#but it's just not a patch on the tv series

[bairdthereader]

Intentional Touch, Respected Space: A By-Episode Study, Part 4.2

This is the space where their love grows in safety.

S1E4: Secret (Section 2 of 2)

[Analysis of the first part of the episode is here. Previous posts in series: S1E1; S1E2; S1E3]

Nick and Charlie have returned to their safe space together, and they understand, to some extent, the newest facet of what they are to each other. On the one hand, the relief of having their safe space reestablished is incredible; on the other hand, the outside world and all its challenges await on the other side of Charlie’s bedroom door. As he prepares to leave, Nick starts to ask a question that makes him visibly uncomfortable, so much so that he can’t even finish voicing it.

Charlie, his tentative, recently repaired smile faltering, knows exactly what Nick is trying to ask. He’s been here before. He responds with an (unfortunately) oft-practiced “yeah, it’s fine,” trying to reassure Nick even as memories of Ben’s secrecy must be plaguing him, and his own desires are shunted to the side.  

The difference here is that Nick clearly knows that what he’s asking is hard for Charlie. His face as Charlie turns to get the umbrella is full of remorse and distaste for the agreement he just exacted from Charlie. When Charlie hands him the umbrella—with just the slightest bit of attitude that recalls the “idiot” conversation from earlier, but nothing like his usual plucky sarcasm—Nick manages to find a way to laugh, though it’s shaky. The relief in that laugh and the gratefulness on his face isn’t just for the umbrella; it’s for Charlie’s understanding of what Nick needs at that moment, for the sacrifice he understands (incompletely, at this point) Charlie is making.

Neither of them is feeling sure-footed yet; both are attempting to figure out what kind of boundaries their altered shared space has and how it impacts their interactions going forward. They’re both trying to understand where touch comes into this scenario, in a semi-public space after Nick has just asked to keep their affection a secret. They both want a more tangible goodbye, a meaningful touch. It’s in Charlie’s toned-down smile and longing “bye,” and it’s in Nick’s aborted wave and slight downward look of regret. But then there’s Nick’s lopsided smile and his little huff of gladness and it’s clear he is also happy that he and Charlie found their way back to each other.

After a moment standing at the door looking dreamily after Nick, Charlie decides that, no, that goodbye was not sufficient after all. That they deserve something more authentic and reassuring to both of them. He rushes out into the rain—sans umbrella! These boys!—and calls after Nick.

Stopping under the incredibly insufficient umbrella, Nick and Charlie exchange hi’s (Charlie’s with a bracing gulp afterward) approximately 10 seconds after their goodbyes. After an initial moment of being happy to see Charlie (again, it’s been 10 seconds and they still want to greet each other), Nick asks if he forgot anything. He knows he didn’t, but Charlie’s brief silence has him worried, despite the fact that Charlie ran through the rain to get to him with a smile on his face. While Charlie glances around, carefully checking that their privacy and therefore Nick’s need for covertness are at least somewhat ensured, Nick gathers himself with a little, slightly panicked swallow. Is Charlie having second thoughts now that Nick has asked him to hide their relationship? Is he about to pull away, step out of their shared space?

But no. When Charlie turns back around, his intent is clear on his face, and Nick looks right down at Charlie’s lips—a silent, respectful request from Charlie and enthusiastic agreement from Nick, all in a second—and Charlie’s able to say with confidence that, yes, in fact, Nick did forget something.

Charlie knows what they both want, so he closes the space between them, holding Nick’s neck and face with one gentle, intentional, calming, claiming hand, watching as Nick’s eyes go once again to his lips in an unspoken language of both entreaty and agreement, and he leans in for a real goodbye kiss, eliminating the previously unsure space between them.

When they pull back, it’s like two magnets pulling apart—it takes force to separate them. Now that they’ve established that this kind of touch belongs in their relationship, parting is harder. To say Nick is stunned is an understatement, and this happy, confident Charlie knows it. He nods decisively—this is the goodbye they deserved—and says "okay" in a way that confirms for both of them that they're on stable ground together again.

And now Nick knows what it’s like to kiss Charlie when the terrain between them is mapped, when their safe space is secured, when he’s sure of Charlie’s affection. There’s joy and giddy euphoria and some disbelief on his face, an overwhelming recognition of the potential scope of this relationship and the completely staggering enormity of the emotions he’s feeling, as he turns back toward home and looks briefly up at the sky. He and Charlie are together.

Arriving at school the next day is a happy affair. Nick’s cheerfulness is so marked that Imogen comments that "something’s different." She attributes it to a hairstyle change, partially as an excuse to touch Nick (without permission), but what she’s really picking up on is that he seems happier and more contented than usual. Nick worries that Imogen knows he’s been kissing a boy. When it’s clear that Imogen suspects nothing, Nick’s carefree attitude returns and he endures the rest of her teasing good-naturedly, smiling to himself when she leaves. After all, he gets to see Charlie next.

Charlie, meanwhile, walks into school so fast he’s about to break into a jog, smiling exuberantly until he reaches the door to their form room. He pauses, taking a moment to gather and calm himself, to dim the smile just a bit, reminding himself that he and Nick are a secret to everyone but themselves.

He can’t tame that smile completely, though, once Nick is in view. Nick is waiting with poorly concealed impatience, looking at the door, sitting with his arms crossed to contain his exploding heart, characteristic lopsided smile in place. A smile that only gets bigger as Charlie gets closer. There’s a moment as Charlie is setting his things down, when Charlie is still trying to contain his own smile, and Nick’s smile falters just a bit in response as he watches Charlie intently, silently, waiting to make sure that things are still where they left them under the umbrella.

But when Charlie sits and looks at Nick, and his enthusiastic “hi” is out in the universe, Nick is comforted and reassured by the familiarity of their affectionate greeting. His “hi” is quiet, but filled with relief and satisfaction and simple gladness that Charlie is sitting next to him again; there’s even a deep breath followed by a small sigh of contented settledness. Charlie is nearly giddy with happiness, possibly recalling the way he felt the first time he sat down next to Nick months ago. Back then, the space between them was unknown and blank. Now that space is a sanctuary that, in public, conceals and protects their new private closeness. The familiar, comforting routines of friendship blend with the sparkling newness of their deeper relationship, setting that space between them aglow.

We next see a moderately concerned and suspicious Mr. Ajayi informing Charlie that there’s a “boy” waiting for him in the art room, giving Charlie a chance to let him know if this is a situation Charlie is not on board with (Mr. Ajayi, you saintly soul). But Charlie happily, even perhaps a little proudly (he is Charlie, after all, so this is muted) tells Mr. Ajayi that he’s meeting a rugby boy (code for straight boy crush). So Mr. Ajayi leaves Charlie and Nick with his tacit approval, and Charlie strides confidently into the art room, where Nick is sitting with the same barely contained eagerness he displayed in form. Now, however, they’re alone, and Nick can be true and honest; he can say “I missed you” with complete sincerity and unabashed enthusiasm.

Charlie, typically, responds with a bit of sarcasm, unable to fully accept the implication of Nick’s statement—that he likes Charlie enough to want to be with him, pretty much all the time, and that those four hours felt interminable. Nick has seen Charlie deflect positive attention enough times not to take this too personally (though we have to think he wishes that Charlie was able to verbally return or validate his feelings at least a little bit). Not only does Nick not take offense to this teasing, he then checks in with Charlie about his friends and whether spending time with Nick would upset them; he doesn’t want this hiding to cost Charlie more than it already is. Nick's also subtly confirming that Charlie would in fact rather be having lunch with Nick than with his friends. Charlie makes a bit light of this too, but he’s still reassuring Nick in his own way that this was a decision Charlie made willingly. Then, to make it all quite clear, Charlie reaches for Nick’s hand under the table, instigating the first intentional touch since their parting under the umbrella. It’s hidden from view—Charlie’s respecting Nick’s request, and honoring their understanding safe space, while still making grounding and affectionate contact. Nick returns the affection by swiping his thumb over Charlie’s fingers, confirmation that the touch is wanted and the meaning behind it understood.

With this reminder of the safe emotional space they have between them, Nick confesses (again) that he’s glad to be away from his usual friend group. That they’re nothing like Charlie. Yet again, Nick is offering Charlie proof that he admires and values the things in Charlie that make him different, proof that he’s choosing Charlie. (Note that there’s no concern over Nick’s friends missing him; it’s not even expected by Nick himself.)  Charlie clearly doesn’t even know how to respond to this, indeed can barely believe it or internalize it, but it’s good for him to hear nonetheless.

They continue to hold hands throughout their conversation, keeping that line of emotional connection firmly in place, bridging the physical space that the public nature of the school day forced on them. It has to be noted that this moment is different from Charlie’s meetings with Ben in almost every way that matters. There’s no skulking, no leaning against walls in dark corners, little, if any, real secrecy (open doors, Mr. Ajayi knows, anyone could theoretically come to the art block at any time), just a semblance of privacy. The room is bright and light, positive and filled with color. Charlie clearly chose the location and arranged the meeting, giving him more agency than he ever had with Ben. This is a safe and welcoming place for Charlie. Charlie’s comfort here is obvious, and his affection and respect for Mr. Ajayi make it clear to Nick that this is a safe space for him, too (despite Mr. Ajayi’s initial ‘evils’). With the comforting physical touch of the handhold and the knowledge of safety in both the actual space of the art room but also the safe space he’s built with Nick, Charlie speaks aloud about the bullying he experienced, which then leads, with a noted drop in mood, to talk of Ben and his "making" Charlie keep them a secret.

Charlie immediately realizes from the crestfallen look on Nick’s face, the slight additional slump to his shoulders, the breaking of eye contact, that Nick is reading more into Charlie’s comment than Charlie meant by it. Nick’s guilt over asking for secrecy is plain on his face, and the idea that he might be causing Charlie even a fraction of the pain Ben caused him is horrifying to Nick. It makes him feel like he’s tainting that trusted space between them, and he withdraws inward briefly. Charlie reaches out with his other hand and grasps Nick’s—which seems to have loosened a bit—in both of his, drawing Nick closer to himself, intentionally pulling Nick back into that safe space, making sure Nick is listening to him. Charlie tries to reassure Nick, both with this touch and with his words. As Nick’s fingers tighten slightly around Charlie’s hand in acknowledgment, Charlie states emphatically that their situation is different, that Nick is nothing like Ben.

In most ways this is true, and Nick tries to rally, but clearly, neither of them has managed to convince the other, or themselves, that the nature of their relationship is, in fact, completely different. Nick's responding "yeah" is stilted and unconvincing, but still he leans forward and, presumably, returns Charlie’s double handhold. Even if his own guilt is gnawing at him, and he still suspects he's harming Charlie in some way, he’s trying to stay connected and keep that space between them intact. Charlie’s subdued smile tells us he knows Nick doesn’t completely believe his own “yeah,” and that Charlie knows there’s little else he can say to improve the situation in the moment. He’s made sure that Nick knows Charlie still wants him there with him, and that they can take the time and space they need to figure out their new dynamic—how to be in the world—together.

---

The next space they have to navigate together is rugby, which has always held its challenges but now introduces an uncomfortable element of conflicting loyalties for Nick and added guilt for Charlie. Charlie’s been moved from reserve to active player for an upcoming match and struggles to work up the nerve to tackle other players in practice. This earns the ire and frustration of his teammates, who feel Charlie is letting them down. Nick has to walk a fine line between concern for Charlie, guilt at the knowledge that Charlie is going through this at least in part because Nick asked him to join the team in the first place, and some real sympathy with his teammates for their frustrations. At the end of practice, Nick walks back to the changing rooms with some of the lads, leaving Charlie lagging behind, and the space between them expands, becoming thin and brittle under the pressures of this environment. Charlie, likely feeling guilt about his performance and worried that Nick is more upset with him than he is in reality—again, Ben’s conditioning of Charlie to make him feel not only pathetic but complicit in his own humiliation asserts itself—internalizes the team’s (and Nick’s) frustrations and tries to work them out by practicing more. . . alone.

As Charlie and Nick jog around the track before the match, they’re ahead of the pack slightly and by themselves—apart, but not alone, as they often are—and there’s a socially acceptable bit of space between them as they talk. All of Charlie’s friends are supporting him, and while Charlie can’t seem to understand why his friends would choose to spend their time in this way—"I told them they didn’t have to, but Elle said they wanted to be supportive”—Nick is both pleased for Charlie and perhaps wondering if any of his mates would support him in the same way. But Charlie doesn’t recognize this, and instead interprets Nick’s slightly brusque response as concern about Charlie’s friends seeing them together and learning the secret truth. Charlie rushes to reassure Nick that he won’t tell his friends about their relationship, and Nick, who had not been thinking along those lines at all, responds with a brief head shake and gruff, offhand “yeah, good, thanks.” Nick then tries to check in with Charlie, to see how this is affecting him, asking “you sure it’s okay?” To which Charlie responds, almost automatically, “Yeah. Of course.” Nick frowns, once again not fully believing Charlie or at least continuing to feel badly about the situation. But before this (very needed) conversation can continue, Harry forcefully interrupts, as he is wont to do.

When Charlie sees his friends arrive, he gets out from under Harry’s grip and gives Nick a little (again, socially acceptable, rugby-laddish) back-of-the-hand tap to his upper arm to get his attention and let Nick know that Charlie is parting ways with the group. Nick stands for a while, indecisive, as the rugby lads peel off in one direction, and Charlie to his friends in the other, leaving Nick briefly (but sadly, not unusually) alone. Nick watches from behind a literal physical barrier, cut off from Charlie, as Charlie affectionately greets his friends, as Darcy blatantly asks Charlie about his relationship with Nick, and as Charlie struggles to hide the nature of that relationship from his friends with blatant and painfully delivered lies.

Charlie looks over at Nick and sees him frowning, then immediately checks in with Darcy to see if there are rumors circulating, the need to protect Nick and keep the secret always at the forefront of his mind. Charlie’s shoulders are pulled up, his hands tug at his shirt sleeves, and he generally gives off an air of intense discomfort as he has to deceive his friends with Nick nearby, looking morose and, from Charlie’s point of view, upset about how the conversation is proceeding. Nick is so focused on this interaction, on his position as an outsider looking in, on Charlie’s obvious unhappiness, that when his own friends walk by and greet him, he spares them only a brief wave and barely a smile, before turning his attention back to Charlie again. The whole situation is clearly chafing hard, and Nick is beginning to recognize that not only does it make Charlie unhappy and put strain on Charlie’s deeply important friendships, it makes Nick discontented as well. This is a moment when the space they have between them is involuntary, when it is required by secrecy and circumstance, and it no longer feels good or right; its shape is distorted and unfamiliar.

Once again, Nick and Charlie are standing together and apart from their teammates as they watch the opposing team file out onto the pitch. Charlie takes a completely warranted nervous step back and bumps Nick’s arm with his elbow, an unintentional touch from which he almost immediately recoils. It’s a touch that would look completely accidental from an outside perspective, but that represents, to Charlie, everything he thinks he’s not supposed to do and feel around Nick in public and even, to an extent, in private. His desire for comfort, closeness, and reassurance are all things he’s been taught he doesn’t deserve and shouldn’t want, and the rule of secrecy only compounds those suppressive feelings for Charlie. Nick is clearly a bit surprised and regretful that Charlie feels the need to apologize at all, but there’s no time for him to respond now.

Nick now has to navigate one of the most challenging instances yet of trying to walk the ever-thinner line between his rugby lad persona and the person he wants to be with Charlie. The space between Nick and Charlie is fully public right now, and in one of the least hospitable places it could be. All interaction between them here would be heavily scrutinized within a very narrow framework of accepted demonstrations of masculinity. So Nick, who is keenly aware of this in a much more visceral and personal way than he was before, is trying desperately to captain his team to victory (which requires equal attention to each of his teammates), keep an extra attentive eye on Charlie without appearing to do so, and manage lingering feelings of guilt about his culpability in Charlie’s pain during the game, all while a running loop of concern about how all his actions appear to everyone else—and to Charlie, who still often misinterprets Nick’s intentions—is running through his head. He doesn't quite manage to achieve all of these things.

At various points in the match we see Charlie’s concern for Nick—quiet, but visibly there. We also see Nick’s concern for Charlie, sometimes more vocal (certainly more vocal than with any other teammate) but always from a (necessary) distance, and often followed by self-suppressive facial expressions or body language. Charlie especially feels this distance, the stretching of the safe space between them and the lack of intentional, reassuring touch to ground him. He feels disconnected from this version of Nick who must be so many different things to so many different people. And while he feels this painful divide, he also knows that Nick has a lot of responsibilities outside of their relationship; he’s conscious of the secret they’re keeping and what kind of behavior Nick can display within that boundary; he’s aware, as Charlie always is, of their surroundings and how not only does he have to be a chameleon and become what he’s expected to be in this space, but now, because of their relationship, so too does Nick. While this act of blending in protects the space between them from the outside world, it also hides Nick and Charlie from each other; they can’t see each other clearly through the masks they’re both wearing. On top of and because of all of this, Charlie is harboring intense feelings of guilt for even wanting or expecting any kind of closeness at all with Nick in this scenario. His feelings that he’s not worth all the trouble Nick is going through intensify, and his spiral of self-blame and guilt continues.

---

When Charlie is tackled to the ground for the second time and injured enough not to get back up immediately, Nick is involuntarily, forcibly rooted to that line he walks. Charlie is hurting, and Nick feels trapped by his conflicted feelings about how he should act around Charlie in this arena, his own request for secrecy, and his misplaced guilt around Charlie’s injury. He wants to reinstate and enter the safe space between them, wants to reassure himself that Charlie is okay and to care for Charlie, but is held in place by the potential negative perception their audience would have of that kind of action.

These separate and equally misplaced guilt spirals continue when Nick visits Charlie in the infirmary after the match is cancelled. Charlie is happy to see Nick but almost entirely self-restrained, completely still, while Nick pauses in the doorway, already looking a bit chagrined and waiting for Charlie’s acknowledgment. Their exchanged “hey” is muted, with none of the usual enthusiasm, but Nick enters the room fully after Charlie greets him in return. Yet again, they’re having to reestablish the boundaries of their safe space, but now they’re doing it blindly, unaware of the silos of guilt they’ve each been in, with an incomplete understanding of the ways they’ve each been stretched thin by the pressures of not just the match but all the limits they’ve put on themselves; they only know that something isn’t right.

Nick scans Charlie’s body a couple of times, looking for additional injuries, asking Charlie if his nose is okay. When Charlie says he doesn’t know, Nick’s hands clench briefly before he carefully sits very close to Charlie on the infirmary table, intentionally allowing their legs to touch, showing Charlie that he wants to be near him in this way, that he wants the closeness back, that he cares more than he felt he was able to show on the pitch. Charlie, meanwhile, sits nearly completely still, hands clenched together in his lap; he wants that care and affection from Nick so badly, but he doesn’t believe he should want it, or that he deserves it, so he keeps his hands—and everything else—to himself.

When Nick has inspected Charlie’s nose and said, with relief, that he thinks it looks fine, he looks for another way to keep showing Charlie care and affection, another way to bridge the divide that has grown between them. Even though both boys are quite literally covered in mud, Nick tells Charlie, with a tiny huff of laughter, that he has mud on his face. Charlie returns the tiny laugh, as they both try to edge back to a place of ease together. As Nick wipes the mud off Charlie’s face—something Charlie could have done on his own but which Nick clearly chooses to do himself—he swallows repeatedly, opening and closing his mouth like there’s more he wants to say (or do). Leaves float around them, and the same pink glow surrounds them as during Charlie’s daydream about Nick declaring his eternal devotion. Nick is clearly feeling some of the things Charlie had hoped he would a few months ago, and for a just a little while, Charlie watches Nick’s eyes and enjoys this moment of tenderness. The physical space between them has closed, and they’re close, possibly, to entering their safe emotional space together as well.

But then when Nick is finished wiping Charlie’s face and his hand drops, the mesmerizing and comforting touch removed, Charlie’s compulsive guilt reasserts itself. He looks away, and down, breaking eye contact as he apologizes. Nick, clearly completely confused and thrown, says “What?,” frowning and looking intently at Charlie’s face. Charlie looks back, and as he begins to list all the ways he thinks he’s “messed up,” he rubs his hands together, repeatedly pinching his own palm, sinking into himself as he calls himself clingy and annoying.

Nick can’t understand how Charlie could think this—looking back at the day with any kind of objectivity shows a restrained, audience-conscious Charlie who did nothing to earn either of those adjectives. When he continues, “I’m making this so awkward,” Nick looks away, down at his own hands, frowning as Charlie continues “You wanted to keep us a secret and I’m messing it up.” Charlie is trying desperately to comply, to remain within the boundaries of their relationship as he perceives them, with all of his warped self-perception and negative expectations of Nick’s reactions based on Ben’s abusive treatment. He’s cracking under the self-imposed pressure, and the guilt comes flooding out. Nick, on the other hand, feels fully responsible for what happened to Charlie during the match, guilty that he didn’t help more both during the match itself and the practices that preceded it, and is now reminded again that his request for secrecy is causing Charlie distress.

