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fanbasetwo · 2 days ago

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first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

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alexanderwales · 12 hours ago

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Me: I don't really like modern art. Kat: Did you see that Jacob Geller video? Me: I did. I didn't meant that I don't like modern art in a facscist way, just like ... I don't like it. I look at the paintings, at Rothko, and I just don't get it. Kat: A lot of it you have to see in person, I think. The pictures don't really do it justice, especially Rothko, some of those are huge, and you just stand in front of it and it's like ... as close as I've had to a religious experience. Me: I mean, I went to the Museum of Modern Art in Washington, D.C. And I went to the Tate Modern. And whatever the one in Seoul was called, and another in San Francisco, the de Young Museum. I've seen, in person, stuff from Rothko and Pollock and a bunch of the other Abstract Expressionists. Kat: That ... is a lot of modern art museums for someone who doesn't like modern art. Me: I want to like it. I hear the way people talk about it, how a Rothko evokes these emotions in them, and it's like all I can see is paint on canvas. I don't know. Like I'm blind. Kat: You're the opposite of a tortured artist. An art viewer who tortures himself. Me: It's not that. I mean, some of the stuff I really do get something from. It's not all Rothko. I don't walk into every art museum and just groan in agony. But there are this class where ... people like this stuff, and in my head I'm like "people like this stuff?" Kat: They do. I do. Me: Right, and I do believe that. But there's this part of me that's struggling against the human instinct to go "no, they're all lying for some reason, it's a game of peer pressure, or clout chasing". I think that way lies madness. I think that's a trap that people fall into all the time, because they do the typical mind thing, and they say "well if I don't like modern art, no one else must like modern art". Kat: And you're trying to correct for that by ... looking at a bunch of modern art you don't enjoy. Me: Kind of, yeah. I saw Barnett Newman's Stations of the Cross and I thought the idea of it was interesting, the journey of Christ as laid out in only a handful of brushstrokes. But the actual paintings, I just had never felt further from my fellow man than looking at them and trying to understand them. I sat and tried to meditate, to clear my mind, to let some thought come to me, but it was still just paint on canvas. Kat: And you're what, just going to keep going to modern art museums? Me: If I'm in a city with one, sure. Because sometimes there's something that speaks to me, it's just never the Abstract Expressionist stuff. Kat: I cannot imagine doing that, repeatedly viewing something in a genre you don't like. Is it because it's high status? Because you're clout chasing? Me: I don't think so. I think it's just alien to me, no matter how many reviews I've read extolling the works, how many people have explained these individual pieces. And you know, when we went to the one in D.C., we had our son with us, and he was looking at all this stuff too, and when we went out I asked him which was his favorite. He said it was one of the Pollocks, Lavender Mist. Kat: Cute. See, the kid gets it. Me: I asked him what he liked about it, and he said to me, "you can see the drips". Kat: Sometimes that's all there is to it.

#microfiction #modern art

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grapehyasynth · 20 hours ago

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when i picture you

Picture You by Chappell Roan won the poll for this fun fic challenge by @saynomorefic, and that actually slid really easily into place with a little fic idea I'd had a while ago, and so I am almost embarrassed with how quickly I wrote this 🙈

rated M - nsfw - set after s1

Simon’s heart may be broken, and his logical brain may be fully onboard with the break-up with Wille, but his body seems to be determined to not get the message.

For the fourth time since school let out for their winter break, he wakes up with an erection and a half-dozen fleeting dreams. Dreams of Wille, patched together by the traitorous lizard part of his brain - Wille rowing while wearing a suit; Wille giving a speech to the nation in just his boxers; Wille sucking Simon off on a piano bench, the tie from his school uniform holding back his bangs.

Simon huffs with frustration and heads for the bathroom. His mom keeps promising they’ll get a door for his bedroom - they’re all a little extra touchy about privacy since the video came out - but it hasn’t happened yet, and there is no way he’ll be able to get himself off when he can hear Sara singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he doesn’t trust one of them to not just come barging through the towel that shields his room.

He wastes no time turning on the shower once the bathroom door is locked. For a second he wishes he’d brought his phone, for some music, or inspiration -- but that’s another thing that makes him paranoid now, wondering whether his mom can see his searches on their internet, wondering if someone would try to hack their family, to see what the boy from The Video gets up to. He’s put tape over the camera lenses on his phone and his computer but he just doesn’t really trust anything at this point.

So, when he sits on the ground with his back to the tub and tugs down his boxers, he has nothing but his own imagination. Which, unfortunately, still very much means Wille.

He wonders, as he gives himself a first gentle ghost of a stroke, shuffling down a bit so his head is tipped back against the side of the tub and his feet press into the wall (this bathroom, this house, is fucking small), if Wille thinks of Simon when he touches himself. He wonders if there’s a masturbatory version of him haunting the castle. What does Wille picture? He never got to ask him.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes and goes for one of the disjointed fantasy images from last night. They’d been in the library at Hillerska, and Wille had had Simon pressed against one of the shelves. They were both wearing the white robes from Lucia night, something Simon hadn’t previously clocked as sexy, but he squeezes himself now at the thought, his chest lifting a little with the sensation. His own robe was rucked up to his waist, his knees bent and tight around Wille’s hips so that Wille could fuck into him, pushing him against the shelf behind him with each thrust. Simon grasped a shelf behind him with one hand while the other strove to keep Wille’s own gown out of the way, so that he could see.

He doesn’t have the time to finger himself, but his ass clenches anyway. They never had that kind of sex, and now Simon is both grateful and aggrieved -- it would be another thing to regret, or mourn, but then again, it already feels like Wille is inside him, irretrievably, all the time, so what would have been the harm?

He imagines one of Wille’s hands on him, on his cock; a ripple of warmth spreads over his skin as he works himself. He’s losing track of whose hands and arms are where and if they even have enough limbs for this but he doesn’t care. He wants Wille to flatten him like a book he can’t get enough of, to crack his spine, to hold him open as he devours him. He presses a heel to the cleft of Wille’s ass to urge him closer; Wille is panting into his neck; the tub is hard and unforgiving behind Simon’s head but he imagines it’s the shelf supporting him as Wille fucks him. And then, in his imagining, the shelf supporting him keels over, catching the next one which also falls, and now Wille is fucking him on the tilted shelves, and the candles of his Lucia crown (had he been wearing that the whole time?) catch on the books and everything is burning around them, the school is burning to the ground, and Wille gasps I love you with every thrust, and all Simon can say is God Jul, God Jul, God Jul...

It’s such a ridiculous image that he’s laughing as he comes, the twin sensations tugging deliciously at his core, and he falls sideways so that his cheek is pressed to the bath mat. For a moment, before the high clears, he wishes he could tell Wille about this, that they could laugh about it, that Wille would tease him about the silly fantasy until they realized they were both half-hard--

“SIMON!” Sara is rapping on the bathroom door. “I need to pee!”

“Just a minute,” he grumbles, and he turns the shower, which has been running this whole time, to its coldest setting; he will need the jolt before he can go out there and face his life.

#wilmon #young royals #writing #fic writing challenge #picture you

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mejaemin · 3 days ago

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dafuq?- xu minghao

wc: 0.5k

summary: you try the dafuq trend on your boyfriend, minghao

warnings: crack, nothing else rlly!

an: CONGRATS TO SVT FOR WINNING THEIR DAESANGS !!! seeing them all cry broke me ngl… anyways to celebrate here’s this silly little thing i wrote spontaneously just now, including the main subject of my thoughts (totally not bc im working on a hao oneshot rn…)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you sit down with minghao, three sets of mugs in front of you. on the dining table’s centerpiece, your phone rests on it with the camera open. your press a kiss to your boyfriend’s lips before hitting record.

his hand slips around your waist, and you didn’t notice, but future you is so happy you were able to capture the look of pure love on his face. “you know, i never really understood why you felt the need to record everything we do like this, but i looked back on one of the videos and it was actually kind of entertaining.” he says, kissing your hair. he’s referencing the ‘vlogs’ you have a tendency to record when you’re with him. per his request you don’t post them, but your favorite pastime is looking through them and occasionally sending a clip to your shared groupchat.

“i know right? your face is always so funny, like ‘oh this feels so dumb, blah blah blah, but my cute girlfriend enjoys it so okay!’ and it always makes me laugh. dafuq?”

it takes everything in you to not burst out laughing at the way his eyebrow immediately lifts, looking between your face and the camera. you sigh, disguising your giggle as a cough before sliding the three mugs into frame.

“anyways.. me and my boyfriend, say hi.” you gesture to him, and he waves to the camera with his signature :I face. “..are going to be trying three new tea flavors, dafuq?”

this time, his reaction is a little more harsh as he gives you a side eye, a slight grimace pulling on his lips. when you turn to look at him, his eyes squint as if he’s trying to see through your innocent facade. finally, he leans back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “what? go on.” he gestures to the drinks in front of you.

you smile. “okay! so first is this osmanthus one. i’ll try first, dafuq?” bringing the mug to your lips, you take a sip. it’s unfortunate that you’re in the middle of trying to prank your boyfriend because it really does taste good, but the show must go on.

you give the cup to minghao, swallowing before nodding enthusiastically. “good! i really like it, dafuq? what do you think, babe?” you turn to him, tilting your head slightly.

he sighs, putting the cup down on the table before responding. “it would taste better if you stopped saying that. i love you, but you sound stupid.” he deadpans.

that’s all it takes before you break down laughing, folding over in your chair as you bring yourself to tears. he just sits there, with a look that screams ‘i do not associate with such idiocy’. once you finally calm down, you’re wiping tears from your eyes.

“oh my god, hao! i was joking, jeonghan sent me a tiktok of someone doing that and i just had to-“ he cuts you off, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“and that’s exactly where you went wrong, falling victim to his bullshit.”

