#even with fun stuff i feel so slow all the time

[meyerlansky]

genuinely how does anyone have the energy for anything

[art-from-the-juice-box]

gen loss dump part 2 :]

i have a gen loss playlist so the last two was me hitting randomize and drawing a pic based on the song before it finished. the second one technically isn’t that cause charlie’s inferno isn’t on apple music cause they hate me so it’s way more of the song out of spite because they wouldn’t give it to me.

[end-orfino]

ahhhhhh i remember why i dont read comics & books and watch movies as much as I should. Because they make me lose it

[gayspock]

i wish I wasn't so pathetic and awkward 😒always ruins my night bro 😭

[depresseddepot]

I'm trying to find ways to slowly ease my way into taking walks (debilitating social anxiety) so I was going to download pokemon go again but my phone is too old :(

[beebundt]

i have. 35 attacks left. to revenge. ive gotten like. 15 out of 45 or smth i dont remembor the number

i naur realistically i dont have to revenge them all but also. i really really do love and appreciate the arts wahhhh. i want to hang all of them on my wall to look at forever. and i def want everyone to know i appreciate and that every art is rlly meaningful to me 🥺

[arolesbianism]

Guys why is rain world so good (<- rewatched some scenes and teared up on all of them)

[zincbot]

first workout after top surgery had me flying high all day

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[ourceliumnetwork]

i really am just going to have to lean into the fact that i just really like cheese board foods and deal with that, aren't I?

[brainrotzora]

recent ffxiv livetweeting. spoilers through the end of arr patch quests btw.

[narcissusneverknewme]

the Earth will never be healed again until China starts producing stuff with a sufficient amount of genderfuckery again. nearly all of the most compelling stuff China has ever produced has featured a significant amount of genderfuckery. that and the gay shit. send X or whatever you fools say now

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[nativegirltapes]

. . . somedays angel wants nothing but her big beefy older boyfriend to fuck her ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

warnings: literally just smut, kind of soft dom drew ?, them being sweet at the end <3

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎀 ᡣ𐭩

“nothing, guess i’m just really horny tonight.” you mumbled while on all fours on drew’s bed, wearing nothing but the pink and white lacy lingerie you picked out just hours before. you weren’t sure what had gotten into you but you were soo down bad today; you’d been prancing around drew’s house all day just waiting …. and waiting for him to get home so you could surprise him in your new lingerie set on his bed.

“oh yeah,” drew rubbed your bare ass. the wait making you even hornier and wetter. you felt bad, you knew drew liked to take his time with you, but god you just felt so impatient today. “i know you’re trying to be nice and stuff, but can you just fuck me?” you turned your head to look back at drew. your big soft eyes staring at him, so innocent and perfect, but what you just said proving you were far from innocent.

“damn baby. eager huh?” drew took no time obeying your request, the sound of him unbuckling his belt filling the room. he rubbed your ass some more, giving it a few squeezes, you couldn’t help but moan in response. “i need you drew,”

drew’s fingers rubbed your entrance a few times before aligning himself with your pussy. “yeah? my needy little baby.” drew thrusted himself into you without any warning, small profanities spilled from your mouth. “faster!” you yelled, although you weren’t sure if you’d be able to handle it. drew was big, it took you months before you were able to fully take it, and even now you still struggled some days. “you sure?” drew asked. “yes!”

drew picked up his pace, all you could do is mewl and let out an occasional “fuuuck,”. your ass jiggled against his pelvic area, the sight alone had drew going crazy. “soooo tight,” drew groaned, placing his hands on your hips to pull you even deeper onto his cock. “look at this ass. so perfect.” drew knew you loved when he complimented you, it got you going in a way that nothing else could.

“m’gonna come drew!” you shouted. times like this made you glad drew had his own place with no roomates, dorm sex was fun and sneaky, but you loved being able to yell drew’s name. “come all over this cock baby. it’s all yours.” drew replied, slowing down his strokes, the knot in both your stomachs coming undone at the same time.

“you’re so perfect.” drew pulled out, to which you groaned and plopped down on your back, a huge sigh leaving your lips. “you’re so good to me.” you pulled drew down on top of you, the feeling of being skin to skin with him always brought you a different kind of comfort. “well, you deserve it.”

[txrully]

I'M SO STUPID IN LOVE!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary lovey-dovey things they'd do for you!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness .

