#he show up at the end to do not a damn thing but look into the distance

[deramin2]

The entire point of clothes not fitting right is that there's absolutely some body out there that the clothes do fit, but they do not fit the person currently wearing them. Apart from that making the clothes look terrible on people, like a hotdog squeezing out of bad packaging, they also feel terrible when they don't fit. They're tight in uncomfortable places and they restrict movement.

Even if we just set aside the subjective aesthetics of stylishness, Morgan could go from schlub to ignorably bland if he was just wearing clothes that actually fit him. A thing the stylists on his show are paid to make happen, where he ends up looking his best. Tailor made always looks and feels the best because it's the talk size and shape of your body, but off the rack can look just fine if you at least buy something a little too large in places and take it to a damn alteration place to have them take bits of it in so it actually fits like 90% of the way. Especially if you're choosing to live your life on camera. Some of Kermits fits are probably altered children's clothes.

The broader point is these fuckers want to act like they're the master race who have all the answers to fix everything, but they are too ignorant, lazy, and cheap to even dress themselves properly. Again not even style, just literally clothes that accommodate the reality of their own biddies.

If you know the bare bones of what actually fits you, it's possible to persistence hunt good formal outfits at charity shops for dirt cheap. It's blatantly apparent from just his clothes that Morgan knows fuck-all about reality and is too proud or invested in mass-produced averageness to do the bare minimum to look and feel good in his own body. Why would we trust that guy to decide anything for anyone else?

This might be Derek Guy's greatest masterpiece.

(The Twitter thread is probably easier to read and easier to look at the images, but I wanted to make sure it got preserved. Images are the tweets.)

(Continued in reblog)

[faygosoda]

A/N: Chat I had to do smth cute but also slightly angsty JS NOT TO THE POINT WHERE READER DIES AGAI

Title: My Gift To You

Yeah, playing a dumb kids game with a random suited stranger that had soo much money in his suitcase in the subway was probably the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

Who would have expected to be kidnapped under a bridge and brought to a gigantic place full of so many other people?

Nobody.

But at least you won against that random dude eight times before he seemed as though he got upset and ended your streak, giving you a small card before leaving and telling you to call to play games for some money..

I mean talk about human trafficking..

So here you were, standing in a crowd of people as debts got named off and people were show on screen and- wait what the fuck?

Hyun-Ju.

Your- dude that’s your girlfriend.

Uhm hello what the fuckkkk..

You’d think you would be able to see her tall self through the crowd but all of these people were blocking the way n shouting obscenities left and right.

Why was the love of your life here of all places?

Wait- nevermind, you know why.

The surgeries duh.

Idiot.

That was the same reason you were here for so why wouldn’t she also be here for that as well.

Tch.

You wish she would’ve told you instead of scting all suspicious and distant.

Then again you didn’t say shit to her though but thats different cause it just issss.

Too lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that the guards had finally shut up, the crowd of people breaking apart slightly which gives you the chance to find your girlfriend.

You move through the crowd, eyes catching the tall figure and short hair of your lover whos back is slightly turned away from you, hands clasped together showing her hesitance.

Hyun-Ju looks around, observing those around her, thoughts spiraling before a hand clasps down on her shoulder which causes her eyebrows to slightly furrow and turn to the person that held her and-

Oh my.

“..(Name)! What are you doing here?” Her eyebrows were raised in surprise, her lipstick covered lips forming a small ‘o’ shape.

“Your surgeries.. I wanted to help out, but I should be the one asking considering I haven’t been seeing you as often lately but all of a sudden you’re here.” You squint at her, head tikted as you held strong eye contact with her.

Hyun-Ju sighed, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as she spoke while the other landed on your waist, giving you a squeeze.

“My love, I’m doing this for my surgeries as well, and for us. That’s why I’ve been so distant.. I’m sorry. It’s no excuse though and I promise I will make it up to you.”

Damn. She had you wrapped around her finger superrrr tight..

You huff, leaning into her hand, lips pursed as you nod. “It’s okay.. kinda. I missed you a lot Hyun-Ju and I- I honestly thought you were maybe kinda.. getting tired of me.”

Your words come out mumbled, eyes flickering down as you mess with the hem of her zip up.

“I know it’s probably stupid-“

“No, no it’s not. I should have been honest with you. I truly didn’t mean to make you think that Sweetheart, I love you and I’ll never leave you again..”

She kisses your cheek and then your lips, a small smile on her face before she pulls away, her hand still remaining on your hip.

Sadly, the lovely reunion is cut short by the guards speaking about photos..

Didn’t know it was selfie time.

You and Hyun-Ju move, following the rest of the players while holding hands to stay together.

<><><><><><>

Photos had been taken already and it was time for the first game.

Hyun-Ju and you hadn’t let go of each other besides for picture taking, having took never leaving each other again very seriously.

Hand in hand you both moved through large doors into an arena filmed with.. sand?

“Sandbox..?” You mumble, Hyun-Ju humming as she thought.

“I don’t think so.. look at that big doll at the end of the room.” She points, your eyes following in that direction, landing on a tall and gigantic doll-like robot.

“Oh…. Ew.” That earns you a snort from your lover who kisses the top of your forehead with the shake of her head.

A sudden voice is heard through out the arena, explaining the game.

“Red light green light? Oh I’m good at this! It’ll be easy!” You smile, laughing.

Yeah uhm it wasn’t easy.

Numerous times you had tripped, not only hurting your hands and knees but landing in puddles of blood.

Blood from the others players around you.

Dead players might you add.

As of now you stood behind Hyun-Ju, hands shaky and throat tight from everything going on around you.

What the fuck was happening????

Your hand held the hem of Hyun-Ju’s shirt tightly, squeezing your eyes shut as the doll indicated to stop.

So close to the line.. just fifteen steps away.

So close yet so far from death.

You wanted to go home, see your family, see your friends, listen to music, eat something, lay in bed with the love of your life who was holding up with this way better than you were.

Eight steps away.

Then, you’re grabbed by the sleeve, pulled in front of someone as the robot says “green light!”.

Hyun-Ju’s shaky breath hits the nape of your neck, her hand tight on your arm as she hold you in front of her, moving you along.

“Red light!”

Four steps away.

It feels like eternity when the doll rings out “green light!” And your pushed past the line, your girlfriends body making contact with your own as she sughs in relief, her hold still tight but not in a painful way but instead in a way that shes praying this is the first and only round of this sick and twisted game.

You let a breath that you didn’t even know you had left in you, head turning to her with eyes full of tears, about ti say something until shes dashing right across the line and back into the peripheral of that stupid pig-tailed doll.

“HYUN-JU!”

It’s a pathetic cry, already knowing that when your girlfriend makes up her mind there’s no way of changing it.

You watch as she runs towards to males, one already injured and the other assisting.

Your heart beats in your chest as the seconds go down, frozen in your spot as all three freeze, Hyun-Ju and the other man that helps the injured man shake in fear.

Five seconds left.

You’re gonna be sick.

Please you can’t lose her you can’t you can’t you fucking can’t

They make it over the line though, falling on the floor and a sudden ‘BANG!’ Rings throughout the arena.

The injured man was taken out.

Is it bad that you felt relief that it wasn’t Hyun-Ju?

You don’t know and in the moment you don’t give a fuck as long as she’s alright.

You rush to her aid, arms wrapping around her tightly as your ears ring.

She’s okay.

You’re both okay.

You both WILL BE okay.

You’ll get out of here and go to Thailand and- and everything will be okay.

The end!

—————————————————————————

A/N: I finished this up during basketball practice LOL hope u guys like it!! PLS SEND IN MORE REQUESTS I ONLY GOT 2 RNN💔😒

[cajunfootrub]

“stupid sl*t says she wants a small sausage pizza, but ends up getting crammed with a big sausage instead”

choso x reader, age gap, p in v, mating press, uses of sl*ut, idek how to the warnings shit. have fun reading. MDNIIIIII!!!

“youre total is 19.78. you’re 10 dollars short.” the long haired, emo looking guy said. he couldn’t have look anymore bored than he did right now, with those little space buns with big sleepy eyes. “oh well the small pizza is only 9.78?” you replied. the pizza delivery guy rolled his eyes a bit and looked down at the cash you gave him, “on the app you ordered a large.” “oh well i have card-“ you replied chipper. “i don’t have a card reader.” “oh- well come on in, i’m sure i have cash upstairs.” you replied just hoping you had some form of cash in your bra drawer.

he walked into the house after you, looking around, taking in the nice decorations you had. “nice decorations, big chandelier.” “oh, why thank you.” you replied happily because every time someone else sees your chandelier they always thinks it too much. “so you can sit down, and i’ll go get the cash. by the way, what’s your name?? i wanna leave a good review on the app.” “uhm- it’s choso.” the emo looking guy replied.

you walked up the stairs thinking about the pizza guy. “oh my god (y/n) knock it off. he’s like 18 and you’re 25.” you thought to yourself. you finally made it up the grand steps and walked into your bedroom and looked through all of your drawers and couldn’t find ANY cash. “shit!” you got so desperate you start looking through your old jewelry boxes in hope to find a couple bucks but ends up knocking over a candle in the process. “damn it!”

choso overhears from downstairs. “damn this lady.” he ends up deciding to go and check on you. thinking of himself about how pretty you looked answering the door but how pissed he was that you didn’t pay fully the first time. “hey you ok?” “oh no i’m fine” you replied. you bent over just a little bit and the valley of you chest showed a bit. and that’s all you remembered.

next thing you know it you’re on your own bed getting the meanest mating press by an 18 year old. you tried to form some type of sentence, but all you could babble out was little moans of his name. “say it louder you fucking slut.” for a moment you felt embarrassed because you were getting the best dicking down of your life and the guy can’t even buy a drink yet. choso glares down at you while continues his ministrations not only faster, but harder. “what did i tell you? say it louder!” he only emphasizes what he said by giving you a good spank on your ass. “ah! shit!” you replied slightly sore because of the hit. “say it!” “oh my god-“ you felt your orgasm building up and it felt too good to not say it. as much as you didn’t want to listen to a guy who’s still in high school. you still said his name just a bit louder.

he let you come before he did himself. what can he say, he just taught himself to be a gentleman. except you didn’t come. you ended up squirting everywhere. you felt embarrassed at first. but then realized that no man had ever make you do that, hell you couldn’t even get yourself of to roman reigns, and he was the sexiest of the sexiest. choso looked down at you with the biggest, stupidest grin ever.

from that night on you always had a ‘craving of a big sausage pizza’ but always ended up crammed with another sausage instead.

[arcane-ish]

Season 1 Vanco, Season 2 Vanco and why I love both

There are people who will insist that shipping season 1 Vanco and season 2 Vanco is almost two different things. I don’t fully agree.

