#hawk speaks. ╾ (ooc)

[whitherwanderer]

Watched the Count of Monte Cristo. Had a thought during this scene. What if Edmond Dantes was a lady?? What then, hm?

[fan-dweeb]

*in the middle of conversation*

Keigo: Wait, please stop talking

Touya: excUSe me??

Keigo: Just- just shut up for a minute

Touya: *scoffs*

Keigo: No- I just- please, shut the fuck up for like, 30 seconds

Touya: What are you- Oh

Touya *mouths*: Bad day?

[cunning-matriarch]

Kion: theyre in the outlands so they arent our problem anymore Also Kion: regularly goes into the outlands or just outside the pridelands in general to interfere with the hyenas, jackals and other predators hunting Like that isnt your territory!!??

Though this goes for the whole of the guard in general.

They wanna be a pain in the backside to predators in the pridelands that arent in their little clique its their territory but thats way outta line outside the pridelands.

[variant-defect]

Ooc;

Hey, thanks for the new follows here, it is, in fact not a dead blog. Lol. I just haven't picked up anything new in awhile but excited to dust things off again! Lemme gather my icons and I'll toss some stuff out soon, folks!

[immobiliter]

also like... i know bioware have said that the hawke vs. the warden decision in here lies the abyss isn't going to matter for veilguard ( which is a weird decision to me seeing as varric plays a role in this game, however small it ultimately ends up being, but w/e ), but if it's not gonna get referenced at all then i almost want to run with the hawke sacrifice version being canon to me ( unless i write with a hawke or otherwise have a reason to keep them alive ofc ), because it just makes sense to me in the context of everything i've seen so far

[knights-of-the-sky]

Okay okay. So I usually don’t like to rag on any of my childern. HOWEVER... I’ve been thinking about this for a bit.  Rewatching some Storm Hawks with some buddies in our server made me realize that Aerrow is not very good at stepping in when it comes to conflicts between the team. The most noteable example being in Storm Warning, when Finn’s brattiness/smugness/I don’t know this boy is rude sometimes- drives Piper away and obviously she’s upset, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He just says that Finn was joking.  Like- I get it. The boy is 14-15. He’s not gonna do everything right. BUT he actively plays along, JUNKO, the sweet boy, is the one that tries to be the voice of reason and is weary that this is going too far.  This could have honestly been a good piece of character development for Aerrow, if the show had continued. Perhaps have someone snap at him, or just say something and make him realize that he’s not all right. Whichhhhhh if I ever get to write a fic about my events of the show, I very much would like to write someone doing that lol. 

[numinousdread-a]

Here is another silly question since I haven’t been here in a while and things keep changing:

What does it mean to be rpc unaffiliated??? Aren’t we all technically a part of the rpc ??? Do ppl mean they don’t affiliate with fandom ???

[nekromxnt]

. fandomless oc . multiverse . 21+ mutuals only . highly selective . low activity .

be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind/be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,/now slip, now slide, now move unseen,/above, beneath, betwixt, between.

he's a necromancer but he doesn't bring people back . no . he just listens . the dead have a lot to say . and right now , they'd tell you to stick around if you like weird boys and magic . dossier ( best viewed on pc ) || on mobile? || follows from equalstrength

[taughtdefense]

ethan, Chaotic, probably hides the egg in his pocket :(

[bruhstories]

sweet like honey ˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

summary: logan ended up spending his evenings in the bar across the street from your bakery, watching you do your job. he never approached you, never talked to you, but he always kept an eye on you, until he has a bad feeling. pairing: logan x fem!reader warning & content: swearing, violence, reader almost gets assaulted (but logan saves the day), she/her pronouns for reader, wade being wade, unprotected p in v, fluff, angst, lots of baking and mentions of food, slightly ooc logan (if you squint), slow burn, sex in a bakery wc: 6k

a/n: i don't always write, but when i do, it's a fucking thesis. unedited.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Logan was never a fan of sweets. He hated chocolate, cheesecake, gummy bears — literally anything sweet. The only thing he could barely stomach was tiramisu, and only because it had coffee in it. Other than that, he steered away from sweets like they were the fucking plague.

Yet despite all that, he found himself enjoying the smell of freshly baked croissants, custard donuts, brownies, and whatever goods you baked in your little bakery, conveniently situated across the street from his go-to bar.

Cleverly named Flour Power, it was all pastel both inside and out, with little pots of hyacinths hanging from its window and a big sign above the entrance. Not that Logan ever went there, but he always walked past it when he went for a drink. Flour Power stood out from all the shops with its baby blue windowsills and bubblegum pink door. As much as he disliked vibrant colours, his eyes were always drawn to the bakery. But not because of how it looked or the way it smelled.

No, Logan strategically sat down by the window in the bar to see you. Every evening, he watched you sell everything you had on display, from wedding cakes to éclairs, greetings customers with a warm smile on your face. He watched you turn the sign from open to closed, lock the door, clean the display shelves, the counters, the only two tables and four chairs inside, and sweep and mop the floors. Then you disappeared in the back for a while, perhaps doing the dishes or preparing dough and frosting, before you walked out, locked the door again, pulled down the blinds over the big window on the right side of the door, and left.

It became a ritual for Logan to watch you. In a way, it brought him some peace, despite him never speaking to you. To him, you were innocence personified, the type of girl who made others feel better simply by being there, and he didn't want to disturb that peace.

Tonight was an ordinary night for the 200 year old mutant. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, drank it all, then went to the bar to ask for another round, killing time until you closed the bakery, then he could finally go back to the apartment. You closed at 7 for clients and left at 8:30 every evening except for Sundays, when you didn't work. Logan knew your schedule a little to well, even knew you opened for clients at 8 in the morning, but you were there much earlier, because he could smell the pastries at around half 6. This time, however, you seemed to have a bit more work. It was past 9, it was dark, and you still hadn't left, and Logan was slightly concerned.

He watched you like a hawk, how you tucked rebellious strands of hair behind your ear when you mopped the floor, how you wiped your hands on your cute little apron after you finished scrubbing the countertops. Logan thought you had extra orders from customers, perhaps a wedding cake. He scrunched his nose at the thought of having to try so many flavours only to pick a damn cake that he probably wouldn't enjoy anyway.

But finally, you were done.

It was almost 10 when you locked the door to the bakery, double checking to make sure it wouldn't budge. Then the blinds and off you went. Logan was satisfied to see you go, but the hairs on his back suddenly stood up, his nostrils filled with the scent of danger. Bitter, sour, it went straight to his brain, and so he finished his drink and left the bar, following you down the street but keeping a safe distance.

You walked past a group of drunk men, gripping your tote bag with your left hand and your keys with your right one. You've learned to place the keys between your fingers, like claws, in case someone attacked you. Going home at that time wasn't something you enjoyed, and you always tried to avoid working late, but sometimes that was inevitable. When you heard footsteps approaching you, you picked up the pace, but paranoia kicked in, and you didn't want whoever was following you to find out where you lived, and so you took a detour.

Logan was like your shadow, going everywhere you went, until he heard something drop in a dimly lit alleyway and he sped up, finding you round a corner, pinned to a wall by a man while another guy had his hand up your dress. It was too dark to see, but Logan didn't need eyes to know that was you. He could smell the vanilla extract and icing sugar and fear.

"Take my wallet!" You told the men, but they weren't there for the money. They wanted something else from you.

"Nah, doll, I'll take something else from you. Somethin' more precious than money." One of the men said, his breath reeking of alcohol, the cheap kind.

"Hurry up and fuck her, bro, I need my turn-"

Something flashed, then a shadow lunged at the second guy who couldn't even finish his sentence before he was struck down.

"Mike?" The man who pinned you against the wall asked, his hands trembling on your body. "Stop fucking around."