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

#mejaemin #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt crack #humor #kpop #xu minghao #minghao #the8 #seventeen the8 #svt the8 #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #minghao x you #the8 x you #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan

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astronicht · 3 days ago

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I love the very subtle but important presences of bez and pecco in tavullia radio!! and also everything else about it obviously. would love to know if you had any more thoughts about like what they're doing thinking seeing feeling! the image of pecco running into freshly fucked and sucked marc at the espresso machine he can't use and making him a tiny coffee enchants and delights me. in my mind he is suffering horrors. thank you for such a perfect fic!!

thank you Leah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3 <3 So in my head etc Pecco and Marc are already technically or already have been teammates. I was thinking as I wrote it "is this next month? or is this december after the 2025 season?" haha. Either way Pecco is like. In a phase of life where he has decided that he is professionally obligated to have some form of rapport with Marc. And if they've been working together for a bit, they awkwardly kind of already DO, just not. NOT in this setting. Always on neutral Ducati ground. THIS scenario (freshly fucked and sucked marc at vale's ranch, in pecco's friendly ranch kitchen, where he was NOT expecting visitors) is NOT part of this carefully polite professional rapport. Unlike the rest of the guys Pecco can't just grunt and shuffle past (he totally could have; Marc did not want to talk to anyone). He's forcing himself to try to be normal and thus extending everyone's suffering lol. They don't even dislike each other. This somehow makes it all worse.

Pecco made Marc a Turkish coffee instead of just getting out one of the 3-5 mokas kicking around because he has gotten into foodie youtube and Turkish coffee came up, and he carefully bought the correct little cup to boil it in and the correct finely ground coffee and he has like, watched videos on how to get the foam right. Very much your friend who gets really into foodie youtube and is suddenly making what you think of as simple staple dishes with all the right utensils and the correct dipping sauce that no one in ur family ever bothered with. He actually had come in to make a coffee for himself before practice (i think he's considering doing a little mentoring? which never interested him much. Marc appears in moments of Pecco identity or professional crisis, in this universe) so you have to picture Pecco out there somewhere with a little cup of Turkish coffee and haunted eyes, wondering if he can drink it.

Marc actually wanted tea, or to have the balls to wander around the ranch in boxer briefs and a t-shirt smelling violently like sex, but he saw the giant fuck-off luxury espresso machine and was like. the look of it annoyed him so he was definitely going to force it to work or just break it. a little bit his instinct to push at vale a little, to try to figure out where the lines are, or to know for sure that vale isn't going to snap over something normal again.

So that was the mood and then pecco came in and was like oh god. oh god he's going to touch the espresso machine and we'll have to have it repaired again. oh god we won't be able to tell vale that marc did it and we'll have to blame celestino again. Just polite Pecco voice being sooo normal like Hi Marc Would You Like A Coffee :) [intense suffering]. He is overcompensating and being as normal as possible bc marc looks fucked ouuuuut and also is doing the terrifying dead fish eyes and slight grin he does when in extreme physical pain and forced to converse, bc he's dissasociating and also does not care enough to make nice expressions for pecco. (Vale used to fuck himself to sleep despite insomnia -- like he just did -- all the time when Marc was 22 and the memory is a bit much.)

Bez meanwhile is having a total gay... crisis isn't the right word. ring of keys dot mp3. the particular egg-cracking feeling of seeing something you didn't know you desperately wanted until you want it violently and think you're gonna cry for no reason. seeing it is both horrifying (for the same reasons pecco is horrified; marc is fucking motorcycle dad) and makes him want so much it fills his mouth with spit, and that scale of desire is weird and confusing and almost a high. but also he LIKES having a grudge against Marc. It's comforting. It's so awful to be jealous of him, while also realizing he's not jealous that Marc is fucking Vale, because in the end Bez is also being forced to realize that he doesn't exactly want to fuck Vale (well, it's complex, but he doesn't want to fuck Vale like Marc wants to fuck Vale and thus Marc even managed to get a win over Bez by being gay in the way Bez would've liked to have been gay).

Anyway!! Bez got wronged in this fic, I don't want to assign him "italian son with sisters who never learned to make coffee". But i did do that. Also he feels twitchy and guilty about the falsely attributed coffee thing for days. Probably vents to Celestino, who is like "why are you talking about coffee bez i am at the club. did i break the espresso machine again bez?? i can't hear u maybe there's better signal on the roof [call dropped as cele's phone dies and isnt' charged for 3 days]"

#APPARENTLY I HAD THOUGHTS #this fic had more going on in the background then i feel like mine usually do??#which made this extra fun tyyyy #moto gp #my fic #ask replies #fic ask replies #pecco #bez #marc

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hai7ani · 2 days ago

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Rindou comes home the next day after work all sticky and kiss-starved. He follows you around the house despite that the two of you aren't talking and he thinks you're still mad about yesterday.

"I finished the food. Thanks for cooking." He never thanks you for this, and you've never wanted him to. You don't reply and only hum as a response.

You're actually avoiding him. You keep thinking about the phone call with Ran and you went to sleep all teary-eyed but you couldn't bring yourself to cry. Your heart aches the entire night thinking what Rindou must've felt when he had to pack his own lunch for work.

He was a kid again when he was choosing his biscuits to put into his lunch bag yesterday. His mother never packed his lunch when he was younger 一 he did. He had to learn cooking tutorials off 360p YouTube videos when he was twelve to finally make spaghetti the way he likes. He had to handwash and iron his own clothes with blisters on his fingertips when he's eight because his mother's nails were always too long and shiny for it.

When his father yells, suddenly Rindou's the maid around the house. He has to make sure the house is tidy before his father finds something new to be mad about again. He never told Ran about this but his father's mistress once had him wipe her shoes that got muddy in the rain when he was seventeen in exchange for ¥1000. He still did it anyway because he was short of ¥1000 for Ran's birthday present.

You knock on the door when he's in the shower to cling to him the entire time. You scrub his hair and put on a face mask for him. You make sure he gets the towel fresh from the dryer so he's warm when gets out. You hug him while watching TV and you finally cry when the clock hits twelve on the twentieth of October.

"I'll always pack your lunch, you know? I still love you even though we argued. I'm mad at the problem, not at you. I'll still pack your lunch even after you shrink my clothes or break my mug, idiot, because I love you."

link to ran’s

Rindou is fidgety and restless the week before his birthday.

He's on edge most days and reacts to even the smallest things, but you've been mindful when you speak with him lately and you keep an open heart. You know that he doesn't do birthdays very well and it's been this way since he was younger.

But you bring up his parents over breakfast and he's all defensive and angry and you didn't like that he raised his voice. You didn't think that inviting his parents over for his birthday would be a sensitive thing to say 一 you thought it'd be a nice gesture for his 27th year around the sun 一 but he's still angry when you try to reason with him.

He goes radio silent the rest of the day. You take a nap after tea time and suddenly the pillows on the couch are tidy and the table cloth is free of oil stains and hung to dry by the sink. By dinner time the takeout bags are folded and stored neatly in the compartment you keep recycle bags and the food is warm and ready to eat. You don't see him around the house but you know he's in his study and you don't want to annoy him.

You're looking for his lunch bag when you're making his lunch for tomorrow only to find it already packed by himself 一 it's full of snacking biscuits and grapes and energy drink and it's hanging next to his coat.

Your heart aches the entire time you scoop fried rice and soup to stuff into his bag. It eventually comes to you that he's already accepted that you won't be packing his lunch anymore now that you've argued and you're mad at each other. But you always pack his lunch and you never go to sleep angry, so you don't understand why.

#done cooking #i have a knack for breaking hearts lately #writing

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feuerfreiarchive · 3 days ago

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ZEIT (2022) «Zeit isn’t about getting older, so much as it’s a contemplation of time itself. The idea isn’t that things are ending. Rather, that things progress through the river of time and there is no ending, just different stages», director Robert Gwisdek explained to Metal Hammer. Gwisdek and Flake Lorenz are friends. That’s how he became aware that directors were invited to send in ideas for video concepts for Rammstein’s new album. «I wrote a page full of impossible visions centred around the theme of time», he said. The band liked it. «Originally the concept was that I’d de-age the band so they’d get younger and younger. They were really on board, but I’ve never really liked CGI or looked into it, so when it actually came to producing it I found out it was insanely expensive to do something like that.» Instead, Gwisdek looked to sand. 40 tonnes of it was put into an unheated hall in sub-zero temperatures, and five people had to rake it almost continuously to make it dry enough for it to trickle. Using pneumatic funnels, they created a sand jet, and the band members got to experience plenty of it from the moment they walked on set and Gwisdek had a tonne of it poured over them in the first shot. «The shots in the B-part of the chorus, where their heads are sticking out of flowing sand, are actual shots - no CGI, no green screen. That takes trust», says Gwisdek. The sand sculpture was not CGI either, but made by master sand carver Baldrick Buckle. Gwisdek found that Rammstein were a delight to work with. «They aren’t messing around, acting like rock stars and turning up late. They’re gentlemen to each and every person they deal with,» he said. He got to see just how determined they were when the two guitarists got injured, but still finished the shoot with several days to go. «I was set to jump in from three metres high. Everyone had jumped down to kind of film where we were going down under, and I was jumping on my other guitar player's ass», Richard Kruspe said to Chaoszine, and revealed that Paul Landers's 'ass of steel' had injured him pretty badly. «My foot is destroyed.» 📷: Jens Koch @jenskochphoto, Norman Brüning

#rammstein #till lindemann #flake lorenz #paul landers #christoph schneider #richard kruspe #oliver riedel #2022 #20s #zeit #music video #jens koch #norman bruning

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34saveme34 · 2 days ago

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Oh SMG4, do you never learn?

---

This time… it would become perfect… It really would! At least SMG4 was sure as he sat in front of his computer, at a rather late hour at night, trying to figure out his video. It was half finished at this point. He watched a certain bit over and over. Repeating it. Really paying attention. Humming as thoughts came to his mind. And none were supporting this. Was this video… actually funny? He sighed, deleting a big chunk he thought was the unfunny bit and tried to figure out if he could come up with anything. Maybe with a well placed transition he could add the comedic timing he needed? No uh… Was the script actually good? He looked it over and it just… it sounded dumb. More dumb than usual, not even the good kind. He could feel a wave, as if through his spirit but no, it was the soon oncoming headache making his job way harder. But he worked until he could look at that screen. But did it become so… Uncomfortable. His eyes felt uncomfortable… The light… so much! It’s too much!

He got up, he needed… He needed to do something else!

Each step he took away from his computer felt painful. It felt like precious time being wasted. So much time he could spend… creating. And he loves creating so that’s… This was just so wasteful!

He closed his door and it felt as if he could breathe again. The air was fresh, the castle was weirdly quiet and 4 decided to head for the kitchen. He could barely even comprehend anything around him with the change of scenery, let alone that this was supposed to be weird.

He grabbed some milk and cereal to eat. He poured some. He stared at the bowl for a bit. Probably not long but who knows, time felt unreal to him then.

