nursery songs/any song they like so that the kids can sing along (Beomgyu tried this too but could not keep up with the amount of song requests)

again I think it's because he's the middle child, but he's the best at diffusing arguments/fights and mediating such

instead of yelling or getting upset he will try to find a way to comply with both parties

but he also understands that he can't always be friendly, and has moments where he needs to be a bit more serious with the children, he knows how to discipline without scaring the kids or making them feel worse

was voted 1st place! (if you think I'm biased, please watch him and soobin on return of superman on youtube he'd be a great dad!)

is so happy he will dance, sing, bro is having a concert for this immense win

his video letter is so sweet! Kai rarely cries, but I like to imagine he does think extremely fondly of the two children because they remind him of his own family with he was younger so he's a bit more sensitive than usual

but uh oh! bro ghosts them kids just like he ghosts everyone else lmao! the kids only see him when he tags along with the other members, someone is already on the call with them, or just randomly out of the blue (it's not that he doesn't care, he just has a hard time keeping up with people in general)

perm taglist (open): @ancnymcnzjy

kpop masterlist ˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

bookshelf ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

[cece693]

That fic you wrote about Steve and Buck and the reader drafted for war? How dare you, my heart shattered and now I gotta sweep the pieces up. (I mean this in the best way possible) your writing is absolutely incredible. Keep it up I can’t wait to see what you do next and I’d love to see more of Steve/bucky or just Steve/just bucky.

Awww, thank you so much! I loved how the fic came out and am surprised to see others also liking it. I do have some ideas on how to make it more angsty but for now, I want to include the reader just sending letters to his boys and making them worried sick for his wellbeing. Enjoy!

Promise to Return Pt. 2

Time had a funny way of dragging on in the months after you left. Steve and Bucky both felt it—even when the sun was shining or the city was bustling, there was a hollowness that settled in the space you once filled. It started with little things: Bucky snapping at Steve for something trivial—like leaving the window open or tapping his foot constantly—and Steve responding in a sharp tone. Neither wanted to talk about why they were really frustrated; neither wanted to voice the truth that haunted them: You were gone, in harm’s way, and they could do nothing about it.

The day your first letter arrived, it felt like a jolt of electricity through the tired hush of the apartment. They tore it open together, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. The scrawl inside was messy, words cramped like you’d had to fit every sentence onto a tiny scrap of paper:

Dear Steve and Bucky, I’ve only been gone a short while, but it feels like years. Some nights, I lay awake in the thin canvas tent we’re calling home, and all I can think of is the warmth of your arms. I’d give anything to feel you beside me, even if only for a moment. Life here is a blur of training drills, endless marching, and the constant dirt that clings to everything—my uniform, my boots, my skin. But I’m okay. Sometimes I can almost hear you, Buck, telling me to keep my chin up the way you always do. And Stevie, I picture that soft smile of yours and the determination in your eyes. It gives me courage. We haven’t seen combat yet, but word is we’ll be moving closer to the front soon. I try not to think about the danger. Instead, I think of home—of you two, and how you always fought over who got to hold me first. (I hope you’re still not fighting too much, but if you are, at least kiss and make up afterward, all right?) I miss you both more than I thought possible. Write me back. Tell me everything—tell me how Brooklyn’s holding up, how my folks are doing, and most of all, how you’re doing. Stay safe. I love you, always.

They read it three times over. By the time they finished, tears stained both of their cheeks. They quickly pulled out a pen, set on informing you about what's been happening in town, how your parents are handling things and how much they missed you. They tried to make it sound comforting, hopeful, full of love. Because that was the part of them that still worked—the love. The arguments were brutal, but then another letter would arrive and everything would return to normal—as if you were the glue holding their love from crumbling to dust.

My Steve and Bucky, It’s been a rough few weeks. I don’t want to worry you too much, but I’d rather be honest. The mud is up to our ankles, constant rain drenching us to the bone. The nights are long and cold. I’ve been pushing through, though. Some days, I can’t get the memory of home out of my head—the smell of fresh-baked bread from the bakery near the apartment, the warmth of your arms around me when you’d both squeeze in close at night. We had a scare yesterday—enemy planes overhead. The bombs fell close, rattling our nerves. But I got lucky, walked away with just a few scrapes. I keep telling myself, “If I can make it through one more day, I’ll be one day closer to home.” If you’re fighting, promise me you’ll make up by the time I get back. I’m counting on the two of you to be in one piece—physically and emotionally—when I step off that train. I want to come home to the two men I love, not a cold apartment full of bitterness. I love you both, deeply. Write soon—hearing from you gives me a kind of strength nothing else can. —Yours (always)

They clutched that page, tears trailing down their cheeks. Steve rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder, and for once, Bucky let him. They stayed that way for a while, breathing in tandem, wishing you weren’t so far away.