But Mike was seeing stars somewhere on the alleyway. It happened so quickly you couldn't understand what was going on. When your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you saw him, rough, handsome and very, very angry.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man asked, but all he got in response was a guttural growl. "Hey, man, I don't want any trouble. My girlfriend and I were just talking. Stay out of it." He grabbed you by the neck, dragging you away from Logan.

You seized the opportunity and wrestled out of his grasp by biting your assaulter's hand, dashing behind a bin.

"Ow! Fucking bitch!" He lunged at you, but Logan was quicker, piercing his claws through his shoulder and holding him in place.

"That's no way to talk to a lady." The mutant snarled, and you watched how his claws retracted before he punched the man in the face, effectively knocking him down.

He was the Wolverine. You had seen it all over the news, how he saved your universe, how he came from a different world. You couldn't believe he was the one helping you when you thought no one would save you in that moment.

"You alright, kid?" His raspy voice startled you and you barely nodded, still too shocked to move or speak. "You sure?"

You shook your head and tears rolled down your cheeks as you finally started to process what just happened. Logan scrunched his nose — comforting someone wasn't his strongest skill — and instead he picked up your bag and keys from the pavement.

"Shit, um, don't cry." He handed you your belongings, and you looked up at him with a frown.

How could you not cry when you saw your entire life flashing before your eyes? Logan swallowed a lump in his throat and offered his hand to help you stand up. You looked at his hand, reluctant to grab it. The only thing he could compare you with was a cat — cautious, yet curious.

"No claws." He said when he understood the meaning behind your eyes. "Come, I'll- um, I'll walk you home."

The invitation had you perk up and gain courage, and you quietly took the bag from his hand. He walked with you in complete silence, until you stopped in front of a building. You lingered, unwilling to go in. Logan asked if that was your place, and after you nodded, he offered to take you all the way to your apartment, which made you feel relieved. He could see it on your face when you sighed. You guided him up the stairs, constantly looking behind you to make sure he was there.

You stopped in front of a tall wooden door, keys in hand.

"Go on. I'll wait until you lock the door." Logan encouraged you.

"Can you stay?" You finally spoke, and your voice was sweet like honey, fitting for a baker.

"I don't know, kid-"

"Please." You looked at him with glossy eyes, pupils blown from the fear that hadn't left your body yet. The fear he could still smell.

"Yeah. Okay, I'll stay."

"Thank you."

Logan followed you in, and you flipped the light switch on before locking the door behind him. He looked around and, just as he expected, the apartment was a direct reflection of your bakery — clean, colourful and calm. There were recipes stuck to the walls with pink pins, and between them little paintings of sunsets, skies, flowers, cats. All things cute. They weren't framed, and so Logan figured they were hand-made, his assumptions confirmed by the easel in the corner of your living room.

Of course your sofa had to be colourful, too — mustard yellow with sage green cushions and blankets. Even your curtains were sage green. Despite the explosion of colours, Logan found himself enjoying being there. Not everything had to be brown, black and grey, he thought. Probably the only vibrant thing in his life was his suit, since the only people that brought colour were his friends, and they were gone.

"Drink?" You cracked the walls he put up around his heart with that sweet voice.

You shook a bottle of gin to get his attention and he nodded. Logan wasn't a fan of gin, but he didn't expect you to have any hard liquors. He watched you pull out two blue glasses from the kitchen cabinet, and of course they had to be funky, with white flowers on them.

"Where'd you get these?" He asked, swirling the drink in his hand.

"I made them. Kind of." You said. "Bought them from a charity store and painted the flowers. Do you want some tonic water?"

"Fuck no." Logan choked on his gin when you asked him that question. Simply being in a place so... colourful was enough. He didn't need a girly drink.

"I'm Y/N, by the way."

"I'm-"

"The Wolverine!" You cut him off a little too eager.

"-Logan. Call me Logan." He cringed when the beverage tickled his taste buds. It wasn't bitter enough for him.

"Logan. Thanks for tonight. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The question was riddled with innocence, but he couldn't stop the degenerate thoughts that popped in his mind when you asked him that. You were just so pure that he wanted to both protect you and ruin you.

"Don't mention it. I couldn't just walk past without doing anything." Logan lied, because, really, he wasn't just walking by, was he? No, it was downright stalking.

"I could bake something for you." You offered and he shook his head.

"I don't like sweets, kid."

"What?" You were baffled. "Everybody likes something sweet."

"Not me." He shrugged. "All I like is tiramisu and only if those biscuits are doused in coffee."

"Ladyfingers." You corrected him with a chuckle. "They're called ladyfingers."

"Bullshit."

"I'm serious! Here!" You rushed to your pantry and pulled out a whole box of them, showing Logan the name.

"That's just stupid." He shook his head. "Who calls them ladyfingers?"

"Uh, everyone?" You laughed at his surprise, and the thoughts of your bad evening slowly dissipated, like a bad dream.

Logan truly was clueless about baking, but spent hours listening to you talk about types of sugar, extracts and their uses, and the difference between baking soda and baking powder in cooking. You rambled on and on and not once did he get bored. He could listen to you talk for hours with your voice soothing. Logan thought about it, and he genuinely never met someone like you before. The women in his life were all so different, but you took the cake. You were special in ways he couldn't understand. And he was just so drawn to you.

"I'm sorry, I haven't stopped talking once!" You apologised, realising how safe you felt with him there. You would never let a stranger inside your house, let alone talk about baking while having gin. But Logan wasn't a stranger. Not after he saved you.

"'s alright. It's not every day I learn about baking." He chuckled, finishing his drink. "Listen, I should get going."

"Right." You sighed, eyes darting at the floor. "No, of course. I've kept you too long."

Logan got up and you walked with him to the hallway. He was slow to put his leather jacket on, as if he was waiting for you to say something, anything, but when you didn't, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey, Logan?" You tugged at his sleeve, whispering so you wouldn't wake your neighbours. "Are you sure I can't bake you something? Not now, I mean. I really want you to try something besides tiramisu. And that way I can repay you."

"Hell, why not?" He shrugged.

"Great!" You beamed at him like a child on Christmas day. "Stop by my bakery tomorrow at twelve. It's on Granville Street."

"I thought you didn't work on Sundays."

"Oh, how'd you know?" You quirked a brow at him.

Caught red-handed.

"Educated guess."

"Fair enough." His answer satisfied you. "Be there or be square!"

Sleep was for the weak. All night, Logan tossed and turned and abused his poor pillow with with punches. The mere thought of seeing you, no, interacting with you, had him wriggle like a worm on the mattress. It didn't help that Wade instantly noticed something was up.

"Oh, my, did you shower, peanut?"

"Not today, Satan." Logan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Mmm, and what do I smell?" Wade sniffed the air. "Wait, is that my perfume?"

"Forgot to pack mine when I swapped universes." The Wolverine barked back.

"Hah!" Blind Al chimed in from the living room. "I think tall, dark and handsome here has a date!"

Logan rolled his eyes while Wade pouted, plopping on the sofa next to Al.

"You never called me that."

"That's cause you’re a degenerate." The woman snorted.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it- ow! Stop hitting me with your cane, I know where you hide your nose candy!" Wade fought back.

"Touch it and I'll bust a cap in your ass!" Al scoffed.

"And I'll regenerate."

Logan used the opportunity to slip into the hallway, but his roommate was quicker, and blocked the door.

"You're not going anywhere until we have the talk."

"The talk?" The Wolverine snorted.

"Ah, they grow up so fast." Wade told Al. "Now, son, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"I'll give you three seconds to fuck off."

"Oh, but I need to know everything! Who is he?"

"She." Logan rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god, is this you coming out to us? Al, he's straight! I promise we love you anyway." Wade went for a hug and all Logan could do was accept it. He learned to live with Wade, even though he dislocated his jaw a few times after he moved in.