I wrote my “why I’m drawn to them” post in season 1 and even back then, for me at least the allure with the idea of the “one big happy family”. Of it being so close you could taste it. Of it being the ultimate what if. Of all the things that could be fixed if Zaundads were just real (in season 1: mostly the conflict between Jinx and Vi).

So yes, season 2 came as a shock of just how aligned the writers ended up being with the way I saw the ship even in season 1. And even in some ways I wouldn’t have dared to hope.

Still, I do understand the point that s1 Zaundads is a subtly different ship almost as s2 Zaundads. I’m just lucky enough to like both.

Season 1 Zaundads…

Season 1 Zaundads was broody and mysterious. Full of violence, veiled references and open questions. “I’ve heard this kind of talk before”, “There are worse things than enforcers out there”, “you had my respect”, “brothers and sisters, back to back against whatever the world threw at us”.

But also of evocative parallels. If in my ways Vi is Vander’s and Jinx is Silco’s, if they are like their fathers and yearn to be together, is it that strange to imagine a this being mirrored by Vander and Silco when you try to imagine their relationship? When Silco as he tries to ward off Vi is the one who draws the comparison to him and Vander over and over again, while Jinx questions how honest he really is in this regard?

And then there’s Silco and the heartbreaking parallels. The show starts with Vander changing his life to pick up his future daughters. And it ends with Silco ending up in a very similar spot, willing to value Jinx over attaining Zaun and losing his life over it. What can I do but question whether this falling out between them was really necessary if in the end maybe they end up in such a similar situation, which Silco himself seems to realize when he seeks out Vander’s statue.

And ah, the poignancy, that he seeks out the Vander statue at all to talk to it when he is so close to his moment of triumph.

Season 2 Zaundads…

When Season 1 Zaundads drove us crazy with speculation what happened between them, what they were like in the before timed, what exactly happened to make Vander turn on Silco, sesaon 2 answers some of those questions. And yeah, some of those answers were underwhelming, not gonna lie.

But! To me there’s still beauty in season 2. Season 2 on a Zaundad front is so much about yearning. About Vander’s yearning especially. It’s there in his letter. It’s there in how Silco is still in Warwick’s mind as he scours the mines half crazed.

It’s there in the little love shack and the jackets. It’s there in Jinx, the person who probably knew Silco best in the recent years says the letter would have mattered, it would have changed so much. It’s there in Silco, a sweet, loving Silco memory being the first thing that shows up when Viktor manages to enter Vander’s soul.

And there are other things, worth loving, the way Silco looks even in Vander’s dark red visions of him, the way the tease in the flashback to their younger selves, the way Silco is scribbling away and then of course … the AU.

The AU that has the writers coming out firmly on the side of “a reunion would have been possible” but also “a reunion is close to the best thing that could have happened to the world”.

This element might not be necessary to make a good ship, and it sure isn’t what I expected to get when I shipped them in season 1. But I think a shipper group or two can confirm that it feels pretty damn awesome to look at your ship and think: “their love changed the world and it made it better” (and you know, not just just in the sense that they are the ones that made it worse in the first place :p)

A personal take

People talk a lot about how Silco and Vander could have made up and how they achieved the Zaun we see in season 2, episode 7. Did Silco come around to Vander’s side of seeing things, or the other way around. I don’t have a problem with either approach.

But my personal preference has always been towards balance, of both parts of a couple being developed and important and worth cheerleading.

So for my personal tastes, I like to think it needs both of them. They are better together than apart. Their approaches are flawed are incomplete without the other. Silco’s approach is shit highly questionable (as in: I question whether the society he would achieve would be a very appealing one and not full of its own problems) if it doesn’t have some of Vander’s conciliatory and communal elements and Vander’s approach is shit without Silco’s zeal and focus.

[brodygold]

Boyfriend, BROfriend

Asher sulked as he laid back on the couch, too upset to notice the television was displaying static. His girlfriend had just dumped him that morning and his best friend Thorn was completely MIA. He'd gone to investigate the local sports legends, the "Gold Troopers" or something like that. Thorn often lived up to his name, being a thorn in Asher's side, but he still wanted his support in these rough times. Asher had invited him over to rant about chicks like they usually did after a breakup but he hadn't even read the damn message. He'd already drunk several cans of cheap beer waiting for the guy and was starting to feel the buzz.

Asher was pulled out of his buzzed state (well, slightly at least) with a knock on his door. "Finally," he thought, "took the asshole long enough to get here." He threw himself off the couch and walked over to the front door.

Opening it, Asher could tell something was a bit off. Thorn's usual wild and spiky hair was tamed, giving him a sporty look.

"What's with the hair, man? Where's your wild side?"

Thorn let out a little laugh. "Oh, don't worry about that, bro. I still have my wild side. Just trying something new."

Asher looked Thorn up and down. Nothing else seemed off about him. Besides maybe him saying "bro." He still had that characteristic smirk on his face, and the leather jacket on him screamed "punk." He was too drunk for this.

"If you say so, man. Get in here so we can gripe about Maya."

"Thanks, bro. I got just the thing for you actually." He held up his hand, holding a golden DVD. "One of my new bros gave me something to help you get over your ex."

Asher looked at him suspiciously, his hands in his jean pockets. "What's a movie gonna do for me?"

"Trust me, bro. He showed it to me when I met him and it's almost life-changing in a way."

"If you say so. Can you put it in? I'm a bit drunk."

"Sure thing bro."

Thorn put the disc into the player, turning the TV off the static. In its place was a shiny golden spiral, drawing Asher in instantly. The gold swirled in his eyes, mixed with a bit of white and brown. Images of naked women appeared in the background behind it.

Asher lost himself in the spiral, staring at it mindlessly. His mind went completely blank. All he could do was stare at the spiral. Stare, and obey.

Thorn removed his leather jacket, revealing a shiny golden soccer jersey underneath with "Trey" on the back. He smirked looking at Ashter's blank stare. "That's it bro, just stare at the pretty spiral. You'll be a true bro soon."

Ashtor reached down into his jeans and started stroking, just as the spiral commanded him to. As he continued, his clothes started changing. His black t-shirt glowed gold, transforming into a shiny gold soccer jersey with his true name on the back. His jeans turned into a set of golden shorts, giving him more room to stroke as he pulled them down further. His wild and crazy hair got tapered down into a classy, sporty look that matched Trey's.

Ashton's mind was being rewritten at the same time, his old self going into his balls with every stroke. His name change was solidified first, the first piece of his new identity. The images of women changed into men stroking themselves just like he was, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He found himself admiring their forms and their strokes, eyeing the big packages. Thoughts of being with women and loving their bodies head to toe vanished completely. Only men would satisfy him now.

Trey leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ashton could feel himself blush as he continued stroking. Memories of being with Trey as boyfriends, serving the Golden Army together both on and off the field. They sure knew how to party together in the locker room...

"Cum for me, babe"

The spiral finally ended as Ashton came, spurting his old self out onto the floor in front of him. Trey would be sure to clean that up later.

"Come on babe. We have practice in 30 minutes!"

Ashton looked up at his boyfriend and smiled. "Sure thing babe. Let's get going. But first..." He walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling a sinister smile.

"How about a quick round 2?"

[monokoitari]

Because of god will know that I am brainrotted with omega Shen Qingqiu, then, alone- the Omega Shen Qingqiu who while searching for plants to grow a new body to escape from Binghe and his revenge and all that finds something that ends up making his body pregnant.

And that's fucked up, because even though he doesn't really want that baby... well, he gets very attached to the situations he ends up in. So once the image of the cute little baby in his arms is there, he can't banish it or get rid of it. So he decides to keep it.

However, there is this thing: Shen Qingqiu's most hated wife plot, the one that had caused at least a quarter of Binghe's marriages to come to fruition: a pregnant Omega, without an Alpha, runs a much higher risk of having a complicated pregnancy and even the possibility of a miscarriage. And Shen Qingqiu is not willing to do that. He has already grown fond of his bun in the oven. Thank you.

So, he just... well, Shang Qinghua is there. And as much of an asshole as he is, he's an Alpha. So, since it's somehow always that damn Airplane's fault, Shen Qingqiu demands that he take the responsibility at least until the baby is born healthy.

It's not really difficult: Shang Qinghua helps him with his nests, fulfills his whims, even cooks (clumsily). He's the damn friend he needed in that shitty situation, and he also sticks to him in his nest and scent him with something that smells like to ramen sauce, spice and home.

Shen Qingqiu's Omega instincts are calm. Shang Qinghua plays a role that makes his instincts believe the whole charade; his instincts cry sometimes for not having a bonding mark, but well, he can't do a lot about it.

The problem is that, the baby is born, a little bun of black hair and pale eyes, and Shang Qinghua stays. Yes, the other Peak Lords also offer their congratulations, but Shang Qinghua does not leave. He stays at home, continues to bring food, does An Ding's paperwork at his desk, and practically moves into his house. When the baby wakes up in the middle of the night, Shang Qinghua is probably not even asleep and he soothes her crying, changes her or puts her to sleep with a story.

And it's okay, okay, it's just two bros co-parenting. It was not that Shen Qingqiu expected Shang Qinghua to run away at the first moment of freedom… but he also did not expect him to get so involved. And Shang Qinghua looks happy. Happy with the sweet baby in his hands, ink on his face and lots of dark circles under his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu has all his instincts satisfied. Except for the bonding mark. And looking at it from the perspective side, a binding mark could make that his heats be controlled, his Omega instincts less ferocious...

Shang Qinghua refuses. It's not that Shen Qingqiu insists on refusing, but the truth is that Shang Qinghua only... well, that silly crush on his King. Understandable.

And it's not that Shen Qingqiu wants a mark of bonding.

The Omega screaming inside him NEEDS a bonding mark.

He has a house! He has a family! He has a baby! Where is the mark!?

And it's not like Shen Qingqiu is looking to see who could be a good candidate to give him a good and healthy mark. And it's not like his inner Omega is also looking for another dad for his baby (one that does put a mark on his neck).

It’s just that, when Luo Binghe appears, Shen Qingqiu’s instincts scream. Obviously. He’s the protagonist. Wouldn’t he be perfect for that!?

(Except for the fact that the protagonist killed the scum villain, and he is the scum villain, but well, those... are not things that Omega instincts understand).

So, Luo Binghe doesn't understand why his Shizun procreated with that spy rat Shang Qinghua (even if the baby is precious, of course she would be precious, it's Shizun's baby after all). He just understands that that rat is obviously not good enough, if his Shizun smells so much like a needy omega and is always, casually, showing his bare, unmarked neck to him.

[kiera-raelyn]

Yessssss! THIS. PART!

Katara may have mellowed as she aged, but I've found that tolerance for stupidity and bullshit only goes down as I get older, not up. Older women just do not give. a. single. fuck. about society's bullshit anymore. Like, if you don't think Elder!Katara wouldn't subtlely ice over the ground someone was walking on to make them fall on their ass while they were spouting sexist shit to teach them a lesson and make them look a fool, you're wrong.