It wasn’t until months had passed that Bucky and Steve realized, with sinking dread, that your most recent letter had in fact been your final one. At first, neither of them wanted to believe it. It had arrived, tattered at the edges and water-stained from its journey across war-torn oceans, but it had arrived, and so they assumed more would follow. They devoured your words over and over, clinging to the affection you poured onto the page:

My Brooklyn Boys, I’m all right, but things are worse than ever. We’ve moved positions so many times I can’t keep track of addresses. This might be my last chance to write for a while—our lines are closing in on the enemy, and rumor says we’ll be engaged in heavy fighting soon. I won’t lie to you: I’m scared. I’ve seen good men go down this week. Men I shared cigarettes with and talked about what was awaiting us back home. It’s hard to see that and not wonder if I’m next. But I made a promise to come back. I hold onto that promise for dear life, the promise of seeing your faces again, feeling your arms around me. Maybe that’s naïve. But hope is all we have sometimes. Please forgive me if the letters stop for a bit. I’ll try to keep them coming, but I can’t control what happens here. Just know that, no matter what happens, I love you both with everything I have and am. I think about you constantly. Be safe, and be strong for each other.

When your final letter first arrived, neither Bucky nor Steve panicked. You’d warned them: “Forgive me if the letters stop for a bit,” and they assumed it would be a short break—maybe a week or two before you found another chance to put pen to paper. After all, you’d been late before, but never by more than a month. Two months, at most.

But five entire months dragged by. Five months of an empty mailbox. Five months of carefully folded hopes, clutched tight each morning and slowly unraveling each night.

They reread that last note so often its edges grew soft, the folds worn from constant handling. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Steve would wake to find Bucky asleep in the armchair, your letter clutched in his hand as if he’d drifted off tracing the curve of your words. Other times, Bucky would come home to find Steve hunched over the kitchen table, silent tears slipping onto the paper. No matter how many times they scoured each line, the reality never changed: you were gone, and they had no clue where you were, or if you were even alive.

Bucky was the first to snap under the weight of uncertainty. He’d been restless for weeks, ducking out late in the evenings, returning with a haunted look in his eyes. One night, as Steve sat hunched at the dinner table, rereading your last note for what felt like the thousandth time, Bucky slammed the door behind him.

“I just enlisted.”

For a moment, the words didn’t compute. Steve blinked, setting the letter aside. “You—what?”

“I went to the recruiter’s office,” Bucky repeated, his voice trembling with anger and fear all at once. “I signed the papers, Steve. I’m shipping out as soon as they process me.”

Steve shot to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. “What the hell, Buck?” he demanded. “We talked about this! We were waiting—for news, for a letter—”

Bucky’s fists clenched. “That’s the thing, Stevie. There isn’t any news. Not for five months! It’s been radio silence out there. God only knows what’s happened—I can’t just sit here hoping a letter might show up tomorrow.”

“You think I like sitting here, not knowing if he’s alive or not?” Steve’s voice cracked, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “But enlisting— that’s not how we were supposed to handle this. You remember what he wrote. He wanted us to be safe!”

Bucky let out a mirthless laugh. “Safe? While he might be—” His words choked off, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“So your solution is to go get yourself killed, too!?”

The argument escalated quickly—voices echoed off the walls, rehashing every fear they’d kept bottled up. “Why didn't you talk to me first?" Steve sought. “We could’ve come up with something else! We’re supposed to be a team.”

“I am talking to you, right now,” Bucky shot back, though guilt was already gnawing at him. “I just—I couldn’t wait any longer. If you’d seen your own face these past months…you’re wasting away, Stevie. We both are.”

“That’s why we have to stick together!” Steve insisted, tears finally slipping. “He’d want us looking out for each other. Not running off alone.” He stared at Bucky, betrayal written all over his face. “So, that’s it? You’re leaving, and I’m just—what, supposed to watch you go?”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Bucky admitted, throat working as he swallowed back tears. “But I don’t see another option. If the recruiters won’t take you, you’ll be stuck here anyway. At least this way, one of us is in the field. I can look for him, find out something.”

“That’s not good enough,” Steve murmured, voice thick with sorrow. “I can’t lose you too.”

Bucky’s eyes hardened at those words. He heard what Steve said, but all he could feel was anger coiling in his chest. It wasn’t just rage at the war or at your disappearance—it was anger at Steve, for voicing the unthinkable. “Lose me?” he echoed, fists clenching at his sides. “So you’ve already made up your mind that we lost him? That he’s…gone?”

“Don’t twist my words.”

“You’re the one acting like he’s dead!” Bucky barked, voice raw. His breath came shallow and ragged, as if each inhale cut him like glass.