"Alright, that's enough."

"Nooo, we're just getting started. Name? Age? Occupation? We could do a double date with Vanessa-"

"Absolutely fucking not." Logan pushed Wade off of him.

"Okay, okay. Just make sure you wrap your willy, and if you need any advice, daddy's here." Wade opened the door for his roommate.

"Actually." Logan lingered in the hallway. "What kind of flowers do girls like?"

The blinds to the bakery were closed but you were inside, pastries in the oven and dessert in the fridge. You couldn't help yourself and prepared something savoury as well, in case he didn't like the lemon cake. A knock on the door startled you, and you rushed to check who it was.

Logan stood there, a bouquet of peonies in his hand. You welcomed him in with a smile, but he could tell it was different than the one you flashed your customers. It seemed more genuine. And it felt like a date.

"These are for you." Logan handed you the flowers, taking in the scent of pork pies. "I thought you were gonna bake something sweet." He flared his nostrils.

"I did, I just thought I should have a plan B in case you didn't like my cake." You placed the bouquet in a vase on one of your tables. "How did you know I liked peonies?"

Logan couldn't believe Wade was right about those damn flowers. And there he was, thinking roses would be better. Maybe the Merc with a Mouth wasn't so bad after all.

"I had a hunch." He shrugged. 

"Well, Logan, I love them! Now sit, sit!" You ushered him to his seat. "I hope you're hungry, because there's a lot for you to try."

"A lot? I thought you'll make me a cupcake or somethin', bub."

"A cupcake?? Don't be silly." Just as you said that, the oven made a loud ding sound, and you turned on your heels, heading in the back.

Logan waited patiently, observing every little detail from the front of your bakery, from the spotless display shelves to the neatly organised paper bags, to the fairy lights around the window. It was obvious to him that you had put your mind, body and soul into this bakery, and his expectations were quite high after all the fuss you made. But he decided to be nice not matter how the food tasted. He couldn't bear seeing you upset if he didn't like what you made.

You reappeared with a tray in your hand, and on it two plates, one with a small pork pie, one with a croissant, and a cup of coffee. Hell, even the cutlery was cute, with swirls engraved on the handles of the fork, knife and teaspoon.

"I decided to leave the cake for last." You said, placing the tray in front of him. "This is a simple pork pie, start with that." You urged him. "Careful, it's hot."

The Wolverine struggled with the cutlery, too small for his large hands, and the brief thought of slashing the pie with his claws crossed his mind, but he decided to be civil. You watched him butcher the food, eager to see his reaction, but he was taking his time.

"I'll let it cool off a bit."

"Ooh, that's probably a good idea." You nodded.

"Aren't you having some?" Logan asked.

"Noo, no. I like to bake for others, not for myself."

"So what do you eat, then?" He sipped on the coffee.

"Instant noodles usually. I'm too tired to cook when I get home. I do occasionally have leftovers, but whatever isn't sold I take it to the local shelter." You explained.

Christ, you couldn't be any kinder. Logan was stunned by your beauty and your soul, which was why he decided that after today, he will stop any interaction with you. He couldn't ruin you, not with his lifestyle, not with the danger that followed him everywhere.

The only problem was that the conversation flowed naturally, and he felt safe with you, just as you did with him. Like you were the missing piece to his puzzle. Logan pushed away those thoughts and decided to try the food. He took a large mouthful of the pie, chewed and swallowed, and you waited expectantly.

"Shit."

"What? Is it bad?" You jumped from your seat.

"Fuck, this is the best pork pie I've ever had." Logan wiped his mouth with a tissue you provided. "I'm serious, kid. Did you put drugs in it?"

You laughed, shaking your head as he finished the rest of the pie. He truly seemed to enjoy it, and you felt so satisfied. But the real test came after.

"Pistachio croissant." You said. "I thought about making almond ones, but I figured pistachio wasn't that sweet."

"Right, let's see." Logan took a healthy bite out of the pastry, and lo and behold, he closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. If heaven had a taste, it would be that damned croissant.

"Is it good?"

"Good? Jesus, this is the best one yet." He finished the rest of it, the pistachio cream tickling his taste buds in all the right ways. "Who taught you to bake like this?"

"My grandma. She was the best cook I knew." You smiled.

Logan noticed your use of past tense, and he didn't want to bring up any bad memories. He wasn't the nosy type, but something possessed him to ask you about your life, your family, your favourite colours. He needed to know more about you, and you answered all his questions, opening up to him like a flower in bloom. But when it came to him talking about himself, Logan was reluctant.

Talking to Wade was easier, because Wade didn't take anything seriously, nor did he ask personal questions. Well, he did, but in his own stupid way that provided Logan some distraction, as well as a reason to punch him. But with you it was different. He felt like he owed you serious answers that he wasn't yet ready to tell a stranger who made a mean pistachio croissant.

"The cake!" You spun on the chair, changing the subject when you saw Logan dodging your questions like bullets.

Although he didn't say it, he was grateful that you didn't put any pressure on him to talk. He wasn't a talker. That was definitely Wade. You came back with the whole cake, and it looked so good that Logan didn't want you to cut it. Perfectly round, a layer of cream in the middle and white frosting on top. You even went so far as to decorate it with all kinds of yellow flower petals and what seemed to be mint leaves.

"Alright, hit me. What's this one called?"

"I call it the Mojito Cake. The sponge cake has lemon zest, the cream is made of lime, mint and rum syrup, and the frosting is buttercream with a dash of actual rum." You explained.

"Shit, I can't tell if that sounds disgusting or incredible."

"Only one way to find out." You cut him a thick slice, and Logan wasted no time trying it.

"I think you found yourself a new customer."

"You're too nice."

"I'm anything but nice, kid." He took three more spoonfuls. "But I ain't a liar. This is delicious." Logan spoke with his mouth full and it made you chuckle.

"Oh, there's a bit of frosting on your face."

"Hm?" He used the tissue to wipe his chin. "Did I get it?"

"No, it's still- here, I'll get it." You leaned forward and delicately ghosted your thumb over the corner of his mouth, eyes locked with his.

Without thinking about it, you dragged your tongue over the frosting, and Logan couldn't look away from you even if he wanted to. A gesture so innocent, but it destroyed any form of restraint. He pressed his lips onto yours, tasting the rum and the cream, but before you could kiss him back, he pulled away.

"Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

You gave him no time to finish his sentence when you placed your hands on his shoulders and kissed him with fire on your tongue. God, he hated being touched, but when you did it, he melted in your hands. Lust battled reason and prevailed, and you found yourself straddling Logan's lap, arms around his neck and chest pressed against his.

His large hands found their way under your dress, fingers digging in the plush of your thighs until a moan escaped past your lips. Logan could've sworn you were pure in all ways — a virgin — so, naturally, he was surprised to see you eager to jump his adamantium bones.

With the last shred of reason left in you, you glanced at the door and window to make sure they were covered, and pushed Logan's jacket off his shoulders, peppering his neck with soft kisses. He wasn't the gentle type, no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't need to be when he felt your hips grind in his lap. It was more than obvious that you wanted him then and there.

Logan lifted you up as if you weighed nothing and slammed you down the empty table. His roughness sent a chill down your spine, because you really wanted him to manhandle you from the moment he stepped foot in your bakery. He kissed you again, pressing his whole against yours until your back hit the table. You felt like a cornered animal with nowhere to go, and the thrill of it turned you on.

"Are you sure you want this?" Logan asked despite you unbuckling his belt.

"I don't want this, I want you. I need you to fuck me so hard I can't walk." You unzipped his jeans, and although he was taken aback by your sudden use of filthy words, he couldn't deny he enjoyed seeing that side of you.