And no way in hell is she leaving the fighting to a younger generation. That doesn't even match the watered-down healer persona they tried to give her in LoK! What tf good does a medic do half a world away?!

I stg these man-children just could not stand to put Katara and Zuko in the same scene together in LoK for fear of giving Zutarans more canon material to work with. They would rather spite a sizeable portion of their fan base and butcher their own character than acknowledge that Zuko was in any way important to Katara, even platonically. Honestly, it's amazing they didn't have her die of heartbreak after Aang was gone just to preclude the possibility that she ever thought about any other man.

And none of that's even getting into @sokkastyles point about Toph, which I feel is also really important*. Toph is a badass bitch, but she too ends up bitter and alone in a fucking swamp of all places. Desirable enough to have sex with, apparently (see her two kids), but not to have a fulfilling longterm relationship, romantic or otherwise. Not to do that whole compulsory marriage thing. She didn't need no man. But why was she not with her family? Her friends? And we don't hear a damn thing about Suki. It's like... Bryke paid lip service to the whole Girl Power movement, but you can tell it's lip service because none of these girls/women ended up old and happy. The narrative punishes all of them for not being the epitome of the giving, feminine woman. Even Katara, who arguably got closest to that ideal by subsuming literally everything that made her who she was, ended up alone. I just. Gosh, it's like Bryke has a misogyny problem or something.

*I really feel like I did not actually delve into this point enough, honestly. Kind of touched on it then swerved around. But I feel like you could do a deep dive type of post comparing and contrasting how the other female characters are portrayed as desirable but Toph is not. And it's not that she's portrayed without desires/crushes, either. She blushes (which in this show is used to indicate romantic feelings) at least twice because of Sokka. He's stuck on Suki, so we get it, but no one ever shows any romantic interest in Toph, arguably the least feminine girl in the show. Which wouldn't have been a problem (again, romance is not a requirement to be happy), were it not for her portrayal in LoK. Anyway, maybe a post for a different time.

People defend Katara being reduced to only a healer in LoK by saying that fighting was too traumatic for her but Katara's most traumatic moments often involved healing, like having to bring her friends back from the brink of death more than once, or discovering she could heal through experiencing intense pain and being hurt by someone she loved, or being told that healing was all she was good for. Meanwhile she looked like she was having the time of her life beating some dude's ass.

[missdynamighttt]

Hii, I hope you had a very happy holiday and that you are well, I love the way you write! I would like to ask you for something half anguish half soft and whatever you want to add some other thing even if it is spicy.. Something where both the reader and Katsuki are both pro-heroes, The reader tries to take good care of himself during missions and avoids getting hurt so that Katsuki doesn't worry (go crazy about it) But Katsuki doesn't do the same and almost always ends up hurt and worrying the reader and this makes her upset by his lack of reciprocity.. They end up fighting for a moment but end up reconciling. I hope it's not too much to ask, bye, kisses🙏

hi hun!! hope you had a very happy holiday too<333 that means SO much to me, thank you lots!! its not too much at all, i hope this met your expectations and i hope you enjoy it. byeee, kisses <333 (disclaimers: handjob in a hospital, nipple play, mentions of breeding kink, calls you mommy, switch katsuki (gets really subby in the end))

katsuki was on his bed in the infirmary, covered in bandages and scratches. he had gotten himself injured again during a battle with a villain.

you walked into the room, face filled with anger and concern. you quickly made your way towards his bed and looked at him, obviously frustrated.

"my fucking god, katsuki.."

katsuki looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and guilt. he knew he had upset you by getting injured again this badly but that didn't matter to him.

"what? i'm fine."

you tried to blink back your tears as they threatened to escape, lips curled into a stubborn frown. "you look anything but fine."

katsuki rolled his eyes, still trying to act nonchalant about his injuries. "i've had worse. you know that. i'll heal up in no time."

he huffed slightly as he attempted to shift his position on the bed, causing a small wave of pain to shoot through him, but too stubborn to show you his signs of pain.

"we have the same damn job," you snapped, holding his arm and helping him up. your eyes narrowed, words filled with irritation and worry. but you don't see me acting like a reckless idiot, do you? i may get a few scrapes and bruises, but i don't look like I've just stumbled out of a warzone."

"i'm not acting reckless. 'm just doing my damn job," katsuki grumbled as he grudgingly allowed you to help him. "and besides, you're always avoiding getting hurt. you never take any risks, so it's no fuckin' surprise you don't get hurt."

you widened your eyes at him in disbelief, shaking your head in frustration. "no risk?"

"yeah, no risk. you always play it safe, you never take any chances, you always avoid fighting any shitty villains that might be too damn dangerous..." katsuki trails off, noticing the look on your face and realizing that he might've struck a nerve.

"playing it safe? is that what you assume i do to prioritize my fucking life?" you let out a scoff of disbelief, lips twisting up in a sarcastic smile. "is that what you think I do when I try to protect myself, so that you don't have to add my name to your growing list of worries?"

katsuki's expression softened slightly. he knew deep down that she was right, but he wasn't ready to admit it.

"it's not about that. it's about getting the job done. sometimes that means taking risks."

"excuse you. i get the job done just fine. at least i don't look like i've been trampled on by a hundred fucking bulls."

"yeah, well, at least i'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

katsuki knew that was a low blow even as he said it, but his pride was too wounded to backtrack now.

your emotions finally breaking through the facade of toughness as you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"damn it, katsuki," your voice cracked slightly. "all i'm asking is to keep yourself safe. do you even realize how much it hurts me, seeing you injured over and over again, knowing i can't do anything about it? its like.. you don't care. then you go ahead and insult how i do my job and..."

kasuki's expression softened further as he saw the tears in your eyes. he knew he messed up.

"sweets, i... i didn't mean what i said. you're great, okay? the damn best. i just.. wanna do my damn job. i don't want to hold back and let someone get away with shit because i was being too careful."

you let out a huff of frustration, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"doing your job properly doesn't mean throwing your life away, katsuki. what if something happens again, and.."

your pause as tears welled up your eyes, finally rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall. you tried to wipe them away, movements aggressive as your sniffles growing louder despite the attempts to keep them silent.

katsuki watched as you wiped away your tears, guilt gnawing at him. it was a sight that never failed to clench his heart. he reached out and gently gripped your arm, pulling you closer by the edge of the bed. "hey, c'mon. don't... cry, dammit."

"i'll be fine, i always do," he continued, his voice softer than usual. he crooks his finger to tilt your head up at his gaze. "even if i look like i got trampled on by a hundred fuckin' bulls."

he repeated your words back to you with a small grin. you huffed when you realized he was trying to lighten the mood, giving his arm a gentle nudge as you pouted at him.

"i... i can't lose you. not again, katsuki," you sniffled, lower lip trembling slightly as you kept your emotions in check. "okay?"

katsuki's smirk faded as he heard the raw vulnerability in your voice, the memories flooding his brain back when he almost lost his...

"sweets... i'm not going anywhere, okay?" he repeated, his voice serious now. "i promise." he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

you huff, calming down in his arms a little as you appreciate the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his steady breathing.

meanwhile, katsuki held you close, feeling your body relax against his. with a sigh, he buries his face in your hair, taking solace in the feeling of your in his arms. he hated seeing you upset, and he hated himself for being the cause of it.

"i'm sorry."

"hmph. you better be."

you sigh as katsuki chuckled slightly, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending a shiver down his spine.

"i am. i won't be so reckless next time. i'll be more careful, i promise."

"if you don't?"

"if i don't? what, you'll come kick my ass yourself?"

"katsuki."

katsuki takes a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, looking up and his gaze fixed on you.

"if i don't..." he begins, tucking a strand of hair behind your hair. "i just won't. i don't want to put you through that again. i'll keep my word. for you, sweets. okay?"

you nod, your pout giving way to a more relaxed expression as you sank deeper into his embrace. you were a little more relaxed now that he gave you the reassurance you needed. he just needed to recover, and then—

you suddenly felt a slight shiver run through your body as you register the feeling of katsuki's lips on your neck.

katsuki grins when he noticed your slight surprise, continuing to place soft kisses along your neck, pausing occasionally to nibble on your earlobe.

"you worry too much, you know that?" he whispered in between kisses.

"only because i care about you..." you breathe, your voice a little breathless as you leaned into his touch. you really, really couldn't hide the effect his touch had on you.

katsuki's smirk returned as he heard you gasp, the sound sending a wave of heat through his body. he moved his mouth to your jawline, trailing kisses along your skin.

"i know you care about me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "and as much as i love seein' you get all feisty when you're worried about me... i promise i'll be more careful from now on."

"okay...good," you hum softly as he continued peppering kisses down your body. "glad we.. cleared that up."

katsuki chuckles, his lips still against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "yeah, we did."

you had to bite your bottom lip when he moved his lips, nipping at your collarbone. "and now that we have that settled..."

"there's somethin' else i'd like to do."

your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what he was hinting at, heat spreading across your cheeks. "w-wait—"

katsuki grinned again when he noticed how bashful you were getting. he loved it when he could get you all flustered like this.

"what?" his lips hovering near your ear. "you don't want to?"

you shook your head, your desire warred with concern. there was a part of you that wanted to give in to the moment, but practical senses prevailed. he was still recovering from his injuries, and you weren't about to risk his health for an orgasm.

"i..." you began, voice shaky with a mixture of desire and reluctance. "yes, i want to... but not here. and not while you're still recovering, dammit."

katsuki pouted slightly, clearly disappointed. but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

"tch, fine. but don't blame me if i start goin' crazy from recovery boredom."

he paused, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "although... i could think of a few ways you could keep me entertained while i recover."

you tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. "like?"

"well... you could start by just cuddlin' with me while i rest," he teased, his voice low and suggestive, tugging you closer to the bed so that you could cuddle him. "or maybe you could give me a few kisses here and there... you know, to help me heal faster."

"oh?" you smile, scooting over the bed and snuggling up to him. "did the doctor approve of that?"

"doctors are overrated," he says in mock-offense as he wraps an arm around you. "they all say the same things. rest and fluids, blah, blah, blah. where's the fun in that?"

"besides..." he leaned in closer with a grin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "who needs a doctor's approval when i have a beautiful woman like you to take care of me?"

you scoff, nudging his arm softly and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. "as much as i'd love to take care of you, i'm scared we might get caught."

"what, afraid of getting caught in the act?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "come on, it'll be fun."

he could tell you were still reluctant. so, he pulled you even closer, his hands roaming up your hips and resting on your waist, his lips brushing your ear when he spoke. "we'll be discreet, i promise. just a few kisses... no one will ever know."

"i'd rather if you just focus on recovering."

"a few kisses ain't gonna set me back. i'm fine, sweets. i heal fast, remember?"

"then, if you heal fast, i doubt you need me to kiss you, right?"