·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning lowercase intended

·˚ ༘ ꒱ song inspo stupid in love - max ( ft. huh yunjin of lsrfm )

·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi

you know how isagi’s brain is basically soccer, soccer, soccer? well, this man rewires his ENTIRE system for you. suddenly, every time he scores a goal, he dedicates it to you. like, mid-celebration he’s shouting your name in front of thousands of people. embarrassing? a lil. cute? definitely.

he’s also the type to leave you notes everywhere. you’ll open your locker, and boom: "i hope your day is as perfect as your smile. also, pls drink water. - yoichi 🩵"

or you’ll find random sticky notes around the house with stuff like: "you're cuter than my dog. and that’s saying a lot." ( i hc he's a dog person, fight me 🫠 )

"yoichi, did you seriously compare me to your dog again?"

"is that bad?? you’re both my top priorities!"

·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru

bachira is a walking ball of chaos, and it only gets worse when he’s in love. he makes you weird handmade crafts—like a necklace with your initials carved into a random rock he found because “the vibes were immaculate.”

he’s also the king of grand gestures. once, he showed up outside your window in the middle of the night blasting your favorite song from a boombox. and no, he didn’t think it through—he got yelled at by your neighbors, but he swears it was worth it.

"meguru, why is there a rock with my name on it?"

"because i love you. duh."

"…you couldn’t just buy a necklace??"

"where’s the FUN in that?? D:< "

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin

soft tsundere energy incoming. rin doesn’t say much, but when he’s in love, he SHOWS it. like, he’ll memorize your coffee order, your favorite book, and the exact way you like your hoodie sleeves rolled up. you swear he’s psychic, but he’s just that attentive.

he also sends you texts at random times:

"don’t forget your umbrella. it’s going to rain."

"i noticed you like this song. added it to my playlist."

you’re 99% sure his search history is “how to take care of someone without being obvious.”

"rin, did you... did you learn how to make my favorite food?"

"shut up and eat it."

"you’re so sweet it’s disgusting."

"i said shut up."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro

nagi’s love language? pure, lazy dedication. he may not seem like the romantic type, but trust me—he will move mountains for you... as long as it doesn’t require getting up too much.

once, he spent HOURS figuring out how to build you a playlist of all your favorite songs, complete with a cover photo of you two. he even labeled it: "for my player 2 🕹️"

"sei, this playlist is amazing!"

"mm, yeah, it was exhausting. now can we nap?"

"you literally just sat there and clicked buttons."

"exactly. so tiring.."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo

reo goes all out for you—no budget, no limits, no second thoughts. one time, you mentioned how pretty cherry blossoms are, and the next thing you know, he’s flying you to a festival in japan. casually might i add.

but the sweetest part? he remembers the little things. your favorite snack? stocked in his pantry. your favorite flower? delivered to your doorstep every friday. he spoils you rotten but somehow makes it feel like the most natural thing in the world.

"reo, this is too much—"

"no, it’s not. nothing’s too much for you."

"you’re literally insane."

"only for you, babe."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma

chigiri is the definition of 💌romantic aesthetic💌. he writes you poetry and leaves it in random places, like your bag or your coat pocket. sometimes, you don’t even notice until hours later.

he also takes you on dreamy dates—picnics in scenic fields, long bike rides at sunset, and slow dances in your living room when it’s raining outside. everything he does feels like it’s straight out of a romance movie.

"hyoma, did you just quote a shakespeare sonnet to me?"

"maybe."

"oh my god, you’re so dramatic."

"and yet you’re still here."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo

hiori is the sweetest, softest boy in love. he keeps a journal where he writes down all the little things you do that make him happy. once, you caught him scribbling, and he turned BRIGHT red.

he’s also the king of quiet acts of service. your phone’s always fully charged, your favorite snacks magically appear in your bag, and you never have to ask for help because he’s already two steps ahead.

"yo, were you writing about me again?"

"no... maybe. okay, yes."

"you’re adorable."

"please don’t look."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei

oh boy. shidou is CHAOTIC in love. this man would probably fight a wild animal to impress you. he’s all about making you laugh, even if it means doing the dumbest stunts imaginable.

one time, he literally climbed a tree to get you a flower. it wasn’t even a nice flower. but hey, it’s the thought that counts.

"ryu, you’re bleeding. what did you do??"

"got you this flower. cool, huh?"

"you FELL OUT OF A TREE FOR THIS??"

"worth it."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae

sae is the definition of quiet but deadly romantic. he doesn’t show his feelings often, but when he does? damn. like, he’ll casually fly in from another country just to spend the weekend with you because “it’s no big deal.”

he also sends you fancy gifts out of nowhere. but if you call him out, he’ll play it cool like it’s nothing.