"Greedy little girl." Logan's hand slithered between your legs, fingers rubbing circles over your clothed clit. "Shit, you're soakin' wet. Can feel it through your fuckin' panties already." He flared his nostrils, taking in the scent of your arousal.

With his jeans loose around his waist, you palmed his cock through his boxers, and it didn't shock you for a second that he was rock hard. What did shock you, however, was the size of it. It was probably the biggest you've ever taken, and you didn't want any other man anymore.

You tugged at the waistband of his boxers, making it clear that you didn't want to waste any more time. Not that you didn't want to suck his dick or explore every inch of his body and worship it the way a man like him deserved it, but you were impatient.

Logan got the hint when you whined and scoffed, and he tore the pink panties off of you, tossing them on the floor. At least he had the decency not to put them on the table, which you were going to disinfect anyway. He pushed his boxers down, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look at him, and it was a sight for sore eyes indeed. He had perfectly sculpted abs, you could see them under the half-lifted t-shirt, but it was his cock that made your mouth water.

"Like what you see?" Logan was smug, confident in his good looks.

"I need to permanently imprint this image on my retina." You told him, and he couldn't help the chuckle.

"Likewise. Now spread 'em."

"Yessir!" You very quickly obeyed, parting your legs for him, and Logan couldn't deny that he enjoyed being in control.

He wasn't one to take orders, nor give them, but watching you comply scratched an itch he couldn't get rid of. Logan pressed the tip of his cock against your slick folds, earning another whine from you. You bucked your hips, craving more, and he scoffed.

"That desperate, hm?"

"You have no idea." You dug your manicured fingernails into his shoulders, bracing for temporary pain, because you knew damn well it would hurt.

"I don't know, I didn't hear you say please." Logan frowned, and you understood what game he was playing. A game you yearned to be part of.

"Oh, please, please, please fuck me, Logan! I'll be so good for you! I'll do anything you want." You clung to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him. "I'll even take it in any hole you want." You whispered, dragging your tongue over his lips.

"Shit." Logan was weak in the knees from your words, and the worst part was that he believed everything you said. But there was a time and place for everything.

You were the perfect mix of sweet and spicy, and you begged so nicely that the Wolverine just couldn't say no. You felt the leaking tip of his cock push past your folds and you audibly gasped at the size of it, drawing blood from his skin with your fingernails.

"It won't fit-" You whined with lust in your voice.

"I'll make it fit." Logan promised, painstakingly slowly thrusting into you.

He gave you time to adjust to his girth, constantly checking if you were alright, if you wanted him to carry on or stop, and while you loved that he was so caring, you needed him hurry up and fuck you.

To assure him that you would survive his monstrous cock, you planted a soft kiss on his nose, and there it was again, the change in your personality, from sultry to innocent. It was as though you embodied everything he ever wanted, and his desire to never contact you again went down the drain. How could Logan ever leave someone like you?

"I'm ready." You nodded, and he pressed his forehead onto yours, slowly rolling his hips.

You weren't ready, because it hurt like a bitch when he stretched out your velvety walls. But the pain was soon replaced by pleasure, and Logan picked up the pace when your whimpers turned to moans, and the slight frown on your face disappeared.

"So tight." He hummed, forehead resting against yours.

Were you tight, or was he just so incredibly big? Either way, you were a panting mess already, clinging to him for dear life, and Logan forgot his worries, even if it was just for that one moment. You were too good to be true, with your parted lips and glossy eyes — a beautiful sight for his sore eyes.

"Fuck, I- fuck!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, the table screeching under you. Not a single coherent sentence could come out of your mouth. "Logan, shit, I-"

"What's the matter? Need something?" He cooed, fingers bruising into your hips. "Use your big girl words."

"Need it ha-harder!" You cried out but he slowed down, confusion written all over your face.

"Where are your manners?"

"Please, daddy, please give it to me harder!"

The term of endearment had Logan quirk a brow at you, but he wasn't surprised in the slightest that you had a daddy kink. And he basked in being called that.

"Are you sure you can take it?"

"Yes!" There was no hesitation in your response. "Fuck, yes!"

Logan growled when he felt your pussy clench around his cock, and he delivered, thrusting deeper, harder and faster into you, until the sound of skin on skin echoed in the bakery, and your breathing became heavier.

"Fuuuuck, I can feel it in my gut!" You threw your head back when the tip of his cock brushed against your cervix.

"Filthy. Little. Slut." Each word came with a thrust and a groan, and he filled you up so good, you became addicted to him.

Your toes curled up, and your legs began to twitch when you felt your orgasm build up. Each push and pull made your vision blurry, and Logan's grip on you tightened as his hips stuttered. He was feral, and he was close, you could feel it in your bones.

"Fuck, Logan, do- oh- don't stop!" Words spilled from your mouth incoherently, and after a few more thrusts, pure bliss rushed through your body.

"That's it, let go." Logan buried his face in the crook of your neck, slamming hard into you until all you could do was chant his name like a prayer.

You felt him fill you up, pussy hot and sticky and sore, and he slowly pulled out, eyes darting at the tissues on the table. He grabbed them, gently cleaning you up, and you couldn’t stop the grin on your face. There was just something about a man like him be so gentle. And you were absolutely delighted to have him take care of you.

"You know," Logan said licking his lips, "I'm beginning to think you didn't want me to just taste your pastries."

"True." You told him smugly. "But you liked them."

"I like you more." He blurted out without thinking.

You felt your cheeks burn at his sudden honesty, and after sliding up your underwear and fixing your dress, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I like you too, honey badger."

"Don't ever call me that again." Logan chuckled.

"Not happening. Now, could you pleaaaase help me clean up this place? The last thing I need is a surprise hygiene inspection tomorrow."

He couldn't even imagine what the inspectors would do if they found out you had sex in a bakery, and with a nod, Logan zipped up his jeans and began disinfecting the tables and chairs while you swept the floor.

In less than half an hour you were done, and the shop was squeaky clean. You were satisfied with the end result, and told Logan that you wanted him to have the rest of the cake, pies and croissants. He thought Wade and Al could eat something, and decided to accept your offer.

"Can I come with you? There's quite a few boxes of food." You told him, a sheepish grin on your lips.

"Is that your way of finding out where I live?"

"Maybe. I'll go home if you don't want me with you."

"No, you're good." Logan assured you. "Besides, I'm sure my roommate's gonna devour everything. He'll probably lock you up in our apartment and force you to bake for him."

"I don't know if that's a threat or a promise." You laughed.

"Both. It's both."

You walked with Logan down the street, boxes in your arms, and you were surprised to see him open up to you more. He answered almost every question you had, and you felt him more relaxed. And he was. Logan forgot how much he needed that kind of connection with someone. You were so easy to talk to, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you listened.

He guided you up the stairs to his apartment and knocked on the door, because he couldn't reach his keys with so many boxes in his arms. You baked for a damn army.

Wade opened the door, and you were taken aback by his appearance, but it didn't scare you. Instead, you introduced yourself as Logan's personal baker, earning a chuckle from him.

"Come on in, Martha Stewart." Wade opened the door enough for you to walk through it with the boxes and not drop them.

"Wade." Logan came back from the kitchen with a croissant. "Eat. Seriously, eat."

You watched Wade wolf down the pastry without hesitation and his eyes lit up. He chewed and swallowed, then moaned, eyes rolling back. The look of disgust on Logan's face was priceless.

"Holy fucking shit, Y/N, what the fuck did you put in this?" Wade grabbed your shoulders, giving them a good shake. "It's so flaky and creamy and buttery, like a bunch of unicorns came in my mouth."

"I'm glad you like it." You giggled. "Try the cake."

"There's cake?!" He ran to the kitchen, leaving you and Logan in the hallway before coming back, a slice of half-eaten cake in his hand. "I am officially impressed. Can you make Rocky Road?"