He started eating, each crunch feeling so loud. He wasn’t sure if he liked this or not. He remembered his video. How the joke carried in it. He chuckled which he did at the wrong time as he choked on his cereal for a second.

It was as if sobriety hit him. He was struggling but he never felt so real. For a second, nothing else existed but that stupid ass cereal trying to kill him. He resumed, now unnervingly awake. And the whole time he was, with the same intensity, it wouldn’t go away.

He finished up. He washed the bowl away he used along with the spoon as well, deciding it shouldn’t be left for later and definitely not because he was procrastinating.

He finished and just stood there. It had to be perfect. Ugh… The transition idea is awful, it could never work with the kind of joke he was telling there. Maybe something inbetween that other part of the joke so there’s just… some air there? Ugh where would he even need to go with this to make it right? Maybe stopping it for a second to explain the joke in a really matter of fact way to add some ironic layering to the whole bit? Ugh noooo… That was such a bad phase of jokes anyways! And it’s so old fashioned at this point! Only SMG3 would do such stupid things, it wasn’t 4’s thing to be a saint of dead memes or something. Without further thought, he discarded that thought. None of what he had in mind was good enough which meant he needed to do research…

He went to his room to search for his phone. He searched his bed, his desk, everywhere around his computer, the ground, any kind of surface where it could end up on. But it was nowhere. Instead, he found a note, attached to a trash bag he kept by his table. He decided to keep one there because the coffee cups from 3’s and all the ordered food he’d get made quite a lot of trash and he didn’t like leaving the room to take them out. Especially because of course he’d always need to take it out when he just really got into the zone.

“Come to the café, we need to talk, you’ll get your phone back after” was written on the note.

4 didn’t know what to think for a moment. So… 3 took his phone, huh? There was slow rage building up in him. He was SO in the zone too, with his thoughts so strongly all about his to-be-perfect video. This time could’ve been it but noooo 3 had to play stupid games. Well, you know what they say… Fuck around and find out, SMG3.

4 went over, stomping to 3’s, but in such a tired way. But he didn’t realise that. He was too angry for that.

He saw Luigi, 3, Mario, Meggy and Tari at a table, talking. He also spotted his phone there on the table, luckily not in use at all. He didn’t need another dose of 3’s search history…

But this still felt so… So intimidating to him. Why were there so many of them? If it was just 3 he would fight him for his phone and then he’d quickly be back to work on his life work but nooo- Nooo instead it had to be many of his friends! And he frankly felt scared. He stood there for a while to the point that his friends noticed him. They stared at him and he stared back. He really didn’t want to go inside.

3 looked clearly more and more annoyed until he sighed, got up and walked towards 4. 4 didn’t know how to handle this. As the man got closer, he took a step back too, albeit not as many, making him rather easy for 3 to reach. And as soon as he did, without a word, even a hello or something, he dragged him inside the café by his arm. Not that 4 really resisted. While he was scared he was also still confused. This situation couldn’t be real… right? Damn it.

3 let go of 4 when he managed to finally get 4 to be in front of everyone. With all their eyes on him.

“Can I just get my phone back?” 4 asked, quietly. He didn’t want to seem like he was gonna lash out any moment. It was hard though… Who could even have an idea on what they could do to him if they had a reason to think he was in any way possibly unstable mentally. Not to say that wasn’t the truth though.

“Well-” Meggy said “This is… an intervention”

“Yeah, we’re worried for you, SMG4!” Tari said with sadness in her voice that almost managed to make 4 sad. 3 was now oddly silent.

“I don’t need an intervention! I’m a full time funnyman, I need to tend to it as well!”

“But SMG4! Even the funniest men need a break!” Mario pleaded “Mario would be so happy to see his best friend take a well deserved break!”

“I. DON’T. need… I DON’T NEED A BREAK!!” 4, although exhausted he still managed to scream at his friends.

“SMG4…” Luigi tried intervening “You do deserve one! You work so hard everyday! I don’t know anyone else who deserves a break as much as you do!”

“I have SO many better things to do than to argue with you guys! I have a video I still need to finish! I was SO close to finding the right thing to make it extra funny too! But you of course have to sabotage me with your cute little intervention, thinking it’s what I need! Well I don’t need this, in fact, this is making it so m-” 4’s rant was cut short by 3 slapping him. The room became hazed in silence. Nobody knew what to say. 3 was looking at 4 with a glare that could almost burn him away. Not that he could look away.

“... And what was that for? I was clearly talking” 4 said, trying to keep his anger back.

“You-” 3 started.

“SMG3, we talked about this!” Meggy stopped him.

“Enough.” 3 looked at her. He sighed then looked back at 4 “SMG4. Do you know how fucking worried everyone is for you? It’s like you don’t care at all. I’ve never known someone AS selfish as YOU. And I’ve known some dastardly people yet no one comes close to the lack of care you demonstrate for your friends. BECAUSE you don’t look after yourself, we have to look after you and you push us away each time. Who’s the tsundere in this crew again, asshole?? WHO??”

“You don’t NEED TO CARE ABOUT ME!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE THAT”

“Guys I think we should ca-” Tari tried to cut the fight off but failed.

“Well, I DON’T want your care. I’ll take my phone now. And then you have to leave me alone”

3 grabbed 4’s arms before he could take his phone.

“You’re DESTROYING yourself!”

“And it’s worth it”

“Do you really care so little about us?”

“Maybe I do”

3 let go of 4’s arms. Prolonged silence. 4 sobered up from his anger as he saw 3 start crying.

Before 4 could say anything, 3 spoke his mind instead.

“Good to know that everything I’ve ever said to you meant nothing then. Thanks for that, a-asshole” 3 left to his room without another word. 4 could only stand there stunned. God, did that hurt… Why did he have to even say that?

“If that’s how you feel” Mario said “Maybe it’s better if Mario leaves too” he then went to 3’s room, presumably to comfort him.

“Here’s your phone, go now” Meggy put his phone in his hands.

“Meggy-”

“Don’t. Just go. You’ve caused enough damage as is. BESIDES you said you don’t care. So act like that”

“I… agree… If your work is more important to you than us then just go away” Tari forced it out then started crying.

“There there… It’s his loss” Luigi tried his best offering comfort to Tari before shooting a fast glare at SMG4. He wasn’t welcome there anymore.

He turned to leave with a strong grip on his phone. If he were to be choking his phone with a little more strength he would’ve broken it already. Regardless, his legs carried him back to his castle, a symbol of teamwork disgraced. And then back to his room, a reminder of the person he hurt the most. It hurt too much.

He sat in front of his computer, placing down his phone on his desk. Yet, he was unable to work. They really… he really shouldn’t have done that… Was he starting to become like that again? He swore he got over it but the need… The need to prove himself would just come back to haunt him anyways. Haunting him in his bones like tales he was supposed to learn from. And he’d be damned if he didn’t try and might as well be because he failed. What a better way than to sit and wallow in self pity over something he caused himself? He didn’t mean to, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. And yet he did. SMG3 was totally right, he had really grown so… selfish. But this stagnation of just sitting and doing nothing was killing him.

“Man…” he sighed loudly to himself “I wish I could forget and move on…”

“I could do that” a strange voice SMG4 hadn’t heard before called out.

“HUH WHAT HUH” he whipped his head around, searching where the voice could come from.

“I’m right here” the voice called out again. Finally 4 found them, looking back at them from their monitor.

He could only see them looking out from under a window he had open, it was his project. Due to it, he could only see some of them, for which he moved the window away from them. Finally, he could see the stranger in their computer, looking back at him a little unimpressed. With a cold green eye looking back at him, the other one obscured by their rather long one sided bang. Some of their hair was tied in a ponytail. Their dark gray lipstick also served quite the contrast with their fair skin. Then he noticed what seemed like a microphone attached on their scarf. It just felt… weird… Wait…

“Are you in any way affiliated with Mr Puzzles?” he looked at them sceptically.

“Not as far as I’m concerned.” they said “But yes, isn’t it rude of me to not introduce myself? I’m Ann Tertainment, but just call me Annie please…”

“Uhuh… Why are you in my computer… can I turn you off….”

“You can try” they grinned.

SMG4 took this as a challenge, opening task manager. To his absolute horror, none of the programs listed in there could be traced back to them.

“Damn…”

“Don’t be too sad… it’s gross… But… back to your laments, SMG4”

“Hm?”

“I could help you”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Which one do you care more about? Your friends or youtube?”

The question caught 4 off guard. It really stunned him.

“Why… Why are you asking me that?”

“I have the power to make you forget one or the other. If I make you forget about youtube, you can go and have fun with your friends without having to worry about your perfection complex again”

“Mhmm?”

“Or, I can make you forget about your friends so you can finally finish your lifework and make a perfect video and prove that you’re still worth it. Honestly, a rather fulfilling purpose… unless you care more about your friends”

4 looked in front of himself.

“I’ll give you time to choose but there is a time limit. By then, you have to decide, which way you want to go”

“A….Alright”

Was he genuinely considering this? Oh god…

By the time he could ask any more questions from Annie, they were gone. Dang.

---

Alright! Now you have to choose for SMG4 since he definitely can't!

some stuff before that:

- Please think of the implications of both choices before voting

- Sorry but there is no way to refuse Annie's offer, it's choose to forget something or perish

- By the end of the vote, I will add together all votes both from here and Tumblr to decide

- If overall vote goes over 100 votes, I will release both possible endings

This poll will also go at Google Forms too! And possibly for longer so if you miss the Tumblr one you might still get a chance at that one. Yes you're also allowed to do both Forms and Tumblr if you want, I can't check it in a meaningful way anyways

happy voting :3

#smg4 #nicc's-fics

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 days ago

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Make sure to get plenty of rest after your flight babe, and eat well!💋

Vessel x reader (who is a singer) where either he or she want to collab/work together and he starts to like her romantically

Fighting low blood pressure today but trying to down vitamin waters and shit. Thank you for your care. ✨

Slow love

Vessel never took any collaboration offers. He got many of them. Some were more appealing than others. But it never truly felt right. It felt like too much of a change. Too much to give and too much to lose. Not to mention the NDA’s that had to be sighed because he wasn’t about to spend the whole time recording while wearing the mask. That was until he found you.

It had been a late night, one that Vessel had quite often when he stumbled upon your video. A cover of one of his songs. The sound of Aqua Regia filling the darkness. Vessel had moved to sit up, as the video played and played. The perfect runs, the vocal control. He had spent nearly all night stalking your page that time. Singing harmony alongside your voice.