"sae, did you just buy me an entire designer collection?"

"it’s just clothes."

"just clothes?? this cost more than my rent!"

"and you look better than rent."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser

kaiser loves showing off, especially when it comes to you. he’ll buy out a billboard just to plaster your picture on it with the words "the love of my life 🩵."

but he’s also surprisingly sweet. like, he’ll carry your bag, fix your hair when it’s windy, or randomly pull you into a dance in the middle of the street just because he can.

"michael, did you seriously put my face on a billboard??"

"obviously. everyone needs to know you’re mine."

"you’re ridiculous."

"ridiculously in love with you, yes."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness

ness is a total softie. he writes you little love letters and leaves them in your mailbox, signed with his initials like he’s a secret admirer. you obviously know it’s him, but you let him think he’s being sneaky.

he’s also BIG on cuddles. whenever he sees you, it’s like he can’t function until he gets a hug.

"ness, you know i know it’s you, right?"

"…you’re supposed to pretend you don’t!"

"why?"

"because it’s romantic!"

© txrully

do not copy/translate/plagiarize/repost my works in any way. ( i will find you 😶‍🌫️ )

likes + reblogs appreciated ‹𝟹

[pucksandpower]

Love at First Wink

Charles Leclerc x medical student!Reader

Summary: in which Charles can’t wink, you think he might be having a stroke, fans (and media) notice something strange, and your love story is immortalized through Reddit posts

r/NoStupidQuestions

u/LordPerceval · 16h

How do I learn to wink without looking like a weirdo?

Alright, so I’m 27M, and for some reason I’ve never really figured out how to wink without looking like I’m having some kind of muscle spasm or, I dunno, an awkward twitch. Like, I see people do it in movies or just casually, and it always looks so smooth and effortless. But when I try, either both of my eyes close (which, yeah, not a wink) or I just look like I’m really struggling.

It’s honestly starting to bug me because it would be nice to be able to wink in a fun way, like in a “just playing around” or “gotcha” kind of moment. But instead, I avoid it completely because I’m scared I’ll make things super weird or uncomfortable.

So, how does one go about learning how to wink properly? Is it just a practice thing? A facial muscle thing? Am I overthinking it? Any tips are appreciated, even if they seem basic. Thanks in advance!

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u/SmoothOperator · 15h

Ah, the ol’ wink struggle! Don’t worry, man, you’re not alone. First thing you gotta do is RELAX. If you’re overthinking it, your whole face gets tense and that’s what makes it look awkward. Try it in front of a mirror, and focus on just casually closing one eye without squinting or forcing it too much. It’s more about a light, quick gesture than a full-on eye close.

And yeah, it’s 100% a muscle thing, so if it feels weird, it’s probably because your face isn’t used to it yet. You’ll get there with some practice. Also, remember, winks aren’t meant to be perfect. They’re supposed to be playful and a little subtle. Don’t go for the exaggerated “movie star” wink, just keep it light!

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u/awkwardpenguin · 13h

I totally feel you on this. I’m 24F and still can’t wink without looking like a malfunctioning robot. I found it helped to practice with only one side of my face in the mirror first. Maybe try winking with your left eye only for a while, get that one down, and then see if the right side follows?

Also, don’t overthink it too much! Sometimes a half-bad wink can be charming if it’s done in the right moment. Shows you’re not taking yourself too seriously!

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u/TheRealMaverick · 12h

Dude, it’s just like learning to snap your fingers. Some people just get it, and some people gotta work on it. I couldn’t wink for years without looking like I had something in my eye. My advice: watch yourself in the mirror and do it slowly at first. Get the feel of which muscles you’re using. Start by squinting a bit with both eyes, then try to isolate one. Once you get it down slow, speed it up.

Also, fun fact: some people can only wink with one eye and not the other. So if your right eye’s just not cooperating, maybe you’re a left-eye winker!

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u/CouchPotatoSupreme · 10h

Haha, I went through this same struggle. My trick was to add a little smile to the wink. It somehow makes the whole thing look more natural and less like you’re trying too hard. Plus, smiling relaxes your face, so the wink looks smoother. Try it next time you practice!

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u/theeyeguy · 9h

It’s all about muscle memory, man. The more you do it, the more natural it feels. I recommend winking at random stuff when no one’s around — like your TV, the microwave, whatever. You’ll build up the muscle coordination without feeling weird about it. Eventually, your face will stop fighting you, and you’ll just be able to fire off a wink like a pro.