Nick looks up toward the ceiling, just as he did after the kiss in Charlie’s room, preparing himself to say what’s on his mind, what he knows Charlie needs to hear. He shakes his head a little, at Charlie’s words and at himself. Charlie looks increasingly concerned at this gesture, steeling himself, but then Nick says “I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” There’s direct, sustained eye contact, a short, sharp sigh—this is intentional Nick—and extreme sincerity. It’s enough to at least get Charlie’s attention; there’s a blink and just the slightest hitch to his shoulders, a brief rising above his own thoughts, as he waits for Nick to say whatever else he needs to say.

Then Isaac walks in and the moment is broken. Nick is reminded immediately that it could have been anyone—a teammate, a coach, a medic—and though he’s clearly uncomfortable and shifts his body so it’s not turned toward Charlie anymore, he doesn’t actually get up. He decides to stay next to Charlie. As Isaac does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he knows exactly what’s going on between Nick and Charlie, both boys’ discomfort increases—Nick’s out of a toxic mixture of fear, confusion, and lingering guilt, and Charlie’s from watching Nick withdraw and believing that his self-accusations have been proven true; someone outside of their safe space now knows the secret, and to Charlie, it’s his fault.

As soon as Isaac leaves, Nick gets up with a marked throat clearing, saying he’d “better” go, followed by a gulp-filled pause. The outside world has intruded on their shared space again, and Nick’s reminded that his absence from the rest of the team might be noticed. Half of him worries about that, while the other half feels guilty for caring what they think at all and how that caring in turn affects Charlie. Charlie assures Nick that Isaac won’t say anything—half of him wanting to reassure Nick, the other half feeling guilty that Nick needs reassurance in the first place. Nick gives a gruff “yeah . . . okay” in response, and with a conflicted, self-focused frown and look down, he hurriedly leaves without a goodbye. Charlie caves inward; in some ways, this went exactly the way he thought it would.

They're back in their silos.

[If you'd like more infirmary scene analysis, I recommend @stopper-my-heart's post here.]

[causalityparadoxes]

The Fallout show was very fun im nglngl

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 05. ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH

a/n: i am apologizing now and a chapter early because this will be the last bit of happiness before the real angst settles in. i'm talking absolute pain. but for now we get to indulge in logan being content and happy with having his honey exactly how he wants. this chapter wasn't supposed to be this long, but i'm feral for this man. so here we are. enjoy the equivalent to a beach episode in a tv show before the real pain begins!

summary: when the world grows silent and time seems to stand still, you and logan find a reprieve in the serenity of your apartment.

OR nasty fucking him all over the small space until he sees god.

word count: 8k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (m receiving), sloppy toppy to the highest degree, p in v sex, choking, cumplay, spitplay, dirty talk, wade being a peeping tom, just wade, squirting, slightly dom!logan, accidental edging, face fucking, creampie, logan being a freak and his honey matching him entirely.

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He slept. For the first time in near a decade, he slept long after the sun rose in the morning sky. He resided in a vast emptiness of nothing but darkness. No nightmares, no screams, no fear that ate his heart bit by bit until all but a shell remained. Merely the echo of your breaths as you lay sprawled across his chest—naked skin pressed intimately atop his.

The curtains on your bedroom window remained open from the day prior—allowing the sun to stream in. Catching across your face and forcing your eyes to open with a squint of displeasure. You stirred gently, a sigh pressed to the hard chest against your cheek. The one that rose and fell in time with his heart beat.

Surprisingly he didn't snore as often as you expected. The first night he spent in your bed he was rigid. Unsure of where to lay, or how to curve around your body. Now he remained a heavy mass that slumped into your soft mattress, one arm spread to your side of the bed and the other a weight on your back.

Even in sleep Logan was adamant on keeping you right there. Pressed tight enough to feel every shift, every deep and sated breath.

A sore ache built between your thighs as you turned your head to look at him—admiring the way his face was devoid of a frown. After the fifth orgasm (three around his cock and two from his mouth) you had no choice but to shove him away. The promise of more on the tip of your tongue—as long as you got a chance to rest.

Although you were positive if he tried to fuck you right away you'd be screaming. And not from pleasure. The raw pain of your still leaking cunt is what kept you from shuffling up his body to sit on his now hard cock. It stirred against your stomach, pressed deliciously on your warm skin. You could feel it begin to drip, pooling against the trail of hair that led downward.

Moving slowly, you managed to maneuver yourself down his body—checking with each shift to see if he remained asleep. The sight made you smile; knowing he felt safe enough to find some solace in a dreamless night here in your bed. You watched him toss and turn on Wade's couch long enough.

For now he’d get a chance to actually breathe peacefully. His body no longer at the ready for a fight that would never come.

"Pretty," you sighed, eyes trailing down his stomach to the patch of hair nestled at the base of his already hard cock.

A pearlescent drop slipped down the vein, his chest a steady rise and fall even as you carefully peeked your tongue out to lick it up. You froze when his body shifted, a heavy sigh falling past his lips. Waking him up was the last thing you wanted—given the state of unrest he found himself stuck in for two weeks—but the thought of finally getting to taste him kept you going.

The salty tang of him spread along your tongue as you licked at his cock again. This time less afraid of feeling his body shift. He seemed to be on the very precipice of consciousness. But sleep would hold him captive for just a bit longer.

You moaned softly when your lips wrapped around him fully—hand gently holding what you may not be able to fit in your mouth. If last night told you anything, it’s that James Howlett was not a small man. In fact you had proof to uphold that statement. Yet that alone wouldn't deter you from taking him as deep as you could; even if you choked.

The stuttered breath that left his chest made your heart race the further you went. Pulling off quickly, you let your spit drip out of your mouth, coating his length to help you slide down a bit easier. The wet echo of your hand filled the room—his breaths deep and raspy as he started to feel the tendrils of pleasure take hold in his body.

Biting back another whine, you swallowed him down until he hit the back of your throat. Your hand a steady rhythm along what you couldn't fit. He pulsed on your tongue; precum dribbled down the back of your throat. The taste made your head spin—his cum now leaking from your spent cunt. Coating the inside of your thighs with a combination of you and him.

A match made in the entanglement of two universes. Colliding into one another without mercy.

"F-fuck," he groaned, hips shifting forward and choking you on his cock. You spluttered for breath as he caused you to gag—spit leaking down to his pubic hair.

Even through your gasps for air and soft breathy whimpers, he remained asleep. Lost in a dream of you sucking his cock greedily back into your mouth. Eyes overflowing with tears and lungs begging for just a bit more oxygen. He fucked your mouth gently, hips thrusting unconsciously to stay in that wet heat. To feel just a bit more of a white hot ecstasy you helped him chase.

Cupping his balls, you felt your spit coat them in a sticky layer. You wanted them in your mouth. Ached to feel them on your tongue. And with a gasp of the crisp morning air, you shifted—sucking on them with a soft moan of need.

Your hand pumped him rapidly, building his high until there was no denying what was happening. Scraping your teeth along the soft skin of his balls, you felt them draw up tightly. Logan's eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air, his face tilting to see you between his thighs—your chin and mouth covered in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His mouth opened to speak, to give you a filthy comment you'd no doubt feel down your spine. Only for you to take him down your throat in one swift thrust. Tugging sharply on his pulsing balls to draw him right over the edge.

He came with a raw shout of your name, spilling into your mouth with enough cum to choke you. Until it began to leak out around your spread lips—trailing the sticky mess down your hand. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe—head pushed back into the pillow and back arched with the force of his release. And you kept going.

You licked up every trace of his spend with an eager tongue and sighed out moans. A hand yanked you up his body, fingers gripping your chin to keep your mouth open as you looked at him with eyes glazed over—your body covered in a sheet of sweat.

"Share," he rasped, tugging you closer.

Smiling, you cupped his chin and guided his open mouth towards yours. Allowing whatever cum remained on your tongue to drip down onto his awaiting taste buds. The shiver that ran down his body caused you to clench around nothing—empty and aching for this to continue.

He moaned, pulling you in for a kiss that had you clambering into his lap. Your tongue sliding against his and fingers delving into his bedhead of hair. The passion from last night still lingered in your veins. A silent plea for his touch to drag down your naked form; for him to consume you entirely. Yet you remained content like this—in his arms, lazily kissing until you had no choice but to come up for air.

"I can make us breakfast," you murmured, running your thumb along his cheek—your breath a warm caress on his face.

A hum purred in his chest, hands cupping your ass and kneading the flesh with a sleepy grin. "That sounds good."

"Got anything in mind?"

His eyes trailed down your throat to the way your breasts were pushed up against his chest. You felt your nipples tighten at the heat from his gaze. The want in his touch that left you craving for more. Vanessa really wasn't kidding when she told you he'd lock you in this apartment. Ravishing you every way he knew how; showing you everything he learned in his two hundred years on Earth.

"I do," he replied, voice low and thick with sleep.

"Yeah?" He nodded, an air of serenity lighting up his eyes. The sight felt new—unlike the Logan from last night—but you could feel the warmth of it slide down your spine. Encasing you in a cocoon of domesticity that thrived in the afternoon sun. "Pancakes?"

"Mm." Lips trailed along your jaw, tracing the line of your neck with gentle bites that were soothed by his hot tongue. "I've got somethin' else in mind honey."

Heat pooled between your legs, slicking your skin with a fresh wave of arousal. You felt his nostrils flare—your scent thick in the air and drawing out a side of him that begged to take a bite out of your plush form. He wanted to eat you alive. It sent a thrill of fear through his body.

You longed to explain that you felt the very same way about him.

A low growl emanated from your stomach, pulling him free from the shackles of lust that clamped on his neck. The flutter of your heart was only furthered by his soft laugh; hazel eyes now a bit clearer as he listened to the cues of your body.

"Actual food then," he said, tapping your ass lightly to shift you when he clambered out of bed. Searching for the jeans that were thrown to the side.

You tried to swallow the flare of disappointment that soured your stomach and Logan could tell. He knew you wanted to stay there tangled beneath the sheets. Your bodies stuck to one another long enough to cause discomfort. Fuck he'd never wanted anything more. He could sense the danger in letting his heart be filled by you—the fear of this going a different way.

Silencing it was near impossible when all he wanted to do was listen to it.

Pressing a kiss to your furrowed brows, he handed you his flannel. Watching in adoration as you struggled with the buttons. Similar to him twenty four hours prior.

Not bothering with his belt, he walked out into your living room—seeing the trail of clothing left in your wake of need. He gathered what he could, tossing your robe to the back of the couch. His boots placed by the foot of the coffee table. While you stumbled behind him on unsteady legs that still shook from last night's activities.

Pride flared hot in his chest at the sight; his cock twitching in interest at your messy state.

"I can make the pancakes," you announced, trying your best to walk to the stove without your knees buckling beneath you.

He laughed, reaching an arm around your waist to tug you back and into his chest. "I know how to make pancakes bub."

"And if I don't believe you?"

His lips pressed to your ear, teeth biting at the lobe. "I used to be a teacher honey. Who do you think kept those kids fed most of the time?"

"The other X-Men," you huffed, though the smile on your face told him you were more than happy to stay in his arms. "Weren't they professors too?"

"Yeah right," he scoffed. "Jean was considered a fuckin' fire hazard and forget Scott. He couldn't even find the kitchen if he wanted to." He walked you both towards the counter, turning you to sit you on it with a messy kiss that had his teeth digging into your lip—pulling at it gently with a groan. "Storm was better. She knew how to handle the little shits when they came up with strange food demands."

You smiled, curling your arms around his waist. "I like hearing you talk about them."

A flicker of grief filtered through the joy, reminding him of what he once had. But as usual, he smothered it with a puff of air—craving the taste of a cigar between his teeth he could bite down on. Something to let his pain sink into other than you.

"It's been awhile."

"Well you should talk about them. They're your family Logan."

His body went stiff, hands pressed flat to the counter, and you let the words sink into his skin. You watched his mind come to life with old memories long past. Good memories. Ones that involved cooking in a kitchen full of students and jokes with the people he loved most. He felt the weight of grief begin to lift off his chest with each moment of laughter, each piece of love he once forgot.

All the horrors he'd endured buried the good under a wave of bleak nothingness.

To have them back brought a light he forgot once belonged.

"They uh..." He cleared his throat, moving to grab a mixing bowl you stored somewhere deep in your cabinets. You weren't one for cooking often; the dinner with Logan being an exception. "I forgot how it feels."

"What?"

"Havin' them back. Even if it's just through this." He smiled—more to himself than anything—and flicked the stove burner on.

A part of you knew that was the end of the conversation for now. After spending decades avoiding his past mistakes—his trauma that might never heal—he finally felt safe enough to open the door. Even if it barely remained cracked enough for you to peek through. This was him taking a step towards keeping true to the promise he uttered against your lips last night.

The intent of staying no longer an echo of words that held no weight behind them.

There existed—between you and him—a sense of fulfillment that sprouted from the seeds of the you he knew before. A version that was capable of handling his grief, because you shared in it. You mourned his family for one sole reason: they were your family too.

If you could give that to him now, you would. Offering him a place of serenity despite the chaos he lingered in was enough. You could see it on his face—the peace he'd been searching for...now in his grasp. He'd be damned to let even a sliver of it go now.

The scent of batter being poured onto a grill filled your apartment, setting the hunger in your body alight with a new vigor. He moved with such fluidity and ease. As if he already memorized the layout of your kitchen from the last time he was here; his hand reaching for things in drawers you forgot were there. You traced your gaze along his bare back, down the curves and sinews of his muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

Skin you clawed at with need; that ripped beneath your nails and healed over seconds later. You longed to place your mark on his body, to see a trail of hickeys lead down into his jeans. But that remained a disappointment you could live with. As long as he let you try over and over again.

"Careful honey." His hand pressed to the counter, back hunching as his nostrils flared. "I gotta feed ya before anything else can happen."

"I'm not-"

He turned, eyes narrowing at the way your thighs pressed together to alleviate the growing ache. "Then spread 'em."

Your breath grew heavy, eyes lidded as lust washed over your body with a demand you couldn't fight again. The sight of you practically panting at the sight of his grin—so sure that he'd find you dripping onto the marble counter—left you clamoring for some semblance of control. Surely you could wait until he'd finished cooking. You needed food more than him.

But the longer he watched you—scrutinizing every part of your trembling form—began to shift that truth to something else entirely.

"C'mon bub. Show me the mess you're makin'." A whine echoed in the small kitchen as he flipped another pancake onto the plate. "Be good and I'll reward you."

Fuck.

Your legs parted, flannel pulled up, as you revealed the slick lips of your cunt that begged for his attention. A groan rumbled in his chest, his eyes greedy in the way he devoured the sight of you so ready for him to slip right in. The spatula nearly bent in his hand—the smoldering scent of a forgotten pancake became an afterthought as he stepped closer.

"Logan the stove," you breathed.

He flicked it off without looking, the small pile of pancakes slid beside you with a fork. "Eat."

"But-"

The pointed look shut you up within seconds, his hands parting your thighs to spread you even further. Until he was standing before you with intent hammering in his heart. Cutting through the pancakes, you moaned at the taste as it hit your tongue. Only for Logan to drop to his knees—his thumbs pulling you open for your slick to pour out right onto the counter.

"What are you—oh-" you gasped, a hand digging into his hair as his mouth sealed over your cunt with a husky moan.

He watched you while his tongue licked over every part of you. Plunging into you as you swallowed down the buttery pancake—your mouth parted with another heady moan of his name. The challenge was clear enough for you to understand without further questioning. You were meant to eat. As he indulged in devouring a breakfast of his own.

The tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, drawing a whine from your throat—the fork nearly slipping out of your hand. Only for him to grasp it and drag it back to the plate. He stopped, keeping his mouth directly over your throbbing center, yet never touching you. The action was enough to drag even a sane person to madness.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, the burn of tears stinging your eyes as you cut another piece and placed it on your tongue.

He continued with a growl. Sucking at you lewdly until all you could hear was the echo of his mouth moving over you wetly. His thumb rubbing quick circles over your clit, tongue thrusting deep enough to drink down every drop of you that poured out.

Having managed to eat two of the smaller pancakes, you felt the tendrils of pleasure begin to rush through your body—pulling and tugging at each nerve with a familiar heat you'd grown to love. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut as he ate you with a drunken hunger. An urgency to feel you pulse around his tongue.

"Logan I'm gonna-" You gasped, fingers yanking on his hair.

The fork clattered to the counter—your hips dragging along his mouth with a cry as you broke for him. Unlike before this felt like a rush of fresh air. An echo of love that lingered in his tongue, in his promise to keep you. Your chest heaved, legs trembling over his shoulders, and the ache of want still stuck to your skin like the humid air of summer.

He didn't quell your hunger.

He merely lit the match for something stronger.

"Good job," he murmured, catching your lips in a kiss that had you wrapping your body around him, arms twining around his neck. "Mm. Think I found somethin' better than fuckin' syrup."

The skin of your cheeks burned hot as he smiled; his tongue licking at your open mouth. Words were lost as you kissed him with an eagerness that threatened to break you. This is what you longed for. The promise of a life overflowing with small bits of joy. Pieces of a future that echoed with what you built together.

Certainly not a perfect Polaroid, but you supposed that's what made the sun spots so endearing. It captured the truth of what still had to be figured out. The pain that you'd one day have to face head on. But as he kissed you slowly, hands grasping gently at your flesh, you felt certain that things would be okay.

Because he would be there, standing beside you with his hand in yours, ready to face it with you.

The midday sun cast shadows along your living room, turning dark spots into shade you now lounged in. Logan sat at your kitchen table with a plate of food you'd made an hour after your kitchen escapades. The quiet of having him there, watching you with a warmth in his eyes that burned lovingly against your skin, left you craving more of this.

"I like you in my shirt," he said, pushing the now empty plate to the side.

You smiled, leaning against the edge of the table as he kissed your bare thigh. "I like you in no shirt."

"Yeah I bet bub," he chuckled.

The heavy press of his palm to your leg kept you still—even as you continued to burn from an hour ago. You didn't rush him into the act, because if anything you had an excess of time. One more day off from work left you with the knowledge that you would have Logan more times than your body could handle.

He was quickly turning into an addiction you held no intention of kicking. How could you? When the sweetness of him spread along your tongue like the finest whiskey known to man. When you were so devoted to a relationship that barely started to bloom. Yet you felt as if you'd known him your entire life. Your heart was waiting for him to appear—claim you without question—and you could do nothing but respond with a desperate yes.

"Still needy for me honey?" he teased, standing to his full height with a soft grunt, his hands spreading along your hips.

You scoffed, pushing at his chest; even if he did resemble a brick wall. "You're imagining things Howlett."

"Oh it's Howlett now huh?" He nipped at your jaw, smiling at your soft bubble of laughter that burrowed its way into the depths of his heart. "Thought you liked callin' me James."

The breath caught in your throat when his tongue slid along your throat, heat pooling in your stomach. "Logan," you sighed, fingers tangling in his hair to draw his face up.

"That's better," he growled, cupping your chin to connect his lips to yours.

The raw needy ache of last night reared its head in your body, screaming out for him as he licked into your mouth with a purr. One you felt reverberate through your chest and down to the very tips of your fingers. He was yours to kiss, yours to love, and without knowing it you managed to tame the lonesome Wolverine that begged for a hint of your affection.

"Can't fuckin' get enough of you," he mumbled against your neck, sucking at the tender skin as his hands kneaded at your ass. "Got me goin' feral honey."

"I don't mean to."

"I know." He pushed his hips into yours, dragging you along his jeans with a stuttered breath. "'M gonna fuck you."

Your eyes met his gaze—a pool of slick now staining the dark denim he leaked into. "Here?"

He nodded, teeth bared in a ravenous smile. "When you eat dinner here without me..." Tugging the flannel open, he sucked at the top of your breast. "You'll remember me bending you over this table."

No words could counter what he just uttered as if he was reading straight from a novel of your life. His hands guided you to turn around—your palms flat on the wood and breath heavy in your chest. The audible echo of his zipper sent a flare of want through your body. Slick now coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down for him to see the slight shine of it in the sunlight.

He grunted palm sliding along your cunt and jolting you with a shuddered breath. Though he'd already eaten—twice—he was intent on indulging in a dessert so sweet he would go to the grave thinking about it. His cock—hard and throbbing—slid along the lips of your cunt. Coating him in your slick with a soft puff of air that blew across the back of your neck.