"you think i can't handle a few kisses, is that it?"

you grin at his pout and shrug. "i think you can't. because then you're going to take it too far."

katsuki rolled his eyes, mock-offended. "i have no idea what you're talkin' about. i'm a saint."

he leaned back against the pillows, narrowing his eyes at your reluctant gaze and giggles. "besides, i'm in no condition to do anything strenuous right now. a few innocent kisses won't hurt."

you huff, exhaling in a soft sigh as your pout deepens. your eyes flicker to his, searching for any kind of reassurance. you didn't want to set back his recovery by going too far but who were you to deny him the kisses he needs? "you promise?"

"a few innocent kisses, that's it. no funny business, no getting carried away," he paused, reaching out to take your hand, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "just a few little kisses to keep me entertained while i recover."

after a moment, you gave in with a sigh, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"fine..." you muttered, your tone a little sulky.

but your gaze flickered to him, your narrowed eyes meeting his with a hint of heat. slowly, you lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat as you prepare to initiate the kiss.

katsuki grins as he tilted his head slightly to meet you halfway, his eyes closing in anticipation.

"that's more like it," he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

katsuki reached up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles along your skin as he closed the distance between your lips.

the moment your lips met his, he let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. it was slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the usual.. passionate embraces.

but the kiss deepens and katsuki starts to get lost in the moment, you can feel him getting more aggressive and intense. sensing that he's starting to lose control, you give his bicep a gentle but firm squeeze, signaling him to slow down. it acts like an anchor, reminding him to keep his desire in check.

katsuki feels your squeeze on his bicep and realizes that he's getting carried away. he breaks the kiss, panting for air as he tries to regain control of himself.

he looks at you with dilated eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily. "f-fuck.. 'm sorry.. i got carried away..."

you chuckle breathlessly, your own heart racing. you try to reassure him with a soft, affectionate smile on your lips. "it's okay... i liked it."

"damn it. me too. maybe a little too much," he sighs, glancing down at himself and groans at the tent in his pants. "fuck, you're not making this easy. you know how hard it is for an injured pro-hero like me to resist his gorgeous girl? and i'm supposed to be recovering, remember?"

"oh? who insisted on the kisses, smartass?"

"hey, you're the one who agreed to it."

"weirdo," you tease, poking his side gently. "want me to..?"

katsuki's breathing hitches at you looking down at his lap. he knew he should resist. he needed to recover. but the sight of you, looking at his raging boner, and imagining what you'd look like taking care of it, is almost too much for him to handle.

"don't tease me like that, woman. you know what the answer is."

you glance down to admire the obvious tent in his pants, the evidence of his desires clear as day. you can't help but bite your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush of heat as something aches in between your legs.

"okay," you whisper, reaching down for the waistband of his pants. "just keep quiet f'me, okay?"

katsuki nods, his eyes locked on you as you reach for underneath his boxers. he feels his breath catch in his throat, his body tensing in anticipation.

"yeah.." he breathes, his voice strained. "i'll be quiet..."

katsuki watches as you touch him, his eyes darkened with desire as he feels your hand wrap around his cock, his body already responding to your touch.

"fuck... fuck, you're so hot.." he manages to say, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

you laugh softly, looking up at him, thumbing the tip of his cock thats leaking with pre. "yeah? you think i'm hot, katsuki?"

"mhm.. so hot.." he nods, his breath coming in ragged pants. he closes his eyes, his head falling back against the pillows as he sinks further into the bed. "f-fuck.. feels so good.. keep goin', sweets, fuck.."

katsuki's hips instinctively buck up into your touch, trying to get even more friction. he grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to keep himself quiet.

you chuckle breathlessly, biting down your bottom lip as you slowly fuck your fist on his cock, purposefully slowing down. "you're not keeping quiet, katsuki. what if someone hears us, hm?"

"fuck, you can't do that to me.. don't tease me like that.." he lets out a strangled moan, unable to hide how needy he is for you. he bites down on his lip, trying to muffle his noise. "i'm tryna be fuckin' quiet, i swear.. but it's gettin' really fuckin' hard.. just keep going.."

you smile, a small, sassy grin that dances across your lips. yu shake your head lightly, titling it to one side as you wrap your fist tighter around his cock. "do you need my help to shut you up, hm?"

katsuki nods, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. "yeah. please.. please, i can't keep quiet on my own. i need you.. i need you to shut me up with your tits..."

you stop stroking him a little to shift positions, maneuvering yourself so that he is lying on your lap and his face on your chest. his head rests on your thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours as you reach out again to stroke him.

"so needy, sweetheart," you tease in a soft murmur, your fingers tantalizing on his cock as you look down at him.

"hmph," he huffs as his hand slips under your shirt, tugging it up quickly before his fingers warm against your skin as they brush against your stomach. it's not like he could tell you that you were wrong.

katsuki tugs gently on your bra, his intentions clear as his eyes lock onto yours. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your bra down, your tits spilling from the fabric, hard nipples already meeting the cold air and his hot breath.

it doesn't take long before katsuki's mouth immediately latches onto your nipple, moaning softly against the skin as his tongue swirls around your areola.

"you taste so good," he groaned, his other hand touches your neglected breast, rough and insistent as they knead and massage the doughy mound, pinching your nipple. "fuck, sweets.. wanna make you a mommy. get these gorgeous tits swollen with milk..."

"yeah?" a small, sheepish smile plays on your lips as you try to find your words. but it's hard to think clearly, hard to even form a sentence when he's getting handsy with your tits, feeling your cunny clenching with need. "you wanna make me a mommy, sweetheart?"

"yeah," he breathes, his cock twitching with precum as you stroke him. "i wanna put a baby in you. wanna fill you up and get you all nice and pregnant for me. you want that, right?"

your cheeks heat up as he gets more aggressive with your tits, his hands continuing to caress you. "yeah, maybe. so?"

"yeah? you'd like it if i knocked you up, mommy?"

you let out a soft moan, your body arching involuntarily as you try to process the pet-name. whenever he got subby, which was rarely, it always caught you off-guard. you wanted to deny how much it affected you as he caresses you, nibbling on your nipples like a man possessed.

"katsuki... i thought i told you to keep quiet.."

you clicked your tongue at him, your hand moving up and down his cock faster, purposely toying with him. he whines at the change of pace, his head dropping back against your plush thighs before he presses his face against your chest to muffle his moans.

"fuck... i'm sorry, mommy, i'm sorry," katsuki whimpers against your nipples, his tone almost whining and pleading as he looks up at you. "i'll keep quiet, i promise..."

"it's a shame, really," you murmur. "with how loud you are, now i'm thinking if i should even let you cum."

"no, no. need to cum, i'll be so quiet, i promise," katsuki gasps out, sucking your tits sore in between his pleas as he humps your fist.

"don't stop.. i'll be a good boy, just let me cum, mommy-"

"yeah? you think you deserve to after what you did?"

"im sorry alreadyyy," he moans, his voice cracking as he begs. it's hard to believe he's a tough, powerful pro-hero known for how aggressive he is. all brought down to a whimpering, whiny looking mess for you. "fuck, fuck, i'll do whatever you want... just please let me cum. please, mommy.."

katsuki looked like a little boy who wanted his favorite toy as he fondles your tits. he's desperate, he's needy, he's your whining, jacked boyfriend who just wants to cum.

and who were you to deny him what he wants?

"it's okay, baby," your voice is a sultry purr as you look down at him. "since you've been begging real good f'me, you can cum.."

katsuki's eyes flutter shut at your approval, a soft, guttural moan leaving his lips. he's close, so close that it's almost painful, and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. "shit.. sh-shit, thank you, m-mommy... fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' cum, shit-"

he bucks his hips into your hips one last time before trembling beneath your touch, shaking as his cum shoots down your fists, his cock twitching from the release.

you grin as you pump your fist on his cock, helping him ride out his high. your fingers linger on him for awhile before you pull away, licking your fingers off of his slick.

but someone still needed you. katsuki sat up and pulled you closer and he grabs your face in his hands, his lips crashing into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. he kisses you like he needs you more than air, like he'll die without your touch. he doesn't even care if he's being needy. he just wants you, and only you.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, panting for air as he presses his forehead against yours. "fuck," he mutters against your lips, his voice rough and ragged. "that was... shit, i don't know what to say." he chuckles breathlessly.

"well..." you start with a cheeky grin, your fingers running through his hair. "you could start by saying thank you."

he huffs out a laugh, a tired smile spreading across his face. he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo that he just loves. "thank you, baby. you're perfect, you know that? so goddamn perfect."

you bask in the moment, smiling warmly as you revel in the comfort of the cuddle. his warm, firm body against yours feels like home, and you feel content and complete in his arms.

in that moment, you feel completely content and at peace, as if nothing else in the world matters besides the two of you. you press yourself against him, a silent reassurance that he's here, he's real, and he's all yours.

[themareverine]

Only When It's Right | Logan Howlett x fem!OC

synopsis: "Does it always feel like this?" He chuckles, "Only when it's right, honey," dips low, worships her like every fucker in Alberta only prays to. "Only when it's right."

warnings: X1 Logan, mentions of noncon touch, gunfire, Logan being a little toxic.

a/n: DON'T ASK ME WHERE THIS CAME FROM IT'S JUST HERE, OK YOU'RE WELCOME. I’m going back to DOFP!Logan, now, byeeee.

He finds her underneath the stars. In the shimmer of a trying drizzle, between two headlights milking out a backdrop of what appear to be stacked logs. Sleeping giants in the ghosttown the lumberyard has become, dead with afterhours asystole. Chill in the air shows him his breath, and Logan can see the air through the high lamps on her parked Wrangler.

Guiding his truck along washed out ruts and lumberyard paths better navigated with heavy machinery, he pops the gearshift into park.

Sees her standing between the two milky swaths of light that cut across witchy darkness, legs akimbo. Arms drawn out into a diamond in front of her, hands wrapped around the fat grip of what he thinks is a Glock 43, but won't know until he eyeballs it, close and personal.

Figures she'd be somewhere, off alone. Probably to think. Girls don't claw through incidents like the one he'd witnessed hours before and get out without thoughts spinning their pretty little heads, and — he hasn't known her long, hell no. Doesn't have to. But what he knows of this particular case can be boiled down to two very simple little things.

She's a runner, and she's an overthinker.

He slaps the truck's door closed with a thunk, rattles the whole damn thing as he leans back through the open window to flick on high beams. Slips hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, retrieving a cigarette and his light. Probably mostly pointless, since it's trying to rain, but — Logan's never really cared.

The end of the cigarette smolders to life in a plume of fierce amber as he comes up on her, carefully. She's noticed, of course. Clocked him the second his headlights cut up next to hers, a quick glance over the shoulder. He'd never be able to miss those sapphire eyes for anything, even in the blanket of night.

Pop pop. Two shots, right after the other. Pause, follow through, recollect. Logan can see her take a breath, watches how her shoulder ripple with the muscle movement. Notices the exhale, watches how her wrist flicks with just the tiniest effort to pull the trigger back — click.