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u/ActuallySocrates · 7h

Are you maybe closing your eye too slowly? A lot of people mess up winking because they think it’s a slow, exaggerated thing. But the trick is to make it fast and subtle. You want it to be quick, almost like a blink but with only one eye. If you’re dragging it out, you’re probably straining the muscles too much, which makes it look awkward.

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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 6h

Honestly, just own it. I can’t wink either, but I found that the more I tried to force it, the worse it looked. So now, when I attempt to wink and it looks ridiculous, I just laugh it off and it becomes this goofy thing instead of a weird thing. Sometimes confidence is half the battle, even if you’re failing at winking.

Good luck, dude!

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***

r/WouldIBeTheAsshole

u/UnmedicatedStudent · 9h

WIBTA for telling a stranger I think he might be having a stroke?

So, this is a bit weird, but I’m a 24F med student (just started my clinical rotations), and I’m currently studying at this cafe. There’s this guy sitting at a table directly across from me, maybe mid-to-late 20s? And for the last 30 minutes or so, his left eye has been twitching a lot. At first, I thought it was just one of those random muscle twitches that we all get, but it’s been consistent. It’s actually kind of intense, and he keeps rubbing his face like it’s bothering him.

Here’s the thing: as a med student, I know that eye twitches can be totally benign, but I also know they can sometimes be signs of something more serious, like a stroke or some kind of nerve issue. I keep debating whether I should just casually go up to him and be like, “Hey, not to freak you out, but I’ve noticed your eye twitching for a while now. I’m a medical student, and you might want to get it checked out, just in case.”

BUT I’m also aware that I could come off as a complete weirdo. Like, maybe he’s just stressed or tired, and here I am, a random stranger diagnosing him in a public place. I don’t want to embarrass him or make him anxious over nothing, but I also feel like I’d be an AH if I don’t say something and there actually is a problem. What if it’s a mini-stroke or something and I just sit here doing nothing?

So, WIBTA if I go up to him and suggest he sees a doctor?

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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 8h

NTA. I think there’s a way to approach it without making him feel super uncomfortable. Maybe go with something like, “Hey, I’m a med student, and I’ve noticed your eye twitching. It’s probably nothing serious, but I just wanted to mention it because sometimes it can be a sign of something that should be checked out.” If you keep it casual and friendly, most people would probably appreciate the concern rather than be freaked out.

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u/ItsNotABug · 7h

Agreed. NTA. If it were me, I’d rather someone point it out than have it potentially be something serious and not know. It’s all about the way you frame it. I mean, worst-case scenario, he’ll just laugh it off and say he’s been staring at his laptop too long. But best case? You could be catching something early. Definitely worth a try.

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u/ChillZebra · 5h

Soft YTA if you approach it the wrong way. I can see how he might feel embarrassed or weirded out if a stranger suddenly tells him his eye is doing something abnormal, especially in a public setting. I’d probably feel a little awkward. BUT if you go in with tact and don’t sound too alarmist, you could be doing him a huge favor. Just keep the conversation light!

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u/Caffiend · 4h

As someone who deals with chronic eye twitches (thanks, stress and caffeine), I’d probably be more embarrassed than anything if someone approached me about it. That said, I’d still rather know if it could be something serious. Maybe wait until he’s leaving, so you don’t put him on the spot in front of a crowd, but I’d say go for it. You’re NTA.

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u/LizzyBizzy · 2h

NTA! I think people overestimate how much others will be embarrassed by stuff like this. You’re coming from a place of concern, and if you’re polite and kind about it, I doubt he’ll be offended. If he is, that’s more on him than you. You’d probably regret it more if you don’t say anything and keep wondering if you should’ve.

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u/AllergicToYourDrama · 1h

Honestly? YTA. Look, I get it, you’re a med student, and you’re probably hyper-aware of stuff like this. But coming up to a stranger and telling them their eye twitch might be a medical emergency is a good way to freak someone out. He’s probably just tired or stressed. I’m not saying you should ignore it, but there’s a fine line between concern and overstepping boundaries.

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u/UnmedicatedStudent (OP) · 52m

I was worried someone might say this 😅 I don’t want to seem like I’m stepping into “know-it-all med student” territory, but yeah, it’s hard to shut off that part of my brain sometimes. I know I could be totally overreacting, and it’s probably nothing … but part of me would feel guilty if I didn’t at least mention it. Thanks for the input!

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u/PeachyKeen · 59m

NTA. I think the key is to not come across like you’re diagnosing him. Just be casual about it, like, “Hey, I’ve noticed this, and it’s probably nothing, but just in case, I thought I’d mention it.” If I were in his shoes, I’d appreciate someone saying something, especially if it’s coming from a med student who might know more than me about what to look out for.