"Press your cheek down for me honey," he said softly, hand gripping your neck and guiding you until your back had no choice but to curve—ass presented to him with a soft moan. "There we go. Lookin' like a damn goddess."

"Oh fuck-" you sighed, the ache between your legs now a searing burn that could only be put out by him.

"You want my cock?"

You nodded, a stray tear falling to the table. "I do."

He huffed, lips pressing to the shell of your ear. "Begging so sweetly for me. Can't believe you thought I'd leave willingly."

The comment was more for himself than you, but you mewled for him, hips pushing back into his until the head of his cock tapped your clit. Drawing a high pitched cry from your parted lips still shiny with his spit.

"Please," you gasped, nails scratching along the wood. You'd see the marks later and be placed back into this memory with a visceral shove. As he intended

"I know, I know."

Lining himself up, he pushed forward with a broken gasp—his face buried against your shoulder. The stretch was divine. Last night's pain dispersed the second he slid into you with one thrust, your walls clamping down around him tight enough to choke a moan from his throat. The breathy grunted fuck had your head spinning, another gush of slick pouring out of you until it leaked between you.

Yet he held himself there, panting against your back as his cock twitched inside you. Begging him to move. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to find something in your mind to latch onto. Yet what remained when he already sent you to the stratosphere? What could you attach yourself to when you were floating above the clouds?

"Need you to move," you whined.

He kissed your ear, grinding against you with a rasped grunt. "So fucking tight bub. 'M tryin’ not to cum."

"But I want you to-"

Pulling back he thrust into you with a stunted shift of his hips—cutting off your words as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back when he began to move in earnest. His hips slapping against your ass and hand bunching the fabric of his flannel to pull you back along his cock. And you took it.

You were reduced to a moaning wet mess when he fucked into you with a growl. Searching for the place that would draw you over the edge with ease. The cry that wrenched from your throat—your body trembling in his grasp—told him he'd struck gold. A smile curved over his lips as he kept that angle. Thrusting into you with a needy growl you heard bounce off the cabinets and walls.

"That it?" His hand gripped your throat, pulling you up and off the table. "That's the spot huh bub."

A sob fell past your parted lips, tears spilling down your cheeks when his other hand found your clit—fingers pulling up the hood to press right against the nerve. A burning sensation began to build in your stomach. Unlike what transpired in the times before.

This felt like more. All encompassing and treacherous enough to split you right down the center.

Your fingers scrambled to clutch his wrist. Unable to discern if you wanted to push him away or keep him there.

Logan merely chuckled, going faster with ease. You choked on your spit, your knees buckling, but he merely clutched you tighter. Keeping you right where he wanted as he fucked you within an inch of your life. The wet squelch of his cock plunging into you only made the fire burn brighter. You swore you could feel the flames lick along your skin—eating you alive.

"Got no words for me honey?" he grunted, teeth biting at your jaw. "Don't tell me I fucked 'em all out of your head."

"Hngg-"

"What was that?"

Nails dug into his skin and a cracked sob ripped from your raw throat when you came. Your walls pulsing around him as something wet gushed down your thighs. It splattered against the table, causing Logan to feel as if all the breath was punched from his lungs. His fingers still moved, spreading the mess and pulling every last drop from your spent body.

Even as he fought to ram his cock into you without mercy—desperate for his own high. You whimpered with each shift of his hips, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open with gasped breaths. And Logan had never seen a prettier sight than this.

He felt his heart clench, breath aching for lungs, as he fucked you through it. Until your body sagged against his with a sigh—eyes fluttering open to reveal your dazed expression. His heart twisted at the sight, cock throbbing with a needy ache he could no longer ignore.

"Y-Your turn," you panted, reaching up with a shaky hand to draw his lips to yours.

"Yeah?" His hips shifted forward and your mouth dropped open. "You want me to fill you up honey?"

The quick nod was all he needed to start chasing the built up high that threatened to strangle him. But the shrill echo of your phone across the table killed him like a shot to his head. He bit back a snarl of rage when your eyes lazily dragged to the face down device. Your heart picking up speed at the thought of who might be trying to contact you.

"I can ignore it," you mumbled.

The temptation to murder whoever was on the other line built up like bile in the back of his throat. But like a better man, he swallowed it down with a grunt. Pulling himself free with a hiss as his cock slapped against his stomach—covered in the sticky white cream that was your cum and aching for a release that would have to come later.

"Might be your work." He tapped your ass, carefully placing himself back in his jeans with a pained grunt. "Go on bub. I'm okay."

A glimmer of disappointment flared to life in your eyes before you were answering without checking the screen. The soft hello barely audible over the rush of blood that blared in his ears. He knew he wouldn't die from this. But fuck if he didn't feel like his body might combust at the sensation of being edged so hard his chest hurt.

"Wade?"

His head whipped towards you—a look of blistering fury crossed his face as he ripped the phone from your grasp. "You motherfucker," he snarled.

"You should really fuck with your knees Log. Save that adamantium skeleton." His voice was light, cheerful, and Logan had never wanted to rip him to shreds more.

"Are you watching us?" Your eyes widened and before Wade could give a snarky response, you were facing the still open window.

Wade stood across the street in his living room, waving with a knife. "Gotta give you pointers peanut. I've never been so hard in my life."

"Oh god," you sighed, covering your face. You reached for the phone; Logan gave it over before he could crush it in his fist. "Wade!"

"Whoa sweet angel! Don't go screaming my name after your man just made you see Natasha Romanoff in the afterlife. Did you tell her I said hi by the way?"

"It's rude to spy on people Wade Winston Wilson." His face fell as Logan snickered behind you. "Now I want an apology. Or I'm calling Nessa."

Though you couldn't see him well, you caught the way his face paled. "Right. I'm sorry. I won't be a perv next time. Even if you do have your window open and are screaming Logan's name so loud they can hear you on Knowhere."

"I wasn't-"

"And for your information FYI, I didn't spy. I just happened to see him and you bent over a table and assumed." He smiled, toothy and proud. "Can't fault me for being right on the money."

In an attempt to control your breathing (so as not to ask Logan to cut off Wade's limbs) you smiled through the flicker of annoyance. He was your friend. The person who was there for you in times when you needed someone. You couldn't really stay mad at Wade—even if the actions did call for the anger.

Especially not when you were still in the throws of recovering from the greatest orgasm of your life.

"I'd say I could do better, but now I'm not so sure angel face. I think Logan's won this round."

Surprisingly, you laughed. "He definitely won this round."

Logan stepped in closer when he was mentioned—his head dipping to hear Wade's voice through the phone. Unconsciously you found yourself leaning into his warmth—your body seeking out the gentle aftercare from the man who held your heart in his hands. His arm went around your waist, lips placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, and Wade groaned audibly in completely disgust.

"Would you get a room. God it's like watching an episode of WandaVision. Only this time it's the deleted scenes where they were allowed to actually fuck." He smiled, fingers forming a faux gun as he winked.

"We all know the robot dicking her down extravaganza exists Marvel. Don't lie."

"Your fault for peeking in on the show Wade," you replied, eyes fluttering shut as Logan fixed the flannel to cover as much of you as possible.

"I get it. I'm an unpaying customer. Therefore not wanted." He sighed, gesturing to no one in particular. "I mean what about those guys? They get a free show!"

"Wilson," Logan bit out, his claws sliding free to cover the top of your thighs.

Another weary (yet dramatic and totally Oscar worthy) sigh came through the phone. "I'll just dance the Lonesome Tango tonight. Don't mind me, taking all of the domesticity in so I can vomit."

You smiled when Logan nudged your cheek with his nose. "Goodnight Wade."

"Hardly good! Ness is out for the day and what about me? Don't I have needs? Am I not just a boy looking at the couple he's going to third wheel someday saying: please save some pancakes for me?"

The gasp that flew from your mouth was loud enough to be heard through the open window as Logan ripped the phone from your ear. Cussing out the man who stared at you with a Cheshire grin big enough to fill up an entire room. He waved, tossing his phone to the couch as he leaned out the window.

"Turns out you are gonna dance again peanut!"

Before you could shout a response, Logan was slamming the window shut with a growl. His claws slicing through the already fragile wood at the base of it as the lock slid into place. The middle finger he offered was all Wade got before Logan was dragging you back towards the bedroom; the decision to buy you some fucking curtains now solidified in his mind.

"Favorite movie?"

He groaned, dragging your legs over his lap as you curled into his side. "I've been alive too fuckin' long to choose honey. Tell me yours."

A wince overtook your features as Logan ran his hand up and down your bare leg—his gaze determined to trace every detail of your face a thousand times over. Hoping that over time he'd find new things to fall in love with. New pieces of you he'd grow to cherish. He settled on the shape of your lips—watching them move with each words you spoke.

"Okay don't laugh at me. It's a good movie." You toyed with his fingers, thumb tracing the spaces between his knuckles where his claws broke the skin to come free. "The Mummy."

His eyebrows pulled together. "Isn't that the one where they...fight a fuckin' mummy?"

You nodded, laughter falling on his perked up ears. "Listen! She's a librarian who gets to go on an adventure and fall in love. I'm an archivist who...well meeting you has been an adventure and..."

You fell in love.

Saying the words out loud felt wrong. Misplaced. Yet you'd never felt something sit in your chest so perfectly and feel like it belonged. Love had always been a complicated formula that felt impossible to crack. After all, no real theory ever mixed well with something so convoluted.

But nothing else could possibly make the same amount of sense with you as those three words did.

Logan watched every thought cross your face; every problem you struggled with now on full display for him to see. He willed himself to say them aloud. To simply let them fall free and settle in your heart with ease. But the last person he said them to now hated his very existence. They held an entirely different heart yet wore the exact replica of your face.

That only seemed to complicate the matter further.

So he pressed a kiss to the space between your eyebrows until the skin smoothed, and pulled you out of the internal battle you seemed to be losing.

"Tell me about your family bub."

You perked up, eyes alight with the joy that lingered from hours before. "My sister?" He nodded. "Oh well she's a teacher. Works at a high-school in the city."

"Guess you were bound to have another teacher in your life huh?" His heart twisted when you laughed, your fingers curling into his hair—toying with the sides without even realizing it.

"I guess so." You sighed, settling against his body. "It's funny, because I'd have never met Wade if it wasn't for her. This used to be her place before she—ya know—got married and stuff. Wade actually sold her the car I borrowed the day I met you."

His hand traveled higher, slipping to the curve of your hip. "Sneaky little fucker," he muttered.

"Although I think nearly killing me in the street is what really made me like him."

Logan jolted, his hand pinching your chin to face him. "What the fuck do you mean nearly killing you?"

The smile on your face did nothing to appease the fresh wave of anger that filled his body. If anything he only felt it eat away at him faster. Like a parasite with no cure. You were so calm about the entire situation. So nonchalant as you explained to him what actually happened.

That alone terrified him.

What if one day something like this happened again? What if the person who would cause you harm was someone he couldn't save you from?

Dread weighed heavy on his stomach like a rock he never intended to swallow. Even as you spoke he could feel the way it pulled at him. Dragging him into a darkness he'd never escape. He endured it once before, swam to the shore and climbed his way out, but to lose you was to put an end to his existence in this universe.

Logan couldn't die.

But he'd sure as hell find a way to if you were no longer by his side.

"I know he didn't mean to almost hit me with his knife. He was aiming for the guy behind me." You placed a kiss on his wrist, right above his pulse point. "Anyways we laugh about it now. Wade calls it fate. And since I met you...I kinda feel like he's right."

The breath caught in his chest. "Honey you got no idea..."

Lips trailed up his arm, sending chills down his spine as you placed kiss after kiss along his body. Right to his chest. Your tongue licked along his nipple—sucking it into your mouth and drawing a stuttered moan from his parted lips. His cock twitched in his jeans, the lost orgasm from earlier now raring to life with each delicate brush of your mouth on his skin.

Scraping your teeth on his pec, he felt his hips shift in an effort to find even a brief second of relief. You smiled at the feeling of him hard and aching against your thigh.

"You didn't get to cum earlier," you murmured, kissing along his jaw, nose brushing his cheek. The slight brush of your hand dipping along his stomach and down into his jeans drew a ragged groan from his chest. "Fair's fair baby."

Soft skin of your palm met his still leaking cock and the surprise that flickered across your face at the knowledge that he'd been dripping all night for you turned his mind numb. His kiss seared your entire being as you stroked him slowly. Logan shoved his jeans down the best he could with you blocking his way, simply to feel your palm drag down his length to cup his balls still covered in your sticky cum.

A breathy whine you never heard before slipped past his lips—his head falling back when your mouth latched onto his throat. Teeth and tongue sucking a mark that would fade within seconds. But catching a glimpse of the purple bruise made your heart flutter.

The wet slide of your hand filled the room with each pump. His hips canted up into your fist, fucking the slick hole you formed around him with panted grunts of nonsensical words.

It didn't build steadily like before where he held the capability of holding out. Now he felt helpless to the burn that forced its through his veins. The tension pulling taut in his stomach.

Only for you to pull away.

"W-What?" he rasped, his eyes flying open to see how you fell back on the bed—fingers popping open the shirt button by button.

"Come here," you breathed, hooking your foot around his hip. "Don't you wanna fuck my face baby?"

His mind went blank. Eyes dazed and mouth open as he watched you smile up at him—mischief shining bright in your gaze. You were an angel sent from who knows where bestowed upon him like a gift. An apology for all he'd gone through.

If the light he saw as he took his last breath was your face, he'd die a happy man.

Beckoning him forward with your hand on his thigh, Logan knelt above your chest. He could see how you longed for him to press weight against you—the feel of your palm against his ass telling him enough. But risking it would never be an option. He knew how much his skeleton as a whole weighed; you would not survive five seconds of it atop your body entirely.

"So pretty," you cooed, wrapping a hand around his cock as he shuddered. "Can I taste you Logan?"

He nodded dumbly, hand cupping the top of your head to keep himself grounded. Only for his soul to leave his body at the feel of your lips sucking him in. The wet heat of your mouth felt like a death to his heart. He'd never recover.

Yet one truth remained ingrained in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to survive.

"Fuck," he breathed, canting his hips down and into your waiting mouth.

The second his tip brushed the back of your throat, Logan knew he'd never last. He was a man lost in the depths of your body. Finding his way back to himself was never an option. You suckled on him with a whimper, letting him slowly thrust into your mouth as your fingers dug into the flesh of his ass.

Moans fell from his mouth with ease; words eventually following suit. "You fuckin' like this huh? You like me sitting on your face?"

Another muffled sound vibrated against his cock. His balls began to draw up slightly—thighs practically numb with the pleasure that consumed him. He sunk deeper, fucking your throat with a wet gasp, his body curving over yours and hand pressing to the mattress for stability.

"Fuck your mouth is heaven." He panted through the flames that licked at his spine, fighting to stay with you. "Gonna make a mess of you."

A jolt of lightning echoed across his skin when your hand slipped between his legs to fondle his balls, massaging the tender skin as tears dripped down into your hair. Whatever sanity he held left would wither away with the tendrils of his oncoming orgasm. But this isn't how he wanted to finish.

Ripping himself away, you barely got out half a question of what he was doing, before you were yanked into his lap—his tongue invading your mouth in a messy kiss. Spit spread across his cheek, but you seemed to get the hint when he grinded up into your dripping cunt.

"I promised to fill ya honey," he grunted, guiding your hand to wrap around his pulsating cock. "I don't break my promises."

With a sigh of his name pressed to his mouth, you guided him to your entrance, sinking down slowly to engulf him into your throbbing walls. A rough noise tore from his throat at the feeling—his body barely giving him enough time to comprehend that he'd been on the edge for far longer than he realized.

"Shit!" His thumb found your clit, working you over with quick circles that had your body curving into his. "'M not gonna last. Need you to fuckin' cum for me bub."

"Let go," you mumbled, dragging yourself up and off his cock. Only to sit back down hard enough to make him go blind. "Fill me up baby. Make it spill out."

His teeth set into your shoulder, claws sinking into your already ruined mattress to steady himself. He clutched you to him with a hoarse shout of your name as he came. Rope after rope of his spend spurted into your waiting body, drawing a soft breathy moan out from your swollen lips. You held him close, lips sliding along his neck, and talked him through it.

"Thank you baby," you sighed, grinding your hips along his lap. "Feels so good. So warm."

The lilt of your words bled with the adoration you felt for him in the center of your chest. The fact that you didn't finish didn't feel necessary when you had him like this. Entirely wrapped around you—face pressed into your chest and soul desperate to brush against yours.

"One of these days I'm gonna die like this bub."

You smiled, dragging your lips along his temple. "Would that be so bad?"

"Mm." Teeth scraped your skin as he slowly fell back onto the bed, taking you with him. "Probably not."

What lingered in the space between was a silence you reveled in. A peaceful kind of calm that created a bubble of warmth for the both of you to exist. Not completely in the world, yet never out of it entirely.

His body practically overheated beneath your skin, but you didn't mind the closeness. In fact, you found that you craved that above everything else. How he held you, allowed you to see the soft side of him that would normally be withheld.

This was the memory you'd hold close to your heart over the years. The one that'd always remain to give you a sense of peace in an otherwise crazy world.

"I'm really happy I met you Logan." The words weren't exactly what you wanted to say. But they felt close enough to exhibit the same emotion—the one that clawed at your heart, looking for a way to break free.

He hummed, dragging a hand down your spine. "Me too honey."

Settling atop him fully, you rested your ear where you knew his heart lay beneath layers of muscle and a cage of adamantium. The steady beat lulled you into a tranquil state. Where time no longer felt real and comfort became your only option.

Oh how you longed to remain here with him. Bound to nothing and no one, but each other.

note: i'm so sorry for what's about to befall these two.

[igotanidea]

Too hot to handle: Jason Todd x reader

SMUT MDNI!

As usual sorry for all the typos, grammar mistakes etc. I really had to post it XD

***

Y/N was fuming.

For no reason at all, falling down the internet hole, she found herself on some stupid forum for stupid horny women who couldn't keep it in their pants.

Clearly those bitches were getting hot and bothered for Red Hood, shamelessly sharing their dirty thoughts and comments on some parts of his body and the things he'd let him do if--

Fuck.

She could have Tim or Babs trace their IP addresses in a second and could pay them a visit of a very possessive, angered and super jealous girlfriend.

Her hands were almost itching to write a few spicy comments herself, spilling the beans of whose body Red Hood was touching almost every night. Whose lips he was devouring. Whose most sensitive parts he was tasting with his tongue, begging for as much as a drop of sweetness. Whose moans and gasps he got to hear, whose voice was his drug, whose curves he was worshiping on his knees.

Obviously, she couldn't do that, but the thought of Jason's muscled body on top of her, his hands tracing her skin and joining her in the intimate dance had a side effect seeping through her panties. 

She needed him. 

With the need that could not be satisfied with her fingers or even the toys she had stacked safely in the locked bottom drawer.

Jason ...

Come home...

Can't you sense how much I want you now...

She almost prayed to the moon on the sky to bring her lover back to her. 

***

That little tingling on his skin was something new and as much as he hated to put the thought into words, it was like a spider-sense. The one of Y/N’s second favorite self-appointed hero – spiderman.

Y/n…

Was that feeling because she was in danger?

Did someone hurt her? Did anyone dare lay a finger on his precious girl?

Jason gritted his teeth, clenching fists, anger at a purely potential enemy flooded his brain.

It was a quiet night either way, giving him a perfect opportunity to take a quick detour and check on his angel. Just a look and assurance that she was safe, to help him keep going and push him through all the shit and doubts.

Y/n….

***

He did not expect her to sit in front of Netflix at 2 am. She had work in the morning so why on earth was she watching the series?

“Hey!” he called, probably a little bit too loud, causing her to jump on the couch and almost drop the mug. “Sorry…”

“Next time give me a heads up, will you?” she muttered with a pout.

“Um- okay. What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing.” Y/N scoffed angrily, turning back to the TV.

“Can I please get my girlfriend back? You know, the other one? Nice and caring? The one who would ask me if I’m hurt or maybe need patching or a post-patrol kiss?” Jason teased moving in front of the screen, successfully blocking it from her view. “Wait… Y/N, are you watching “Too hot to handle?" His laugh filled the room, because honestly that might have been the funniest thing in the whole week. His serious, a bit reserved, goody-two-shoes girl had her eyes on the show about horny singles.

“Shut up…”

“Oh, I will most definitely not shut up about it. Are you hinting at something, here? Cause you know, you don’t need a show like this if—” he switched a little, coming closer and leaning over her silhouette on the couch

“Shut up, Jason!”

“Whoa!” his hands raised in feigned surrender “someone’s feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I’m not feisty. I’m furious!”

“At what?”

“Girls!”

“Wait, what?” Jason frowned “I am confused.

“Girls! Women! The ones who are trying to bang and –”

“I thought you liked banging?” he sent her a knowing smirk

“Jason!”