Now weeks later you were officially the new part of the team. You being a new small artist helped with lots of things. You both worked on shared music as well as Vessel offering you to be the lead back vocal for him. It had been a tight squeeze with the tour being right around the corner but the way you worked had only proved to Vessel that he hadn’t made a mistake.

“Here”, you jumped slightly, feeling something cold touch your shoulder. “Oh, Christ”, you clasped the plastic material, realizing that it was a water bottle, lifting your head to meet Vessel looming over you. “The size of you and how quietly you move still doesn’t add up”, you chuckle softly, turning to him. “When was the last time you drank?”, he asked pushing the empty chair closer to where you sat. You quickly unscrew the lid taking a couple of sips, “Just now actually”. Vessel shook his head, making you chuckle softly as he leaned over glancing at the pages spread out.

“New lyrics. It’s a mess so maybe I shouldn’t let you look yet” You placed your palm over it, “You’ll realize that I ain’t that good”, you added laughing nervously. “I know that you’re perfect already”, Vessel mused softly, his much bigger palm landing over yours. You let him lift your palm. Let him turn the pages as he continued to hold your hand in his.

“These are good”, Vessel nodded, “this line especially”, tapping onto the page as he looked up. “You think so?”, your cheeks glowing softly pink. “Yeah”, he nodded firmly. “Shit sorry”, he suddenly dropped your hand when the realization finally hit him. Your palm instantly grew cold now that his fingers were no longer intertwined with yours. “It’s okay, I… it’s fine”, you quickly reassure him.

“I didn’t even notice”, Vessel frowned slightly, his own cheeks crimson. You had fit so effortlessly into his life that he hadn’t realized how much he needed someone like you. Someone who was consistently there. Quietly looking after him. “Is it bad that I don’t mind?”, you muttered, pulling at your sleeves. Vessel blinked softly letting your words sink in. You two sat there for a moment. Just looking at one another before he once again reached out, threading his fingers through yours. A soft smile spread across his lips, a smile that matched yours.

#sleep token x reader #sleep token x you #sleep token imagine #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token vessel imagine #sleep token vessel x you #sleep token vessel x reader #sleep token vessel fanfiction

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sirwadewilsonfromimgur · 2 days ago

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Deadpool & Wolverine: Scenes from an unconventional marriage.

Pre script authors note: The following was inspired by a few conversations between @icarusredwings and myself, part of which was a scenario that i thought would be funny... if this is your first story reading one of my AUs (first of all. woof, you picked a long one) Secondly. The boys have money, Peter works for them as an assistant and logistics expert. They live in Kansas city because of Wade's crusade against anti-mutant GMO corn... go back and read KoKC for details. Link below.

Scene 3

Kansas City Missouri Earth-10005 (2031-ish)

When two murderous Canadian mercenaries love each other very much...

Part 1 : paternal instincts.

Our scene opens up where most of our scenes open with this author.

The 19th floor of 700 W 31st Street Kansas City Missouri.

(the building known to its Tennants as One Park Place tower)

International headquarters of Malfeasance and Fraud Mitigation (Mercs for Money) LLC. And home to Logan and Wade Howlett-Wilson.

And Blind Al don't forget her! And Mary puppens I'll stab you if fucking forget about her. By the way Brace yourself folks this might be a crossover AU one-shot non canonical story.

Wade was talking to himself as usual having left the office after chain smoking a pack of Lucky Strikes and going over Financials with Peter and Althea. The business part of the business of killing was a huge pain in the ass. Logan insisted he take an active role beyond just killing. It was hell on his undiagnosed autism/ADHD.

Fuck Excell, fuck spreadsheets, fuck shopping around for cheaper ammo to save a dollar, this Is a Winchester house we're not buying off brand bullets from eastern Europe!

But it was finally over and he could enjoy the rest of his day. Which he intended on doing as he walked towards Logan sitting on the couch in the livingroom. He had a Nintendo Switch and was playing Mario 3 online.

He'd taken a liking to playing games ever since Laura convinced him to play Smash Brothers with her a few years ago.... Wade loved that he'd picked up what many especially the Wolverine himself would consider an unserious hobby.

he sucked at it, but he was trying to improve. He had recently beat Zelda: link to the past, but he still couldn't beat Laura at Smash Bros. Wade sat down next to him with a thud.

You get all your work done for the day princess? He asked without looking up from his screen.

I did. It was terrible. I hate it. Please don't make me do it again. Wade gently puts a hand on Logans thigh, not necessarily with amorous intentions. It's more like trying to ground himself after a stressful afternoon by connecting with his Wolverine.

Sorry bub, but you gotta learn about the actual business. It'll give you a better perspective before you go spending money. Besides its our company, and it's more than shooting fools. Now, if you gimme a sec I'll find a stopping point. These little fucking turtles have been giving me hell.

Thier Koopas penut, stomping on turtles, would be cruel. As for Al and Peter, they are the best at what they do... and what they do isn't very interesting.

Logan chuckles at Wade's bad joke, turning off his game. You smell like cigarettes bub, you know those are bad for your health. *sniffs* lucky strikes.... you know I remember when lucky strike was a plug tobacco brand (chewing tobacco bound together with molasses the 1870s were a weird time)

That sounds disgusting Penut... also I think smoking is the least of my problems. You didn't have to stop playing your game I just Wanted to be near you. But speaking of, did I tell you I was in a video game once?

Logan was accustomed to this line of thought at this point, they were in a film, a fanfic on Tumblr, a comic book, a novel... a video game was new... he couldn't see the audience, as far as he knew his choices were his own. But he didn't immediately dismiss Wade like he had in the past, because when he said things like this, there was a thread, especially if Wade said something ominous. He knew to clock it and treat the situation with care.

You were? Tell me about it bub. He said this as he pulled Wade onto his lap, feeling the need for a little cuddling while his garrulous lover regaled him with a meandering story... he liked it.

Well Penut it was the far off year of 2013, my voice sounded like Nolan North at the time and not the buttery Ryan Reynolds tones I have today. It was before the Deadpool movies and I didn't have the budget for a Hollywood actor.

Logan shook his head in mock understanding, not understanding what he meant by having a different voice at all.

Anyway, cutting past the tutorial levels, I remember Cable was there, and so we're you. Well, not you, one of you. Ya' know.

Logan gave Wade a little squeeze at the mention of Wade's ex, Cable... something about that guy made him feel possessive, not a normal reaction for a pair that generally regarded themselves as polyamorous. It probably had something to do with him being (this universe's) Scotts son which is a situation that's weird on its face before someone explained time travel to you and once that was done Logan would have to open a whole can of worms regarding trauma of love lost, parallel universes, and his Scott...

he pushed it to the back of his brain as Wade told his story, how he went on an adventure and that other Logan. he even let me fly the Blackbird... this, of course, resulted in disaster... he crashed it, leading in to a light explanation of how his and that Logans relationship was... tense.

Wade went on about traipsing through the ruins of Genosha a totally real place Logan was unfamiliar with...

there was no Genosha or Krakoa in his universe, and by far the largest difference between the world's he'd noted. It was a land populated by mutants that had suffered a brazen attack by humans... a story Logan was all too familiar with. It's a story he's been doing his best to live with. Pulling himself out again he focuses on Wade's story, he'd mentioned a musical number with Lady Death (who was not played by Aubrey Plaza at the time wade lamented) and then discovery that it hadn't been Agatha all along but Mister Sinister at the heart of the problem.

He'd planned on destroying Wade's favorite taco restaurant along with the rest of the world by *checks notes* exhuming mutant bodies to obtain their unique DNA.... or something. It was almost 20 years ago penut so it's fuzzy.

An injustices Wade simply could not stand for. He personally killed several of Sinisters clones in the process of ultimately stopping his evil scheme before confronting him at Magneto's old Citadel where he'd been hiding out...

I squashed him like a bug under the boot of an old Sentinel, Penut! The big purple kind like from X-men 97! Anyway, the credits role and because of licensing issues, the game is only available to play on hard disk, and it's expensive.

Logan nodded his head (again) in tacit agreement with this statement as if he completely understood *he didn't* kissed Wade on the cheek and held him. He was about to suggest that he and Wade go for a walk when Wade jumped off his lap

Oh, Penut! Talking about Sinister reminds me of something!

Wade ran across the room and headed towards the large storage room they kept some sundry items in, the Christmas tree, seasonal stuff and a few boxes of Wade's "crap" that he couldn't get rid of. Mind you this wasn't Wolverines terminology, Wade had written in red crayon on the boxes Crap. Out of curiosity Logan had followed behind him and was standing in the door watching Wade feverishly dig through boxes, opening them taking stuff out and Searching for something.

Amongst the random objects was a furry red doll with a grande attached to it. Logan quickly picks it up.

Wade, why dose this doll have a live Fucking grande attached to it... I thought we agreed all explosives stay at the safe house not the condo!

Oh, tickle me Hell-mo, in fairness Penut I forgot he was even in that box... I forgot what was in a lot of these boxes, trinkets, souvenirs... grenades... apparently. I just knew i didn't want to throw these things away. He rifled through another box as he said this and pulled out a large gray rectangular device with buttons nobs and a small readout display.

FOUND IT! c'mon Penut, I'll clean this up later. I want to show you something. Wade rushed out of the storage room as fast as he'd ran in, Logan followed behind exploding doll in hand. He knew he'd better just entertain whatever it was Wade wanted to show him. Besides, he is kinda cute when he's excited about something.

Ok Princess, what about that box has got you so worked up.

Wade sets it on the marble counter.

Sinister was a sick fuck, and certifiably evil... but he was a brilliant geneticist and created several devices for harvesting DNA... I, lightly acquired a few things.

You stole shit.

I WASN'T PAID! so yeah after killing the fucker FOR FREE and distracting the X-men who conveniently showed up after I did all the work, I rooted around the citadel where he'd set up shop. I took this! He said pointing at the device. He then proceeded to pull out an instruction manual seemingly from thin air and read it out loud.

This device can take the DNA of two or more individuals regardless of gender and re-combine it to make a new life.

Logan was taken aback, not only by the inference that this device could assist them in having biological children together... but because Wade fucking read something out loud flawlessly without having to sound it out...

Bub, you can read today?

I guess so... but I'll probably only be able to write in Mandarin tomorrow. So enjoy it while you can. But to the point at hand, Penut, I want to have your babies. And with this I believe we can... with the help of a surrogate.