“That’s not what I said,” Steve protested, but his shaky tone betrayed the fear he tried so hard to hide.

Bucky stepped closer, the tension between them bristling. “Then why are you telling me you ‘can’t lose me too’? Huh?” His voice wavered on the last word, hands trembling as he fought the urge to punch something—anything to escape this horrible feeling in his chest. “I’m not dying, Steve. I’m fighting to find him. Because I still believe he’s alive—why can’t you?”

“I do believe,” Steve said, voice trembling. “But it’s been five months since his last letter, Buck.”

“And that means we give up?” Bucky’s tone was half-accusation, half-plea. The weight of those months of silence crashed down on him, but he refused to accept it. His eyes burned. “You think I don’t feel that ache every day? I wake up and wonder if today’s the day we find out…something. But I won’t let it be the day we give up hope.”

Steve looked away, a harsh sob caught in his throat. “We’re not giving up. But we have to face facts. You’re running off to sign up for a war you might not come back from. What if—what if he never…”

Bucky flinched as though struck. “Don’t,” he hissed, voice frayed. “Stop saying ‘never.’ He’s out there somewhere—maybe buried in the thick of it, pinned down, unable to write. Maybe—” His words broke into a choked whisper. “Maybe he’s just trying to survive.”

Steve tried to speak, but emotion knotted his throat, and no sound came out. He watched as Bucky turned on his heel and stormed toward the door, tension radiating off him like a storm about to break. “Buck, please,” Steve managed at last, almost stumbling after him. “Don’t—Where are you going?”

Bucky paused with his hand on the doorknob, shoulders heaving. He half-turned, giving Steve a wounded stare. “I need space because sitting here in this apartment for another second without answers is killing me. If you won't stand by me—" He swallowed hard. “Maybe you never really believed in him coming back at all.”

“That’s not fair,” Steve croaked, but Bucky was already out the door, slamming it behind him with a resounding crack that seemed to echo through the empty rooms.

For a long moment, Steve simply stared, heart hammering in his chest. Then reality hit him like a punch to the gut, and he crumpled to his knees right there in the entrance hall. A ragged sob tore from his throat, shaking his entire body.

He pressed his hands to his face, unable to stop the torrent of tears. All he could see was the half-faded memory of you—your warm smile, the way you used to loop an arm around his shoulders or tug Bucky into a playful headlock. All he could hear was Bucky’s agonized accusation: Maybe you never really believed in him coming back at all.

“It’s not true,” Steve whispered to the empty air, voice cracking. “I swear it’s not.” But there was no one around to hear him. Nothing but the echo of silence, and the ghost of your promise that you’d find your way home—somehow.

Alone on the floor, Steve felt his tears drying on his cheeks. He pressed a trembling hand over his chest, breathing shallowly. There was a decision to be made, and the path ahead loomed like a dark tunnel. If Bucky was willing to risk his life enlisting, then maybe Steve had to do something equally drastic. For you…and maybe, for Bucky too.

But in that moment, he couldn’t do anything but shudder under the weight of it all. Bucky’s words—and your absence—cut deeper than any wound. And the only thing Steve knew for sure was that he couldn’t stand idly by while Bucky charged headlong into the unknown. One way or another, he had to try to keep them all from falling apart.

[sjywrites]

༊*·˚ Prada & Versace (dropped)

: ̗̀➛ 𝓢ugar 𝓓addy!𝓛ee 𝓗eeseung x 𝓕!reader. 𝓖enre smut, fluff, age gap, s2l. 𝓢ypnosis where reader is a broke and single college student celebrating her best friends birthday, and at said party she meets someone who might solve more than just one of her problems. 𝓦𝓒 estimated 5-10k. 𝓒𝓦 age gap, oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pet names (good girl, baby, slut in an affectionate way!), mentions of alcohol, both hee and reader smokes, reader is a bit intoxicated but still fully aware of what she’s doing.

𝓝ote this is a sneak-peak of the actual story, this is the first story I’ve ever posted on tumblr so if you see anything that I can improve, please let me know. I want the first story I post to be good enough for me to be motivated to keep writing!

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

Edit: this fic will be dropped, I've lost full motivation for it and it doesn't really fit what I want to write in the future. Sorry.

Flashing lights, loud music and the smell of sweaty bodies. That’s what most clubs look like, and this one was no different.

It was Ryujins 19th birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it with just her closest friends and her girlfriend. That’s why Y/N agreed to it in the first place. She’s not used to social settings and spends most of her time stressing over finals, so being forced into a social setting wasn't making her any less stressed. Her and Ryujin are the complete opposite of each other and she can’t really remember how they became best friends, but somehow they did. And that’s why she’s in this position right now, pressed between strangers in a club that reeked of alcohol, dressed in a skimpy black dress that barely covered her up.