 “Come on, sunshine, you cannot hide that blush.” He pointed out, brushing fingers over her reddened cheeks, raising her head so she had to look into his eyes “What’s gotten into you? Tell me the truth.”

“Stupid internet.”

“Mhm. Okay. Care to elaborate?”

“Did you know the girls are getting hot for the Red Hood on some stupid forum?”

“Nope. Did not. But… did it make you jealous?” he smirked, expecting her to deny and squirm in embarrassment that he accused her of such low feelings.

“Yeah…” Much to his surprise, she decided to be honest. It truly was a strange night. “Yeah, I was. Jealous and furious. Hence the “Too hot to handle” marathon.”

“Hm? Can’t see the correlation.”

“It’s so shallow and selfish and mean, but – the show is so silly and most possibly fabricated. I may, or may not have been trying to diminish women who are openly horny….?” Her voice became barely audible at the end, as if she was ashamed to admit her own .

“Oh, you silly little one.” Jason laughed, pulling her onto his lap and brushing hair out of her forehead. “You could have led with that.” His lips brushed over her forehead

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You should have told me, that coming across girls leching over me-“

“Over Red Hood!” she interrupted and he only laughed again.

“Over me” he underlined  “- got your knickers in a twist.”

“It did not!”

Great, now she was trying to deny it. Too bad it was too late and he was in the mood for the games anymore. He felt the need to assure her that she was the one, though also expressing appreciation for said open horniness and for a little bit of jealousy. It made his ego soar.

“Didn’t it?” he teased, grabbing onto her waist and laying her on her back, hovering over her, moving fingers up her leg, until it reached the hem of her sleeping shorts. “Maybe I should check myself then?”

His hand brushed over the inside of her thigh, causing her to let out a sharp exhale.

“Oh, right… My little minx is not wearing panties at all. So it seems like you have been telling the truth after all. You did not get them in a twist…”

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her, a sudden sweet distraction allowing him to yank those silly little shorts down, exposing her want without any care in the world. Opening her legs and wrapping them on his waist, without breaking the kiss for even a second, Jason pressed his weight on her, distributing it evenly on his forearms, to not crash her.

“Mmm. Tease.”

“And you love every second of it.” He smirked, grinding against her core, sacrificing his favorite tactical pants to her warmth and wetness. Not much of an exorbitant price for what was waiting at the finish line.

And even though it was just the beginning of the marathon, they were already gasping heavily, grasping onto each other, pulling each other closer and closer. She was so needy and he loved it. The more bothered she was, the easier it got for him to end on the winner’s podium. His cock was hardening by a second, making it almost painful to be kept in the pants, but he was holding back.

“Jason…” she moaned, reaching down his torso, sneaking hand under the waistband.

“Not yet, baby.” All she got in return was her hands pinned above her head in a very vulnerable position, completely at his mercy. And to add to it all, Jason lips attached to her pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a dark purple hickey. The one she wouldn’t be able to cover easily. “Not yet…” the grip on her wrists faltered for a second, but not enough to allow her to break free.

Jason was skillful and knew exactly what he was doing.  Feeding her with the false hope of freedom only for a second, only to grab her hands in one hand, using the other to roll her sleeping shirt up, exposing her breasts, but not taking it off fully.

“Hello, lovelies…” he muttered, before diving between her tits, getting the arching back and multiple sounds of pleasure in return. “Yeah… keep those sounds coming, baby…”

His lips traced a scorching path down her cleavage, making her want skyrocket, smirking upon the feeling of her legs tightening on his waist and her hips grinding against her jeans.

“Not yet.” He commanded again, pressing her back flat onto the couch. “Not yet…” his eyes flashed with something primal and animalistic. There was something devilishly turning on with having her naked under him, while he didn’t shed a single piece of clothing. And he was going to exploit that opportunity to the maximum.

With a quiet laugh that sounded almost sinful, Jason bent down and traced tongue over the flesh of her soft, warm breast, purposefully avoiding the little pink button that was begging for his attention. Yes, his ego was skyrocketing upon hearing her cries of pleasure and broken gasps of his name on her swollen lips, followed by the flexing of her body against his touch.

Yes, he might have been acting a little dominant, but they both knew it was not going to go on forever. 

Deep inside Jason was sweet and romantic, definitely putting soft, tender lovemaking over hard and rough sex.

And really, it didn’t take him long to give in to her pleadings and entreaties, moving lips to her nipple, sucking and biting on it gently.

“Oh yes!” she cried out, closing her eyes and from that moment things started taking on the pace. Jason groaned from the sensation of her breast in his mouth, letting go of her wrists, allowing her hands to tangle in his hair, only adding to the feelings burning inside his chest and groin. Abandoning lavishing attention on her chest, he guided her hands to the hem of his shirt and with  interlaced fingers and eyes never faltering from each other’s face they pulled it over his head, exposing his toned upper body, covered with fresh bruises and cuts.

“So you are hurt…” she whispered, touching the pads of her fingers to the newest purple mark on his pec.

“I didn’t notice…” his voice was deep, calming and full of adoration “All I notice right now is you…” he grabbed her hand pressing it to his lips, kissing all over her knuckles.

“Then come feel me too…” she moved upwards, pressing her lips to his, wanting to feel that chapped warmth on hers. And once their mouths met it was a sensation incomparable with anything else. Ironically (or not) making out like this, with their entwined bodies, separated only by the material of his pants, slowly, tenderly, focused only on each other, leaving the whole world behind was turning her on more than actual penetration.

Which did not mean she didn’t want to go all the way.

“Is it time yet?” she whispered, with a little bit of teasing in her voice, breaking the kiss only for a second.

“You are ruining the moment, sunshine.” He chuckled, tracing kisses up her cheek, all the way to her ear, softly biting on her earlobe, causing more tickling than actual pain. Y/N responded with a little chuckle as well, cupping his cheek, bringing his lips back to hers once more. Without breaking the making out for even one second, Y/N removed his belt and undid the button on his pants. Then, with a few kicks and swings of legs, they managed to set him free from his confines, finally feeling each other from head to toe.

“How’s your jealousy doing now…?” he teased, guiding himself to her entrance, grabbing onto her waist, rolling his fingers in tiny circles on her sensitive skin.

“Who’s ruining the moment now?”

“No idea. Who?” he chuckled. It was so good being with her like this. In the moment of intimacy, that was meaningful but deprived of the seriousness that could ruin the tenderness. Perfect mix of softness and love, seasoned with a bit of well balanced humor and  sarcasm that bonded them in the first place. “You ready for me, baby?”

“So ready.” She smiled, shifting and squirming to allow him to slide inside better and maximize the pleasure of unity for them both.

“Mh. Hello there…” he smirked and without missing a bit started to move inside her. Slowly, but intensely. Building up and drawing the tension. Moving hands on her body in time with the thrusts, fueling the fire that was meant to warm but not burn. “Is this what you wanted?” he looked at her face searching for the answers behind those e/c eyes, filled with longing and devotion.  

“Yeah… Good thing you helped me realize what it was that I wanted…” she started matching his movements, kissing him again.

The tension between their bodies was building slowly and steadily. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world, that suddenly shrunk to only them two.

Jason and Y/n.

Y/n and Jason.

Together.

Connecting seamlessly, with bodies joined and heart beating only for one another. Creating their own bubble of beauty and wonder in the darkness and danger of Gotham.

“I love you…” he muttered, leaning forehead on hers, needing to say those words before everything turn into the blur and haze due to the slowly approaching tidal wave of climax.

“I love you…” she responded, feeling the exact same need, knowing well enough that those three little words exchanged before the post-bliss was far more meaningful and far more true.

***

“How’s the hate on horny women doing now?” he muttered against her hair, some time later. It could have been minutes as well as hours cause once they busted the pleasure door open time suddenly became relative and meaningless.

“Hm? What women? Wait a second. Are you really trying to tell me there are other women somewhere?’ she looked at him with a tease, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I am fairly convinced there are only you and me. No other men or women anywhere.”

“Hm… What I’m hearing is that I’m the only guy in the world for you?”

“It depends on—”

“Because sure as hell you are the only woman for me.” He added quickly, knowing what her condition was. “And no silly internet forum or contestant of so-called hot, naughty Netflix show could change it.”

“You got soft, Red Hood.” She smiled, nuzzling into his chest and placing a little kiss on his chest, close to his heart

“I can be hard when it counts, though.” His heart picked up the pace as her lips touched his skin “Honestly I can be anything you may need from me.”

“How about we both stay ourselves?”

“Works for me.”

Jason's arms wrapped around her pulling her to his chest for more and more aftercare and cuddles. It was a quiet night after all and he could indulge in some time with his beloved Y/N.

[bisexualiteaa]

could you write something where cooper is talking the reader through it, but like, super sweetly and lovesick?

Talk Me Through It, Baby

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!! And some domestic fluff)

CW: NSFW MDNI!! Established relationship, lingerie, flirting, cursing, reader being all enticing, 🤭 p in v, unprotected sex, p0rn w/o plot, domestic Cooper, irradiated cream pie, fingering, oral, (fem receiving) praise, Cooper talking you through sex and making love to you, slight OOC Cooper, slight deviation from TV series

AN: the creative juices are flowing people! I’m loving it, thank you all to have given me asks, it has been so much fun getting to write stuff for you guys! I think i may be done posting for today and have a busy rest of the week ahead of me but keep a look out within the coming weeks for those whose asks I have not done yet! I haven’t forgotten you lovelies, I promise ❤️ hope I did your ask justice, Anon! Enjoy some smut and domestic fluff! 🥰🤠

It’s days like these that made you remember just how nice it was to live a domestic life back in the day. No worries of murderers at your doorstep, no worries about food supply running too low, radiation sickness, it was just perfect. You could bake, you could cook whatever you could get your hands on, but the best part? Was when Cooper walked through that door after a long day to see the beautiful smile that would light up your face when you would greet him. You’d come up to him, greet him with a “welcome home, honey!” Followed by a sweet, soft kiss as his hands would fall to your hips once he’d make it through the door of your home in the settlement. You wished it could be like old times, but this was the closest to that that you’d gotten and you were proud of it. You had a nice home that almost was completely patched of all holes, working appliances thanks to the electricity you got going, clean water, food and some furniture to really spruce things up.

It was the activities that transpired after dinner however that left you both the most excited for when we would be home. You smiled cheekily as you returned from the bathroom, sitting against the doorway clad in a nightgown that you had made for yourself from collected fabrics. It was soft and silky, yet slightly see through, adorned by lace cups and lace around the bottom as it flowed out yet also hugged your frame. One where it left very little to the imagination of what lay underneath. “What do you think?” You asked excitedly yet with a sensual calm tone, making Cooper look up at you with a grin. He whistled as his eyes roamed your figure, loving the way it hugged your curves just right and let your pert nipples poke through the lace. “What do I think?” He asked, standing up and walking towards you, meeting you half way as you sauntered into the room. “I think you look like a dream come true, sweet pea” he said, his hands coming to rest on your hips as yours looped around his neck with a smile. “You like it? I made it myself” You asked, knowing by the tent in his briefs and the smirk on his lips that that answer was obvious. “Oh I love it” he said genuinely, trailing his hands along the smooth, silky fabric as he looked down at you with a soft smile before pulling you in for a kiss. You hummed contentedly into it, removing his hat from his head and placing it on your own with a chuckle into the kiss. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were propositionin’ me, little lady” he said, making you grin up at him with that half lidded look of mischief and love in your eyes that he just couldn’t get enough of. “Maybe I am” you answered as your eyes flitted between his and his lips, your hands coming to rest against his chest softly, just enough touch to tease, yet enough to make him chase after you for more. “Then let’s take it for a spin, hmm?” He asked, making you giggle softly before a light gasp left your lips as he leaned down, planting sweet kisses to your neck, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Your arms held him tighter, pressing your chest against his as his teeth found all your weak spots, being sure to exploit them to work you up even further and hear those beautiful sounds he loves so much. “Cooper…” you sighed, your head falling back at the feeling of his rough hands running along your body, grabbing at anything he could get his hands on. Between kneading the pleasantly soft flesh of your ass, to fondling your breasts, he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Always look so pretty for me, sugar” he said, making you smile at his heartfelt compliment as he worked at the straps of your hand-tailored nightgown. “I always do my best for you” you replied, making him chuckle. “Don’t need to, you’re perfect as is” he responded, watching as it fell off of you with ease, the fabric pooling at your feet as he kissed you. He felt your hands smooth over his shirt as his tongue invaded your mouth, tasting the gin and sweet cherries you had with dinner, making him groan. You always tasted so damn sweet, so addictive. Sugar-Bombs be damned, you were 100% of his daily value of sugar and he wouldn’t want it any other way. When he noticed you had nothing on underneath, he couldn’t help but grin. “Look at you, you’re just so damn gorgeous, what’d a bastard like me ever do to get so lucky?” he complimented, making you smile giddily at his continued compliments. “By being you, Mr. Cooper Howard. Wouldn’t want you any other way” you replied, making him give something between a groan and a chuckle as your lips came to his neck. “The bed looks awful empty, what’dya say we change that?” You asked, grabbing his hand and leading him to the bed as he chuckled. “I like the way you think, sugar” he replied, watching as you sat down on the bed before him, looking to him expectantly. “C’mon don’t be shy now, tell me what you want” he said, but rather than speak your mind, your hands spoke for you, finding their way to the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to where he’d take it off. He chuckled. “How ‘bout these? Want these off too, sweet pea?” He asked with a grin, knowing the answer before you even shook your head yes to confirm it. “Go on, take ‘em off for me. I know you like it more when I let you do it” he said softly, bringing your dainty small hands to his belt buckle, watching and helping you undo it and the button to his pants before taking a hold of his zipper with your teeth, and bringing it down. He groaned watching you toy with him, his fingers gliding through your hair, scratching your scalp before moving down to your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. “Eyes up here, darlin’” he teased, a grin on his lips as your pretty little doe eyes squinted with your smile, completely love drunk. He watched as you placed your fingers to his hips, helping pull down his pants and briefs as you looked him in the eyes the entire time. “Good girl, so good at it you ain’t even gotta look” he said, making you bite your lip and giggle as excitement was nearly tearing you apart, but you were being good. Patience was key, he loved drawing things out with you to where you were left absolutely crazy for each other.

“Sit your pretty self back some, let me have my dessert” he said, making a pleasant tingle flow through you straight to your throbbing clit. You did as you were told, scooting back a little and resting back on your hands as you spread your legs for him. “There ya go, nice ‘n wide for me, perfect. Look at you, so pretty for me. ‘f I had film in that old camera I’d snap a picture just to keep around of this sight” he said, making you grin up at him, the look in your eyes full of need as he got down on his knees at the edge of the bed. His lips trailed searing hot kisses up along the insides of your thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most before placing the most feathered light kiss to your clit. Your hips bucked up involuntarily out of need and anticipation, a moan leaving you before you whined as he lavished the other thigh with kisses. He gave an amused chuckle. “Patience sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good for me. I promise it’ll pay off” he said, trailing back up to your soaking cunt where he’d placed soft, searing kisses to your clit, making your eyes flutter shut once more and your head drop back with a moan. He groaned at your taste, at the way one of your hands rested on his bald head to tell him how good he made you feel. He looked up at you as he let his tongue lull out, running it up your slit to your clit, flicking the tip of it against your sensitive nub. You keened at the sensation, your chest rising and falling drastically with the harsh inhales and exhales of your pants and moans, a small smile turned the corners of your lips as your eyes were shut. “Cooper…” you moaned, and it was music to his ruined ears. “Taste so good sugar, I swear it’s like you’re made of it” he said, placing a playful bite to the inside of one of your gummy thighs, earning a louder, surprised yet pleased moan in response. “Fuck…” you panted, making him chuckle as one of his fingers prodded your entrance, sliding in all the way to the knuckle as his tongue flicked against your clit in a rhythm that had you bucking your hips to meet his mouth. “Feels s’ good, please..” you begged, feeling him curl his finger inside of you to rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves. He was going to be the death of you one of these days, you swore it, he was too damn good at this. He watched as you looked down at him, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him eating you like a man starved. He gave a wink at you as your gazes met, smirking into you as he felt you get closer and closer. “That’s the spot, ain’t it sugar? That’s it, doin’ so good for me, I know you’re close. Let go for me honey, I’ve gotchya” he said, keeping that delicious pace with his tongue and fingers rubbing that spot inside, it didn’t take long for you to do just as he asked. With a moan you came on his fingers and his tongue, a low, feral groan leaving his throat and rumbling his chest as you did. “Good girl” he praised, making you whimper as he withdrew his fingers. his mouth and chin shining with your slick and his spit. He used his fingers to wipe it off, looking you in the eyes as he sucked on his fingers to remove it, groaning at the taste as he licked his lips clean.

He climbed up on the bed over top of you, leaning down to kiss you which you graciously accepted, unbothered by the taste of you on his lips and tongue. “Ready sweetheart?” He asked, making you shake your head yes at him, enjoying how desperate you were for him. He leaned back to rub his tip through your slit, collecting your slick and mingling with the pre-cum that beaded out from it. “Don’t tease, Coop..” you begged, making him chuckle. “I know, I know, just makin’ sure I don’t hurt ya” he said, before easing his way into your tight cunt. Didn’t matter how many times you two had sex, the stretch always burned at first but subsided into nothing but absolute bliss. “Doin’ so good for me, doin’ okay sweetheart?” He asked once he was fully sheathed inside you, waiting for you to tell him when to move and making sure you weren’t in pain. You looked up at him, that smile that he swore was the brightest thing in the universe eased all his worries. “I’m good, Coop. You can move whenever you’re ready” you said, making him chuckle as he leaned down to kiss you again, starting a soft, slower pace. He didn’t want to fuck you tonight, didn’t want to have sex with you, no. He wanted to make love to you, show you how much he loves you, show you how much he worships the ground you walk on. He wanted to give you everything you ever wanted and more just to see that pretty little smile in return, it’s all he ever asked for. You both moaned into your shared kiss, his one hand holding yours by your head, fingers intertwined with each other as the other rested on your hip. Your free hand roamed along his scarred back, your head tipping back as his thrusts were deep and calculated. You shut your eyes as his lips roamed your neck, once again abusing the sensitive skin to hear your voice sing for him. “Feel so good honey, like you were made for me” he said, making you hum at the thought, you certainly liked to think so. “Maybe I- hah~ was” you said between moans, making him chuckle dryly. “Maybe you were” he said, his lips attaching to one of your breasts, his tongue laving over one of your nipples as his other hand toyed with the other between his thumb and finger. You moaned as your head fell back against the pillows, hair fanning around your head like a halo. You were ethereal, he swore it. His perfect little angel to keep him out of too much trouble, but just naughty enough to keep him on his toes.

“I love you so much, darlin’. Love everything you do for me” he said, making you smile warmly. “I love you too Cooper, and everything you do to- I mean *for* me” you said playfully, making him laugh at your witty joke, feeling the way your gummy walls hugged him tight, fluttering around his cock as he kept a good steady pace. “Felt you tighten around me, go ‘head, let go for me baby. I’m here” he said, bringing his thumb down to rub tight circles against your clit, leaving your back arching off the mattress and a wide O shaping your lips. “Fuck…Cooper, cum with me, please…inside” you said, making him groan into your neck as he buried his face there. “Anything for you sweet pea” he replied, moaning into your shoulder as you held onto him for dear life, knowing your orgasm would hit you hard. And that it did. You saw white stars flash in your vision, as your body arched up from the mattress once more, pressing yourself to him as your walls clamped down around him, milking him of everything he had to offer you as he painted your walls white. You panted as you rode out your highs, his lips coming to yours for a sweet, gentle kiss before resting his forehead against yours.

As you both lay there, basking in the after glow, he couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes. “What’s that look for, hmm?” You asked teasingly, making him chuckle. “Just that I found the love of my life” he said, so casually as if it were common knowledge, making you give him that beaming smile he loved so much. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, rubbing the irradiated skin with your thumb as you closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his once more. “Good, because I’ve been lookin’ at mine for a few months now, wondering when you’d finally admit it” you said, making him laugh along with you as he pulled out, got you both cleaned up and hooked you up to some RadAway. “Maybe I’ll go down to the market and getchya that ring you were eyein’ last time we went” he said, making you look at him astonished. “Oh Cooper, you ain’t gotta do that! You know how many caps that’ll run you?” You asked, making him laugh. “Does it look like I care? Besides, if it’s that ridiculously expensive, no one ever said anythin’ about spendin’ the caps if the person sellin’ it ended up missin’ somehow” he said with a grin, making you grin as you kissed him, only he could make murder look so good.