"Yes."

"Dulce de leche?"

"Yep."

"Baklava?"

"Uh-huh."

"Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte?"

"Yes, Wade!" You rolled your eyes, then turned to Logan. "Sugar rush?"

"Oh, you have no idea. And this is him on a good day."

"Listen, sweet cheeks, if old man fuckface here won’t marry you, I will. Just don’t tell Vanessa." Wade whispered.

"Don’t even think about it, you degenerate limp dick."

"Ugh, fine. And here I was hoping all four of us could be a happy dysfunctional family. Five if you count Al. Six with Colossus. Wait, actually, eight with-"

"Wade, have you tried the pork pies?" You asked, effectively shutting him up.

Yeah, Logan could definitely get used to being around you from now on to sweeten up his life.

[whitherwanderer]

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖉𝖆𝖞 🖤

[t0rturedangel]

hii :) could i request a drabble/thoughts about rick being ur possessive bf? i just know he gets jealous easilyyy from other rick's trying to steal u lol.

female reader it's ok :) thx thx

𝟎𝟎𝟏. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘺 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴

⠀⠀⠀: ᯓ 𝟎𝟎𝟐.⠀ C-137 RICK SANCHEZ X READER

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟑. SYNOPSIS, Rick Sanchez is the smartest man in the universe- there is no way he can get jealous.... but he does.

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟒. WARNINGS, Rick Sanchez, maybe a bit ooc, threats / threats of violence, ect

› 〉 𝟎𝟎𝟓. AUTHOR'S NOTES, HOLY! Yay I'm super happy to be doing a rick and morty request- plssssss request more rick and morty!!.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤRICK likes to think that he's above getting jealous, but he's really not. Don't get me wrong he doesn't get jealous of everyone- he knows that no one can be better than him when it comes to being with you, he's not insecure.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤBUTTTT when it comes to people the two of you know and are decently close to such as BIRDPERSON or SQUANCHY, or hell even MEMORY RICK he starts to feel a little jealous- subconsciously keeping a cautious eye on you and who ever you're talking to even though he knows his friends are better than that he still can't help but sta on guard.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤThe jealousy only emphasizes whenever another RICK begins to interact with you, seeing as [name]s are rare in the multiverse, many ricks are / would be prone to want to take you away from him- something that he is not a fan of. Mostly because he loves you (albeit never admitting it to anyone) partly because he likes to see all the other ricks stare at him dumbfounded because he managed to bag you.

While walking through the citadel, you had managed to notice how most- if not ALL- of the Ricks were staring at you, their eyes wide and mouths agape, pupils focused on you and your Rick for an uncomfortable amount of time, “Rick?” you called out- voice just above a whisper, it felt wrong to speak any louder, “Hm?” was the response you got from the rick beside you- his hands shoved into his pockets as he scanned the area, eyes almost narrowing at every other version of himself that looked your way yet also you couldn't help but notice the shit eating grin that he held- it was almost as if he had won something over the others. “why is everyone staring at us?” you frowned, uncomfortable with the amount of eyes that followed your every step, every move like hawks observing oblivious prey. With a sigh, your Rick took of one his hands out from his pockets and placed it on your shoulder, patting it ever so slightly before flipping the Ricks and Morty's off, successfully earning angry groans and 'fuck you's “Dont worry, they're just shocked I have someone as hot as you and they dont, fuckin' losers”.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤAlso RICK is amazing at masking his jealousy as annoyance or anger- typically playing it off as someone staring at him for too long when in reality it was because someone was getting to close to you. He comes up with the quickest excuses too and somehow they're believable.

You stared at your Rick, biting your bottom lip nervously as the screams of an alien alongside the familiar sounds of an ambulance grew distant every second. “Honey...” you began, worried as to why your boyfriend would suddenly shoot a random person while you were busy chatting with one of the Ricks you two had met before. “The fucker was starting at me weird- almost like it wanted to fight me” your Rick casually shrugged, answering a question you had yet to ask “Still... You--” “Shouldn't have shot him, yes yes I know- you're so morally superior to me” he simply rolled his eyes, earning a small shake of your head before you returned to your conversation with the other Rick- who suddenly became uncomfortable with continuing whatever you two were talking about previously- instead excusing himself and leaving you and your Rick behind. “huh... That's weird”

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤWhenever you do put two and two together, realising RICK is jealous, you have a fucking field day- constantly teasing him about it at every chance you get.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤWhenever the both of you go out to party and get high, RICK makes sure you're always in his sight or constantly checking that the tracker he gave you (implanted in you)- after all a fittie like you is bound to get hit on constantly and he will not allow it.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤYou know how when RICK drinks he gets emotional? Yeah that also happens with jealousy, he gets reallly jealous when he's drunk asf. This mostly causing him to cling ont you and cuss everyone out, and when you two get a chance to be alone- he'd probably cry while telling you he's not getting emotional and how everyone else are dumb assholes who don't know jack shit and don't see the value in people like you and him.

🜸 ㅤ▎▍ㅤ It's a rollercoaster with Rick. I hope you don't mind.

[devildomditzy]

Aaah!!!!! I’m so excited for this!!!! Would it be alright if I requested “I need you beside me.” ❤️‍🩹🥺 for Mammon? I love all your work, and I can’t wait to see everything that comes out of this event!!!!

Thank you very much ❤️ I hope I make you cry a lil

(this one got way too long)

TW for gore, spoilers for lesson 16

Also should have mentioned - ooc mammon bc i want to see him get angry

——————————————————————————

Things changed after that day. As much as you hate to admit it, seeing your lifeless, cold, dead body in your best friend’s arms really does fuck with you.

You became fearful, jumping at loud noises and avoiding the attic. A simple hand laid on your shoulder could provoke the most blood curdling scream, and necklaces were out of the question. If you felt even the lightest of touches around your throat, you’d panic into fight or flight mode.

And it wasn’t just you that changed. No, every brother personality’s shifted ever so slightly, and while you made a point not to mention it, you can’t say you were that fond of their new…‘quirks’ so to speak.

They became softer, too afraid to set you off into a spiral of memories that’s hard to come back from. They made sure you were never alone, a trait that while comforting, was becoming extremely bothersome. They watched you, ever present like hawks just to be sure you were still alive, you were still breathing, you were still with them. And even more so, they watched Belphie.

You’re trying to be nice, fuck, you’re really trying your best. Now that the news that you’re Lilith’s descendant has washed over, Belphie has taken a new, rather innocent interest in you. When he smiles that sweet, gentle smile at you, asking if you want to take a nap together, all you can see if his twisted, self righteous smirk, his lips upturned in laughter as he squeezed all the life out of you, crushing your windpipe and slashing a large, deep, sickening gash along your chest, reaching down to your stomach. It might have not happened to this version of you, but since Barbatos merged the times lines, it might as well have. You have all the memories, all the burning feelings, all the swelling pain. And now you had to learn to live with that.

Progress was being made, you told yourself, in order to keep spirits up, not letting yourself wander in your head too much. Hey, just last week you stopped crying when he was in the same room! You could tell it made Beel happy to see you two interact. He’d try to offer to sit in on movies and naps to get you two acclimated to each other, but you just couldn’t . It’s not only your mentality holding you back, there was a physical force stopping you form getting any closer. Quite literally whenever the opportunity would arise, Mammon would grab your wrist in a vice grip, pulling you behind him and answering for you.

“They’re not interested in anything that has to do with ya.”

His body language screamed protection, and the gaze he shot the youngest reminded everyone he’s the second most powerful avatar. Honestly, you were thankful for it. You didn’t want to hurt Beel’s feelings, but the thought of being in a room with Belphie without Mammon made you want to throw up.