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u/TheRealDeal · 49m

NTA. He’s probably just had too much caffeine or is stressed, but it’s nice that you’re concerned. Worst case, he thinks you’re a little awkward, but hey, that’s better than potentially missing a serious medical issue. You can’t control how he’ll react, but you’re not an AH for caring.

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u/DefinitelyNotASurgeon · 43m

NTA, but definitely approach with caution. Maybe frame it as more of a “Hey, this might be nothing, but I’m a med student, so I tend to notice stuff like this …” That way, you’re not jumping straight to “I think you’re having a stroke” but still letting him know it might be worth getting checked out.

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u/ItsNotThatDeep · 39m

YTA for even thinking it’s a stroke, lol. Just kidding! Seriously though, NTA if you do it politely.

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***

r/NoStupidQuestions

u/LordPerceval · 8h

[UPDATE] Tried learning to wink — got mistaken for having a stroke. But hey, I got a date!

So, a few days ago, I made a post here asking for tips on how to wink without looking like a malfunctioning robot. Well, I took all your advice, and I’ve been practicing … a lot. Maybe too much.

Fast forward to today: I’m at a cafe, sitting alone, just trying to sneak in some subtle winks at my reflection in the window (you know, totally normal behavior). I’m really focusing on trying to get one eye to close without the rest of my face getting involved. After what must’ve been 20 minutes of this, I notice this woman a few tables over, kind of looking at me, but I figured she was just judging my weird wink practice session.

Next thing I know, she walks over, says, “Hey, I don’t want to alarm you, but I’m a med student, and I’ve been watching your eye twitch for a while … I think you might want to see a doctor in case you’re having a stroke.” 😳

I nearly died from embarrassment right there. I had to explain that I wasn’t having a stroke, I was just trying to learn how to wink. She laughed (thankfully) and admitted it was an honest mistake, given how badly my face was contorting.

But here’s the plot twist: she’s actually gorgeous and super funny. After a bit more chatting, she gave me her number, and we’ve got a date this weekend. So, while I still can’t wink without looking like I’m in serious medical distress, I somehow managed to score a date out of it. Silver linings, right?

Thanks to everyone who gave me advice! I may not have mastered the wink, but I think things worked out anyway 😂

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u/SmoothOperator · 7h

Dude, this is the best possible outcome from this situation. Not only did you not have a stroke, but you actually got a date from it? That’s a win. Don’t even bother learning how to wink anymore — you’ve already peaked.

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u/awkwardpenguin · 7h

I AM DYING. This is hilarious. Honestly, I think this proves that failing spectacularly can sometimes be the most charming thing in the world. Good luck on the date, and please don’t try winking at her during dinner 😅

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u/theeyeguy · 6h

LMAO. As someone who’s been mistaken for having a stroke because of stress-related eye twitching, I feel this deeply. But I’ve never gotten a date out of it. Well played, my man. Well played.

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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 5h

This might be the best “I tried to wink and failed” story I’ve ever heard. Seriously though, props to her for actually coming up and saying something. It could’ve been worse — imagine if she just stared, unsure if you were in the middle of a medical emergency.

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u/TheRealMaverick · 5h

The wink failed, but your awkward charm succeeded! Honestly, I think you should lean into this. Go to the date, don’t even bother trying to wink, and just tell her the story again. If she was into it the first time, she’s probably going to love it even more when it’s an inside joke between you two.

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u/CouchPotatoSupreme · 4h

Okay, but can we just take a moment to appreciate that she approached you because she was genuinely concerned? That’s the kind of girl you want in your corner. Also, now you have the perfect “how we met” story. Future wedding speech material, just saying 😉

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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 3h

I have secondhand embarrassment but also secondhand joy for you. Sometimes life is better than any awkward wink could ever be. Good luck on the date, and hey, maybe you don’t even need to master winking anymore if you’ve already won her over.

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u/WinkFailSurvivor · 2h

This whole thing is perfect. I, too, have struggled with the dreaded “failed wink,” but I never thought it would lead to a date. I think you’re onto something here … maybe awkward winking is the new dating strategy?

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u/ActuallySocrates · 2h

Wait … so, your face-twitching efforts actually led to a potential relationship? This might be the greatest accidental rom-com moment ever. Well done. Keep us updated on how the date goes, but for the love of all that is good, don’t wink at her again unless you’ve somehow mastered it in the meantime.