[monstertreden]

✦ BE(E) MY DATE? ✦

-Reader: FEM reader -TW: none, just an adorable bee -Character: Bumblebee (Transformers movie 2018) -Summary: Bumblebee is trying to get accustomed to earth traditions in order to impress his favourite human -Word count : 1448 A/N: This was an anonymous request of a while back. I went with the Fem Pov, but this could be read with a GN reader too. What a way to open this 2025! Wish you all the best things in the world!🍀

The evening sky was starting to feel more alive as stars emerged one by one. With no light pollution ruining this view, the atmosphere felt so relaxing, a quiet peak for living in such a peaceful town. Your home garden was glowing, illuminated by tiny star-shaped lights strung around the tree branches. In the middle of it all stood a cheerful, giant yellow bot. He fumbled with his radio, playing different romantic songs as he tried to find justtt the right one to set the perfect mood. Bumblebee was buzzing with excitement, unable to wait another hour until you got home from your job and spend the rest of the night with him outdoors. Today had been a little different. It had been hours since you’d left for work and you’d insisted on taking the bus to work, much to Bumblebee’s dismay. He’d watched you wave goodbye as he beeped sadly…but once you were out of sight, his little antennas perked up and twitched like bunny ears: if he couldn’t spend all day with you then he would make that night unforgettable! The thought had driven him all afternoon as he kept carefully arranging what he had gathered, it had to be perfect because you deserve nothing less!

A jazzy love song hummed through his speakers before he quickly cut it off again, second-guessing his choice, followed by an upsetting beep.

Postponing his final decision on the special song, Bumblebee turned his attention to the messy setup he had previously sprawled on the flower-patched blanket… one he might have “borrowed” from her bedroom through the window…ops, but it was one of his favorite too, one you often shared with him while watching some movies back in the garage, other than being soft, it fitted the romantic vibe he was striving for. Smothering the blanket again, having spotted a small wrinkle,  his digits fidgeted slightly with the patch of wildflowers he had directly plucked from the ground earlier, ensuring they looked intentional rather than, well… stolen. Were there enough flowers? Or were they too many? He tilted his helm as if reconsidering his choice, before turning to the unplugged microwave, that somehow contained various cookies inside and the carefully inclined projector screen propped up against the white wall of your home. The screen’s angle had been adjusted multiple times until he was satisfied, though he still glanced at it every few moments to make sure it hadn’t shifted.

It had taken him ages to figure out how humans got their movie setups just right, and, even now, he still wasn’t sure he had nailed it. Beside it, a wicker basket was overfilled with treats he’d seen you enjoy: chips, candies, and a variety of drinks, so many you wouldn’t go hungry... though he had no idea what half of them tasted like...Would you notice the missing bags of sour candies? He might’ve… tested one or two. For science. Did you have that many treats in your kitchen cabinets though? Of course not, the truth was that some, well, most of the items inside weren’t “exactly” yours. The yellow bot had borrowed, again, okay, maybe taken a few things from the local store storage without paying, but only because he still didn’t understand how human transactions worked. Plus, wasn’t food meant to be shared? You loved snacks! And he wanted the best ones for you!

“Cool and smooth!”. He echoed the phrase to himself, with the enthusiasm of a DJ who knew what they were doing. Excitement and anxiousness coursed through his circuits, he had seen countless Earth movies and TV series with you, how your face lit up when romantic picnics were on-screen. “Aren’t they adorable, Bee?” you’d sighed, smiling softly at a scene where a couple sat under the stars, and he was determined to give her exactly that.

The wildflowers kept sprawling all over each time Bumblebee tried to grab one, he didn’t bring a vase since he was scared of accidentally breaking one, so he decided with clumsy digits to open a soda can, yes..maybe that would do.. “Careful...”  Tipping the can towards his faceplate, he fussed over not being able to open it. Shaking it, hoping it would loosen, and when it seemed he had made it, it sprayed all over his faceplate, making him stumble over with a distressed beep. A wrong footing and there was a loud crunch. Bumblebee froze. Slowly looking down, he realized his foot had landed squarely on a package of cookies, reducing them to crumbs. “Dang it!” he buzzed through the radio, frustration laced with nervousness. He frantically crouched and scooped up the squished wrapper, already berating himself.

But Bumblebee wasn’t one to back down so easily. He straightened up, the crumpled pack of cookies still in his hand. Carefully, the bit tucked it back into the end of the basket, there were so many after all. Next, he picked up the empty soda can and went to toss it in the garbage bin, only for his gaze to land on a small empty glass jar you’d had left for recycling. That was perfect! It was risky managing glass, but it was his only choice. After arranging the wildflowers in the jar, he stepped back to admire his work. The bright blooms stood proudly in their makeshift vase; A triumphant beep escaped his radio.

However, waiting for you to get home from your job was the worst part. Bee leaned on the side of the blanket staring at the darkening sky, his pedes shifting restlessly against the ground as his optics traced the constellations beginning to shine above.

ᯓ★

The distant hum of the bus made Bumblebee buzz with anticipation as he scrambled quickly to double-check the lights and blanket one last time, his excitement nearly spilled over. Tonight was truly special, and he couldn’t wait to spend it with you, just the two of you, under the stars.

When you reached the garden, Bumblebee greeted you enthusiastically, using a series of radio clips to invite you, his favourite human, to sit down. “Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder” played softly from his speakers as he immediately handled the microwave, shaking its contents inside, beeping excitedly for you to open it.

A mixture of surprise painted your face “Aww Bee” You gently lowered down his servos so he couldn’t accidentally destroy your microwave and reached for him instead, your hands lightly cradling his side faceplate. His optics blinked rapidly in surprise, and his helm tilted curiously to the side as if trying to process your gesture. “This is..nice, unexpected but not unwelcomed. Thank you” For a moment, Bumblebee froze, his circuits whirring as if he’d been short-circuited by your words. His servos twitched at his sides, unsure whether to move or stay still. His radio crackled before settling on a slightly awkward but heartfelt clip. “You’re welcome my darling!!” Bumblebee immediately winced at his choice, but you only chuckled.

Your hands slipped away, and he missed the warmth almost instantly. You took a step back to take in everything he’d prepared, from the spread blanket, the slightly crumpled flowers, and the crookedly angled projector screen. You took a mental note to maybe teach him not to pluck bunches of flowers from your garden next time

“You went through all this… for me?” you asked, to which Bumblebee gave a small nod, his frame shifting nervously. His radio played hesitantly, “-It’s no big deal-” but the way he was fidgeting said otherwise.

“No,no ! it’s a huge deal,” Your smile grew as you crouched to fix the corner of the blanket. “Heck! You even got my favorite snacks.Look!” Maybe it was best not to ask him where the hell he took all of these goods, eyes lighting up when you spotted the assortment. “Bee, this is amazing. Seriously! After an exhausting day, this is all I need”

He melted at her reaction and his optics softened. Gathering his courage, he turned on the projector with a flick of his servo.  Soon, the screen lit up, casting a warm glow against the wall.

He beeped as if to ask “Shall we?”

Your grin widened. “We shall.”

Once you finally settled onto the blanket, patting the spot beside you Bumblebee carefully maneuvered himself, trying to sit without squishing anything else. He adjusted his position until he was beside you, his large frame curling slightly to fit in the cozy space. As the movie began to play, you leaned against him, resting your head against his cool plating. He was happy to start the first days of the new year with you like this.

“Next time, we’ll organize a date together”

[shogunish]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼𝘀 & 𝗶. [𝟬𝟰]

synopsis. you got your period & satoru bought too many pads.

words. 996

warnings. reader cusses like once

note. i got my period and thought, hey why not turn this into some cute fluff for the series 😔🤞🏻

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! <3

previous || next

odd.

no calls, no text messages and the ones satoru sent you all remained on delivered.

usually, you’d ask satoru how megumi was doing, ask for pictures of the dogs, but this time it felt like your very presence was erased from the face of earth aka the display of his phone. a coil of worry sat in his abdomen like a snake, just waiting to crawl up his neck and slowly suffocate him before it’d eventually eat him up in one go.

“are you still alive?”

after thirty minutes of no reply, satoru got up from his seat on the couch and made his way over to your apartment. with a spare key — which you’d given him for emergencies — he unlocked your door with a quiet creak. “[name]?” he called out carefully, but got no reply. satoru swore he heard a shuffling of blankets from the living room.

with the curtains half-drawn, only a few sunrays dappled the living room. on the coffee table rested an empty pack of painkillers, a half-empty bottle of water and an empty bowl of chili chips. the tv was still running on the lowest volume, playing some movie satoru didn’t care about; not when you laid on the couch curled in on yourself and buried underneath a fluffy blanket like a hedgehog.

“satoru?” you raised your head from the pillow and rubbed some sleep from your eyes. you’d been taking a nap, satoru guessed.

taking a seat on your couch, satoru peered into your tired eyes and the pained expression painted across your face when you moved. “you look like shit,” he deadpanned, “what’s up? you haven’t been answering any of my messages.”

with a little hiss slipping through your teeth, you sat up on the soft cushion. a hot water bottle was stuffed in the waistline of your sweatpants. “sorry. i got my period and i’ve been feeling like shit all day. thanks for pointing it out, by the way.”

there was a little tug at satoru’s heartstrings when he saw your face so unusually pale and the discomfort in your body. he knew there was little he could do, yet he still asked. “is there anything i can do for you?”

satoru was too good for his own good. he didn’t have to check up on you and make sure you were alright. after all, you were supposed to be nothing but his son’s babysitter. or nanny. or whatever satoru called that arrangement. yet, here he was, in your home and looking at you with eyes that betrayed the worry in his abdomen. how could you refuse such an offer? you couldn’t, that’s how.

“actually..could you fetch me some pads and painkillers? i’d go myself but– oh fuck.”

as another cramp seemed to stab your womb, satoru gently put his palms on the slope of your shoulders and pushed you back down onto the soft cushion of your couch. to see you so out of commission tugged at his heartstrings in way it probably shouldn’t. “say no more. you just rest. i’ll be right back.”

all you managed was an affirmative grunt and a nod of your head before satoru made his way out of your four cozy walls to fetch you some pads and painkillers.

about half an hour later, he came back with a bag of the things you asked for and some salty and sweet snacks as well as some heat patches for your lower back.

“..why’d you get so many pads? these are enough to last me a year.” a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you pulled out item after item.

satoru shrugged his shoulders, a sheepish smile on his handsome face. “you didn’t specify which pads you needed, so i asked the lady in the aisle for help. well, in the end, i wanted to be sure and bought a little bit of everything.” he filled the bowl on your coffee table with some salty chips and stole one or two chips for his own before letting you have a taste. “i think i did a good job. i made sure all of them have wings, too!”

laughter bubbled in the back of your throat and for a moment, you forgot that your uterus was made of knives – or maybe it was thanks to the painkillers you had swallowed. “yeah. you did the best job.”

when your praise went in his ear like sweet honey and you looked at him with those sweet eyes, satoru swore his heart skipped a beat under his ribs. a feeling he hadn’t felt in so long, but it wasn’t too bad. at least, it was better than the snake of worry in his tummy.

“you didn’t have to buy all these things though,” you said and turned around so satoru could reveal the skin of your lower back. with careful fingers, satoru stuck the heat patches to your skin before pulling your shirt back down.

“you’re right. i didn’t have to, but i wanted to,” satoru replied, sitting back on the couch and casually draping his arm over your shoulder to pull you a bit closer to him. “besides, you looked so miserable that i took pity on you.”

“..i’m gonna pretend like i didn’t hear the last part,” you grumbled and snuggled up to the taller man who took up half of your couch, but you didn’t mind. in fact, you appreciated the warmth he radiated and so willingly shared with you.

satoru found a piece of home as you were cuddled into his side and watched the movie running on tv. how sweet it was to have a pretty woman in his arm, finding amusement in the silly lines of the characters and eventually snoring away on his shoulder like it was where you belonged.

satoru made a mental note to come by in four weeks again when your period would start just so you’d let him cuddle you.

taglist. @risuola, @torusmochi, @cinnamonmon, @ayanominitrash, @lordbugs, @phoenix666stuff, @hotvinimon, @stevenknightmarc, @sukunasleftkneecap, @erigaur, @lu-lynds, @staryukis

[irradiatedpiratebooty]

fallout tv show ghoul discussion

the only thing i dislike about the show is their retcon of ghoul lore- everything else is a banger i had a great time but the lore changing the ghouls baffles me, as it retcons and changes literally every other game in the franchise. its funny, im not mad about it, im ok with the show having different lore than the games. i just hope they make it clear that its an AU kind of thing haha mainly because if someone gets introduced to the series from the show, and they go off to play the games, theyre going to be confused. so, what are the changes? well-

in fo3, theres an entire side mission involving the underworld, where the ghouls there really hammer in that the rumors like; that they regen and so can only be killed by headshots, that they eat people, that they can go feral at any point, and that they're zombies.

all of this is just propaganda spread by the brotherhood and bigots to justify murder and genocide.

none of it is true. they bleed and die like anyone else. but in the show, these things are not rumors, and they are completely true. cooper constantly has to take this drug from a vial that prevents him from going feral. theres no explanation on where this medicine came from, who makes it, whats its made out of, etc.

so, while in the game, turning feral is unknown, seemingly at random (theories range from genetics, lack of socialization, insanity, radiation exposure, and time) and ghouls dont just- randomly turn feral. but in the show its enevitable and therefore the hate towards them is justified. the only things that are special about them is that they; age much, much slower than non-ghouls, that they can heal faster using radiation. (to my knowlege, they still need to be patched up. they do not just regen. they can still get shot to death, or maimed. they just heal a little faster.) and they need more potent drugs, as it doesnt affect them as strongly (mentioned in fo3 by some ghouls in a subway) the changes made in the show heavily changes the stories of a few characters and places in the entire series.

for fo3: changes the entire underworld. these ghouls cannot leave this place. if they do, they're shot and killed immediately by the brotherhood nearby. they discuss how they're discriminated against. in the fo3 dlc, point lookout, the ghoul there presumably hasnt left the manor he lives in for well over 200 years. he wouldnt have access to these vials. tenpenny tower. their ban on ghouls would be justified then. the entire narrative involving the water purifier and putting the serum in that will kill off all mutants. with the changes the show makes, the decision whether or not you do this has no weight and eradicating mutants becomes justified. for fallout new vegas: dean domino. he hasn't left the Sierra Madre in over 200 years. he wouldnt have access to these vials either and would have probably gone feral a long time ago. for fallout 4: diamond city. diamond city's ban on ghouls wouldnt be an issue anymore. since in the show, ghouls cant die aside from headshots, the ghouls being thrown out into the wastes to the elements wouldn't really be as heavy of an issue.

(i cannot comment for fallout 1 and 2, as i am not as knowledgable about the ghouls in those two games. feel free to add on in reblogs if you know more about them than i do)

i love the show, i think its awesome. im basically consuming it now with the idea that its canon -within its own story and lore- and is separate from the game itself. cooper is a badass and the changes work for the show itself, not so much the entire series. which is fine in my eyes.

[raygirlramblings]

When I say Angel hare is the best analogue horror I do realise it's perhaps not as 'scary' to lots of people (I'd agree it's more eerie, a mystery story) but it NAILS the analogue part so perfectly.

It's not just some shitty VHS filter over creepypasta OC's and a story about yet another dead kid. It's not about cop cameras or PSAs or Emergency broadcasts, which by themselves can already be unsettling without needing to be part of a horror series. The East Patch team invented AT LEAST 3 different pieces of animated media (2 different TV shows and a game) to build their mystery and the whole project is a love letter to VHS technology, glitchy game tech and the decay of physical media.

They managed to make a cute little moral cartoon about a hare and her badger friend unsettling without having to draw the main character with a warped face or blood dripping eyes. That alone is a mark of quality writing and world building for a series like this.

As someone old enough to remember the golden age of VHS Angel Hare is the ONLY analogue horror series (in my experience) which has absolutely captured the magic and surrealism of that era. And sure I will praise the likes of The Mandela Catalogue, Monument Mythos and Mystery Flesh Pit for what they do so expertly, but Angel Hare still holds it's head up high for the sheer amount of work put into making it feel real and substantial. It feels like a series made by people who lived and loved the VHS age, not a bunch of kids trying to capture a feeling they've only experienced second hand.

[spiderlandry]

Secrets Kept — Ethan Landry

in which you have a secret, and it’s not what ethan thinks.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Spider-Woman!Reader (she/her pronouns used)

Warnings: minor gunshot wound, kind of escalates quickly?, mention of reader having no family (other than aunt may), slight angst, fluff, no ghostface (previous movies can still be canon i think), somewhat dialogue-heavy, mentions of Across the Spider-Verse events

Word Count: ~9k

Author’s Note: hey everyone, i do wanna apologize for promising to come back and then just. not. so im sorry for that! i have had some health/life troubles recently and long story short i won’t be releasing anymore fics after this. (i am not dying, dont worry, my energy just isnt the same). i also realized i just do not feel as passionate about writing as i used to. thank you for sticking with me, and i will keep all my fics up. for unfinished series i’ve written, anyone is free to write continuations if you wish. thank u so much again for making me feel so welcome here!!! feel free to talk to me in my inbox as i’ll be checking in periodically. and if there’s any interest, i’m willing to post unedited wips.

i guess i've come full circle because this fic was the reason i created this blog. it was unfinished so i never did post it, but i finally got some energy to do it! so enjoy (hopefully)

-

New York had been your home for a long time. All your life, actually. But sometimes, the rowdy, noisy city was suffocating.

However, swinging through the city, air resisting against your skin as you picked up speed—lifted the weight off your shoulders.

You changed in a secluded alley on the outskirts of the busyness in the big apple, not risking any neighbours seeing you go into the window of your apartment. The subway was crowded as it is all hours of the day, though you didn’t mind too much.

Closing the door behind you, you dropped your bag on the couch and looked for your roommate. “Quinn?” Your voice travelled throughout the place, bringing your roommate to her feet and outside her room.

“Hey, d’you just get back?” She smiled, leaning against the end of the hallway. “How was patrol?”

You sighed, opening the zipper of your backpack to pull out the bagel you got for her. “Yeah, it was alright. Nothing exciting.” you threw it to her, and she almost dropped it. “Got you a bagel. Thanks for covering for me.”

She scoffed in mock offence, “What did I say about throwing things? I don’t have your spider sensor, or whatever. But this is appreciated.” She took a bite, and you laughed at her remark about the spider-sense.

“Noted, sorry again.” You returned her grin. You knew she loved being in on the secret. She took joy in knowing the real identity of the masked vigilante, often covering for you around your friends when you had to leave very suddenly during movie nights and hangouts. But above all, she was a concerned friend. Always. Patched you up when you came home late at night, warned you when you were about to make a bad decision, told you to be careful before you left.

You often told yourself not to get too close. Making connections as a vigilante wasn’t ideal. Anybody who knew your identity was in danger at all times, and it didn’t help that you had a huge crush on her brother. You never uttered a word to her, but you could sense her observing you when you hung out with the friend group—not in a spidey-sense way, though, you could just feel it, even without the supernatural sense.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?” You asked, flopping down on the couch and turning on the tv, avoiding the news channels.

“Ethan missed you. It was kinda gross, actually. Wouldn’t stop asking where you were.” She grabbed a drink from the kitchen, disappearing from view.

You furrowed your brows, “You know I never believe you whenever you say anything about Ethan, right? Especially concerning me.”

“Not my problem, spidey. I never lie.”

“I could give you ten examples,” you chuckled.

“I never lie to you. Obviously I lie to everybody else.” She came back from the kitchen with a look.

“Is it because I’m special?”

“Obviously.”

You weren’t the nervous type. Maybe it was after you were bitten by the spider, you never really knew, but one of the main reasons Ethan may not have realized you have any semblance of feelings for him was because you acted normal around him like you did everybody else. Your schedules were different, so you rarely hung out with him for school reasons, meaning the only times he spent time with you was during group hangouts.

Including now. At his and Chad’s tiny off campus apartment.

He watched you play chess with Anika, Chad watching from the sidelines during a blitz game. Speed chess. He knew how to play chess. Maybe he should play with you, a thought grazed his mind.

As if his sister could read him, she appeared beside him and nudged him closer to the scene. “You should play.”

He looked at her with shock, “No, I’ll lose. I don’t wanna embarrass myself.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Since when has that stopped you? You never back down from a chess match, remember?” He did remember, years ago when his father taught him after Richie left for college. “It’s because you like her, isn’t it?”

He huffed. To try and prove her wrong, he went over to the coffee table and watched as you lost to Anika—maybe he has a chance.

It was his turn, now. He replaced Anika on the seat facing you, rearranging the chess pieces. “Pretty boy wants to play!” Chad exclaimed.

“Chad.” Ethan said in an almost warning tone. “What did I say about the nickname?”

You reset the chess clock. He looked at you—you were smirking—which was a mistake, because he didn’t realize you started his clock.