Sweet heart (Logan said as gently as possible in an attempt to spare his feelings) I don't think we're ready for kids, especially little ones.

Logan held up the explosive doll as exhibit A for his argument.

Wade responds by just looking at Logan, big comic book accurate blue eyes staring right in to his soul, Logan could see the tears welling up....

Jesus, bub! Stop! You emotionally manipulative little cunt! Logan broke his gaze and looked out the window pretending to be interested in downtown...

Look Princess, I know how badly you want a kid of your own... you told me all about it.

But you've got some steps to take before I consider being a father to a new life with you... firstly who's gonna surrogate? And don't tell me Ness, she's a good friend but that's asking a lot of her and don't be all depressed if she tells you no.

Secondly... and I can't believe I'm saying this... but if you want me to even flirt with the Ideas Wade, we gotta make this house a safe place and... buy one of the units next to us to expand into so the kid has a room... and you gotta get a safe for the guns and a locked case for the swords. we can't have them accessible to a toddler... no more keeping a Glock in the silverware drawer, no more LadySmith revolvers under the couch cushions. No more cocain in the pantry labeled "flour" in mason jars.

Well... that doesn't sound like a No, Penut... or should I say... Daddy?

Logan cringed at Deadpool, calling him daddy in a decidedly nonsexual tone. It didn't sound normal.

If the Wolverine wasn't sure about this, he probably shouldn't have given Wade a goal with clearly defined parameters...

Wade had hyper focus and devoted himself to baby proofing the condo, weapons secured. Drugs removed (by consuming them, Logan didn't say he couldn't have fun)

He negotiated buying the vacant one bedroom unit that was on the other side of their office walls, blew out said wall, and had contractors built two new large bedroom suites with bathrooms. He installed a Cypher lock on the office door and... yes, the golden girls were behind glass in a locked display cabinet. Something he could punch through should he need to defend the house quickly.

He did this all with his personal funds. Everything was on course... accept finding a surrogate... believe it or not, Vanessa wasn't actually Wade's first choice. He didn't want to ask her to commit to the inconvenience, especially since he didn't want to interfere with her relationship with Dermot... also the touchy subject of asking the woman you wanted to start a family with to hay... help me start a family with my husband it'll be fun! No... Vanessa would be a fun aunt, but he knew he'd have to seek out the services of a professional or something.

They did find an agency that helped them meet with potential surrogates. It wasn't cheap.

A situation that was more complicated than taxes, filing out mountains of paperwork. Then they had to actually meet these women. Money they had... interview skills not so much. Especially when a few walked in, saw Wade's face, and immediately walked out. The best ones screamed, the worst one thought she was on one of those terrible reality prank shows...

Logan despised the nights after such interviews. Holding Wade as he wept.

Logan... what if my own baby thinks I'm scary? What if they don't want to be seen with me or worse they're bullied at school for being the son of a monster... *loud sobs* because it's true, I am a monster. A murderer, a war criminal whose outside is exactly who he is on the inside... a freak.

Logan had gotten Wade to believe him after years when he said he loved him, his scars added depth and character and that he thought his husband was the sexiest man to walk the earth, the void, and the multivers.

But that only applied to him, others... well, given how the interviews went, it was a blow to his ego.... and his mental health. It'd be days before he got Wade to come back out from under his hood or mask. But that was a problem for tomorrow. But for tonight, Wade had entered a shutdown for lack of a betterword... Logan held him, fed him, got in the large shower with him, washed him, and went to bed, tucked in the large bed he held his beloved who had curled himself up in to a ball.

Tomorrow will be better Princess, we'll find the right person, and I promise any baby of ours will love you and be kind. Because that's who you are, really on the inside bub... you forget it. But as long as I've known you, your heart has been in the right place in the end, and you're kinder than I am by a country mile.

The sleep that night was thankfully dreamless for the both of them.

The next morning, Logan made a simple breakfast of eggs and toast for both of them. Putting the bottles of salsa and sriracha near Wade plate... he looked at the clock. 6:30 am

Meaning it was 7:30 in New York. He'd try and give Vanessa a call in half an hour knowing she'd be up by then for sure. He needed to commiserate with someone who understood Wade like he did.

The phone call he had that morning was surprising. He'd let Vanessa know what'd been going on with the agency... and the drama... he was shocked to learn she didn't even know they were considering having a baby.

Wade, didn't tell you?

No Red's not said a word of this to me, I'm honestly confused as to why you goofballs didn't ask me first.

Well, after yesterday, I might as well be the one to ask. Would you consider it Ness?

I... hmmm.... tell you What, this isn't exactly a phone conversation, and it sounds like I need to have a chat with my buddy... I can be there this weekend if you can help a sister out with at ride.

*Logan scoffs playfully* sure I'll have peter send out a G700 to pick you up.

Oooo spoil me, Daddy she retorted.

Logan gaged... gross Ness.

She cackled at getting the old man's goat for a solid minute before they finally wrapped up the call, Logan could definitely see why she and Wade had clicked.

It was another down day, no jobs scheduled, they could afford to take longer breaks and be choosy with contracts. Althea had the money making money with a few business development investments, the purpose of which was to launder money and pay taxes, the fringe benefit being they actually produced a small regular incom. (Please stop talking about the intricacies of the business, haven't I suffered enough!)

A short walk away on the other side of Broadway is the Penn Valley off leash dog park. Mary loved being able to run about and the boys liked that they didn't have to worry about her getting hit by a car... not that it would have affected her for long, but they both knew regenerating is something you'd rather not do if you didn't have to. Wade was indeed tightly tucked into a hoodie hiding his face as best he could. Logan would address that later. They got to the dog park gate without issue, Wade actively avoiding any other people they saw on the way.

Logan unhooked the leash from the ring on her doggy vest, and she was off like a bat out of hell to do whatever it is Dogpools do when they have a whole field to run in. He pulled out a cigar from his pocket case. A Cohiba, a real one from Cuba, smuggled it himself from a job that took them to the Caribbean. He carefully cut the tip with a specialized Xikar cutter, lit the end of a cedar strip, and used the growing flame from it to light his cigar... a lot of ritual for something you literally burn. But Logan found it calming, he also needed one of his strongest cigars to help cover up the smell of the dog park... even if everyone picked up after their dog (they most certainly didn't) the smell was not great for Logan.

We should both probably cut back on the smoking when the babies get here penut... he said this as he pulled out a cigarette... they didn't do much for either of them chemically. Wade just enjoyed the habit, something comforting about it... plus if Wolvy was gonna have a cigar, it made him feel like it was a couples activity. Doing a mundane thing together was one of Wade's favorite things.

I spoke to Ness this morning.

Oh, I hope she's doing well. I need to call her.

I wouldn't worry about it, she'll be here this weekend... Wade, sweetheart... why didn't you tell Ness about our plans, she seemed a little hurt you didn't tell her.

She's traveling a thousand miles, probably to tell me off. I think she's more than hurt if she's coming out here... you know Penut... you said that I shouldn't get my hopes up with her... and I kinda took it to heart... Also I have my own hangups about it... Firstly being how insensitive it sounds on it's face. "Hay Ness, if you and Dermot aren't using it, can we rent your womb? Only 9 months, first month deposit up front!"

But more importantly, for the better part of a decade, Vanessa has been pulled into the misadventures of Deadpool. I love her (platonically). I'm glad we were able to stay friends... but she really doesn't need to get wrapped up in my problems, schemes, and drama... again. Not at my request anyway. A big issue I have is personal, I was going to start a family with her. Asking felt... regressive. But also to the point, her proximity to me has gotten her kidnapped and killed before. I still feel guilty about it.

You also traveled the multivers to save this reality for her, also you traveled back in time and saved her bub.

Aint you ever seen endgame. That's not how time travel works. Somewhere out there, in some other time line, Vanessa is still dead, and it's my fault. This is just a branched timeline.

Since when has the timeline ever made Since bub!

*Loud gasp* PENUT DID YOU JUST BREAK THE FOURTH WALL?

I don't think so, bub... I don't see the people, but I remember you trying to explain how the "other me" time traveled in 2014, and now there aren't Sentinel's running death camps. That the timeline changed and converged.

This is no different Princess, don't think about it too hard, you said. So I'm telling you the same thing. Don't fret about it bub, Vanessa is alive... and she will be here Saturday.

You're too good for me, Penut. I Don't deserve you.

No, you don't... he said as he picked a small plastic bag out of his pocket. You literally stole me. But I love you anyway. Now go pick up the massive shit Mary just took. I refuse for us to be the kind of people who just leave it.

Wade took the bag.

It's probably Stockholm syndrome Penut.

Vanessa arrived Saturday afternoon, in a Falcon 900LX. It was the best Peter could arrange on short notice... not that Vanessa knew the difference between a G700 and a Falcon, she was just happy not to be on Southwest. Dermot was with her... the man was almost the antithesis of Wade, He liked Hiking and he was quite to the point of being accused of being shy. Dry witted... and as he'd recently discovered when he went to the gun range with the boy's last 4th of July... a lousy shooter. But he was stable, kind, and good-natured. Definitely willing to go along to get along with a lot of Wade's antics at parties. He knew why Vanessa had come, and he was perfectly fine with it. It didn't interfere with his plans at all. He was a slow burner and Vanessa hadn't indicated she was in any hurry to tie the knot. But that's a story for another time.

Wade had gone the extra mile to spoil them. A black limousine complete with champagne greeted them on the tarmac and whisked them off to casa de chaos.

She walked in the door like she owned the place, dropping her bag by the door. She walked to the dining room table and sat...

Come over here and sit with me boys. We got a lot to talk about and I'd like to waste no time getting down to business.

Oh, so direct. Wade said in a catty tone high enough to indicate he was joking as he winked

We're gonna gloss over the fact that you didn't involve me with your family planning from the start... but I hear you've had a hard time landing a surrogate. she cut eyes at Wade as she said this. Wordlessly airing all of her hurt feelings and grievances regarding not even being told Wade and Logan were trying to have a baby. Something one would think a best friend would be told

I'd like to make an offer. On the condition that despite you two being my best friends... I aint doing this for free.

Oh, if that's the case Ness then you gotta interview like all the rest. He said this in a joking tone but she didn't miss a beat.

Ok Red, I've been substance free for over 20 years, I don't smoke. I promise not to drink or eat selfish for the entire pregnancy, and I'm one of two people in this room who've seen you naked and didn't require drugs and therapy after.