Empty. "What are you doing out here, Logan."

It isn't a question as she turns on her heel, pistol coming to her side. Mostly-wet curls hang loose, frizzed from where she's attempted to tie them back under the ballcap. A ratty Wyoming homage that's darkened with rain and wear, she wears it when she doesn't want to muss with hair, which is all the time.

A coveted possession, really, Logan's seen her change it out with others it a handful of times, but it's her favorite.

Girls. "Gotta have a reason?" He shrugs a shoulder and slips into one of the cuts of headlight, following her to the hood of the Jeep where she's got the pistol's case and a box of rounds perched in the wet air, "Just in the neighborhood, kid." Watches her pluck the greasy cleaning rag from the case, skip it over the water pooling along the blued steel.

Her ocean blues cut up to him like they are hot knives, slicing through butter his flash has become — the corner of her mouth ticks up, just so. Cheeks a pleasant red from the snap of cold in the air, a dewy film has risen up on her glasses, glistens as the light catches it at the right angle on the high of her cheekbones.

And she almost looks like creamy starlight, fading in and out of midnight smoke in the air that signals fire.

Logan decides immediately that she is definitely not a kid. The name no longer sticks.

"Ain't really a neighborhood," her hand gestures beyond, a nod of her head following to the darkness beyond the headlights spotlighting them, "but whatever. If you came to talk, don't bother. Heard it all before."

And she thinks she knows. Maybe she does. There's really only a handful of things you could ever say to a soul that's been publicly castrated, humiliated and backed into a corner. He'd seen grown men go weak in the from less, but women — women. They were a different breed. Stand there and let you skin them alive without so much as a flinch, probably smile. Offer you the knife.

She'd simply just stood there, quiet, and managed to gracefully change the subject like some untouchable thing.

Clearly, she isn't as untouchable as she wanted everyone — including him — to think.

"Not here to talk, champ. There a law against checkin' in on people?"

She snorts. "This is Canada, right? Ya'll have more laws than God." It takes work not to smile, and Logan fails, managing a smirk. "And after what just happened in there? Yeah, there is." Her eyes lift to him, icy flash arctic enough to stop his blood. "Don't bother playing dumb with me, Logan, I know you ain't stupid."

"Never with you, darlin'." Pausing, her hand stops mid-air. Logan watches her weigh the weight of the world in her eyes, fighting the urge to look at him. Loses, she does — she sums him up, quickly.

Popping out the magazine, she begins loading. Falls back against the brush guard of the Jeep, booted feet crossed at the ankles as she works bullets with raw, chilled fingers.

"Just further evidence to me that it doesn't matter how hard you work, how much you change, it's never enough for them."

The way her eyes move beyond him, into the ether — he gets it.

Vitriol snakes in and out of her words from her back teeth, which, if clenched any tighter, the bones of her jaw would rake together in a song that would wake the dead. Taking a drag on his cigarette, wishing to God it was a cigar, he nods. Understanding. Because if anyone understood what trying to be different — with living among the unlivable — means, it's him.

Wolverines, after all, don't exactly live in society. "He was an asshole," coming up beside her, he kicks back against the brush guard himself, cigarette hanging low in the corner of his mouth as his hands slip into his pockets, this time his jeans. "Most men are, you probl'y know that."

Snapping the magazine back into place, her head doesn't lift from considering her boots, strewn with mud and water stains from the wet dirt. "Yeah. Just didn't appreciate the way he grabbed me, either."

That was news. How'd you miss that, Logan? "That asshole touched you?"

"Mhm. Hips. It's whatever."

His brow snaps up. "It ain't whatever, sweetheart. It's fuckin' pathetic," the edge of his tone is almost bitter, like the cold blade of a knife. "I would've seen 'im, would've driven him through the fucking floor."

Another long drag on his cigarette does little to soothe the itch in his blood, instead just sends his pulse pistoning between his ears. Kicking his foot over the other, he settles against the Jeep a little harder, feels it sway with his weight.

Color creeps up her neck, her eyes drag away down to the toes of her boots in the mud, playing with a little stone. "Nobody's ever done that for me, Logan," she chuckles, looks beyond the headlights, to the log backdrop before them, "but the thought is nice. Thanks."

Pushing herself from the Jeep, she moves back between the cuts of light, not giving him room to respond. And he isn't sure if he would, should. They're friends, colleagues.

She works the cage, ringmaster and snatching cash from easy-as-candy-from-babies gamblers and the entertained.

He takes the hits. Watches her parade around in her jeans that fit tight and fucking amazing, cowboy boots, and that ratty ass ballcap. All moxie and gusto, she was born for a stage, he thinks. Recall reminds him that she naturally belongs in places he only tolerates, everywhere he's fought tooth and claw to struggle.

Effervescently, she does it with an air that's almost sick. And she's never made a big deal of sexualizing her way in and out of pocketbooks — came with the gig, the cage. Even for an unconventional, curvy little thing like her.

Hammed it up, actually, stuffing money in her tits, in painted-on jean pockets that cut her curves like a damn roadmap. Had become a persona, a sort of calling card — you bet right, you get to choose where your cash came from.

Like some all-curves, sapphire-eyes fucking ATM.

Her alias. It wasn't supposed to work for him.

The guys around the cage had started calling her the Honeybadger — because while she was sweet to look at, sweet to touch, there were teeth. Claws. A ferocity that trembled beneath the surface like spidering ice.

More than once, Logan had seen her shove off over eager hands. Threaten a man within an inch of his dick.

Honeybadger and the Wolverine. Pff.

Sounded fuckin' ridiculous, like some circus sideshow. People liked it, though. Rolled off the tongue good. Made him a shit tonne of cash, she never complained about her cut, either. Her theatricality cocktailed with his unbeatable, unkillable mutation made for one hell of a gig.

Half the time Logan wasn't sure if crowds were betting to see him throw cuffs, or because she was so damn pretty. Ultimately it didn't matter, the circumstances.

What mattered was the way he almost came un-fucking-glued in that damn bar, watching that fuckin' toad make eyes at the sweet little thing he'd been dreaming about for four fuckin' months.

Her, someone who, over their knowingship, had become his friend. An unlikely ally in the fight to outlive this Canadian log town and its phantom populace. Somewhere along the lines of her life, God had taught her to hang the moon and stars, stop the world every time she smiled. And she was a prized student, he knew — divine, probably.

Aphrodite waters of a kind he'd never tasted, but thirsts for. Enough to make his heart stop, his lungs more adamantium than his bones.

Logan didn't usually go for girls like this. Sweethearts. He went for the poisonous, the dangerous. Ladies of the neon, the women who lurked on corners or hung on your arm, drunk and doe-eyed in that fuck me kinda way. Not the soft and sweet honeychilds of the sunkissed morning, who looked good in sundresses and lipstick and challenged the glory of the very stars.

Always a man who could never burn, he didn't mind the taste of the hot and heavy, the pits of the noncommittal.

Liked the quick fucks and heavy makeup of drunken nights and neon, the veil that hid away the person, instead just another nameless, same-face Barbie doll to ease his desires.

Vixens and painted women tasted a kind of good that he'd learned to crave over the long, cold years of outliving. A stable sex diet, for sure. Where there was one, there would be another, and the universe never stopped churnin' out tit.

He'd be fucked before he ever considered anything lasting. With someone worth a shit, any of his tries. Questions if anyone like that even exists on this rock, anymore.

And Logan shouldn't be so pissed at how nonchalant she is about being touched, but he is. Feels his guts fill with that molten hot rage that gets him in trouble, that stokes the fires of his mutation like a damn forge. All he can think about is hammering that fucker through the damn floor, send him to hell in tiny little pieces the devil wouldn't even know how to sort.

Crushing a mental picture of that asshole's hands on her, in all the wrong places that guys know, his jaw tightens. Only a little, only to the point of boneshattering.

Pretty sure he could rip the brush guard right off this Jeep and eat it for breakfast and not even feel it.

Beyond the reach of headlights, Coke cans and water bottles lay littered along the muddy earth before the backstop of logs, a handful or so still propped up in various places. Challenges. Thinking about her crawling up there to place empty cans and other trash pieces for target practice eases some of the roil in his blood, the rage creeping up in scarlet at the corner of his vision.

It takes her a minute, but she spends another twelve rounds, hot brass kicking to the ground at her feet. Pop pop pop. One by one, shots ring off aluminum cans, crumple plastic bottles. Sends them to the earth in a rain. Others hit the logs, hard thwacks that bury deep.

She ain't a tough shot, by any means. He'd seen a lot of gunfire in his years, fucking centuries, knew men who weren't as precise. Had watched them die.

She sends the magazine out of the grip, back into her hand as she turns around, smiling at him a little crookedly as she looks up over the rim of her glasses, almost coy. As if she's proud of herself.

His brow lifts, amused. Mostly impressed, a little turned on.

She comes back to lean against the Jeep, closer this time. Close enough that he can smell the tinge of sweat lingering under her clothes from a night of work. If he's careful, he can taste the salt he knows skips around her tongue, from a let's do shots, Lo! tequila. Unmissable, that perfume she swears to God never stays around but is triggering every animal instinct he has.

Turning, she gently tosses the pistol back to its case. Flips the lid closed with a flick of her fingers. Crossing her arms over her chest, she props one foot back on the grille of the Wrangler, head angled just enough for Logan to catch sparkling traces of the air's moisture on her cheekbone. It's almost fantastic, he thinks. Fairytale. That shit they put in movies.

It goes straight to his cock.

"I've never been touched like that before, Logan," and it couldn't be more out of nowhere if it materialized right in front of them. Blinking, Logan finishes his cigarette. Outs it on the heel of his boot, flicks the end away as if it's plague. It isn't far removed, but she doesn't seem to care.

It's probably more information than he needs to know. What did they call it? TMI. Yeah, too much information. But somehow such a turned stone leaves him curious, like a cat with a mouse. Could beg at her feet like a slavering dog for more, if she'd be willing.

For months he'd watched her, trailblazing up and down the floorspace of his cage like some kind of goddess, deserving of high worship. Figured it came natural, because for someone like her, it should.

What a fuckin' shame. "Yeah?" God, the things he could do to her.

"Mhm. And now I'm not sure I want to be, if — if that's what it's like."

And all at once, the air is sucked out of the world that's opened up between them. She's quiet and small, shrunk into herself with hunched up shoulders and lowered eyes, like some kind of whipped dog that's done inexcusable wrong.

It so isn't her.

Supposed to burst with life, make him question the cold black void in his chest. She's supposed to sing when the earth sits at her feet, like spring waits for the cold of winter to flatline into a dead carcass of itself. Should light up the room with her all-sunshine, big voice that shakes him all the way down, makes him forget his own fucking name.

Whatever this broken, insecure shadow of a thing she is, it's — it's a crime against the world.