“Shit,” he moved a piece, fumbling. You grinned at him, and he realized he’ll do anything to see it again.

You didn’t lose your confidence, moving chess pieces to counteract his own moves.

During the middle game was when it dawned on him he was fucked.

It became clear to him you likely knew how to psych him out—just by smiling at him.

Little did he know, you smiled at him because his thinking face was adorable. But on his side, you were smiling every time he glanced at you. He had no other choice but to believe you were doing it to make him blunder, because he couldn’t make you usually smile like that, could he?

Quinn watched her brother fumble around you. Her plan worked. At least for tonight.

You ended up winning the game with ten seconds left on your clock and three on his.

You high-fived Chad, much to Ethan’s dismay, but you offered a handshake to his direction which he gladly accepted to feel your warm palm in his. Worth it.

He was mustering up to ask for a rematch when your phone buzzed on the counter, which Quinn reached to get before anyone could in case it was something spider related. And thank god she did, because it was. She gave you a nod, reading the notification about something happening downtown. You cringed internally, knowing the burden of covering for you would fall on your friend’s shoulders again. She packed your things and handed you the backpack, whispering ‘be safe’ as you take it from her, so nobody else would hear.

With a closing of the door behind you, a conversation in the room began, thanks to a suspecting Mindy.

“Why does she leave sometimes?” The woman looked to the strawberry blonde for an answer, suspecting that she knew more than she let on. “She never tells us.” They all settled on the couch as Chad flicked through streaming services for a movie and Ethan cleaned up the chessboard. He didn’t wanna seem to interested, but he was definitely actively listening for Quinn’s answer.

“Her aunt calls her sometimes to run some errands,” Quinn prayed they wouldn’t pry. She saw this coming because you’d been dealing with more calls recently and patrolling more often. There really was no other excuse for the spontaneous leaving. It was easier to cover if you were already not there—you’d be studying, grocery shopping, napping, or literally anything else.

“Aunt May?” Ethan piped up. You mentioned her once, saying you needed to get eggs for her.

“Yeah, Aunt May.”

“She never talks about her family.” Said Anika.

Quinn didn’t want to say anything else. “She’s just private, I think.”

“You know more about her than us, though.”

“Because I’m her roommate.”

Mindy’s eyes squint toward her. Tilting her head, she pursed her lips. “I think you’re lying.”

“Why would I be?”

“She’s left before, at like, one AM. Why would her aunt call her at that time?”

Quinn shrugged, feeling a little bit of panic setting in. “Who knows?”

“Is she hiding something?”

“No.” The word was so quick and curt, and that was when she knew she fucked up.

“You’re definitely lying.”

Everyone else, watching the interaction turning from teasing to tense, Sam stepped in. “Guys,” she interrupted. “If Y/N wants to tell us something, she would. I’m sure she has her reasons.”

Mindy had been suspicious for a long time. Not out of malice, she liked to think she had a naturally curious personality. She’d kept an eye on you every time you left, half because she wanted to know, but also because she was worried. Had you not been friends for long enough that you couldn’t tell them why you left or was sometimes missing?

Ethan thought similar.

It got weirder when he saw a glimpse of your name on Quinn’s phone, a call from you that she answered. She went to the kitchen to answer it. Mindy saw it too.

Ethan wasn’t proud of it, but he followed, to stay right behind the threshold of the kitchen and the cold tiled floor, listening to the conversation.

The audio from your end was inaudible, but Quinn’s responses were: “Yeah?” … “How bad is it?” … “No, I’ll be there.” … “Who cares if they get suspicious? You’re more important.”

He heard the call end and rushed back to his seat, to Quinn’s obliviousness. She grabbed her things.

“I’m tired, guys.” She announced to the group, Tara pausing the movie. “I’m gonna go home.”

“Oh,” Sam replied. “Well, be careful. Do you have your pepper spray?”

“Yes, Sam.” Quinn almost rolled her eyes at Sam’s protectiveness, but she knew it was out of real worry.

After his sister left, Ethan began the conversation this time. “I think Mindy’s right.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Quinn was talking to Y/N.”

Tara sat up. “You followed her to eavesdrop?”

Ethan shrugged, feeling scolded.

“Not cool, dude.”

“What did she say?” Sam asked curiously, now hooked. If Ethan mentioned it, it must have been important.

“Like…” A pause, “Q asked ‘how bad is it?’ then said she’ll be there. And then, like, who cares if they get suspicious.”

“They’re definitely hiding something,” Mindy stated. “But why?”

“My sister never hides anything from me. She always overshares, and I always hated it. But now she’s not. It’s probably not…good.”

“Are we sure we should talk about this?” Anika piped up next to Mindy. “Maybe it’s a problem with their apartment—a leak, or something.”

“But…” Chad spoke, “what about the suspicious part? And why would Quinn lie?”

At the same time, at your and Quinn’s apartment, you bled out on a towel placed on the couch from a gash across your stomach. You winced as your friend applied the bandage.

“Didn’t I tell you to be safe? What happened? You had a good streak going there for a while.”

“Quinn, please.”

“Also, not to alarm you, but they’re getting really suspicious. Mindy asked why you leave all the time.”

“Shit, she’s never asked that.” Your head fell against the end of the couch in defeat. “Maybe I should start distancing myself.”

Quinn’s head snapped up. “You’re not serious.”

“Dead serious.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” You looked at her.

“It’s a really bad idea.”

“I’m trying to keep people safe. Keep you safe. Keep everyone else in the group safe.”

“What about Ethan?”

“Including him.”

“No—“ She scoffs, “I mean, you’d…break his heart.”

You had to stop yourself from laughing. “Quinn,”

“I’m serious.” And she actually was. She might have thought her brother was a nerdy asshole. But he was her brother. “And everyone would wonder where you are. You can’t avoid them forever.”

Sitting atop a random apartment building Monday morning, your sight helped you catch a glimpse of Ethan walking amongst a crowd of New Yorkers, bumping into people with a hand on the backpack strap on his shoulder. It had been a week since you talked to Quinn about possibly leaving the group.

After that, you stopped answering messages from them, much to her dismay. She still saw you at the apartment, looking at you with silent eyes hoping you’d realize your mistake and come around again. She knew you would.

Having everybody’s schedules memorized helped you avoid them—but Anika having the same major as you was your downfall. You skipped a class yesterday, and she texted the groupchat asking where you were.

Maybe it was creepy, but keeping an eye on your friends calmed you down. You wanted to be the one to make sure they were safe without having them try to do the same thing—this was why you never wanted to get close.

Unbeknownst to you, the group had a bet going.

Mindy thought you and Quinn were dating. Ethan thought something was up in your family life, maybe Aunt May was sick. Chad thought you were in a secret fight club (secretly worried). Anika was on board with Mindy’s theory. Sam refused to answer, and Tara was also silent.

Quinn came to your room that night. “Everybody’s worried about you.”

You looked at her with begging eyes. “I know, Quinn.” You sighed in defeat. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Either you tell them or not. Your choice. But you can’t avoid it forever. Everyone’s been giving you space, but they’re still thinking you’ll come around.”

You stared at her, them looked away, at anything else.

“One more thing—“ she said before she left, “don’t patrol tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I’m gonna be over at Isaac’s place. If you get hurt, I won’t be there. He thinks I’m cheating on him whenever I bail.”

You would never ask her to give up a part of her life for you, she knew you would agree. But she also knew you would never miss patrol.

“Fine, I won’t.”

She left knowing you would.

You should have listened. God, you should have listened.

Your wound from a few days ago had already healed thanks to your abilities, but another power you had was how many times you got injured in a short amount of time. Especially in the same spot. This time it was a real stab wound on your side, not just a gash a centimetre deep.

You couldn’t let yourself bleed out on the alley to be found dead and your friends to find out your identity through a news announcement that Spider-Woman was dead. You were about to swing back to your apartment—

Shit.

You didn’t have your civilian clothes. The window on the fire escape was locked. Your door was locked. Nobody was home. Idiot!

One choice. You forced your feelings down, hoping this was for the best.

Ethan and Chad’s were the closest.

With your heart pounding in your ears, holding it together and covering your wound, you knocked on the glass.

Chad came out of the hallway to furious sounding knocking on the window, thinking maybe a madman managed to climb up the fire escape and was trying to break in.

He certainly wasn’t expecting the masked vigilante of New York City to be the one on the other side of the glass. And she looked to be bleeding.

You were thankful it was Chad who answered and not Ethan. He coincidentally had Econ tonight, so that was actually a plus.

Chad opened the window. “Holy shit!”

“Look—“ You were breathing rapidly, unable to keep it together. “I’m sorry about this—“ You tried to change your voice hoping your friend wouldn’t recognize it.

“I’m gonna carry you now, okay?” He put an arm behind your back and another under your knees, trying to avoid touching the wound. “What the fuck?” You heard him whisper as he set you down on the couch.

He rushed to the bathroom for the med kit. “You’re lucky I have this,” He set it down on the floor, rummaging through it. “I play college football, I mainly have it for sprains. I never used the suture kit, but hey, first time for everything, right?” He rambled. Just as Chad does when he was nervous, also evident in the tremble of his voice.

“I heal pretty quickly, I just need stitches to stop it from bleeding.”

“Thank God. I don’t know how to operate on organs. What if you have internal bleeding?”

“Won’t matter. I’ll heal. I’d never let you touch my organs.” You joked.

“Glad to know Spider-Woman’s funny.”

You were careful not to call him by name on instinct. “What should I call you?”

“Your saviour.” He got the tools ready, “Kidding. I’m Chad.”

“‘Kay, Chad. Need me to walk you through it?”

“Yes—yes, that would be good, actually. You have medical experience?”

“If you call getting injured experience, yes.”

“This is gonna be a long night.”

Tara did not believe her boyfriend.

She was at his apartment, sitting on his bed, and he was pacing and rambling about Spider-Woman coming to this very place last night and asked the vigilante to save her. She stared at him crazy.

“Babe, you have to believe me!” He jumped up excitedly, he couldn’t keep it in.

“You didn’t get any proof?”

“She was bleeding! I stitched her up! Not really a great time to ask for an autograph or a picture.”

She smiled at him endearingly. “I wanna believe you, so, so bad.”

He came closer to her, “Please do.”

“She just happened to come here when Ethan was away?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, falling back on the bed.

“Please, babe!”

With good timing, a knock on the door took them away from the moment.

Tara went to get it, Chad on her tail.

And surprise.

It was Spider-Woman at the door.

You never intended on showing up, but the guilt consumed you and your feet brought you to a bakery and you’d purchased a dozen cupcakes before you knew it. You wanted to leave them at his door, but not trusting his neighbours, you decided to hand them over.

He wasn’t alone. You should have expected Tara. It was afternoon, and Ethan had a class early morning (why he picked it that early, you’ll never get.)

Tara’s eyes widened at the sight, immediately turning back to her boyfriend stopping him in his tracks. “Is this a prank?” She pointed a finger up at him.

Him not knowing who’s at the door, “What? Who’s at the door?” He walked past her and was equally shocked.

You lowered your voice again. “Uh,” you cleared your throat, “thanks for saving me last night.” You handed over the box of cupcakes.

“Are you joking?” Tara went to lift your mask, but you backed away. “Who are you?”

“Not a prank, promise!” You exclaimed. “This is…actually…me. Just wanted to say thanks. If not for him, I would have bled out.”

“Prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“You’re her.”

At that, you shot a web to the ceiling.

“Shit,”

“I wasn’t lying, babe.” You heard Chad whisper to her. And directed at you, “Glad I could help, spider. Come back anytime!” Tara playfully slapped him on the shoulder as you walked away.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

You still hadn’t told Quinn about what happened last night. That was because you hadn’t seen her anywhere. She must have slept in at her boyfriend(?)’s place.

As you got home, your phone buzzed.

Bruno Mars Security Team

Chad

everyone !!!!!!!! please come over tonight !!!!!!! i have to tell you all something !!!!!!! im spiderwomans best friend now

Tara

well…

Sam

???

Quinn

Oh god

Ethan

What lol

Then, a personal message notification from Quinn.

Quinn

Wtf happened while I was gone you have to tell me

You

I HAD NO CHOICE

Quinn

Please actually come over to Chad’s. We all miss you even tho its only a few days like we’re all worried

You

i will

Chad had never been happier to see you. “You’re here! And you’re early!” He opened his arms for a hug, which you took. “I missed you!” You’d always been a little sister to him, despite being a few months apart, it mattered to him.

“Sorry I’ve been MIA,” You sighed, pulling away. “Just—dealing with stuff,” you cleared your throat.

Just then, Tara appeared and ran into your arms. You squeezed her tight, knowing she gave the best kinds of hugs. Her arms wrapped around your neck, head resting against your shoulder, fitting like a puzzle piece. “Talk to us anytime, okay?”

You nodded, ending the hug and closing the door behind you.

“What’s this about Spider-Woman?” You inquired, grabbing a drink from the fridge.

“I have to wait until everyone gets here, you guys are gonna freak! And Tara is here to back me up.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” Tara teased.

“No, honey, you know it’s also because we’re using your Netflix login.”

You laughed at their antics as she flicked him on the forehead lightly.

Ethan happened to catch you right at that moment as he came out of the bathroom.

He was silent, but shot you a smile nonetheless, which you mirrored. He really did not know what to say. A feeling bubbled up inside him and he knew he wanted to talk to you alone.

You took your place at the very end of the couch, checking something on your phone as you waited for the others to get here. Unbeknownst to you, though, Ethan was looking at you trying to decide whether it was the right time to talk. Chad and Tara were whispering to themselves, betting on if he would actually say anything.

After a few seconds, your senses told you somebody was staring. Not in a dangerous way, or even remotely alarming, but you could still feel it. So you turned your head upward and saw the curly haired boy a standing awkwardly a few feet from you.

“What’re you doing?” You smirked, though not really in a smug way. It was more amusement than anything.

“Uh—nothing, I just—“ He wandered closer, sitting a few centimetres away from you. “I—we, the group, want you to know that we’re always here if you need anything. You can talk to us, alright? You don’t—just don’t deal with it alone.” He shrugged, “That’s it.”

Your face softened at his confession. Only if you could tell them without compromising their safety. “Thanks. I’ll…keep you posted.”

Ethan didn’t know what to do now that the conversation was seemingly over.

He was about to stand up until the door swung open, Quinn coming in along with Mindy and Anika who were carrying a few boxes of pizza.

“We’re here! And we brought food!” Mindy’s voice echoed throughout the apartment.

You were going to greet them but Anika beat you to it, seeing you on the couch and running over to hug you.

Mindy did the same, relieved to see you okay.

Quinn had a knowing smile on her face.

After the room settled down, Chad began to finally tell the story.

Needless to say, nobody believed him.

By the end of the night, long past midnight, you were getting ready to leave when Ethan asked you something.

“Are you going with Quinn?”

Mindy and Anika were waiting at the door, they both got a ride from your roommate since Mindy’s car broke down a few days ago.

“No, uhm—I think I’m gonna walk home. It’s only a few blocks.”

Quinn, upon hearing you, chimed in. “Really? You sure you don’t want to?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” You shared a look with her that only the two of you knew. You turned to Ethan, “Why?”

“Can I walk you?”

You were surprised, to say the least. “Really?”

“So you’re safe.”

Preparing to protest, you felt Quinn’s hand on your arm. “Let him.”

So you did.

The walk home was brisk. The streets were empty, the street lamps illuminating your synchronized steps with Ethan.

With him, silence was never awkward. It was just…quiet.

It was no secret that you were perceptive, especially to your friends. Quinn knew why, but the others thought it was just you, not something caused by the spider bite. Your senses were especially heightened around Ethan.

You would never mention it, but you knew his heartbeat sped up when he got close to you. You only caught it a few times on accident trying to listen for something else, but you’d never actually do it on purpose.

Lately it seemed he was spending more time with you since the night you came back (which was three weeks ago at this point). One, he would message you on Discord asking if you wanted to do a study call—you never failed to say yes (making Ethan giddy). Two, he began to ask you things about your life during those calls when you would both take a break from studying. Like he wanted to know more about you.

Three, you began to spend time together outside the group.

Quinn was excited for you the first time you told her that you were going to see Ethan and only him. Of course, you told her not to read into it, but when has she ever listened?

Things were going fairly well. Especially with New York as a whole, nothing too major had happened (no supervillains, thank god), only a few robberies and cats stuck in a tree.

You were sitting atop a building when a tingling sensation in the back of your neck alerted you to something. Then, as you honed your hearing, you heard glass breaking a block away.

Swinging never got old.

As you reached your destination, a small bodega being robbed, you spotted him. Ethan.

Your heart began to pound in your ears, watching from the outside as the robber trained the gun on his hostages inside the bodega, one of them being Ethan.

It was like muscle memory. Go in, threaten the robber, and if it escalated, you fought him.

“I’m going to get rid of you, Spider-Woman!” The man in the mask hissed at you, his pistol trained right at your heart. This part didn’t scare you anymore, but Ethan being here—did. “If you come any closer…” He stepped away, instead pointing the gun at some old lady, who looked scared shitless. “I’ll shoot her!” He noticed you weren’t fazed at threats against you, so he targeted the next best thing: civilians.

“Easy, there, cowboy. Why don’t you point that gun at me? I thought you wanted to get rid of me.” You tilted your head, gauging the severity of the situation.

In your peripheral vision, Ethan stepped in front of the lady, trying to usher her to the side.

God, he was an idiot—but you’d be lying if you said that didn’t warm your heart.

The robber didn’t notice because he was still staring at you, watching for any sudden movements you’d make.

It happened in three seconds.

One, you shot the web to the gun, trying to pull it back to you.

Two, the gun went off—a slip of his finger caused by your web. Before you saw who it hit, the man came at you.

Three, you took him down, knocking him out.

It was the next second that you decided your life wouldn’t be the same.

You heard a hiss, a gasp from onlookers, and you took away the magazine of the gun before your head snapped up to where the hiss came from.

Ethan.

Red was the first thing you saw. It was on that yellow cardigan he wore when it was chilly—You rushed to his side, seeing the red come from his arm. He was backed up, leaning against the wall.

He was wide-eyed, face scrunched up in pain. “Shit,” He put pressure on his wound. “It hurt less than I thought it would.”

If only he could see how the tears lined your eyes under the mask.

“We need—“ You tried to keep your voice steady— “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m fine,” He hissed again as you pressed harder on his arm. “It’s just a graze.” He saw your concern.

“No—It could’ve—it could’ve hit something vital—“ Despite your knowledge that it likely didn’t, your head was spinning and rational thought weren’t exactly on the table.

The sirens reached your ears before anyone else’s.

You took a deep breath. Your head cleared.

“The ambulance is gonna get here soon, uh—“ You cleared your throat. “Don’t move, okay?” You nodded to him, and left.

Okay, you didn’t actually leave. You stayed on a rooftop across the street, a few buildings over, seeing that he was okay as he got checked out by the paramedics.

That was when you actually left. For good this time.

The timing was almost perfect—the next day, an old friend came to see you.

You weren’t expecting anybody, hanging out in an abandoned building you found in the outskirts of Brooklyn when you were a teenager.

But a black hole opened up right next to you. Maybe not a black hole, but the closest thing to it.

That was when you saw Miguel O’Hara.

Quinn had no idea that, when she woke up that morning, it would be the week she spilled your secret to the friend group.

This is how it went down.

Last evening, she told you to be careful before you left for patrol. You never came back in the morning. She didn’t see any evidence of you being there, like your shoes haphazardly thrown across the floor near the front door, or your backpack on the couch. This had happened once before and she found out you were at your Aunt May’s house—so she just sent you a text and went on with her day.

It was also the day Ethan called her and told her that he was shot. Then he texted the groupchat about what happened and they all (including Quinn) rushed over to his and Chad’s apartment to see in person that he was actually okay. A bit of a freaky situation that Ethan was caught up in that, but everyone calmed down eventually. But when Ethan told the story, Quinn hoped your disappearance had nothing to do with his getting hurt. She also noticed that he was bummed about you not being there.

It was the second day she got worried. No sign of you. Nothing on the news about Spider-Woman, either.

Bruno Mars Security Team GC

Quinn

Anybody heard from Y/N?

Chad

aren’t you her roommate

Quinn

Hasn’t been home since Saturday.

Ethan

She hasnt answered any of my texts

Chad

okay now i’m worried

tara? mindy? anika? sam?

Mindy

nope. anika says no too

Sam

Not me or Tara. I’ll try calling her

She didn’t answer

Ethan

Quinn do u know where she’d go? maybe to a family member?

Quinn

I dont know her aunt mays address

Chad

let’s wait a day to see if she turns up. if not then we’ll get together to brainstorm

You weren’t there the next day, so everyone gathered at yours and Quinn’s apartment to see what could’ve happened to you.