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u/MedStudentCrush · 1h

As a fellow med student, I know she was probably embarrassed too after realizing you weren’t having a medical crisis. But the fact that she still gave you her number means your sense of humor (or tragic winking) really worked. You’re NAILING it, man.

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***

r/WouldIBeTheAsshole

u/UnmedicatedStudent · 7h

[UPDATE] WIBTA for telling a stranger I thought he was having a stroke because of an eye twitch? Well, now we’re going on a date.

Hey everyone! So, a few days ago I made a post asking if I would be the AH for telling a guy I thought he was having a stroke because I saw his eye twitching for like half an hour at a cafe. I’m a med student and my brain just could not ignore it. I was really worried that I might embarrass him or make things awkward if it turned out to be nothing.

Well … update time.

I actually went up to him and casually asked if he was feeling okay because I noticed the twitching. Turns out, he wasn’t having a stroke (thank god), but what he was doing was practicing winking. I’ll let that sink in. He was practicing winking at his reflection. In a cafe. For half an hour 😂

We both started laughing, and honestly, I was super relieved it wasn’t a medical emergency because I was prepared to call an ambulance or something. He explained that he’d been trying to learn how to wink for a while but couldn’t get it down, and I guess I just caught him mid-“training session.”

Here’s the fun part: after we laughed it off, we ended up chatting for a while. He’s actually really sweet and has this kind of goofy charm. I gave him my number, and now we have a date lined up for this weekend 😳

So, not only did I not make him panic about his health, but I also apparently picked the right guy to (wrongly) diagnose. I’ll keep you all posted if it leads to anything, but for now, we’re both just laughing about the most awkward way to meet someone.

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u/DrCoffeeAddict · 7h

I AM DEAD 😂 You’re telling me you went over to check on a potential medical emergency, and it turned into a rom-com meet-cute? This is the best outcome possible. Can’t wait to hear how the date goes!

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u/SmoothOperator · 6h

As the guy who gave him advice on winking in his original post, I just want to say: I feel partly responsible for this love story. I’m so glad his tragic winking attempts paid off in the end, even if it wasn’t in the way he intended.

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u/awkwardpenguin · 6h

THIS IS AMAZING. I read both your posts and now I feel like I’m watching the awkward wink romance saga unfold in real-time. You’re officially in the running for the best “how we met” story of all time 😆 Good luck on the date, and please let us know if he tries winking at you (but maybe tell him to hold off for now, lol).

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u/LizzyBizzy · 5h

Honestly, this just proves that the best way to get a date is to pretend you’re having a medical emergency 😜 But seriously, I love how this turned out. Sounds like he’s a good sport, and you’re a hero for not freaking out. Hope the date goes well!

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u/Pizza4Breakfast · 4h

Okay, I’m following this story like a serialized drama. I just read his update about you thinking he was having a stroke, and this is all too perfect. You both sound like such good sports about the whole thing, and I’m crossing my fingers that this ends up being a great first date! I’d pay to watch this rom-com, tbh.

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u/ItsNotThatDeep · 4h

So you’re telling me this guy tried to learn how to wink, failed so hard at it that it almost got him medically evaluated, and then still managed to get a date out of it? This man is living on another level of charm 😂

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u/ActuallySocrates · 3h

If you two get married, the wedding speeches are going to be incredible. “I thought he was having a stroke, turns out he was just practicing winking.” I can’t stop laughing at how absurdly perfect this situation is. You might as well stop looking, you’ve found the one.

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u/DefinitelyNotASurgeon · 3h

This might be the greatest series of posts I’ve ever seen on Reddit. First, the guy’s terrible winking attempts, now your heroic intervention that turns into a date? I’m invested in this. Please, please update us after the date. I need closure on this modern love story.

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u/CaffeineAndAnxiety · 2h

I feel like this is a public service announcement for all med students: don’t assume every eye twitch is a stroke, sometimes the guy’s just trying to wink 😂 But seriously, this is adorable and you handled it perfectly. Hope your date goes well!

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u/NoGuyNoProblem · 1h

This is amazing. The fact that you were so ready to step in and save the day, only for it to turn into this hilarious and kind of romantic story, is just too good. I really hope he doesn’t try to wink at you during the date though — that might be a dealbreaker.

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u/ChronicFailSurvivor · 1h

OMG, I just read both your post and his, and this is now my favorite Reddit love story. Please let us know how the date goes. I kind of want to see him attempt another wink, just to see how bad it still is 😆

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***

r/formula1

u/tifositruther · 14h

Why does Charles Leclerc’s eye always twitch when he hugs his girlfriend after a podium finish?