Makes him want to fillet any single soul that would even fucking breathe in his direction.

Brow cutting into a hard line, he reaches between them and takes her chin in his hand. Forces her attention on him.

He's done this before, from place of posturing, hamming up audiences and getting her to simmer the fuck down, doll! when she's too deep into the booze or angry, feasting on souls.

But now, it feels different — his fingers burn with a fire he's never really understood, the stuff they write about. He can feel electricity in her blood, the painful thud thud thud of her heart against the bones in her chest.

But she doesn't make to move away. Doesn't even fucking flinch.

Interestin'.

"That ain't what it feels like," his tone drops to that whiskey dark that tastes good, that rattles up his chest. Echoes off bone, had gotten him more than one fuck in his life. And it works, too. Always has.

Will it work with you, honey?

Swallowing a little breath, "It isn't?" slips off her tongue like wet sin. Compliments the little flutter of her eyes, how she shifts nervously under the weight of his attention.

The long column of her throat constricts on the words, like a serpent squeezing for purchase any sense of the moment, anything to hold. Punches him in the gut something beautiful. And if he were a lesser man, he'd throw her right up against the fucking headlights of this Jeep and show her what he means.

But that would defeat his whole damn point. Easy, Logan. You sick fuck.

But she looks so good, standing there. In comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt and jacket, slick with the attempts of rain hanging in the air. That Wyoming cap that blocks out the night, casts long shadows over her eyes. Somehow darkens the depths of sapphires that already don't have ending.

Lifting his other hand, he rubs a fallen curl between his fingers before the pad of his thumb gently skips over the curve of her bottom lip. Chapped, like his. Plush. Fucking edible.

Managing a chuckle, she shifts on her feet at the low of his tone. Nervous. It's delicious.

Leans in close, and Logan can almost feast on the dew of her skin. And he knows exactly what he's doing, what they like. Whether they're a siren of the night or Sunday morning's pretty skirt in church, women really just all want the same damn thing. To be chased. Desired, lusted for. The hunt.

It's all part of the chase, honey.

"Mhm-mhm," off a chuckle, one that ticks up the corner of his mouth into a keen, quicksilver smirk. "Not when it's right, when you wan' it. Feels good." Drinking in the design of her face, every lash and little thing that makes her her, his head angles just enough. Oh, just enough —

"So fuckin' good, honey." Fuck, he is breathless. That never fuckin' happens.

Logan expects her to pull away. But her pupils dilate to the wide of the moon, drinking in light like thirsting men on the Sahara. He's never seen such visible lust in the face of the opposite sex, hasn't ever felt its jaws snapping the air like hungry wolves.

Pretty sure this is as close to being eye fucked as it came, but he wasn't complaining.

She should walk away, the way he's looking at her. Like her soul is on sale, like she's the last fucking pair of tits the world will ever produce. And Logan would encourage her, any other time, to leave his sorry, lustful ass in the mud and go on with her life. Find someone worthy of everything God's given her. But at his base, he's a selfish man. Greedy. Hungry.

Too busy being split open by her eyes, sapphire knives that cut him between the ribs and drive a stake straight to the heart like the fucking Dracula he is, trying to suck the life out of her.

Waiting for the impact of the moment to lay her out like a stoned Goliath, he doesn't realize his breath comes shallow and heavy. Doesn't bother feeling the snap of cold wind chasing the heat off his skin, how her eyes skate over his features. Or even how she's managed to turn into his touch, how she's pulled to his side like an adrift little thing on cosmic shores.

And if she misses the let me show you pacing the lines of his better judgement, she's got one hell of a poker face to take to Vegas. He can feel the little shifting of her jaw in his fingers. How her tongue skates along her back teeth, her breath catching in the back of her throat. The pulse in her blood spins like a wicked thing, heart jackhammering through her ribs as if it's trying to cut to hell.

She doesn't feel cold, but her eyes snap with a fierce chill he's never seen before. Isn't sure if it's confidence, or fear. But he likes this look on her, this feral little thing so worthy of the name every man this side of Alberta wants to fuck into her.

Honeybadger. It's so ridiculous that he'll fuck the name out of her himself.

Sweet like smooth, golden honey from the vine. Forbidden fruit in the Eden he would move mountains to taste.

And just as damn savage.

For what he assumes is the first time in her life, she doesn't say a word.

Instead, she lifts a hand to snag nails through his facial hair, eyes traveling the planes of his face like he's something to remember. He might be, for the first time in his life. And it feels like white-hot fire, the slip of her skin against his, such perfect fire that he would willingly burning at the stake of her feet without hesitation, fight. Keening into her touch, his hand slips down the column of her throat, to tip her chin up just enough to compliment the angle of his.

Her other hand pulls him closer by the front of his jacket, her melding against him in that perfect way God had in mind when he created Eve straight out of Adam's marrow.

You could stone the crows, she kisses him first. Tentative and slow, like milking starlight out of the hand of God. And he was fucking right how she tastes like salt and tequila and sweat, her scent so overwhelming that he could drown in her and die a happy, fucking thrilled, man.

All the way down to this core he feels her, almost chokes on just how fucking far her tongue shoves down the back of his throat.

And if he could feast on it the rest of his living days, he'd still starve to death.

World spinning by in a haze of color and lust, he isn't thinking clearly when he pins her up against the grille of the Jeep, pelvis to pelvis, every ounce of blood in his body rushing straight to his cock that's already hard enough to drive her to God. Grips the slick cool of the brush guard with all the resolve of the world, absolution a thin veil between right and wrong, black and white and oh my God, how she tastes.

His arms haven't visibly shaken with restraint in any sort of timeframe that he recalls, most certainly not in the arms of a woman.

He'll take back everything when she pulls at his hair, nails all but driving canyons into his scalp.

It comes naturally, his fingers burying into the thick flesh of her thighs. Hauling her up to the hood, the Jeep racks with her weight, headlights swaying as she reaches for him like he's the last hold on the crumbling rock of resolve, of composure.

And the poor thing shakes, hardly breathing — any second now he could expect her to burst, but instead, she takes his face between her hands, nails biting into his facial hair as she leans down to brush foreheads with him, taste him. He lifts his head, brushing hot breath against her racehorse pulse, the nuclear explosion of her lungs battering against his ribs a delightful way to wonder about the grave.

Pulling back enough to look her in the eye, he smiles. Cool, cleancut. Enough to rip her heart out, he sees it. It's balanced and bleeding between his fingers, his own plaything. Wolverines and Honeybadgers — it's laughable, really. If it wasn't so right.

"How's it feel?" It may as well not even be there, almost carried away by the little hitch of her breath when he skates his mouth against her jaw, bites softly at the pulse in her neck. "Feel good, honey?"

Her nose nuzzles his facial hair. "So many feelings, Logan," and it's barely there, a whimper. A hint of an idea. "Does it always feels like this?"

Lacing fingers through hers, he presses a kiss to the heel of her hand, slow and deliberate. Relishes in the faraway taste of steel, bullets. Gun oil and sin. Props a foot up on the Jeep's guard, steps up like it doesn't even matter.

And oh, if she doesn't know what she's doing she'd burn in hell for lying, the way she leans back on her elbows, like a graceful little thing. Staring up at him like he's heaven descended.

A rush of power he can't explain fills his blood, before he drops low and crawls over her. Chases her up the hood until they're both at the windshield's glass, breathless and hazy.

He chuckles, "Only when it's right, honey," dips low, worships her like every fucker in Alberta only prays to. "Only when it's right."

@sidkneeeee

@thevoicefromanotherworld

@misscrissfemmefatale

@eternallyfrustratedwriter

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88

@laaadygisbooornex3

@itsafullmoon

[starlost-maniac]

My Significant Bother - Ch 1

Warnings/genre: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (don't do it), mxf, mxm, some angst if you squint, unrequited love(?), Mean Jisung (kinda?) I probably missed some (I'll eventually remember all the tags -_-)

Pairing: MinSung x fem!reader

dividers made by @cafekitsune

"Tell me again why I'm here." You say in your boyfriend's ear before leaning back, giving him a look, drink in hand.

"Because it's my best friend's birthday, you promised me you'd go out more and you love me." He smiles at you, talking over the music blaring in the club. "Plus.." He leans back a bit more, looking you over. "You look so damn gorgeous." You smile and roll your eyes.

"I would hope I do, Minho. You picked the dress out." You take a sip of your drink. He chuckles, looking you over again. The dress was black with mint accents, the top was strapless and had a deep v cut, showing off plenty of cleavage. The dress stopped at your ankles, hugging the curves of your chest, waist and hips perfectly before becoming more flowy from mid thigh.

"You always do, kitten." He places his hands on your hips, pulling you close. He leans down to kiss you. Just as his lips land on yours, you hear the DJ announce over the music, "The birthday boy is here!"

You groan into Minho's mouth and pull away, rolling your eyes as Jisung strolls into the club. He greets people along the way to you and Minho. You take another sip of your drink and turn around in Minho's arms, leaning back against him. He leans forward some, wrapping his arms around your waist just under your breasts.

"Please try to be civil, kitten. I know you don't like him, but just for today?" He whispers in your ear before kissing your cheek. You groan out before letting out a quiet 'fine'. Minho smiles. "Good kitten." He stands up straight and holds you close.

When Jisung gets to you and Minho, he glares at you and groans. "Hyung, why did you invite this…" He gestures to you without breaking eye contact with your boyfriend.

"Jisung, I've asked her to be civil for your birthday. Can't you be nice today?" He gives you a gentle squeeze. Jisung huffs before looking at you. He looks you over, staring at your chest for longer than he needed before looking back into your eyes.

"Thanks for coming…I guess." He crosses his arms.

"And, Jisung?" You feel Minho chuckle against your back.

"And..you look very…not ugly today." Jisung huffs. You roll your eyes and sip your drink again.

"So how's your birthday so far man?" Minho asks, gently rubbing your ribs with his fingers.

"Good, great honestly. Got a new job at an office. Better pay and shorter commute too." Jisung says, waving the bartender down. You end up blocking out the rest of what he says.

You look out over the crowd, slowly sipping on your drink. You see a group of your girl friends from school come inside. They were part of your friend circle from school, that—unfortunately—Jisung was part of too. You and Jisung were not friends. You were the farthest thing from friends. He always picked on you throughout school, but stopped most of the bullying when Minho came into the picture. Minho was a new transfer and he joined your clique pretty quick. He got really close to both you and Jisung. Minho ended up asking you to your senior prom and asked you to be his girlfriend the same night. You've been dating since then.

You turn around in Minho's arms and step up on your toes to reach Minho's ear. "I see some girls from school. I'm going to say hi and mingle, maybe dance some."

"Ok, baby. Just be careful out there." He says back. "Don't want some random guy thinking he can have a chance with you. Especially since the girls are almost on full display." He chuckles, gently grazing his hands over your breasts, his fingers playfully following the v cut.