They all stood around the kitchen island.

“Has everybody called her?” Chad said, arms crossed. “Texting her and everything?”

Everyone nodded.

“Quinn,” Tara began. “Have you checked her room?”

She looked down, almost ashamed. “I did, actually. Nothing.”

“Do you think we should…check again? Maybe we’ll find something.”

“I’m good at snooping, if you need.” Anika added.

Quinn’s eyes slightly widened, “No!” Calming down, “I mean—no. She doesn’t like other people going through her stuff. I can because I’m her roommate—not you guys.” At times of stress, this was the best she could come up with.

“Okay…” Mindy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How about an address to Aunt May’s place? Do you think we could find that somewhere?”

The realization dawned upon her—no way of getting to you. “No. But she would’ve told me if she was going there.”

“Look, Quinn.” Mindy sighed, “Can you just—be honest with us?”

The ginger nodded.

“What was the last thing she said to you?”

“I—she was going out to buy something.”

Ethan’s nostrils flared—he knew when his sister was lying. Why was she so adamant to hide your whereabouts, even if it meant you were in danger? He sighed.

“I’ve—“ Everyone’s heads snapped to Ethan at his interruption. “I’ve had enough of it, Quinn. What the fuck are you two hiding? Seriously.”

Safe to say there was nobody in that kitchen who wasn’t surprised at his sudden outburst. He didn’t care, though.

“You always fucking lie, Quinn. I can tell. Why don’t you think I can tell? She goes missing, and you’re still keeping a secret!”

Chad put a hand on his shoulder, “Dude.”

The boy took a deep breath, reminding himself where he was. “Sorry. For shouting, I mean. But you can’t just—ask us to look for her when we all know damn well that you know something we don’t.”

At that moment, she had two choices. She thought for a long moment before she couldn’t find a rational explanation as to why she shouldn’t tell them that you’re Spider-Woman—you could be dead by now.

She walked away, hearing Mindy say “Are you fucking serious?” right behind her.

They didn’t have to wait for long, because Quinn came back from your room with something in her hand. They examined the object as she threw it onto the counter.

It was a mask—Spider-Woman’s mask.

“Holy shit,” Sam was the first to say.

“Wanna know the secret?” Quinn crossed her arms. “There’s your fucking secret.” She directed it at Ethan, whose mouth was slightly open.

She took a deep breath, a similar trait to her brothers to calm herself down. “The night she left, she told me she was going on patrol. When she didn’t come back the next morning I thought she was fine. Now it’s the third day, nothing from her. Look—I might’ve—like, fucked up. I don’t know.”

“How?” Asked Mindy.

“I should’ve told you sooner.”

It was clear to them that Quinn must have had this weight on her shoulders for so long.

“I have…so many questions.” Said Chad. “So when…Spider-Woman came to my apartment, that was Y/N?” He grabbed the mask, analyzing it with his hands.

“Why do you think she came to yours? She knows you have that stupid med bag with the unused suture kit.”

“Is that why she always left?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “I thought—things were getting better. She was getting close to us again, stopped patrolling some nights because of my brother’s stupid discord calls.”

Ethan was breathless. “What?”

“Look—point is: she didn’t want to put anybody in danger. If I didn’t find out by accident, she never would have told me. She just…cares about you guys too much. She thinks if you know she’s Spider-Woman, you’d be in danger.”

When Ethan came face to face with Spider-Woman in the bodega, it was you. That was your concern, practically radiating off of you in waves. He knew you seemed familiar, somehow. But everybody knew Spider-Woman. He knew you differently. You saved his life.

Everybody was taken aback by the news. But Sam, ever the leader, began. “She’s been protecting us this whole time. All of us. It’s time we have to do the same for her.”

“How?”

“We find her. In any way possible, even if it means we have to track down her entire family, go back to her high school friends, anything we can think of, okay?”

There was no doubt in anyone else’s mind that they were all on board with the plan.

“Let’s do it.”

ONE WEEK LATER

It was the first night in a week that Ethan got proper sleep. The exhaustion finally caught up to his body after countless sleepless nights spent poring over clues on how to find you. He’d been making progress on the Oscorp lead when the last thing he remembered was slumping over at his desk.

Which was why it was weird when he opened his eyes, he saw the ceiling. He was laying down in the comfort of his own bed. Maybe he actually went to bed and didn’t realize it. The sunlight peeking through the curtains was probably a sign to get up, get back on the investigation.

That was until he sat up and saw a figure at his desk, standing over some of the files he sorted.

It took him a second to see it was you. Was he dreaming?

“You’re finally up.” He heard the voice come from you, and saw your mouth move, and as he processed your sweet voice and the teasing lilt to it, he almost fell off his bed jumping out to rush over to you.

He almost knocked you over as his (surprisingly) muscular arms wrapped around you in a quick second, you returning the hug with a smile he could feel on his neck. He was almost speechless. Almost.

Slightly pulling away, he got a good look at you, unharmed, grinning at him with the power of a million suns. He kept his arms around your waist, keeping you close as if he was afraid you’d disappear once more. Nonetheless, he mirrored your expression as he felt your breath on his face and your arms looping around his neck, running your hands through his soft curls.

“You’re…here. You’re actually here.”

Your soft hand came to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat along with hearing it.

“I’m sorry I left.”

The boy shook his head, “What matters is you came back. You always did.”

“I always will, Ethan.”

YESTERDAY

It was early morning and the feeling of defeat was strong in the room. Everyone was there at your and Quinn’s apartment all with one goal: to find you. They’d started this search almost a week ago with a determination in their eyes akin to a fight for survival, mainly because it kind of was. But as the days went on and the meetings at the house got longer to discuss other possibilities surrounding the circumstances of your disappearance, the metre to measure the disappointment was getting higher.

They all sat at the couch, flipping through the news channels, all talking about how Spider-Woman hasn’t been seen in over a week. It was an alarming wake up call for the city, because crime rates had gone up significantly without the friendly neighbourhood spider watching over the residents of the city that never sleeps.

The news anchors all echoed a similar message. Where is Spider-Woman? Many have theorized that this may be the end of an era—

Sam clicked the red button on the remote, the screen turning to black. “We can’t give up.”

“I didn’t wanna have to, but—“ Tara sighed, “We said if we can’t come up with anything, we’d get the police involved.”

Chad slumped right next to her. “What are we supposed to tell them? Hey, our friend’s been missing for a week and we’re just now reporting it. And FYI, she’s the vigilante who does your job for you.”

“Not like that.”

“But we can’t tell them she’s her, right? If they find her, she’d be arrested.”

“If they find her alive, that is.” Mindy added grimly, looking at the ground.

“Dude, come on.” Her brother tapped her arm.

“I’m just saying.”

“Quinn, Ethan.” Tara refocused the conversation, “Your guys’ dad is a cop, right?”

They looked at each other before nodding.

“Can you talk to him? You don’t have to tell him anything just—find out if anything happened lately, okay? Anything new.”

Anika added, “We’re not even on the week mark. It’s tomorrow. How about we focus on our leads today, then meet again tomorrow. If there’s really nothing, we’ll go to the police, okay?”

“That sounds good.” Ethan agreed.

“Alright,” Sam exhaled. “Dismissed.”

Everyone was sleepless that night. There was the obvious tell of the bags under everyone’s eyes growing bigger, not to mention the slouching and the less than ideal attention span they had lately.

Quinn’s eyes were wide open in the dark of room, wondering and hoping you weren’t dead in some back alley somewhere.

A sound in the living room broke her out of a dazed stupor. It wasn’t too loud, but not subtle, either.

On edge, her hand shot to grab the bat right next to her bed, a gift you’d given her for self defense purposes. She was careful not to make any sound, clearly unlike this moron who was breaking into her house on the middle of the night with heavy steps.

The fridge was open, the door hiding the figure of the person behind it.

She was ready to swing—

You. The figure closed the fridge door and it was you in your suit.

Maybe it was the lack of food that caused you not to notice her presence immediately, but you heard the clacks of the wooden bat hitting the floors before you clocked your roommate fully embracing you in a bear hug.

“Quinn!” You chuckled, returning the embrace. “Missed you too.”

She pulled away abruptly after a second, a stern look on her face but a layer of worry in her eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” She grabbed your shoulders and pushed back a little, looking over your entire body, checking for injuries—but you were clean. Not even a scratch. “Shit, you’re okay.”

“I—“

She hugged you again.

That was when you realized why she reacted like this. “How long have I been gone?”

She looked at you like you were crazy. “You’ve been gone a whole week.”

“Shit. I didn’t leave a note, did I?”

The guilt on your face was apparent, but it was nothing compared to the stress everyone had gone through while you were away.

“You didn’t. All of us have been looking for you—“ Something dawned on her. “I…had to tell them.”

You didn’t react the way she expected. She expected you’d be upset—angry, even, but not this. Not you being the one to hug her this time, taking a deep breath.

During the embrace, you spoke, your voice vibrating on her shoulder as your head rested against it.

“It was so stressful, out there. I have so many things to say. But I’m so tired—I wanna explain everything later.” You sighed, “How’s Ethan?”

“He’s okay. I’ll drive you to his place tomorrow, okay?”

Mindy, Chad, Tara, Anika, and Sam all woke up in their respective apartments to a text message in the group chat.

Quinn

Can we all meet at Chad’s place today? In a few minutes. Urgent!!!

After the conversation yesterday, they all expected the worst. Maybe Quinn had gotten information from her cop dad that Spider-Woman was found dead—they were all thiniing it. Ethan, however, having been up until late, was still sound asleep, phone on silent mode.

They met at the front door of the apartment building (of course, except for Chad, who was in his bedroom staring at the text in worry), Sam looking among the group to reassure them. “Guys,” She sighed. “Maybe if’s not bad news.”

Mindy turned to her. “Really?” She sounded exhausted, almost ready to give up.

“If Quinn had really bad news, she would’ve called us. Probably, right?” Tara backed her sister up.

“Let’s just…go in. She’s probably not even here yet.”

Just then, the sound of a car approaching quickly caught their attention—Quinn’s car.

Tara was at the end of the group, giving her the advantage of seeing first who was in the passenger seat of the car, getting out.

“Y/N!” She yelled.

The rest of them turned, almost running to the middle of the street as you closed the car door, leaving Quinn to find parking. You ran to the sidewalk, running into Tara’s arms.

You could feel the warmth radiating from the group as they welcomed you back with open arms, feeling guilty that you must have made them worry for them to react like this. Knowing some of their history with the murders in Woodsboro, it must’ve been terrifying for them to think they could’ve lost another friend.

It wasn’t long until you felt the missing piece, a hole amongst them that resembled a shape in your heart: Ethan.

“Where’s Ethan?” You tried not to show panic, but it was likely obvious due to Anika immediately reassuring you.

“He’s okay! He’s fine—he’s just sleeping.”

You sighed, relief taking over. “He doesn’t usually sleep in this late.”

“He was up late last night, he said he got a good lead on you. He…” She contemplated for a moment, not wanting to worry you. “He took it pretty hard when you dropped off.”

Tara almost slapped her arm. “Yeah,” she looked to you, watching carefully for any signs of panic. “He was worried. Probably more than any of us. But you can wake him up.”

“Do you…Can you tell us what happened? Where were you?” Mindy was reluctant to ask in case it was difficult for you.

But you were happy to tell them—you figured you owed them that much after having them think you were dead for a week. “I’ll tell you inside, come on.”

Pizza and drinks were being passed around, everyone was here, and you chose to sit right beside Ethan. He couldn’t stop looking at you. You could feel it.

As you animatedly told the story of meeting other people who also had spider powers, had similar stories, Ethan then began to wonder what would be next. Would you stay? What if you wanted to go back there, be with people who really, truly understand you?

By the end of the night, the group was preparing for the sleepover. But you could tell something was troubling Ethan. You studied him from the couch while the crew was gathering pillows, and he caught your eye and said, “Wanna go to the rooftop?”

You tilted your head on instinct, confused.

“You know…good air.” He shrugged.

“Sure.”

The walk up was silent. Maybe more than silent, if that were even possible.

As he opened the door to the rooftop, you made eye contact for half a second. And in that half second, Ethan decided he won’t lose you. In that half second, you looked away, then looked up again—and he gently grabbed your wrist, pulling you close enough that you felt his breath on mingling with yours, so close that you thought he was going to kiss you. But he began to speak.

“Can I—”

And you kissed him.

It was a small one, but when you tilted your head to lean in closer and tangled your hands behind his neck—Christ.

You pulled away abruptly and he wondered if he had done something wrong. At the same time he said “Holy shit,” you asked, “Wait, that’s what you were going to ask, right?”

Once his brain recovered, he finally nodded, “Yeah. You beat me to it.”

After a pause, he began again. “Does this mean you won’t leave?”

“Leave? Who said that?”

“Well, I just thought—”

“You’re an idiot, Ethan Landry. Come here.”

Additional Author’s Note: I apologize that Ethan and Reader do not have as many moments in this. Thank you for understanding. Again, if there’s enough interest, here’s a list of fic titles I’d be able to post wips of (keep in mind these are unfinished, you’re allowed to write continuations but my one wish before leaving this site is that my work is not fed into any kind of AI and that includes character ai):

blackout (2k)

dialogue (2k ish)

the dress (900)

rain (1k)

story beats for murder party part 2 (3.2k, jot notes)

reflections (2k)

the bear au (500 ish)

thief (800)

like a fool, im thinking of you (500)

avatar:

hard to love (2k, lo’ak)

sorry for any mistakes i didnt catch during editing !

[wileys-russo]

lessi as the godmother!!!! 🥹🥹🥹 no rush but please may you write a mini pt 2 where reader has given birth and less meets the baby for the first time<33

sequel to this and part of the a date to remember universe series

godmother II m.earps

"lets fucking go baby!" you yelled at the tv, clapping your hands happily as your wife saved another attempt on goal. it was mid WSL season and since you were so far along now at your doctors advice your wife had promptly banned you from leaving the house for anything not completely necessary, like appointments or your pre-natal classes.

you'd been trying to argue for the last few weeks that to you watching mary play was necessary, but she would just shut you up with a kiss and a firm shake of her head, ending any chance of an argument right there and then.

your wife had always been protective of you by nature throughout the entire time you'd known her, however given you were now pregnant she had become over protective. which meant you found yourself regularly having to bite your tongue not to tear her head off with how she fussed over you.

thats not to say you hadn't snapped.

pregnancy hormones were no joke and some days your wife found herself walking on eggshells, cautious that one wrong word or action would cause you to tip over the edge, your volatile moods becoming incredibly unpredictable.

though she knew it wasn't your fault and more often than not the moment you'd finished yelling you'd burst into tears and apologize, your wife assuring you over and over with soft and loving kisses that she wasn't mad and she understood it was out of your control.

but despite how much mary over worried, she was also your saving grace.

if it was holding up your stomach to allow your back a few brief moments of reprise from its dragging weight, rubbing your very swollen feet, massaging your back and shoulders, putting up with your mood swings, going to the shops at all hours of the day and night to satisfy every little pregnancy craving, if there was any way at all she could make your life easier in any possible way, she was there in an instant, and you adored her for it.

"get in tooney!" you yelled with a cheer, struggling to your feet and pumping your first in the air as the girl scored the equaliser in their match against liverpool, watching with a proud smile as she celebrated with the team, alessia the first one to pull her up and into a tight bear hug.

you heard a strange sound and grabbed at your stomach as a wave of pain suddenly rolled through you. "oh fuck. not now, please not now!" you begged, looking up at the ceiling with your eyes squeezed closed, in denial of what you know you had just heard.

sure enough looking down there was a large wet patch on the carpet and you groaned as another wave of pain rocked your body. sitting down and taking a deep breath you grabbed your phone, hands shaking as you unlocked it and flicked through your contacts to your mother in law.

"hi julie! um no everything is fine...but i think my waters just broke?"

~

"i'm here! i'm here! i'm here! no one panic!" you breathed out a sigh of relief as the door to your room smacked open and mary stumbled inside, still clad in her keepers kit, face blotchy and red as she squatted down, baby hairs clinging to her forehead which was matted in sweat.

"give me a minute babe oh my god that elevator was taking ages so i ran up like six flights of stairs. jesus!" mary puffed out as she struggled to catch her breath, bent over with her hands on her knees.

"you missed the birth mary." you stated quietly, the woman almost falling to her feet at the news, eyes as wide as saucers. "what!? why the fuck did no one call me?" your wife spat angrily, beginning to pace around at the foot of your bed.

"nah only joking. we've taught her well babe she waited for her mum to finish her game before arriving!" your face broke out into a grin, the colour returning to marys as she collapsed into the seat beside your bed, pincing the bridge of her nose.

"i swear on my life woman if you weren't pregnant i'd punch you." "excuse me darling which one of us in labor right now?"

"right! sorry my love. how are you? how far apart are the contractions? whats the pain one to ten? have you seen a doctor? is there a nurse nearby? have-"

"mary baby breathe!" you laughed, struggling up and gently grabbing her face, your thumbs stroking her jaw affectionately.

"i'm okay, just uncomfortable. its hard to explain but everything just feels really tight and sore? its still early stages, the contractions are about nine minutes apart when they timed them. they said my water broke prematurely which though rare does happen and doesn't mean theres any complications before your mind goes there." you explained as your wife placed her hands over yours, bringing them to her mouth and tenderly kissing the tips of your fingers with a nod.

"the doctors not been in yet and he won't until the contractions are closer together, but the midwives have been great. they should come back around in a few minutes actually so you can talk their ear off with your questions then. your mum just popped out to call my mum, she and my dad are getting on the first flight they can." you continued, smiling and giving your a little nod to show you were finished.

"thank god she picked up when you called. baby i told you i shouldn't have played today, what if no one was there to bring you to hospital!" mary sighed with a frustrated shake of her head, resting her chin on your intertwined hands, you almost having to lock her out of the house in order for her to leave this morning.

"then i'd have called an ambulance my love. you did play, and from what i hear you won so im glad that you did. i got here safely, you got here in time, everything worked out best as it could have. so stop being stroppy!" you smiled, gently pulling away your hands and teasingly flicking her ear before settling back into the hospital bed.

"i'm not bein stroppy!" "your moody little pout says very differently." "i'm not! i just love you and our daughter very very much and i worry about you both, you know that." "i know love, but you know at your age you have to be careful about worrying so much, you'll get grey hairs." "i'm hardly two years older than you are!" "I know you're ancient, should be criogenically frozen in a football museum somewhere." "baby i pray every day she doesn't inherit your sense of humour, i don't think i could handle two of you it would drive me to insanity." "mary!"

~

"sit love! i'll get it." your wife remanded as the doorbell rang, rolling your eyes with a small smile as you sat back down, hearing her footsteps hurry off toward the door.

"where is she? where's my little niece? her favourite aunty is here!" "you wish you were her favourite tooney, she won't even pay you a second glance once she see's her godmother is here!" "she's one month old she won't care about either of you, and she's finally been sleeping for more than twenty minutes so shut up, the pair of you!"

you heard the girls before you saw them, hearing mary harshly shush them and a loud smack echo out where she'd clearly whacked one of them, ella whining as she entered the room.

"muuum she hit me!" the midfielder pouted in your direction as you chuckled and opened your arms, the younger girl collapsing into them as you wrapped her in a hug. "stop hitting the kids babe!" you teased your wife, alessia lifting your arm and tucking herself into your other side.

"i'm too young to have three kids." the woman mumbled, rubbing at her temples with an overdramatic sigh. "aw great now she's disowned us!" ella continued sending you a cheeky grin. "baby thats not very nice, say sorry to the girls. you know you love them!" you wound up your wife who shook her head, biting back a smile.

"i am going to check on our actual daughter." mary announced with a roll of her eyes, disappearing out of the room. "i love you babe!" you sung out after her with a smile, hearing her grumble as her footsteps faded away.

"so how are you feeling? we've missed you!" alessia asked as ella nodded eagerly, the two of them not moving from where the three of you were wrapped up together in a hug. "yeah mary runs a tight ship! told us we wasn't even allowed to facetime you until she said so." ella pouted with a huff as you ruffled her hair.

"i feel heavy, tired, fat. i haven't slept properly since she arrived, the bags under my eyes have bags, and i think this is the only jumper i currently own which doesn't have sick or some sort of bodily fluid on it." you paused to chuckle and look down at the faded red material covering your body.

"but she's also the best thing that has ever happened to me. i love her so much i would die for her in an instant, her tiny little fingers and toes and her squishy little cheeks man. she's got me and mary by the throat!" you teared up, overwhelmed by the love you felt for your daughter as both girls either side of you aweed and hugged you tighter.

"speaking of, look who just woke up." ella and alessia's heads whipped behind them with wide eyes as mary returned, gently cradling your new born daughter in her arms. "oh my god she's tiny." alessia whispered with a small squeal of excitement, marys face melting into a soft smile seeing the obvious excitement from the two girls.