Yeah... my dick dose look like a peperoni somone forgot in the air fryer.

And your sack looks like someone took a crown royal bag, filled it with puss, and ran it through the middle of a hog pin.

Wade smiles. And laughs a little...

Ok, Ness. you got the job.

Great, I knew you'd see it my way. She proceeded to write a number on a piece of paper and slid it across.

That's my price. Also, Dermot and I are gonna be long-term hous guests for obvious reasons. Convenient since he can do his job remotely....

Wade looked at the number, showed it to Logan, and smirked... I think the both of you could retire for this much money... but nothing is too good for my baby. I am going to have to kill several people for this.

Bub, we might have to overthrow a government.

Pff like that's something new.

Lucky you Ness, you get to be the first person to stay in one of the new rooms... and tangentially responsible for a potential war crime! He grinned like the devil at her

---

Shortly after the contract was finalized, Vanessa and Dermot moved in, and it was a short trip to New York... the boys provided a sample and Mister Sinisters machine to Dr. Henry McCoy... who was fascinated by the whole thing (he later wrote an entire dissertation on it) he helped with the procedure... the result of which was one Vanessa Carlysle pregnant with the Biological child of the combined DNA of Deadpool and Wolverine...

The following 9 months went surprisingly smoothly (apart from one small incident with a serial killer, but that's a chapter in the Noir, we will worry about it later)

The day came... Vanessa went into labor, early in the morning. Thankfully, it seemed like it would be free of complications. meaning that Wade and Vanessa both got their wish for thus day. The baby was born at home.

Wade had an aversion to hospitals. Bad memories of cancer diagnosis, and a general fear of strange men in white lab coats. Not every man mind you. He was cool with Beast and other people he knew personally and he knew a few scientists and doctors... Logan wasn't averse to hospitals apart from the smells of disinfectant and illness mixed together. Vanessa was a bit new age for her justification, why bring life into the world in a place so many go to die, on top of it being uncomfortable, and expensive.

As a result, the midwife was called arrangements were made and the new life was soon ushered into the world. They say history doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme. Like his father Logan, who was born at home to an affluent family in a room where he'd spend his childhood, this baby was born in the penthouse of a tower to affluent parents in a room he'd inhabit well in to his 20s.

Vanessa wasn't in labor long. No birth is a walk in the park, but she would tell you it was pretty easy and without drama compared to others. She pushed one last time, and he was out. Vanessa did get the honor of holding him first after the midwife cleaned him up... Logan couldn't resist the urge; the umbilical cord was carefully cut with an adamantium claw blade. He had been offered a scalpel for the record.

Hay there, little guy... it's a pleasure to meet you.

She held him for 5 minutes before she called Wade over.

I know someone who's been waiting a very long time for you... I think it's time you should finally meet him

Vanessa handed the tiny bundle to Wade, who had whipped off his shirt the second Vanessa called him over. I read that skin to skin contact was beneficial to the baby. he'd said as he carefully supported the babies head and neck and brought him in closer to his chest.

Welcome to the world... I apologize for the state of it, but I have indeed waited a long time to meet you, little guy... I'm Wade, but please call me dad. Your other dad over there is the Wolverine, that makes you my Kitten. I promise you I'll do the best i can being your father. Please don't judge me too harshly.

Babe, get over here and take your shirt off.

If I had a dollar for every time you've said that to me.

So what should we name him...

You didn't think of a name already!

Logan said it was bad luck *shrugs*

But at least we got the last name sorted Howlett-Wilson 👌

Bub, hyphenated names are a pain in the ass... its not a problem for us because we rarely use our real married name for anything official... let's just give him your last name.

Wade scrunched his face with a little distaste...

Wolvy he's our baby. He should have something from both of us... I mean, besides our mental illness... that's a given.

Tell you what princess; how about we Name him James. It was my name... once, but I don't use it anymore. He can have it.

His middle name however was a much longer discussion... mostly because Wade offered several typical Deadpool options that Logan Veto'ed outright.

Thunderdick! No. Skullcursher!? God, no. James MAGNUM Wilson! That's terrible Wade...

It went on for a minute before Vanessa finally chimed in. Evan... I've always liked that name.

Well, it's a normal name. So I like it.

Works for me, Penut. Though it'd be a lot cooler if it was Danger... but that's my middle name.

Your middle name is Winston.... idiot!

Part two: the Life and Times of James E. Wilson (hope you like crossover AUs)

James's earliest memory is his father, Wade holding him, comforting him... but also crying. He vaguely remembered being at the playground, running and jumping as most toddlers do... tripping on something and skinning his knees on the sidewalk... he naturally had the reaction of crying from the pain and surprise... it wasn't until James was much older that he understood why his dad kept mumbling why aren't you healing?

It's ok, dad... you don't need to cry. I already feel better.

Even at a young age, he felt compelled to comfort someone else. To help. It broke him out of thinking about his own problems, including skinned knees...

The result of this little accident was Wade panicking. They went back to the house and grabbed the dog and his other dad. Papa (or the big bad wolf if James was misbehaving) no amount of reasoning or comments from Logan couldn't stop him or calm Wade down.

Logan Howlett-Wilson get your ass in the car and drive us to the airport right now! Were going to the Mansion to see the fucking doctor RIGHT NOW!

Logan got the message, Wade didn't forgo pet names unless he was bone chillingly serious in intention and resolve. So within minutes, they were on a jet to New York. Where James met a fuzzy blue man he liked very much despite the blood draw. That was uncomfortable, but he found the lab he was in fascinating... weather or not, this influenced his future career he couldn't fully say. But probably a little.

The news delivered to the... not so young, but definitely, new parents was not stellar... Hank had run several tests and analyzed James' DNA structure. He possessed the X-Gene, but it was dormant due to being recessive. Much like Wade he'd have to undergo profound trauma to activate it. There was no guarantee he'd come out the other end with a healing factor. It could be anything... furthermore, it was highly unethical and unthinkable to subject a child.... Wade cut him off

I know a lot of people don't think highly of me. But how fucking dare you assume I'd even entertain the idea of tormenting my child.

Easy bub, I don't think Hank was implying anything. Ya' know he gets lost in the hypotheticals. Right Hank!?

The blue man nodded in agreement.

We will just... have to be extra careful.

Wade picked James up. C'mon soldier. There's a big metal doofus ya gotta meet.

---

One particular afternoon James was sitting in his office recounting some memories with his friend Gregory. Though they had a habit of referring to each other by sir name. Wilson and House

(what a twist)

The day the two met was actually one of the few points in time that if you knew who his parents were you'd say "oh yeah, that is clearly the offspring of Deadpool and Wolverine" it was at a medical conference in New Orleans. Wilson dosn't remember the exact circumstances he'd been drinking but his father's tempers came out of him as he'd threw punches and generally effectively kicked ass at a bar brawl (Wade would have been so proud) House ever the shit stirrer jumped in and backed him up. Truly his fathers son, meeting your best friend as a result of incredible violence... in a bar.

House had actually just finished telling Wilson about his most recent case, yet another patient that had been previously misdiagnosed as having lupus. It was Hashimoto's disease if you're curious. The interactions he'd had with the patient made him think she'd been being neglected, bare minimum socially isolated... he recognized his own surliness in others. It resulted in a dressdown of her parents that he was certain would result in an office visit with Cuddy and detention after school.

High-school wasn't a fun time for Gregory...

You know it wasn't exactly fun for me either.

From the age of 11 to the time he left for med school, he was escorted by armed gaurds to and from school. Growing up in Kansas city, he'd gone to Pembroke Hill School, a private school that specialized in STEM that's tuition cost as much as a new car annually... he was one of only two kid's that went to that school that arrived with a security detail, not however the only one that arrived in a limousine. The other kid was the child of Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift. They weren't friends... he didn't really have friends.

Aww poor little rich boy

House chided at him

At least you didn't get shoved into a locker...

Which was true. He didn't have friends but he didn't have enemies either. The closest thing he had to a best friend was his Grandma Al and Mr. Yoshitomi his driver/lead bodyguard. he was allowed to call him Yoshi...

The man was clearly retired Yakuza, and like his father Logan, tough on the outside but secretly a teddy bear. The truth is Wilson found himself alone at home, too. Apart from Al... but she mostly sat him down in front of a TV and fed him before going outside to smoke...

so apart from weekends, he was alone. Occasionally, he'd see his big sister Laura. She was frequently busy herself being the "official" Wolverine of the Xmen. He liked it when she brought him comics, fictionlized accounts of the adventures of his dad in the past, and his big sister... he knew his dad's loved him. No one could argue that... but What had started as two lovers in New York trying to make rent money by doing the only thing they were good at; picking up random jobs on the dark web (Killing mostly) in the mid 2020s morphed into a private security firm in Kansas City that rivaled Black Water and the (fucking) Pinkertons by the 2040s.

They were busy, and it did provide him a comfortable life without student loans. But from 11 to 18, it was him Al and what had to be the world's oldest dog. She's still alive, actually. The dog loved him and was rarely not by his side when he was home (because all deadpools love their babies) Althea however was not, she was a chain smoker and heavy drug user until the day she died.

how that woman lived to be 115 is fucking beyond me

She lived long enough to see (metaphorically) Wilson graduate medical school. It was the last time he'd seen her. He moved away and started his residency in New Jersey. Wade had sent a private plane as well as several veiled threats to the Dean of medicine at the time to ensure Wilson had the time off to attend the funeral.

Wilson... I gotta ask, why did you have armed guards?

Oh! Funny story when I was 10. I was kidnapped once

(Exactly once I made sure of that)

It's true. He was heading home from school. He made it to the driveway of the tower he called home when some very ill-informed gangsters decided to kidnap the son of a rich man... they didn't do their resurch as to who's kid exactly, just figured they'd get a ransom...

In fairness on paper Wade and Logan weren't Wade and Logan, they were two random dudes who ran a lucrative business and weren't shy about showing off.

This leads to probably the second most traumatic memory Wilson had... not necessarily the kidnapping. They had actually treated him surprisingly well.

What shocked him was seeing his father Logan covered in blood kicking down the door of the room he'd been kept in. He'd never seen his father in the tight yellow and brow suit before. Or the mask... he had taken it off when he clocked James, but that only made it worse. The entire bottom of his father's face was coated in blood, like he'd gored a man (he actually had ripped open one of the gangsters throat with his teeth) the blood on his face was cut clear with two rivulets of tears. What James didn't know is they weren't just tears of joy seeing his son, but also tears of relief. If anything had happened to James, the Genocide he and his husband were going to commit in response would have made his incident in his own universe look like childs play.