"I know, love. Only for you." You wink at him before kissing his cheek. You walk off to join your friends, their cheers can just be heard over the music. Minho chuckles and sits on one of the stools at the bar, watching you.

"Honestly, hyung, you could do so much better than her. There's a club full of hot girls here that would love to be under you. Probably a few dudes too." He laughs out. He leans back against the bar counter next to Minho.

"Nah. No way, Ji. She's honestly it. I've been with her for 7 years. I can't give her up now." He smiles, watching you dance with your friends. His gaze shifts over to Jisung, a mischievous smirk on his face. "Why do you say that, though? You jealous?" He chuckles.

"What? Hyung, ew. No. First off, she's definitely not my type. Second, she's your girlfriend." He gives Minho a look. "Plus, I may have slept around in college, but I never slept with a taken person…on purpose." He takes a sip of his drink, gaze shifting back to the crowd before landing on you.

"Jisung. I've heard you talk in your sleep. You've said her name so many times over the years." Minho laughs. Jisung rolls his eyes.

"Like you haven't dreamt of your enemies before." He turns, calling the bartender over again for a few shots.

"Oh I have. I definitely have, but not like that, and I don't moan their name with a full hard-on in my sleep." Minho wiggles his eyebrows at his best friend. Jisung just makes a disgusted face. Minho laughs and pats his friend on the back before shifting his gaze back to you. "Honestly though, Ji. I wouldn't mind it. I trust and love you both. You're both the most important people in my life." Minho shrugs. "I'd love it if you both got closer and stopped fighting so much."

You look over at Minho and wave, dancing with your friends. Your girl friends wave to him too. He chuckles and waves back before blowing you a kiss. He couldn't believe how incredibly lucky he felt to have you in his life.

"I love you, too, hyung. You're really important to me, too." Jisung turns around, facing the crowd again. He leans back against the bar and sips on a drink. It's quite between the two for a few moments before Jisung's eyebrows scrunch together and he slowly looks at Minho. "Wait. Did you imply that you wouldn't mind if Y/n and I fucked?"

"Yeah?" The older laughs. "You and I fucked a few times in high school before Y/n and I got together, too. She knows and it didn't really bother her. Maybe if you two fucked, it'll get some of that pent up anger you two have out." Minho shrugs, chuckling. Jisung squints at his hyung. "Plus, I'm sure it'd be pretty hot. Watching my girlfriend get railed by my best friend."

"Right…let's just enjoy the party. It's only a few more hours until my birthday is over." Jisung downs a shot quickly. "I'm going to go find someone to dance with." He goes out into the crowd. Minho watches and laughs.

You and your girl friends come up not long after, you immediately go into Minho's open arms. The girls and Minho catch up for a bit. Jisung comes back after a while. He smiles at the girls and thanks them for coming to his birthday party. They hugged him and kissed his cheek before going back onto the dance floor.

You all enjoy the party for a few more hours before you and Minho are ready to head home. Jisung does one more round of shots with some people before he leaves with you and Minho. Jisung gets in the back seat and lays down, wasted. You got in the passenger seat as you've had a few drinks and were definitely tipsy. Minho buckles you in and kisses your cheek. Once he gets in and buckles his belt, he drives to the house that he and Jisung own. Minho asked you to move in prior, but you declined, saying soon.

Minho drives carefully, trying to not make you or Jisung sick in the car. Parking the car, he got out and went to your side, opening the door for you. You smile at him and get out.

"Are you ok to walk, kitten?" He holds your hand.

"I should be ok. I'll wait for you in the bedroom." He nods and kisses your cheek softly. He opens the back door of the car and carefully gets Jisung out as you walk inside. After pulling Jisung out of the car, he carefully closes the door with his foot and goes inside. He brings Jisung to his room and carefully sets him on the bed. He takes the younger boy's shoes, shirt and pants off, rolling his eyes when he finds out Jisung wasn't wearing boxers. He dresses the boy in a pair of pajama pants and covers him with his blanket before leaving to go to his own room.

Minho finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on your phone. He smiles and walks over to you, kneeling in front of you. You set your phone down and smile back at him. He slowly slides his hands up your left leg and under your dress, gently grabbing the thigh high stockings you wore. He slowly starts to slide it down your leg, not breaking eye contact with you. You shiver when his fingers gently touch your skin. He slips the stocking off before repeating with your right leg.

Standing up, he holds his hand out to you, helping you stand up. Once you stand, he turns you around and unzips your dress for you.

"So gorgeous in this dress.." He slips it off your body, letting it fall to the ground, leaving you in just your panties. "So gorgeous without." He leans down as he wraps his arms around you, softly kissing your neck. "How did I get so lucky with you, kitten? All those other guys vying for your attention.." he breaths against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "And I'm the one that won your heart over." He kisses up your neck to just under your ear, the tip of his nose ghosting your skin.

"You made me feel safe.." you breathe out, eyes closing. One of Minho's hands moves up to gently cup your breast, giving it a gentle squeeze. His other hand sliding down to the hem of your panties.

"Mm..I'll always keep you safe." He kisses behind your ear. "Let's go shower, my love." He slips his fingers into your panties, laying his hand flat against your belly before slipping his fingers back out, letting you go completely, making you whine softly at the loss of contact. You follow him out of his room and into the bathroom as he strips himself of his clothes on the way, starting the shower when he enters the bathroom. You slip your panties off, dropping them on the bathroom floor.

Stepping behind him as he was checking the water temperature, you wrap your arms around him, putting your hands on his pecs. You press your body right against him, your breasts squished against his back. He chuckles when you playfully squeeze his pecs a few times. He reaches down behind himself, playfully reaching for your core. You giggle and back away some.

"Mm, kitten wants to be playful it seems." He turns around and quickly grabs you, pulling you right against him. Wrapping his arms around you, he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck and he steps into the shower. He grins and steps under the water, getting you wet first.

"Kitten is wet in more than one place now." He chuckles and you stick your tongue out at him. "Don't stick that tongue out at me, kitten, unless you plan on using it." He smirks at you. You smile and lean down, slotting your lips with his, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He groans softly and you feel his dick twitch under you. He gently grips your ass a little as you make out. He gently readjusts you so he can slide his cock inside you, making you moan in his mouth. He pulls away with a smirk.

"Such a good kitten, taking me so well." He presses your back against the wall, bottoming out in you. "Who's good kitten are you, baby?"

"Ahh..yours..yours Minho. Only yours." You moan, feeling every inch of him that slips in you, filling you up.

"Good girl." You clench around him at the praise. He chuckles and leans down, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking marks onto your skin. He slowly starts to fuck up into you, gripping your ass. You moan out, tilting your head for him. Your nails gently run along his skin, the stream of water hitting his back making his skin slick.

He chuckles against your neck as he thrusts hard into you, making you gasp and moan. He kisses along your skin, leaving occasional marks. He leaves enough with the knowledge you'll have to cover them up come Monday. He grins as he picks up his pace, thrusting into you hard and fast. He coos at you when you moan and whimper. He can feel you getting close as you clench around him more.

"You gonna cum for me, kitten? Gonna be a good girl and cum around my hard cock?" He whispers in your ear, making you shiver despite being in a hot shower.

"Yes..yes. Wanna cum…" You arch your back, pressing your breasts against him. He grinds deep into you and you moan his name, cunt clenching around him hard as you cum. Minho latches onto your neck again and bites and kisses as he fucks you through your high before cumming deep into you.

"Good girl. Such a good kitten." He coos, peppering your face with kisses as you come down from your high, making you let out a breathy giggle. He helps you stand up, sliding out of you. "Let's get you cleaned up and head to bed. How's that sound baby?" He steps back under the stream, pulling you with him. You nod, getting sleepy. Minho smiles and carefully washes you and himself. He turns the water off and steps out of the cubicle. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs a towel for you, drying you off.

Once you're back in his bedroom, he tosses on a pair of shorts to sleep in and grabs you a silky set of pajamas to sleep in, knowing they're one of your favorites. You lay in bed and cuddle up to him.

"Thank you for coming to Jisung's birthday party, kitten." He kisses your head.

"Of course, baby. I went for you, though." You cuddle as close to him as possible.

"I know, but still. Thank you." He rubs your back. "I do still hope that you two can be more friendly towards each other."

"Mm." You yawn, sleep finally taking you over. Minho smiles softly and kisses your head again. A few minutes pass and he hears a quiet knock on his bedroom door. He looks over and sees Jisung peeking his head through the door. Minho raises an eyebrow at him as the younger boy walks in and quietly shuts the door. He walks over to Minho's side of the bed and climbs in behind him.

"Sorry hyung. My room is cold and you're warm." Jisung said. He still sounded drunk, but could just be sleepy too. Minho laughs softly, trying not to wake you.

"You're fine. Just don't wake kitten." He whispers. Jisung nods a little, moving close to Minho. Minho chuckles a little as Jisung's hard on was pressed right against him. He sometimes forgets that his friend gets really horny when drunk. Jisung lays his head against Minho's back, the older man settles in, holding you close before he falls asleep himself.

——

Minho wakes up early the next morning, you and Jisung are still fast asleep in his bed. He carefully gets up, making sure not to jostle either of you, before leaving his room to use the bathroom then heading to the kitchen to make breakfast.

You turn over in your sleep, onto your side, facing away from the boy in Minho's bed. Jisung moves in his sleep as well, looking for Minho's warmth. He moves across the bed, finding you. He wraps his arm around you, thinking that you were his friend. You both sleep a little longer until Jisung wakes up, pressed right against you. He inhales deeply, smelling Minho's shampoo on you.

Jisung stretches and cuddles into you a bit more, thinking that you were Minho. He stays like that for a bit before he realizes that he's in Minho's bed, with you and not Minho, morning wood present, pressed against your ass. He scrambles out of the bed and lands on the floor with a thud, waking you up. You sit up and look around before you see him on the floor, hair a mess. You roll your eyes before glaring at him.

"What are you doing in here, Jisung? Minho put you in your bed last night." You cross your arms under your chest.

"I got cold and Minho-hyung usually lets me sleep in his bed when I'm cold." He snaps back, trying to hide his obvious morning wood. You roll your eyes again and get up out of bed. You leave the bedroom and head to the kitchen where you hear your boyfriend cooking. You walk up to Minho at the stove. You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his back.

"Good morning, baby. Did you let Jisung sleep in bed with us last night?" You ask, interlocking your fingers around him.

"Mhmm. He said he was cold so he slept behind me. He usually does it when you aren't here, but he would have still been a little drunk." Minho says, flipping a pancake.

"Mm." You stay like that for a moment before letting go to get a drink. Jisung walks out when you get to the fridge, hair no longer a mess. He was still shirtless, his skin flawless, v-line on full display as he wore his sleep pants low.

"You're staring, Y/n." Jisung says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look away from him and grab your juice from the fridge.