"do you both want a hold?" your wife offered, eyes flickering toward you as you nodded encouragingly, knowing how much it worried her to have anyone that wasn't the two of you to do so, but you were working through it together.

"shit but how do you do that? don't they have like no bones? and their heads are soft like jelly? their skulls are like-" ella began to panic, rubbing her palms on her shorts. "language around the baby el!" you warned, shoving her shoulder as she hastily apologized.

"yes they are very fragile, but if you want to hold her i'll show you how." you smiled reassuringly, watching the cogs turn in her head. "less can go first!" she decided as you glanced to the blonde on your other side who was busy staring adoringly at the little bundle of limbs in your wifes arms.

"less?" "hm?" "do you want to have a hold?" "oh yes please."

"okay, sit back and get comfortable." you ordered softly as you stood and mary carefully handed you your daughter, pressing a kiss to your cheek and tenderly stroking your daughters hand with her thumb.

"are you okay? its fine if you need some time, they say it normally takes around five minutes to be properly comfortable with holding a newborn baby." mary checked in with the younger blonde who nodded that she was ready.

"so the most important thing is to support the head and the neck." mary started to explain, taking a seat beside alessia who nodded, following her every word. "so very carefully take her-" mary continued as you gently handed over the baby to the striker.

"breathe less." you chuckled as she exhaled shakily, almost trembling as she very gently took your daughter from you, mary shuffling closer to help her adjust.

"so you want her stomach to always be angled toward you, and her back will rest on your forearm. then you'll support her head in the crook of your elbow and your hand can rest there-" mary gently moved alessias arm as ella watched on in awe.

"-and now you're holding her less." mary smiled proudly, squeezing her shoulder and shuffling back a bit as alessia looked up at you in shock. "wow!" ella breathed out in shock. "you're a natural less." the girl complimented as alessias eyes dropped back down to the newborn cradled in her arms.

"this is so weird, like im holding a whole human right now." "yeah its a bit overwhelming at first but you're doing great less."

"hi gorgeous i'm alessia. i'm your godmum but you can just call me aunty lessi!" the blonde smiled as you sat down on marys lap, feeling her arms wrap securely around you as she pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin there, both of you watching on fondly as ella began to interact with your daughter who was tucked up securely in alessia's hold.

"have you accepted we've got three daughters now?" you quietly murmured to your wife with a teasing smile, pecking her lips and feeling her body vibrate under yours with a soft chuckle.

"yeah, i think i have."

[eswel]

The Gojo memorial: the whole story

You may already seen that here in Chile people created a shrine in the subway in order to honour Satoru Gojo. I'll try to recreate the entire chain of events as far as I could gather in social media for everyone's convenience, so you can read about the whole thing in just one post. Buckle up, because we're in for a ride, this story is really good. More under the cut.

Thursday (september 21)

There was an advertisement by Crunchyroll promoting the series at some subway stations. A few people decided to bring some flowers and messages as offering to the character.

(Source)

The thing started to quickly escalate and soon more people started to leave messages, flowers and candles.

I remember seeing a picture of someone from the staff of Metro cleaning the offerings with a broom. I tried to search for it now, but I can't find it anymore. It got buried by the flood of tweets.

*Edit* I found the picture. Someone shared it again.

Friday (september 22)

The next day the memorial became huge. You may think that people were being serious about the whole thing of setting a memorial , but most messages and drawings were humourous. A few of them:

"Steal the sky"

"Paradise won an angel"

"The sky is bluer because of your eyes"

"Fly high"

"The moon will be more beautiful with you up there"

"You'll be the brightest star"

"You broke my heart in two"

"Exorcise the sky"

"You gave everything, my king"

"Gojo lives"

There was even drawings making fun of what happened to him. People patched him up with band-aids and tape. Well, that's our kind of humour, we chileans can have a dark sense of humour.

(Source)

Even some people in cosplay showed up.

In the late hours of the day, the security guards started to dismantle the shrine, just like the previous day. Then they were assigned to custody the advertisement.

(Source)

(Source)

Saturday (september 23)

The next morning Metro changed their minds and allowed the messages and drawings, but they said that candles were forbidden, because they're dangerous. Understandable.

The event had started to make it to the online versions of the news media, but also in the print version for it appeared on the front page of one of the major newspapers. They dedicated 3 pages surrounding the whole thing. One for the memorial itself, one for the cultural importance of the religious practice known as "animitas" and one for the social impact of anime.

(Source)

The shrine continued to grow and people started to leave other offerings like sunglasses and even gummies and chocolates. You see, in our culture when people set up animitas usually they leave things that the person liked. I've never seen this anime and I don't know the character. Does he likes candy? You guys tell me.

(Source)

Sunday (september 24)

By the time I'm writing this post is sunday. I heard the rumour that Crunchyroll called Metro to retire the advertisement, but I cannot confirm if this is true or not. Also, I have the feeling that the whole situation can even appear on TV, considering that we have 2 TV channels dedicated solely to anime, but that would be on monday. We'll see. If I see any new development in the saga of the Gojo memorial I'll update this post.

UPDATE:

Part 2

Part 3

[ukiiseikou]

the start of something new.

thoma x gn! reader. figure skating au

synposis: thoma's really nervous ever since he spotted you: skating prodigy, at the local rink he's volunteering at as the zamboni driver. a/n: this is part of a series called complementary figures, which is a figure skating au with the hyv characters!

"hi! sorry, this might be really weird, but can i get your autograph?" 

you look up at the voice from your phone, and you see a cute blonde guy giving you an awkward smile. there would be nothing weird about it, except for the fact he was just climbing down from the zamboni that was making it's rounds around your local rink a few minutes ago.

"oh, hey," you give him your best dazzling smile, "no problem! you got anything i can write with?"

"seriously? um, here!" he manages to scramble and produce a sharpie and a printed out picture of you at one of your competitions, a gold medal slung around your neck.

"aw, this was from two seasons ago! when i won the world champion gold for the first time."

you make small talk as you uncap the sharpie, finishing your signature with a flourish.

"what's your name?" you smile at him again.

"uh, thoma - t. h. o. m. a.," you laugh at how bright red he is as you scribble down a quick TO: THOMA above your signature.

"oh my god, thank you so much," he says, almost breathlessly as you hand the sharpie and photo back to him, "my parents used to watch your parents on TV. we used to be from mondstadt as well."

"mom and dad? haha, that's so sweet. when did you move here?”

“a few years ago,” he scratches the back of his neck, “maybe when i was, like, twelve? anyways, i never managed to get the same ice time as you, but i’ve been watching you a lot. archons, that sounds weird, right? sorry.”

“oh, it’s okay. actually, thanks for the support,” you let out another laugh as he frantically apologises, “i’ve been skating here since forever, i think everyone in this town has seen me fall once or twice.”

"thoma! the ice!" the both of you wince as the rink manager yells at him, gesturing to the buckets of ice used to patch up the surface of the rink.

"right, that," he mumbles. you watch as he troops over to the buckets of ice, picking up one with a spatula. turning to survey the ice, you see the various divots and holes that dot the ice, thanks to you and the other skaters, no doubt.

“here, let me help,” you watch as he pulls on his rental skates and go to grab your own bucket, taking off your guards as you step onto ice. he awkwardly follows behind, legs scrambling to keep up.

“haven’t - haven’t skated in a long time,” he says, after straightening up.

“you don’t skate often?” you’re scared he’s going to splat straight onto his face with the way he’s moving, so you move in closer, just in case he falls.

he shakes his head, “winter sports and me? not a great match. more of a track runner, actually. just here to earn some extra cash during the holidays. my friend skates here, uh, ayaka?”

“ayaka kamisato? i know her, the one who skates with her brother, right? i see her sometimes.”

you blink and suddenly thoma’s feet nearly slide out from under him as he bends to patch up a spot. he wobbles before regaining his balance.

you breathe out a sigh of relief as you round up on him, “here, bend at the waist, not the knees.”

“like this?” you cringe as he does exactly the opposite as what you just said.

“not quite… actually, just grab onto me,” you take his hands in yours, at which he sputters at. you laugh as you take him into the middle of rink, letting go of his hands to scoop some ice to patch up the surface of the ice beneath you.

“like this,” you demonstrate, and when he finally nails the pose you turn around with a self-satisfied grin to focus on the far end of the rink.

thoma short-circuits, but as he watches you busy yourself with inspecting the ice, he turns and does the same thing, wishing that a hole could open up in the ground and swallow him whole. the extra cash thing was true, but he’s had a major crush on you for years - but he swears its not for that reason alone. ayaka and ayato are here, so he gets to hang out with them in his free time and not worry about being bored out of his mind all day; and he likes helping out the neighbourhood whenever he can, and when he heard the rink manager fretting about not getting enough volunteers this summer, he naturally signed up.

“hey.”

he nearly slips and falls when he hears your voice next to his ear, and you laugh - which sounds like wedding bells.

“i finished my end of the rink, you done with your’s?”

“uh, yeah,” he stares down at the nearly empty bucket in his hands, guess he works fast when spaced out and imagining things.

“great!” you take his hands again, and he has no choice but to allow himself to be pulled back and forth by you.

“thoma, do you wanna get dinner together? maybe my parents can meet your’s someday, and give them an autograph, too.”

he doesn’t reply, but you’re plenty amused by his ums and ahs and shaky okays.

[petew21-blog]

Great Shift stories, Henry and Joey

Paparazzi:"Gentlemen, smile. Look to the right. Yeah. Good"

Henry and Joey were at the front of the hall, where the press conference was about to be held, before the release of the new Witcher season. They were all instructed to suit up and arrive. Henry felt like he was betraying Joey. They were about to announce soon, that he was leaving the Witcher TV series and passing the role to Liam Hemsworth. Henry didn't want to continue playing Geralt if the story wouldn't be more faithful to the books. Unfortunately, Joey already signed his contract and therefore had to play Jaskier for another year without Henry.

They stood next to each other. Joey couldn't pretend that he was happy. He was angry, because Henry didn't tell him soon enough how he felt and that he was leaving, trapping Joey in a job he started to hate. He felt betrayed

Back then nobody knew what happened in the following moments. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was intentional. But all they knew was that suddenly all around them was pure chaos. The whole city confused and screaming. Most of the planet swapped bodies with someone standing close to them. Some were very unlucky, in some cases the swap was lethal or caused many people to die. But some people got really lucky. Just like Joey and Henry here

They were obviously both shocked when they found themselves in each other's bodies. But they were interrupted by the people around them screaming and shouting at each other.

Joey in Henry's body:"Henry? Is that you? I'm you!"

Henry in Joey's body:"Is this real? Is it really happening?"

Joey:"I think it is. And I don't think we're the only ones. Maybe we should go somewhere more quiet."

Joey starts walking away, but as soon as Henry moves his body a sharp pain shoots from the back of his body.

Henry:"Ah fuck. Wait. There's something wrong. It feels like..."

Joey started smiling, realising.

Henry didn't find the pain that bad anymore and was slowly figuring out, what it was.

Henry:"Joey? Is that what I think it is?"

Joey:"I don't know what you're talking about"

Henry started laughing at his old face

Henry:"Hahahaha. No you didn't. Holy shit you're naughty, Joey. You really went to a press con with a dildo up your ass? Wow. I never thought that you'd be able to do this."

Joey:"Maybe we should go?"

Henry:"Oh fuck, we are. I really need to take a proper look at that thing stuck inside of me now "

Joey went first and couldn't stop smiling, as he heard Henry struggling to walk properly

But Henry was getting more and more into it. He never had a dildo up his ass. And this one was BIG.

They got into an empty hotel room nearby.

Joey went to the bathroom first to piss and left Henry outside. Henry started throwing his clothes off to the ground. But stopped, once he felt the thing in him move. He got on his knees and felt his own ass trying to push it in and out. An overwhelming feeling caused him to moan out loud and hold ok tightly to the bed sheets.

He heard the bathroom door open

Joey:"You wanna use the bathroom?"

Henry got up and without saying a word went to the bathroom while grabbing his old body's cheeks playfully on the way.

He wanted to look at himself in the mirror, but he needed the dildo to move. He needed to find a better position. But another unwanted movement caused him to collapse into the bath still in his clothes.

He just sat there leaning on the edges of the bath, moving his ass up and down in the air. Causing the dildo to move up and down. He was now covered in sweat. His body was begging to be fucked

Joey:"You need some help with that?" He pointed at his ass

Henry needed to be fucked. And there was a thing much better than the dildo in his ass

He leaned to the front and grabbed his old semi-hard bulge looking seductively into his old eyes

Henry:"Whip it out big boy. You got a hole to patch. And I need it"

Joey:"Are you sure you..."

Henry:"Fuck me right now!!!"

Joey threw off his pants and boxers. Leaving himself in Henry's Grey shirt only

Henry:"I want you to show me how you can be better than that dildo"

Joey:"I'm not really sure about this"

Henry:"Please just fuck me already. I can't take this anymore"

Joey helped Henry to take off his clothes. He turned him around to let him hold the edge of the bath. He then grabbed the base off the dildo and started moving it up and down rythmically. Henry was moaning in pleasure. No, he was screaming

As soon as Joey got hard, he pulled out the dildo and showed his new huge dick into his old ass. Henry couldn't even tell the difference. But now it was warmer, pulsating. And Joey was pounding him.

They were now one. Combined. Sweaty. Joey was deep inside of Henry moving his intestines.

Henry:"Ah ah ah ah. Fuck me... I need you"

Joey couldn't hold it anymore, he pulled out his new dick and shoot the load at his old back.

He was breathing rapidly from the fast tempo. Henry was still holding on. But Joey moved his head to the side and noticed his old dick leaking cum

Joey smiled. Yeah, fuck the betrayal. He's gonna be punishing him for that very often from now own.

Anonymous inbox request:

What about the great shift strikes. And everyone is swapped with the closest person at the moment. A story where henry cavill gets swapped with joey batey before some press con. And henry finds that joey's body has a dildo up his ass and he's so turned up that he begs joey to fuck him.

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

[spectres-n-soap]

Yet the Rain Comes Anyway - Soap x Reader x Ghost

Content warnings - Death, dead body, grief, pregnancy, afab body, afab reader, angst, medical stuff, panic attack, MW3 is canon, I remind you again that SOAP IS DEAD

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Blog Masterlist

A/N - My childhood cat is being put down this week so brace yourselves for the angst that will be unleashed from my heart when he passes.

You're tapping your foot against the tile floor rapidly. The unnatural smell of a sterilized hospital made the hairs on your arm stand up. Safe to say, you hate the hospital.

You stood in the morgue. It's strange, you had never been in one before. The lights were all turned on but there was no natural lighting to clear up the uneasy feeling you felt. You had asked for this, to see him before they turned him into ash. You could back out, the workers wouldn't judge you. Death wasn't an easy thing to stare down even if you work in a field where death is always right around the corner.

You steeled your resolve. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see your John just one more time. You nodded to the morgue worker and they opened the little cabinet. Was John ever afraid of tight spaces? They slide out the tray he was laid on and your entire body goes cold. He was pale, his wound patched up to the best of the morgue's ability and his eyes closed.

You remembered the way on TV the eyes would go glassy and gray. You're glad his eyes aren't open, you wanted his electric blue eyes filled to the brim with life and mischief to be the only version you know. "Oh John." You muttered as you traced the features of his face with your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

A nurse walks into the waiting room and calls out your last time. You try to stand, it's getting more and more difficult, you think bitterly to yourself. Still you swat away Simon's hand out of habit and stand up by yourself and toddle towards the nurse, hand on your stomach. The nurse glances at Simon, the look she has on her face obscured by the mask.

"He's with me, don't worry." You assure her and she begins to walk, leading the two of you to the hospital room where you'll likely spend the next hour or so. Bless her heart, your nurse, as she goes through the checklist of symptoms to make sure the pregnancy isn't going sideways. She keeps glancing at Simon in what you now understand is apprehension. You smack him and whisper, "Did you have to wear your balaclava?" You hiss.

"I was out of face masks." He replies swiftly. You lift up your shirt on instinct when the nurse moves to the ultrasound machine. This song and dance has been done more times then you would like but, you glance at your stomach and place a hand on it again, feeling the baby kick against you in response. It was for them.

The nurse spreads the gel across your stomach and uses her tool to show you them. The baby, Johnny's baby. "Their looking healthy Mum." The nurse says with what you assume is a smile. "Would you like to know their gender?"

"No." You swiftly respond and Simon glances at you. You didn't want to know if it would be a boy or a girl, it just felt like another weight on your shoulders.

"Alrighty." The nurse says, "Would you like a print out of the ultrasounds?"

"Yes." Simon replies for you and the nurse nods. She tells the both of you that the doctor will be in soon to discuss your labor plan. That comment gets another look from Simon, this time you return the look. The moment the nurse leaves the room, Simon is asking questions. "Why don't you have a birth plan yet?" At least he isn't asking why I don't want to know the gender, you think thankfully.

"I just, I lost track of time." You mutter. Between everything going on within the months of your pregnancy, trying to get out of bed each day. Trying to live with the fact that he isn't here and you're doing this alone.

Simon sighs your name and shakes his head, "Well, then we'll just start planning now."

You're sitting in his truck and looking at the contact for John's mum. She had given it to you, telling you to contact her if you need her. You've been staring at it for minutes, thumb hovering over the message option.

"Would you really come with me?"

Simon looks over at you for a second, "Of course, I promised I would." He says with no hesitation.

You look at the message option and press down on it and begin to type out of the message.

"I'm sorry I didn't get into contact with you sooner and I'm sorry this is the reason why I am. Your son and I slept together a few weeks before he was MIA. I'm pregnant by your son, I didn't sleep with anyone else so I promise this child is your grandchild. I'm 30 weeks pregnant and on leave if you want to meet up."

You turn your phone off, place it face down after sending the message and try to ignore the fast beating of your heart.

Your phone dings while you are sitting at the dining table picking at your dinner. Simon looks at you, raising his eyebrows when you don't pick it up to see the message. You ignore his looks and try to focus even harder on stabbing your mashed potatoes.

"You gonna see what she said?" He asks and you close your eyes.You place down your fork and hide your hands under the table before you lose control of your tremors. Silence hangs in the air until he speaks again, "Would you like me to see what she said?"

You think about his offer for a moment before you slowly let out a breath, "No. I'll do it." You look at your phone, almost wishing it would disappear, then you pick it up.

"Do you still have my address? Let me know if you don't, I'd like you to come here."

You say nothing and show Simon the text. "Do you still have her address?" You nod. "When do you want to go?" You shrug and keep your head down. You wish she hadn't been so vague? Is she going to yell at you? Tell you she doesn't believe you?

Simon rushes over to you when he sees your breathing start to pick up. He kneels next to you, "Can I hold you?" He whispers and you nodded frantically. He takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over your knuckles as tears begin to drip down your cheeks.

"What if she hates me?" You asked and Simon shakes her head.

"She gave you her phone number, I'm sure she knew something about the relationship between you and Johnny."

You pick up your phone with shaky hands and send a single text.

"Tomorrow?"

She responds with a thumbs up emoji and you set the phone down, looking down at Simon who nods his head at you.

"Don't worry. I'll be with you the whole way." He reassures you and slowly lets go of your hand.

You laid in bed, limbs too heavy to move as you stared at the ceiling. It was odd to no longer have Soap visiting you at night just to share a bed for a few hours. You know he's in the morgue, cold and lifeless, yet you still wait to hear that knock on your door.

You blinked. "He's not going to knock." You said to yourself in the dark, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Yet you waited and waited until your closed your eyes too long. The grief counselor was unimpressed by your late showing and seemingly even less impressed by your clear lies that you were fine and handling the passing well.

Didn't help that you couldn't even look him in the eyes.

That night you stood in front of his barracks doors just staring at the door. I could go in. No one is here, it hasn't been reassigned yet. I could go in. For a moment, you thought you wouldn't. You took a step back but quickly moved forward and opened the door.

His shirts still hung in the closet, his bed still made to military standard. His desk was covered in a mixture of paperwork and doodles on stray pieces of paper. His second pair of boots sat next to the door. You slowly walked over to his closet and pressed a shirt to your nose.

It still smelt like him. Gunpowder and fresh rain with just a hint of his musk that told you he hadn't washed this shirt quiet yet. He is so weird. You thought to yourself. Why is his dirty shirt hung up?

You walked over to his bed and slowly laid down on it before you turned your head to inhale whatever smell was still on his pillow. It smelt like a generic mans brand you would buy at a dollar store but it was his smell nonetheless.

Your chest began to ache the longer you stayed in his room. The relief you sought here was nowhere to be found, it just felt like each second you stayed hollowed out your chest further. Still, you laid in his bed for hours.