Group activities have been attempted. Family movie nights were once again ago, but the second born made sure the two of you were the farthest possible distance from his younger brother while still being able to see the screen. The atmosphere always awkward, intense, suffocating. You noticed Belphegor’s gaze reach you a few times, a small smile on his lips.

It was almost unbearable, if not for Mammon.

It once was rare that you felt Mammon’s aura become dark and foreboding, so rare that it took so long for you to see his demon form, the first time being at the ball Diavolo held. It was the first time you’d seen one of them like that and your brain didn’t scream in fear. Hell, he was the only brother who hadn’t tried to kill you. The amount of restraint he usually had was commendable.

That was all out the window now.

Mammon stared across the room at his brother, eyes throwing a wordless threat towards him.

“Dontcha wanna watch the movie Belphie? Ya keep starin’ at them yer gonna lose the plot.”

You’ve never heard him so emotionless.

So cold.

So threatening.

Unsurprisingly though, the youngest had decided he had enough of your protector.

“You don’t own them, Mammon”, Belphie grumbled under his breath.

“What did ya just say?”, Mammon shot back, his voice laced with venom, daring Belphie to answer him.

“I said you don’t own them!” The seventh born raised his voice now, tone matching Mammon’s in a lethal contest. “I said I was sorry! I’m trying to make up for lost time, but I can’t if you keep being their guard dog! We’ve barely seen them all week!”

The rest of the room stayed surprisingly quiet at first, simply observing the exchange in anticipation, waiting to see who would make the first move, if any move at all.

“Make up for lost time? Ya wanna make up for lost time when you almost made us loose them for good?”, you notice Mammon begin to clench and unclench his fists in what you have come to learn is an attempt to calm down.

“Ya better shut yer mouth before I shut it for ya. Permanently.”

This was going to break bad any second.

“How about I choke ya out till I cave your throat in? Slit ya down the front until you’re bleedin’ out and cryin’ for mercy, huh? How’s about I make you feel like they did, kiddo?”

Your eyes widen and shoot towards the only source you know who could stop this. As if waiting for your cue, Lucifer stands up and puts a hand to Mammon’s shoulder.

He leans in and whispers something harsh, quietly so the others can’t hear but loud enough for you to take in.

“Enough. Mammon, I understand your anger, but I will not allow anymore deaths on this property.”

When the second born does not seem to back down, he continues,

“Don’t you think they’ve seen enough carnage?”, he gestures towards you, and the action makes Mammon falter.

“Now, take them back to their room and calm down. If this happens again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

Mammon hangs his head, making his expression unreadable to you, huffing out shaky breaths before wordlessly grabbing your shoulder and ushering you out of the room.

You now find yourself seated on your bed, watching him pace relentlessly. He’s talking to himself under his breath, but you’ve never been good at reading lips. Usually between the two of you there’s never a dull moment, never a lull of silence. Right now though, you’ve got it. And it’s scaring you.

“Mammon?”, you question cautiously, trying to get his attention. You can tell he heard you by the way he jolts, but chooses to ignore you to continue his circling.

“Mammon, please?”

He stops, back facing you. At least he’s listening.

“I…”you struggle to find the right words. “I really appreciate you looking out for me.”

With that, he finally turns to face you, cobalt and golden irises finally locking onto yours. He looks pissed, but you can tell he’s trying to calm down for your sake.

“And I really appreciate you hanging out with me all the time…but, I don’t want that to get in the way of the relationship you have with your brothers.”

“Nuh Uh. No no no no no, nope. Don’t blame that idiot’s actions on yerself,” he sighs, grabbing you by the shoulders.

He kneels down now, meeting you at eye level.

“Listen, okay? And listen good cause I’m only gonna say this once. Our family’s problems shoulda never became yer own, got it? None of this is yer fault. Just…you were kinda… how should I put it…wrong place wrong time?”

“So you’re saying it would have been better if I wasn’t picked as an exchange student?”

“NO!”, he winces once realizing how loud that came out, with a speed that needed to cut off that line of thinking any further.

“But you guys have killed humans before? You even talked about eating them, and I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, but Beel definitely has, so why do you care about me? All of this started because you have to protect me, you’re honor bound and pact bound. If you didn’t feel the need to protect me so…so strongly, you would have never been mad at Belphie. Hell, you probably would have felt the same way about me too.”

You drop your gaze, unable to look at him now. The tears that pin prick your lash line threaten to pour over and fall down your cheeks. You become surprised as a hand comes up and wipes them away.

“Fuck, you’re an idiot, ya know that? Sometimes you can be a bigger idiot then me, and that’s sayin’ sumthin’”.

You head shoots up to angrily glare at him only to find him giving you the most sincere look you’ve ever seen on his face.

“You comin’ here didn’t change anything. Belphie woulda done anythin’ possible to kill the human exchange student if it was you, or any other schmuck. An I woulda had to look out for them, too.”

You ponder it for a moment letting his words sink into your skin. It sounds logical, you know that, but you still can’t help but blame yourself. He can almost see right through you.

“But, I don’t want any other schmuck, got it? You’re my human and I’m your first man. Ya know what that means?”

“It means I have to give you my undivided attention or you’ll throw a hissy fit?”

“Wha- Hey! No!”, He tried to look mad, but how can he when you giggle so brightly.

“It means you’re mine, idiot. There is no one else because no one else could even compete with ya. Of course I’m gonna protect ya. I can’t go loosing ya”, you can hear him choke on his words a bit before continuing, “not again.”

You reach out and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and holding on as tight as you could, almost for dear life. He lifts his head of unruly white hair to look up at you.

“I need ya beside me.”

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' PARTY TIME ,,

pairs: teen!hawks/keigo takami x reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1.9k

stuff to keep in mind: red text = keigo's thoughts, also this is like my first fic that im writing cause i had an idea :D! also this is prolly ooc ToT

Keigo Takami, age 15, has never gone to a party and barely has any friends out of the commission. Only has one friend, and that's just out of sheer, dumb luck, Rumi Usagiyama.

And today... She's taking him out to a friends party!.... great.

Despite all of Keigo's faux confidence, he was a real nervous for this. He knows how to use his quirk to save people! At least in theory, he hasn't exactly saved anyone yet.. BUT I DIGRESS! This will be easy! Just some random teens.. He doesn't know... At a loud party...

Oh God, what am I doing??

"Okay, birdy brain," Rumi stretched her arms as the two stood in front of the house. "We'll stay as long as you want, unless it's past 2 am, don't wantcha grumpy for your trainin!"

As she said those words she pinched his cheeks, recieving a groan and his wings swatting at her as she laughed.

"You sure this is a good idea?"

"Yeah of course, I mean you're cooped up in training rooms or your dorm"

"... It's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad, birdbrain"

Rumi rolled her eyes as she lead them both into the house. The music wasn't as blaringly loud as Keigo thought it would be! Nor was there too many people.

Man, maybe this will be better than i thought, Rumi was just being drama- PERSON!

Keigo's eyes narrowed as someone, well, he'd assume was one of Rumi's friends came up to her, or practically running to them.

"RUMIIII!"

"Y/NNNNNN!!!"

Keigo stood there motionless as they watched the two ramble on to eachother about.. Well he didn't really know. It took a good 2 minutes before the other noticed Keigo. Once registering his presence they made a small "o" with their mouth as they rubbed the back of their neck, backing away from Rumi and him. Oh my god, how do I talk to this person???

"Uh, hi, I'm y/n!"

Oh my god thank you for talking first.

"I'm Haw-" Rumi elbowed him before he could finish. SHIT! Keigo's been so used to being called Hawks. "Haaaaaawww.... Kato."

... Rumi looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Hakato? Really? Cute name, but it's not yours, Keigo. "Hakato?"

They gave a small smile as they tapped their chin. "It's nice to meet you then, Hakato!"

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Y/N"

Get a grip Keigo, you're more awkward than two people who don't speak the same language.