---

Rebellious teenage years were impossible. You couldn't steal weed from your blind grandma and hid it in your room, not from the nose of the Wolverine.

Do you know what this shit dose! It makes you fucking stupid is what it does, and your dad and I aren't raising a fucking idiot!

Logan never hit him. But he was scary when he yelled and loud... if he was really pissed those claws popped out. Never an actual threat but fucking scary. The only person in the house that actually got stabbed was Wade... and much to James's chagrin, he was pretty sure his dad liked it.

It wasn't the worst childhood, and it wasn't a bad life. Wilson became an oncologist partly because he was fascinated by his own father. The man who's cancer actually kept him alive. He had success, failures... it's like his dad said "what dosn't kill you makes you bad at intimacy kido" 3 ex wives later he finally understood what he meant by that.

All the events of his life that you know about that happened on the show. They happened. The only difference is that he went home to Kansas City for the holidays. Where he'd see his seemingly ageless father's and sisters. He loved his family Logan, Wade, Laura, and Ellie (we'll talk about her in another story.) Which is just as well. He never had children of his own, and after your 3rd failed marriage, you kinda give up on the idea of expanding your family. But until his dying day his dad dotted on him. And bragged, boy did he brag especially to the Xmen when he had a chance to rub in their face his son the successful Doctor! (Suck on that Jean!)

But for Wade, the day did finally come that his immortality became a curse... with every Christmas, Thanksgiving, and spring break that came, James got older. Wade was at his retirement party, He remembers loving Dr. House's wildly inappropriate speech and toast. A man after his own heart, but after the laughter subsided, he realized that his boy, who was graciously receiving a gold watch, had lines in his face and gray hair.

The years kept coming... Wilson got older, he got sick... and his mortality came to pass.

If the universe brought these starbound lovers together for any particular reason. It was for this moment, Wade loved two things Intensely, his Wolverine and his children... but the Death of his first son broke him. Logan clinged on to Wade physically and emotionally. Doing everything he could to hold him together. It was many years before Wade could be called Ok. It was another couple hundred years before he even considered the idea of raising more children.

It should be noted that James was the only one to be fully genetically Logan and Wade's. He was special, one of a kind.

Wade carried a portion of James's ashes with him in a small locket around his neck where it stayed for countless millenia. In dangerous situations he'd even cut himself and put it under his skin so it wouldn't get lost...

Epilogue:

The lady at the end of the road sits in her ethereal other world. Surrounded by various time keeping devices dimly lit by candles flames that don't consume. She pulled out a pocket watch and a ledger. She had an appointment to keep. This one was a special case. The dark lady had the power to send out shades, to be everywhere at once. But this appointment she'd handle directly. She carried out her appointed task kindly but usually without emotion. She was inflexible and didn't bargain or despite what you may have heard play chess or gamble for time or souls....

Wade was there... hospice care was set up about a week ago, and he sat by James side as the ravage of time and biology took its toll. By regular human standards Dr. James Wilson lived a good life, a long life at that. He was 97 years 6 months 2 weeks and 5 days old the morning she came. Logan had been with him the entire night before Wade had taken his shift early that morning so Logan could get some sleep. At about 10 am in the guise of a hospice nurse, she walked into the room, Wade was no fool. Only one person still alive (if you could call her alive) looked like that... He knew why she was there. He hadn't seen her in a very long time.

I see we're sticking with the Aubrey Plaza look... tears started welling up in his eyes. He looked at James in the bed beside him Despite looking down at the face of an old man, Wade still saw his baby. His son.

I thought you'd like this look, it's definitely more pleasant than most. If it's any consolation, Wade... I'm sorry I have to do this.

I haven't seen you in over 100 years. Not even the times I've died lately. Haven't seen you since the time I jumped out of an airplane into a volcano after Vanessa dumped me. Now you show up! I know why you're here.

The tears were streaming down Wade's face. Hot on his cheeks, his eyes red. He looks at her pleadingly.

Please, take me instead. Please, Lady Death. Leave my baby alone. Please, I beg you, take me.

Oh, Wade... My love. It has caused me great sorrow to not see you all these years. But don't you know? I can't take you even if I wanted to. You and Logan have woven yourself in the fabric of the universe. You and him are part of Eternity. I can't take you only, Entropy can take you. probably shortly before he takes me... even death has a death.

I know this is hard. I beg you to forgive me... but it's James's time to go. But because I love you. I waited as long as I could, he should have passed before you woke up this morning. But now you have an opportunity to say goodbye...

She moved to the bed and touched James's hand. He sat up and looked at his father.

Why are you crying, dad?

He stood up, out of the bed. Wade jumped out of his chair and embraced him tightly.

Oh, my sweet Kitten. Im so sorry. Please forgive your old man.

Wade sobs for a while before he can talk again...

I remember the day you were born... I loved you, I held you. I swore I'd burn down the world to protect you... but I can't protect you anymore...

Dad, I Don't understand. What's going on.

That's unfortunately my job to explain... but it'd be easier to show you...

She points at the bed; James looks down and to his surprise, he sees... himself. Drained of color, unmoving.

Dr. James Wilson, you have lived your life in service of others. A life well spent. But now is the time to leave that life... I'm sorry

Dad, you don't have to protect me anymore. It'll... it'll be ok.

Kitten... I love you, and though I desperately want to rage and fight and yell to keep you here longer... it's not the right thing to do. My friend here gave me an opportunity few have. I'm going to take it instead of throwing it in her face.

I love you...

I love you too Dad.

Wade hugged his son one last time, kissed him on the cheek, and led him by the hand to Lady Death.

Can... can Logan say goodbye, too?

I'm sorry Wade. I've already pushed the limits of the rules to extend this opportunity to you. I'm afraid I can't

Ok...

He looks up at James.

Your father and I will miss you. Honeybadger loved his kitten as much as I do.

I know, Dad... I know. I want you to know that I had a good life. I'm at peace. I don't want you worrying about me.

You silly boy. It doesn't matter if you're 9 or 97. I was always going to worry about you.

Lady Death extended her hand out to James.

It's time... I'm sorry, but don't be sacred. I promise where we're going isn't bad. It won't hurt.

James took her hand, and slowly took his other hand out of his father's grasp... turned and looked at him.

I love you. You were the best dad. I guess now is the time. Goodbye.

I could have been better, I'm sorry. I love you....... James... it... it might be a while before I see you again... goodbye. I'll always love you, kitten.

They walked away from Wade out the bedroom door. Wades heart broke into a million pieces as they turned to go down the hall. There was a flash of light... and he was gone.

The End.

If fan fics had credits. This would be the closing song. It is special to me... I myself would like it played at my funeral.

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Below is a translation into English. Be sure to give the user who provided it a ❤️

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familiarscars · 16 hours ago

Text

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 10

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin, July 24, 2017

Bad Omens left Richmond.

The previous year had undoubtedly been the most hectic of your lives. After months of hard work and merging all your ideas, you presented the tracks to a record label that seemed interested in the band's concept, and they suggested releasing your first album.

Since then, you’d been on a constant quest to make a name for yourselves on the road, playing shows in small venues for crowds that weren’t always the most engaging, and posting YouTube videos with the label’s support. Every bit of creative input came from your minds, and it was impossible to disagree when the synergy seemed to resonate with each of you.

A simple stage at Warped Tour felt monumental to you all, and naturally, you gave it your all the moment you stepped in front of the audience for the first time. Each time you heard more voices singing along at your shows, it warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

The chaotic routine was bearable because, to you and the guys, it felt like fun. Every performance outdid the last. You and Noah danced, jumped, whipped your hair, spun around, played with your voices, dove into the crowd, and teased your friends as they played. It was impossible not to feel at home when you were with them.

"Thank you so much, Warped Tour!" Noah said, breathless, a hand over his chest in gratitude.

"You made this afternoon so special for Bad Omens!" you chimed in as everyone gathered beside you. "We’ll never forget this!"

The crowd applauded, and you all exchanged glances, your eyes shimmering with emotion. It happened every time—those butterflies as if it were the very first show. Linking arms with Noah and Ruffilo, you all bowed deeply in gratitude, smiling wide. Folio tossed his drumsticks into the air, and Jolly followed with his picks before you all exited the stage, exhilarated and one after another.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING!" he yelled, startling you as he grabbed you from behind, lifting your feet off the ground and stumbling with your steps backstage. "Have I told you you were great today?"

"Only about a thousand times," you laughed, trying to dodge his desperate kisses on the side of your face as you shrank your neck.

In the distance, you could hear the crew dismantling the stage while you all drifted apart, each clutching a bottle of water. The guys greeted members of other bands and received praise for the stellar performance as you watched the hustle and waved at most of them. The adrenaline still surged through your veins, bubbling as intensely as your breath.

Your eyes met Noah’s just a few feet away. He seemed utterly oblivious to what the other band’s vocalist was saying, so focused was he on you. That familiar glimmer in his eyes was routine by now, and the soft wind barely stirred his long hair, lightened by the day’s glow.

It had been two years this month.

Two years of spending every day together from sunrise to sunset, and your stomach still fluttered whenever you caught his lips curving into a shy smile, as if it were your first date. The one that never actually happened thanks to the rain.

But you’d never been so grateful for it, for introducing you to him in his best and most vulnerable form. Just one look like the one he was giving you now—when your bodies collided against the damp ground after a dance without music—and you’d decided you needed to be his.

Since then, everything about the rain had become your shared trademark.

"Hey!" Jolly’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "There’s a radio team interviewing some of the bands performing today, and I managed to get you and Noah into a quick chat with them!"

He seemed thrilled, and his energy was infectious.

"That’s fantastic!"

"Yeah! I think it’s a great idea, and they’re already waiting!"

At the exit from the backstage area, near the trailers serving as dressing rooms for the bands, a crew stood with cameras, microphones, and a panel displaying the radio’s logo. Rock Radio was the main and most respected source for the genre, and the chance to speak with them falling into your lap was too good an opportunity to miss.

"This is my first introduction to Bad Omens, and I have to admit, your sound is incredible! How does it feel to play a festival for the first time?" the interviewer asked enthusiastically, directing the first question to Noah, who looked just as excited and still buzzing with post-show adrenaline.