Okay, this has been bugging me for a while, and I’m hoping someone here can explain it because I haven’t seen anyone talk about it (or I’ve just missed it).

Whenever Charles finishes in the top 3 and goes to hug his girlfriend along the barriers where the team stands, I’ve noticed that his eye does this weird twitching thing? It’s super subtle, but it’s like a half-blink or something with one eye. It’s definitely not him just being emotional or sweaty, because it happens EVERY time. At first, I thought it was just a one-off, but now I can’t unsee it.

Is it just me, or does anyone else see this too? Is it like a weird superstition or just some involuntary thing? I’m genuinely curious, and it’s getting harder to watch his post-race celebrations without focusing on his twitchy eye.

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u/FerrariBoi · 13h

Dude, I’ve noticed this too! I always thought it was just him being super emotional or tired after a race, but now that you mention it, it really is every time he goes to hug his girlfriend. Now I can’t stop wondering what’s up with it either 😅

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u/SmoothOperator55 · 12h

I’m not 100% sure, but I think it might be some kind of superstition or inside joke between him and his girlfriend? Charles is a pretty sentimental guy, so it wouldn’t surprise me if this is some sort of cute thing they do. Or maybe he’s trying to wink and it’s just … not working?

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u/FerrariFaithful · 10h

I can’t believe I’m reading this post because I thought I was the only one who noticed that! It’s like a half-wink, half-blink, and I’ve been trying to figure out if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s just nerves. Now I’m convinced there’s some weird Leclerc tradition we’re missing out on.

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u/NeedMoreDownforce · 9h

Honestly, I bet it’s just some post-race exhaustion thing. These guys are going flat out for nearly two hours, so I wouldn’t be surprised if his muscles just spasm a little bit after all that. But if it is some superstition, I want to know more because that would be hilarious.

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u/Charles4Prez · 6h

Oh man, I totally know what you’re talking about. I’ve noticed it every time he’s on the podium and it’s always when he hugs his girlfriend! If this is just him being tired, that would make sense, but it low-key feels like it’s some sort of wink. Either way, it’s oddly charming 😂

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u/GP2EnginePlease · 5h

LMAO, I’ve seen this too! I figured he was trying to wink but failing miserably at it because his face is always red and sweaty from the race. But if this is some kind of secret “thing” between him and his girlfriend, I’m here for it. F1 drivers and their quirks, man.

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u/Turn13Messiah · 4h

If this is a wink attempt, then Charles needs to work on his technique ASAP. But honestly, it’s probably some goofy little tradition they’ve got. Maybe he does it to signal something only they know, and we’re all just sitting here clueless 😂

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u/BoxBox · 3h

I actually love that this is a thing people are noticing. The man’s got the whole F1 world watching, but he’s still trying to pull off a wink at his girlfriend like a regular guy. If it’s a superstition, I fully support it. Leclerc always seems like the type to have little rituals.

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u/ZoomingAlong · 1h

I’ve never noticed this before, but now I need to go back and rewatch some podiums to see it for myself 😂 If it’s a wink, it’s not very good, but knowing Charles, it’s probably something personal and cute between them. Wouldn’t surprise me if it’s intentional!

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u/YellowFlagged · 53m

It has to be some sort of in-joke between him and his girlfriend. F1 drivers are superstitious, and it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen drivers have quirky little habits. Maybe it’s his way of “winking” after a good race, but he’s just too drained to pull it off properly.

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u/MegaDRS · 46m

Guys, I just went back and watched some old races, and yep, it’s there 😂 I never noticed it before, but now I’m convinced this is an awkward wink. Charles probably thinks he’s being smooth, but we’re all seeing that twitch. I’m officially obsessed with this now.

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u/ILoveMonaco · 32m

Can someone please just ask him in an interview at this point? I need answers. If it’s some cute tradition between him and his girlfriend, I’ll be even more of a Charles fan than I already am.

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***

“Charles, did you know you’re going viral on social media?”

The question hits him in the middle of media day. Charles Leclerc blinks once, twice, and tilts his head. He’s sitting in the usual F1 press conference setup — microphones lined up, lights a little too bright, cameras flashing constantly —but this question isn’t the usual stuff about strategy or the upcoming race.

He shifts in his seat, the corners of his lips tugging into an uncertain smile. “No, I … I didn’t know that.” He furrows his brows, clearly puzzled. “Why? What did I do this time?”

The reporter grins, clearly enjoying Charles’ confusion. “It’s not something you did during the race. It’s what happens after.”