Keigo was about to say something before-

"Y/NNNNNN!!! C'MONNNN!!!"

They let out an exasperated sigh, physically deflating as they heard someone call them.

"Sorry about that! Those people can wait, uh- how do you kno-"

"Y/N GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!!"

They let out a small groan as they ran a hand through their hair, giving a weak smile. "Sorry, I guess I gotta head over there, bye Rumi! Bye Hakato!"

Y/N gave a sheepish smile as they ran over to the other room. They weren't in trouble, it was just their friends calling for them! Probably cause they broke something, or needed to find something.. Or all of the above.

Once they were out of hearing distance Rumi smacked Keigo's arm, a confused look on her face.

"Hakato??? Really?? Why didn't you just say," She put her arms up, waving them at the side of her hips, mocking him. "Hey, I'm Keigo Takami! I don't know how to talk to people, meehh!!"

"I don't!" He pushed her face away with the palm of his hand, pouting slightly "I don't sound like that... And plus! It was gonna sound weird if I said Haw-Keigo!" Rumi rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she lazily put her arm around his shoulders, leading him to the room y/n went through.

"Welp! Looks like you're going by Hakato now!"

The two went into the room, the lights were all off with a few led lights glowing. It was a nice atmosphere, it wasn't too loud, but it could definitely become a bit much after a few hours. Thank goodness Keigo and Rumi were going to leave soon...

.

.

.

It was 1 am. This party started at 10 pm, and more people came, it got LOUD. Keigo just wanted to go back to the dorm rooms he stayed at, if he didn't get to sleep soon he'd be sloppy during the day. Being sloppy meant bad training, bad training meant bad hero, bad hero meant bad life.

Oh god I need to get home.

Keigo looked around the house one more time, accidentally finding more than two couples making out.

Gross, where the hell is Rumi.

He kept looking for a good 10 more minutes then just gave up. He didn't wanna try sending out his feathers to look for her, that would just end up with them getting trampled or something.

.. These people are Rumi's friends.. Yeah they are, plus there's no alcohol here so she'll be fine. Plus she can beat up literally anyone.

Keigo justified his reasons as he walked out of the house, stopping at the doorstep and texted Rumi.

"im leaving the party, im tired as shit"

sent!

...

What the?

Keigo looked around, he heard some rustling. Maybe he shouldn't look, maybe it's just another couple making out, but something just made him wanna at least know what made that noise. What can he say? It was the hero in him.

He turned the corner, to the sides of the house. Y/N! y/n?

They were curled up in a ball covering their ears and on their phone, seemingly rushing to text something.

snap!

Y/n turned their face towards the sound. It was Keigo snapping on a branch.

Great, good going government stealth training- Oh shit are they crying?

Y/n quickly rubbed their eyes and stood up, giving a weak smile as they stepped closer to Keigo. Their cheeks stained with a few tears and their face a little red.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I'm okay, sorry bout this-"

"No! No it's all good! You uh, wanna talk about it?"

"Oh, no it's okay! It's stupid"

"I don't mind."

The two stood there awkwardly for some moments as y/n played with the ends of their sleeves. God kill them now, this was not a good first impression, er, second.

"Just got loud is all," They gave a small shrug as they walked past him to the front of the house. They rubbed their eyes and nose with their sleeve as they sat down at the stairs to the porch. "I'm not good with people."

"O-Oh, yeah no, I get that," Keigo followed them and sat beside them, letting out an awkward sigh as he shuffled around getting comfotable. Damn these giant ass wings. "I'm bad with people too."

The two sat in.. Less than comfortable silence, it wasn't too bad. At least there was music playing in the back from the house. It was blaring music, but better than like, some classical or some shit.

"Sorry, this is a really weird impression, I promise I'm not that much of a crybaby!" Y/n chuckled as they rubbed the back of their neck, keeping their eyes away from Keigo's.

He shook his head swiftly.

"No! This- isn't the worst impression I've had with a few people," he thought back at the events of the party. ".. So many people making out.."

"Oh my god, right?? Like- like go home at that point!"

"At least some people are trying to hide it though, some people are just makin out on the couch!"

"My heart goes out to the houses owner"

"Oh god I didn't even think of that!"

They both burst into small giggles, y/n's eyes fully dried from tears and the awkward tension lifting, at least 2/3rds of it.

"Hakato?"

It took a second for Keigo to register that they were talking to him.. He'll have to explain the name thing later..

"Yeah?"

"Uhh," Y/n fiddled with their sleeves, looking out to the road. "How're you getting home?" "Wings."

"Wings?

Keigo nodded as he pointed to his wings, y/n making the same "o" then before.

That's kinda cute

Keigo gave a small grin, an awkward looking one but it made y/n giggle.

"I'm waiting for my brother to pick me up, if you want I can ask if he can drop you of-"

"that's okay!"

How does one.. Even explain that he doesn't live with his parents, nor really any guardians. But a dorm with a few other kids for some private hero-training shit?

Y/n nodded at that, a little surprised at how quick he responded but didn't question it.

"How uh, do you know Rumi? I don't see you around school"

KEIGO THINK.

"I'm uh- homeschooled"

It wasn't a complete lie! He was schooled with the commission... At that was practically his home.. So.. IT MAKES SENSE!!

Y/n nodded. Wow these two nod a lot. Makes sense, they're awkward teenagers.

"Yeah makes sense, I-I think I've heard Rumi talk about you once? Big red wings and all!"

They let out a small chuckle, finally glancing over Keigo, his wings shuffling a bit behind him.

Did their eyes always look this nice?

"Haha! Y-Yeah that was probably me, good ol'" He stumbled through his words a moment "Good ol' Hakato!"

Y/n laughed again as they heard a ding from their phone and glanced up to the street. A nice black, convertable with someone who looked like y/n.. Ohhhh, their brother.

They quickly got up and dusted themself off before putting their hands in their pockets, giving a small shrug.

"I gotta go- my brothers-" "Oh yeah no, all good!"

"You sure you don't want a ride?" "Nah nah, thanks though!"

Y/n gave a small wave as they walked towards the car, leaving Keigo to watch them get into the car and wave at him through the passenger seat. "Bye Hakato!"

They yelled as the car started and Keigo got up. He flapped his wings and got off the ground, giving one more wave towards them before he started flying towards the dorms.

He had fun! More than expected. It was tiring, and a lot of new people, but some of them were nice! Majority were nice, and plus it was good for Keigo to make new friends his age! Everyone at the HPSC was all older than him.

Soon enough, Keigo snuck back into his room, shutting the window behind him. SUCCESS! He successfully snuck out, went to a party, made new friends! Oh hey, and Rumi texted him back! "rude! coulda given you a ride back birdbrain"

"haha, its fine, i like flying"

"such a damn bird..."

"guilty!"

He put down his phone as he changed into his pj's, thinking back to the night... Y/n. Could be a good friend of his! Yeah he could...

I FORGOT TO ASK FOR THEIR NUMBER.

He dove into bed and quickly texted Rumi.

"RUMI GIVE ME Y/N'S NUMBER PLZ"

"lol someones down bad"

"they seem cool, and wud be a good friend"

"excuses

you gotta work for it"

"anything"

"ill think about it and text you tomorrow morning"

"it's 2 am, its already tomorrow morning"

"touche, ill give the terms and conditions when i wake up LOL"

"RUMI PLZ."

.. left on read.

Keigo sighed and put his phone down as he snuggled into his bed, maybe he can text y/n tomorrow. Yeah, tomorrow.

SMILES this was prolly badly written and super ooc, but im eepy and wanted to get this idea out. TEEHEE!