“Hey Y/N, get me another drink will ya’!” Ryujin shouted and laughed, fully intoxicated. “I don’t really think that’s a good idea Ryu” I said, a little worried about her condition “you’ve had a lot already” I tell her, hoping she would just give up “It’s fineee, I’m fineee, trust!” She laughed and grabbed another beer. I tried to stop her but she was too fast. I just gave up and sighed, trying to reason with her when she’s drunk is like trying to argue with a wall “You’re gonna throw up later I’ll tell you that.” I grabbed my lighter and walked outside for a smoke, leaving her to Yeji, her girlfriend. I love Ryujin, but sometimes she can be a handful to look after.

I walk out on the balcony, leaning against the rack and admire the glowing night sky, letting the cold wind run over my body. It’s a relaxing moment until I hear someone approaching and I assume it’s either Ryujin or Yeji, until they lean against the rack beside me. Build too big to be either of them, I look over in their direction. A tall, hot guy with glasses stands there. He lights a cigarette and looks over to me. I forgot how to breathe for a moment, embarrassed, I looked away slightly. When I look back to see if he’s still there, we make eye contact. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat roaming around him. And I can't tell if it’s the embarrassment or the close contact with the man that makes my cheeks heat up, but I’d rather not find out.

I take a look at the man in front of me, scanning him up and down. Dressed in a suit too fine to be worn at a basic club, hair styled in a way that makes it look almost untouched, and his eyes, his eyes were so easy to get lost in. I snap out of it when I realize I’d been staring for a while, a slight smirk on the man's lips as he leans down to my level.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”

✩ ♬ ₊.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N please let me know if you want me to finish it! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated ♡ (Also someone please teach me how to make my posts aesthetic I've never posted on Tumblr before so I don't know how it works 😔)

[epiicaricacy-arts]

hello manosouta/saintknight enjoyers. i bring you this: married in red AU

for those unfamiliar with married in red, it’s a short thriller RPG by studio investigrave (other games by them are elevator hitch and dead plate). the game is free as are all their other games and i highly recommend it!!

SPOILERS FOR MARRIED IN RED AND AAI2 UNDER THE CUT

unlike my sunjiao dead plate au i don’t have that solid of a story for this, mostly because i haven’t had the chance to replay the 2nd and 5th cases after finishing the game to fully grasp and contextualize their dynamic, so i will probably be able to elaborate on this more after doing that AND possibly replaying married in red.

i had a few routes for this to go down which i’ll talk about below.

the basic premise is that simeon is attending bronco’s wedding (to some unknown figure cause i couldn’t figure out anyone that could generally fit the role i needed so you can imagine whatever you want).

in this story, simeon and bronco were still childhood best friends, but after nearly freezing to death in the locked car, simeon ended up hospitalized and rather weak for most of his life with high susceptibility to illness. bronco promised he would always visit simeon whenever he was sick or in the hospital, but simeon never felt that bronco truly made up for his actions that day.

the whole thing with the president and the double doesn’t really happen i guess? the focus is what happened during their childhood but artie’s still gotta die unfortunately 🤷‍♀️

under the impression that carmelo was bronco’s father and killed frost, simeon made sure that bronco would also have to face the loss of a loved one and sabotaged his wedding. bronco would’ve wanted simeon to be his best man, but ultimately decided not to put him in that position due to his health. unlike in MIR i think simeon had to have been invited but just as a guest.

here’s where i came up with multiple versions of the story. you can choose whatever seems to make most sense or whatever you like more 🤷‍♀️

the first is just following the events of MIR. simeon kills the person bronco intended to marry, frames bronco for the murder, and gets him arrested for revenge, promising that he’ll visit bronco every day in prison!!!

the second involved a bit more manipulation on simeon’s part. although i’m not sure how much he could really pull this off but who knows that guy did some whacky shit. in this version, simeon informs bronco that something dangerous is going to occur at the event: someone there is a threat, and bronco, as the bodyguard he is, needs to neutralize it. simeon then tries to frame it so that bronco’s fiance was the threat and his pride in his profession took priority over his fiance and killed them.

i think the second one is more interesting but i’m not as confident in its plausibility for these characters but 🤷‍♀️ i would love to hear people’s thoughts if they have any :]

anyways, making these AUs with SIG games is such a blast, especially editing the screenshots and writing text. maybe i’ll make more for either the dead plate or MIR AU’s at some point but that’s a later me thought

simeon having a similar hairstyle to frost was on purpose btw. also god i hated drawing bronco’s hair wtf is going on with that guy 😔

thank you for reading !!!!