Charles’ smile falters slightly, but his curiosity grows. “After? What do you mean?”

The reporter leans forward, resting his hands on his lap. “It’s your eye. You’ve been going viral for this thing your eye does after you finish on the podium. People are calling it ‘the Charles Leclerc twitch.’”

Charles’ face drops for a split second before he laughs, the sound awkward, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, that. Yeah, I’ve seen some things about it.”

“You have?” The reporter raises an eyebrow, surprised. “People are saying it’s because you’re tired or emotional after races.”

Charles scratches his head, feeling the blush creep up his neck. “No, no … it’s not that.”

“What is it then? Do you even know you’re doing it?”

Charles is biting his lip now, looking down at the mic in front of him like it might save him. He doesn’t want to explain this, not here, not now, but the entire press room is silent, waiting for his response. He glances up and spots you standing at the back of the room, arms crossed, a small smile playing on your lips. You’ve definitely overheard the whole thing.

With a sigh, he finally says, “Okay, well … it’s not really a twitch. I’m actually, uh …” He rubs his palms on his thighs nervously. “I’m trying to wink.”

Laughter ripples through the room, but the reporter’s face lights up, not letting this go. “Wink? At who?”

Charles’ blush deepens, and he chuckles, glancing down again before meeting the reporter’s eyes. “At my girlfriend. After I finish on the podium.”

There’s a collective murmur of interest now, and Charles is laughing, embarrassed. He shifts his weight in the chair, clearly flustered.

“Wait, you’re winking at your girlfriend?” Another reporter chimes in, curious but amused. “Why after the podium?”

Charles glances back at you standing at the rear of the room. You smile at him, and he seems to relax, even though his ears are definitely burning red. He lets out another small laugh. “Okay, so this is kind of … a long story.”

The room leans in.

“It started a few months ago,” Charles begins, exhaling as if trying to gather the words. “I was sitting in a cafe, practicing how to wink-”

“Practicing?” The first reporter cuts in, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, practicing. I’ve never been good at it.” He laughs, but it’s clear he’s a little embarrassed about admitting this in front of a full room. “And while I was doing it, she-” he nods toward you, “comes up to me and asks if I’m okay. She’s a medical student, and apparently, my attempt at winking looked so bad that she thought I was having a stroke.”

The room bursts into laughter, and even Charles can’t help but crack up at the absurdity of the story. He runs a hand through his hair and looks at you again, his eyes softening. “Yeah, so she came over, all serious, genuinely concerned about me.”

You can’t help but laugh along with the reporters. You catch Charles’ eye, and he gives you a small, sheepish smile. The reporters are now fully invested, waiting for him to continue.

“So, I had to explain to her that I was just trying to figure out how to wink,” Charles continues, the redness in his face only deepening. “It was embarrassing, but we ended up talking for a while after that. And, uh … long story short, I got her number, and now we’re together.”

“That’s … actually adorable,” one of the female reporters says, and Charles chuckles again.

“But the winking thing — it became kind of our little tradition,” he explains, sitting forward slightly. “After every podium, I try to wink at her when I go to hug her at the barriers. It’s a way for me to say, like, ’we made it’ or something. It’s just this thing we’ve kept going.”

The room is silent for a moment, absorbing the story, before the questions start coming in again.

“So wait,” one of the reporters asks, his grin wide, “you’re telling me that this whole viral thing is because you’re trying to wink at your girlfriend after every race?”

Charles nods, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, but apparently I’m still really bad at it.”

“You don’t say,” someone mutters, and more laughter breaks out.

“And she knows this is a thing?” Another asks, glancing toward you.

Charles’ eyes are on you again. “Yeah, she knows. She tries not to laugh every time I do it. But, you know, we’ve kept it going. It’s like a small inside joke between us.”

The first reporter raises his hand again. “Do you think you’ll ever actually learn how to wink properly?”

Charles grins, shaking his head. “Probably not. I mean, I’ve had months to practice, and this is the best I’ve got.”

The press room breaks into chuckles, and Charles sits back, clearly more relaxed now that the story is out in the open. He takes a sip of water and glances up at the cameras.

“You got the girl,” the reporter adds with a grin.

“Yeah,” Charles agrees, looking at you with a warmth that softens his voice. “I got the girl.”

The room starts buzzing again, the other reporters already moving on to different questions about the upcoming race weekend, but Charles steals one last glance at you. You’re still smiling, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and he shoots you a quick wink — or well, tries to.

And of course, his eye twitches awkwardly, but this time, he doesn’t mind.