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Princess

Okay, I hate this, but I'm currently in a clinic and I'm so proud of having written at all that I'm just gonna toss it into the void. Warnings: spit play if you squint, make out sesh, ooc Johnny

Stay at home evenings with Johnny are some of your favorite evenings. You’re both lazing on the couch, not even cuddling, but your legs are touching where you put them up on the couch. That little point of contact is enough to make your entire body feel warm and safe.

You’re mindlessly watching television. Just enjoying each other’s company and the cozy feeling that being together brings you.

Your question is soft, not wanting to disrupt the comfortable atmosphere that’s settled over the both of you like a nice fuzzy blanket. “Pass me the popcorn, princess?”

Without even looking away from the TV, Johnny grabs the bowl and passes it to you. The quiet crunch of the popcorn joins the TV buzz and there’s a few seconds of comfortable quiet before Johnny whips around to you so quickly, you jump a bit. “Hold on, what did you just call me?!”

You blink slowly at him. “Princess?”

That simple word earns you privilege of watching Johnny’s jaw drop a bit and the loveliest, softest shade of pink rises to his cheeks and the tip of his ears. He’s speechless. A rare occurrence. You watch the way he gapes at you and a sly grin grows on your lips.

“You like that? Princess?”

The cute shade of pink turns deeper almost red and if you had the mind for it you’d wax poetically about the change of colour resembling a sunset. But as it is you’re focused on watching the man grow more flustered and your grin turns almost evil.

“What is it, Johnny Princess?”

He tries to catch himself and his voice is adorably wobbly as he stutters out: “You… You can’t call me that!”

You lean back almost relaxed and watch him like a hawk watching its prey. “And why not?”

He looks to the side, almost looks like he is tempted to hide his face in his hands, which he promptly does. “Because! I’m a grown man!”

His hands come down again and you lean forward into his space. His eyes grow wide, nervously darting down to your lips and back up to your eyes. When he sees the knowing glint in them he groans, knowing that you noticed. His hands cover his face again. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Your voice is a soft coo as you speak to him. “Baby, you can be as big of a man as you want, you’ll still be my princess. My pretty little princess.”

Again there’s a beat of silence, the TV long forgotten and then you hear it. The sweetest little sound escapes his perfect mouth. Johnny whimpers.

You feel your heartbeat echoing in your entire body, the blood rushing. You did this. You reduced this hardened soldier to a stuttering, whining mess. It’s a heady feeling in the presence of a man so outgoing and confident.

Johnny can feel your body heat when you lean in even more and when he feels your breath on his ear with your next words, he shudders. “Come on, Johnny. Don’t hide your pretty face from me. I just want to admire my princess.”

He shakes his head under his hands so you take matters into your own hands. Gently you take a hold of his wrists and pry them away. You get rewarded with his flushed face. He looks at you so helplessly and flustered that you want to devour him whole. When he bites his lip you snap.

You surge forward and press him backwards into the couch and he goes down so easily that it makes your heart skip a beat.

When your lips meet his it’s messy. The full force of your desire for the man hits you and you kiss him hungrily, all tongue and teeth and your sweet little Johnny moans into the kiss. You pull back a bit, braced on your arms and look at him. He looks so pretty all breathless and needy. You feel like you’ll combust when you notice that he’s drooling a bit.

Johnny’s only warning is the darkening of your eyes before you lean forward and lick the trail of drool up to the corner of his mouth. Then you fit your tongue between his lips again just to pull back a second later. “Don’t waste any of it, princess.”

Suddenly he becomes frantic, wraps his arms around you and grabs onto your shirt. “Oh my god, please.”

“Please what, Johnny.”

He whines again and tugs gently on your shirt trying to get you closer while he spreads his legs for you to get even closer to him. “I don’t know. Please, just, please. Anything! Just call me princess again and touch me!”

“It’s my pleasure, princess.”

He shudders and when you kiss him again he wraps his legs around you too. It’s mumbled against your lips when he whines “I love you” into the kiss.

[bleeding-star-heart]

These tags on a reblog of my Anders analysis are another problem I have with DA:2's writing

#god i have so many feelings about this#cuz i romanced anders my first playthrough#and i hated that our relationship did a 180 as soon as I was like#“im not gonna let you gaslight me into doing war crimes”#was it OOC?#i don't know#I can't say#I haven't studied anders as a character or taken the time to contemplate him enough to speak on it#but i just know it was such a turn off that i started a new game entirely EDIT: I have removed the word "gaslighting" from this meta owing to the fact that technically, Anders isn't gaslighting, because gaslighting is something different. Gaslighting being trying to make someone doubt their perception of reality, among other things. What Anders ACTUALLY does falls under emotional manipulation. I would say to the OP that yes, indeed, this is VERY "out of character", so to speak. Most definitely for JUSTICE, the spirit inhabiting Anders's body. But also for Anders as well. Think about it: emotionally manipulating one's romantic partner is an inherently unjust thing to do. It is not something two people who respect and love each other do. Yet the spirit of Justice is completely silent when it happens. A being that supposedly embodies nothing but Justice simply...allows his host to guilt his lover into doing something they disagree with. He does not protest or try to stop Anders from engaging in a truly toxic form of emotional manipulation. If written properly, Justice should immediately have called Anders out on this. Which should prompt either an apology from Anders or a long, seemingly one-man argument between the two. But that doesn't happen. In fact, Justice only shows up if you, as Anders's rival, manage to turn him AGAINST blowing up the Chantry. And then, only to railroad Anders back into the role of terrorist. This, combined with Justice's general lack of reaction to any injustice or violation of rights that DOESN'T have to do with mages, causes him to become little more than a cheap plot device. Now as to why I don't believe a properly written Anders would do it, either. Anders at this point in the story is a revolutionary, yes. He is passionate about his cause. But he is also MORE than that. And part of that 'more'-and also WHY he's a revolutionary-is that he was a victim of a controlling, emotionally manipulative institution. One that bombards people like him with all kinds of unhealthy messaging. Messages like: the outside world is guaranteed to hate you, your (unchangeable) nature is inherently wrong and sinful. As well as: you can't trust yourself at all, you are one bad day from being a monster, you need to let us control you for your own good. Anders probably saw more than one person like Keili-that girl in the Mage Origin who actively believes she's evil and prays to 'not be a mage'. He probably encountered a lot of mages with varying degrees of religiously based self-loathing. He probably had some himself. And he lived in the Ferelden Circle. He's also a person who not only left a toxic institution, but actively sees and complains about how toxic the institution is. People who've suffered from toxic environments/relationships and RECOGNIZE how toxic those environments/relationships were, tend to value healthy relationships/environments. They try and work on themselves to remove any lingering psychological effects of that toxicity. It is highly likely that Anders would NOT want to repeat the kind of emotional manipulation he and others were subjected to. While he might not agree with Hawke about methods, Anders would not believe guilt to be a good tactic because guilt is one of the very tactics the Chantry used on him! Guilt about being a target for demonic possession, guilt about what the magisters did, guilt about being a mage in general.

Guilting his partner into agreeing with him, is, essentially, him doing what the Chantry did to him. And if the writers had put any thought into his character, they would have realized that too. And thus, if they were smart, or and simply give the player the option to permanently decline the quest with no negative consequences. The other option is to lean into that, and purposefully make it a character flaw, that he's too blinded by trauma to see that. But the writers did NOT have the time to be able to successfully pull that off. Thus, yeah. They make Anders, who suffered from religious based emotional manipulation...into someone who emotionally manipulates his partners. Which is yet another thing done in the name of a less-than-stellar ending and plot beat. EDIT: I have removed the word "gaslighting" from my part of this meta owing to the fact that technically, Anders isn't gaslighting Hawke, because gaslighting is something different. Gaslighting being trying to make someone doubt their perception of reality, among other things. What Anders ACTUALLY does falls under emotional manipulation. Which I still don't believe a properly written Anders OR Justice would do, for the reasons stated above.