"Surreal!" he began, gripping the microphone a little too tightly. "I couldn’t ask for better company when the entire band works so hard to be unique. They’re responsible for every single one of those claps, and we all feel like we truly deserve to be here after so much dedication to make this happen!"

"Amazing! The vocal alternation is truly fascinating, and you both execute it so naturally—it’s like you’re one!"

"None of this would happen without the most talented person I know." As he finished, you felt your face gradually warm as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. "It’s crazy, but I really see her voice as part of mine, and I feel like I could never do this alone. Without her, I’m just Noah."

Your attention instinctively turned upward, catching him smiling at you from the corner of his eyes. The interviewer pursed his lips, speechless for a moment, before refocusing, his gaze now entirely on you.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, smiling wide at you. "It’s undeniable—your voice is so unique, unlike anything the genre has seen before, especially when paired with the riffs and growls. Bad Omens has been around for two years, but do you still face challenges as a female vocalist in this space?"

"Well, ignoring some criticism doesn’t make it go away. I always try to filter whether the feedback is about my work or something I can improve…"

"Impossible, when she’s so good," Noah interrupted, tilting the mic toward him for a second.

"If it’s not…" You reclaimed the mic, shooting him a playful side-eye. "I do my best to disregard it. Honestly, the band has built a great fan base—open-minded, respectful, and always supportive of what we propose. That’s important to me because it helps me see if we’re on the right path."

"Impossible because she really is that good!" The interviewer couldn’t hold back his laughter, nor could you, as Noah cut in again, swiping the mic to emphasize with a raised finger.

"There’s no doubt who your number one fan is, huh?"

"We’re an excellent duo! I don’t think I could have done so well if he hadn’t believed in me first." Your eyes briefly wavered as they met his, then turned back to the interviewer, your teeth lightly biting your lower lip. "I owe Noah all the confidence in myself that I’ve been learning to embrace over time."

Butterflies danced in your stomach, fluttering back and forth. Your hand gripped the microphone tightly, nerves taking hold as you faced a camera and answered questions about yourself for the first time. Talking about him remained one of your favorite topics, and bringing him into the context of the interview made the atmosphere less tense.

The interview had been incredible, good enough to make it on the air, and a pleasant sensation tingled across your skin. Things were heading in the right direction, and you felt... happy.

The guys were gathered, helping the crew load the instruments into the van. Noah was coiling some cables, and the others signaled to each other to pick up the pace. Smoke escaped your lips as you watched them work like a colony of ants preparing for winter, flicking the ash from your cigarette onto the ground.

"We have exactly four hours to get to the next venue," Gerard approached, speaking on the phone as he handed you a flyer. It had the band's name and the time of their set later that night at a bar a few miles away. "The crew left another outfit for you in the dressing room. Change on the way."

"Wait." You called for his attention, and as he turned back to you, he put the phone aside and faced you completely. "What do you mean, another show in just a few hours?"

"This slot opened up to open for a friend’s band. They had hired someone else, but something came up, so I suggested you."

"We just performed, and doing this again in a four-hour window is too much for us!" Your fingers crumpled the flyer into a small ball before stuffing it into the pocket of your shirt. "If I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to let us know when you're adding something to our schedule."

Gerard let out a loud sigh, scratching his left eyebrow with his index finger before leaning in to meet your height. His breath reeked of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot with some irritation, and his nostrils flared.

"Sweetheart, your memory should also remind you that your band is nothing right now. If you really want to make it, you need to stop dragging your feet," he growled.

"How about you get on stage and scream into a mic for two straight hours? Do that, and then tell me who’s dragging their feet!" Your voice was steady as you stepped forward. "Now, let’s talk about something interesting since you want to turn this into a business meeting, Gerard. What’s the revenue from the merch sold today at the festival?"

"Sales weren’t that great," he snapped back. "There’s still plenty of inventory left, which, by the way, is in the van."

"Along with the extra stock you brought without our permission?" Your eyes narrowed. "Am I wrong, or did you bring more pieces to intentionally create this excuse of poor sales to report the wrong figures?"

This wasn’t an empty accusation. You had taken advantage of your friends’ distraction after the interview and wandered around the festival until you stopped at the merch booth. Every single Bad Omens item had been sold, even though, suspiciously, the booth had been placed far away from the main crowd, almost as if it were meant to go unnoticed.

"You’re so insolent," Gerard muttered, shaking his head. "The revenue split will be discussed when we’re back in the office. You should get over yourself because if I really wanted to steal something, it wouldn’t be from someone as irrelevant as you!"

"Like your son’s band?" you shot back with a lazy smirk, watching his expression darken. "That might be a good option to take our place tonight because Bad Omens won’t be playing again today!"

"Everything is already set for this show, and your tantrum won’t change that. You don’t get to pick and choose jobs when your band is trying to make it, and you all signed a contract obligating you to appear at any event the label sets up!" He jabbed a finger at your chest. "I don’t care if you’re tired or if this pushes you to your limits. You will perform, and for every off-key note, I’ll dock your pay if you don’t do this show with the most enthusiasm of your life. Understood?"

That damn contract.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gerard pull something from his pocket—a small packet with a single pill inside. Discreetly, he slipped it into your hand, clamping it shut with his own, holding your fist tightly.

"If you can’t handle the routine you signed up for, take a little incentive," he growled, tightening his grip to focus your attention. "But don’t forget—you’re required to give me a stellar performance no matter what you use to get there. See you in four hours."

Abruptly, he released you and sniffed sharply before walking away, leaving you alone with the unfamiliar object. Your eyes carefully studied your palm. Inside the packet, the light pink pill was small, marked by a single line across the top. You’d always hated taking medication, not even for headaches. The taste was awful, and your body took too long to dissolve this kind of stuff.

Outside the packaging, you kept studying that thing between your fingers. It had a rough texture and no discernible smell.

"Ready to go?" his voice startled you, and in an impulsive gesture, you shoved the pill into your mouth, swallowing it immediately. The bitter, unpleasant taste lingered on your palate, scratching down your throat. Noah watched as you slowly turned toward him, narrowing his eyes. "Hey, what's with that face?"

Noah chuckled, touching the tip of your nose with his finger to dissolve the strange expression you were making.

"Nothing." You forced a smile, squinting to hide the unease caused by that peculiar taste clawing at your throat. "Shall we?"

Growing up alone had placed the weight of solving every problem solely on your shoulders. There was no one to share the burden; wherever you looked, you only saw yourself. Crying for help or seeking support from someone wasn’t an option—your four walls reflected only one face: your own. The most painful part was having to build your own ground while learning to walk, with no support, no safety net—just the obligation to take firm, flawless steps.

Even surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you and wanted the best for you, something deeply rooted in your subconscious insisted that the problems in your life were exclusively yours. No one should cross that line. For you, relying on someone felt like selfishness; it was your responsibility to be strong enough to bear everything on your own, never asking for help.

The stage lights flickered in hues of orange and purple, creating an atmosphere that wavered between the real and the surreal. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a dark dress that clung to your body like a second skin, paired with high vinyl boots. Every movement felt calculated yet disconnected, as if an invisible force was pulling you into a parallel reality. No one noticed the peculiar gleam in your eyes—a reflection of whatever was coursing through your veins.

The first note left your throat like a whisper laced with melancholy. Your voice was flawless, slightly drawn out, as if trying to trap each syllable in the air before releasing it. You sang in a rhythm that fluctuated—sometimes slow, sometimes almost provocative, as if each verse were a confession. There was no fault in your pitch, yet something about the melody felt unusual—heavier, more intimate.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked discreetly during the intro of the next song. When your eyes locked onto his, a distorted vision took over—he seemed blurry, almost comical. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Of course I am!" You playfully shoved his broad shoulder, noticing his expression shift, though something prevented you from fully identifying it.

Surely, he was having as much fun as you.

Your steps, however, were a different story. Slowly, you crossed the stage with movements that defied balance, teetering between sensual and erratic. Each gesture carried an exaggerated languidness, a broken grace, as if you were dancing alone in a world only you could see.

"Are you with me tonight, aren’t you?" Your voice came out honeyed, laden with an unsettling charm, as your eyes scanned the crowd with a gaze that blended sweetness and debauchery.

Your sweaty hand gripped the microphone like a lover, pulling it closer to your lips as you laughed softly—for no apparent reason. “Ah... It’s so good to see such beautiful faces staring at me. You’re all so gorgeous. You have no idea how much…” The last word came out almost like a moan, leaving the audience caught between discomfort and fascination.

The beats of the music seemed to synchronize with whatever was happening inside you. As the song progressed, your movements became freer, more erratic, as though each note was guiding you further from where you were. But no one knew—or maybe didn’t want to know—that there was something more to this night.

You were the star, and even under an influence that made the world spin in strange ways, you were too perfect for anyone to question it.

“What the hell was that earlier?” Noah’s tone carried a sharp edge, and you froze before him. In your mind, ever since you left the stage, nothing had been wrong. You were a star. “Are you hearing me?”

“Why are you talking so loudly?” Your body leaned backward, and he caught you before you could collapse onto the table with the water bottles.

Noah leaned closer to your mouth and sniffed—a gesture you clearly misinterpreted as you tried to kiss him, only for him to turn his face away.

“There’s no smell of alcohol, so why are you acting like this?”

“STOP BEING SUCH A BORING!” you shouted suddenly, wrenching your arm free from his grip. “Holy crap, you’re so annoying sometimes! Why can’t you just enjoy things without ruining the fun all the time?”

He stood there, analyzing everything coming out of your mouth as if looking at a stranger. Your heartbeat was so fast it felt like your heart might burst from your chest at any moment.

“What kind of joke is this?” he asked, stepping back when you tried to approach. “Why are you treating me this way?”

“When you try to fit me into a box like I’m just a piece of a Rubik’s Cube, I feel…” you began, but the words seemed to die on your lips as sweat trickled down your temple.

“You feel?” he pressed, his tone firmer. “Say it!”

“Suffocated.”

For the first time in two years, you saw him look at you with different eyes. They didn’t shine with the fervent passion you were used to seeing, nor the euphoria of your presence. Noah’s eyes held disappointment.

“I heard some shouting outside and thought it was strange coming from you guys…” Ruffilo’s voice cut through the tension as you both stared each other down. “But you’re just joking around, right?”

“We’re definitely not,” Noah replied without taking his eyes off you.

Sniffling to regain his composure, he stormed out of the backstage area as swiftly as a gust of furious wind, leaving you and Ruffilo in a painful silence.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ;

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