"No I wasn't." You pour yourself a cup, putting the container back in the fridge.

"Sure you weren't. I didn't see it with my own two eyes." He says dryly, rolling his eyes. "I know I'm hot, but don't stare." You turn your head to glare at him, taking a sip of your drink before walking back to Minho. Your boyfriend plates up some pancakes and looks at you, a soft smile on his face.

"Can you bring this to the table, kitten?" He holds up a plate full of pancakes. You nod and take it from him. You bring it to the table, Jisung immediately taking one and biting half of it, his cheeks puffing up like a squirrel. You roll your eyes, going back to stand with Minho.

"Oh, baby." You look up at him, he lets out a soft 'hmm?'. "You remember my friend, Felix? You met him at last year's Christmas party. It's his birthday today."

"I remember. I sent him a gift basket of baking recipes and the like last week as an early gift. We talked a lot during that party." Minho looks at you and smiles. He leans down and pecks your lips. Jisung makes a gagging sound and Minho just chuckles.

"Don't be jealous, Jisung. I know kitten is beautiful, but no reason to be jealous." Minho winks at his friend. Jisung makes another gagging sound. "Just think about what we talked about last night, if you remember what I said." He laughs before plating up more food, taking it to the table. Jisung shakes his head and sits at the table and eats with you and Minho.

——

The following Monday, you were at work. You worked at a company that helped promote idols, whether it was making images or trailers/videos, or anything that they needed, your company did it all. You worked with Felix, Hyunjin and Changbin out of a closed off office on your floor. You were the team leader for this specific section, but still answered to Chan, the manager of the floor. Chan had called your team into the meeting room for a quick meeting.

"Y/n, Felix, Changbin, Hyunjin. I called you in to let you know that we have a new employee, and I'm assigning him to your team." He sits back in his seat. "You're the best team I have here, so I know you'll do great with a new body on hand." You nod at him. He turns towards the door and waves his hand, indicating for the new hire to come in.

You turn in your seat, smile on your face as you're excited to see who your new coworker was, just for the smile to fade as soon as you see Jisung walk in. He steps inside and freezes upon seeing you. He swallows and steps up to the table that you are all sat at.

"This is our new employee, Han Jisung. Jisung, this is Y/n, our team leader of the group you'll be working for, Changbin, Hyunjin and Felix." Chan says, indicating to each of the boys as he stands from his seat. "Y/n will show you to your desk, and will give you the rundown of how we do things, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask her." Chan smiles and leaves the meeting room. You sat there, still shocked. The other three members of your team all get up to greet their new member. Jisung greets them back, trying to hide his shock.

You stand up and look at Jisung. "Follow me, Jisung. I'll show you around the office." You leave the meeting room, Jisung follows behind not long after. You showed him some of the other offices on your floor, all managed by Chan, where the bathrooms were and where the break room was. You showed him where Chan's office was, his secretary and assistant's desks outside his office. You introduce Seungmin and Jeongin to Jisung before taking him back to your office where your team had already come back to.

"This is where you'll be sitting." You point to a desk at the end of the layout, opposite of where you sit. There were a few other empty desks closer to you, but you didn't really want him near you.

"Understood." He was trying to be professional in front of the others. By the time he settled in, it was time for lunch. You usually went to lunch with your team, so being cordial, you offered to take Jisung out. He looked at you, suspiciously, making you roll your eyes.

"I usually go to lunch with my team. You don't have to go." You stand up and grab your jacket.

"She really does, Jisung. She enjoys spending time with the team, even if she doesn't show it." Felix says, teasing you. You smile and roll your eyes again.

"If you're coming, then come. If not, then don't." You walk out of the office behind the other boys. Jisung hesitates for a moment before grabbing his coat and following behind you. It was Felix's turn to decide, and he wanted tteokbokki. You follow Felix to a table, sitting next to him with Changbin on your other side, Hyunjin across from Felix and Jisung across from you. You all place your order and sit quietly. Jisung chances a glance at you and sees your eyes flick to him. He makes a disgusted face and looks away from you.

Jisung chances a few more glances at you throughout lunch. He genuinely had thought about what Minho had said on his birthday. He did think that you were pretty, beautiful even. But you two had been fighting since you were kids. He honestly didn't think there would even be a chance for friendship given your history. When the food came, you all ate, the team started a conversation with Jisung. As your lunch hour came to a close, you and your team got up, you paying for their food, Jisung's included. He was honestly surprised.

You all walk back to the office, Jisung trailing behind you, the other three walking ahead of you. Jisung stares at you a few times on the walk back.

"I feel you staring, Jisung. Cut it out." You say without turning around.

"I'm not staring." He shifts his gaze from you. "Thank you for lunch, though." He says quietly. You simply nod. Going back up to your floor, you all go back to your desks, Jisung going to his before getting up to go to you. He needed help with his login as Chan hadn't given it to him, but had it on your desk. You get up and go around to his desk. You help him log in and show him how to use the programs he needs to use. That continues until the end of the work day.

"Can I ride home with you and Minho, Y/n? I took a cab here as I didn't know you worked here." He was quiet, not wanting to ask you for things.

"Ask Minho. He'll be here any minute." You look up from your phone, looking out for your boyfriend's car. Once he pulls up, you smile and get in the passenger seat. Jisung leans down so he can see Minho.

"Hyung, can I ride home with you and Y/n? I don't want to call another cab." He chuckles softly.

"Yeah, that's fine. Hop in." Minho says. He leans over and kisses your cheek as Jisung climbs in the back seat. The younger one makes a disgusted face again when Minho kisses your cheek. Minho laughs when he sees the face his friend makes. "What do you guys want for dinner?"

——

You were in your bathroom, taking off your makeup while Minho ordered pizza. Once your makeup was off, you changed out of your work outfit and into more comfortable clothes. One of Minho's oversized shirts that hung off your shoulder, and a pair of your sleep shorts, hidden just underneath Minho's shirt. You step out into the common area and Jisung covers his eyes from where he sits on the couch.

"Please put some pants on, Y/n." He peeks through his fingers.

"I am." You lift the hem of the shirt up to show off the shorts.

"Oh." Jisung lowers his hands. Minho walks in from the kitchen with three cups. You take one from him and thank him, smiling at him.

"I'm going to hop in the shower while we wait for the food to be delivered. It's already paid for, so when it gets here, just give him the tip money on the table by the door." Your boyfriend says. He kisses you softly after setting the other cups down.

"Will do. Thank you, baby." You kiss him back and he walks off to go shower. Not long after the water starts, there's a knock at the front door. You answer it and it's the delivery driver. You take the pizza and hand him the tip money. You notice him looking you over.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing home alone like this?" He grins, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm not alone." You say, holding the pizza boxes. "I'm here with my boyfriend."

"I don't see anyone inside. So it looks like you're alone." He chuckles, trying to step inside. "And I don't think the old 'I have a boyfriend' card is going to work." You take a step back as he keeps trying to come inside.

"Ji..?" You call out, getting nervous. The delivery guy starts to reach for your arm, saying something that you weren't listening to. "Jisung?" You say calling louder.

"What?" He says coming around the corner to see you. He sees what's happening. "What's wrong man? Did my girlfriend forget to give you the tip?" He steps over to you, taking the pizza and setting it on the table by the door. He drapes his arm over your shoulder. The delivery guy looks between you and Jisung.

"This guy isn't your boyfriend." He scoffs.

"No, I am. Now if you'd kindly leave, I won't press charges for trespassing." Jisung watches him.

"Prove it then." This guy is getting ballsy. Jisung shrugs and turns you so you're facing him. He gives you a look that says 'trust me'. You didn't trust him, and really didn't want to, but you nod slightly and Jisung leans down, slotting his lips with yours. Your first thought was that you wanted to pull away or push him away, that kissing him would've been horrible. But it wasn't. His lips were nice and soft. He slowly licks your lips, asking for entrance. He wanted to be as convincing as possible to get the guy to leave.

You bring one hand up to his cheek as you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside your mouth, one of his hands going to the back of your head, having you tilt your head back a bit to deepen the kiss. He tasted of cherries. You faintly hear the guy scoff and what sounded like the door closing. Jisung stepped closer to you, pulling you close to him at the same time as he continued to kiss you.

He gently bites your lower lip and you groan softly. He releases your lip and captures you in a kiss once more, his fingers threading into your hair, a soft moan slips from him into your mouth. You hear someone clear their throat off to the side of you and that's when Jising pulls away, his lips kiss bruised. You imagine yours don't look any better. Jisung wipes his lips on the back of his hand, putting on a disgusted look again. You turn your head and see Minho standing there just in a towel.

"Minho.."

[nerdishpursuits]

What really amuses me (or annoys, depending) is that we always manage to look for more than meets the eye, assuming the show has more depth to it, when in truth it’s lacking in so many ways.

We seem to forget what we’re dealing with here. And what that is? Is a novela, pure and simple. A Spanish one, true. But a novela just the same. And while in the beginning, for the most part, quality prevailed? It’s more and more obvious the show is becoming plagued by the inconsistencies of its genre.

We’ll never have a sensitive topic such as SA treated with the care and empathy it deserves (if anything, it encourages the message that victims are better off if they keep silent; the SA itself and the inherent misogyny? they were just background noise for the now 20+ episodes narrative of a woman suffering the consequences of looking for justice that was legally denied)

We’ll never see Fina’s recovery as it should have been treated.

We’ll never see Marta’s own trauma addressed.

I severely doubt we’ll see them healing together in a way that feels rewarding, empathetic and well thought out. We’ll get hints that they spent the night together, that they talked about their feelings and addressed the problems they’re facing. Hints and more hints. Surface level depictions that don’t really bother going beneath the surface. One of those high-speed trains that seldom stop at any station for more than a few minutes, the scenery a blur at the edge of one’s vision. Expecting more? Well, it might be asking for too much. We either enjoy what we can and as much as we can, or we desist. Plain and simple.

As for more of today’s events?

1. Just like Marta is a grown up, capable of making her own decisions? So is Tasio. For Carmen to lay all the blame at Marta’s feet is ridiculous. As is the show persisting in comparing her to Jesús, who is a de facto muderer and whose violent actions don’t have repercussions + let’s add Don Pedro to the list, whose revenge ended with the murder of the one responsible for his son’s death - I doubt there’ll be consequences as, after all, he’s a man and allowed to get away with it. For Marta though? Pandora’s box and all its blessings. May I just say succumbing to rage and helplessness one time, does not a violent person make, nor does it undo the moral tapestry of Marta’s character (for all the show loves to punish her for it).

But I’m digressing. Tasio is not a saint and to pretend otherwise is laughable (Carmen herself suspected he orchestrated the entire thing to curry favour with his father? I mean. Her trust in him is somewhere below sea level, no need to pretend otherwise. More so, she seems to forget it was Damián who paid for Tasio’s out-of-jail-card: claiming Marta’s family wouldn’t help him is borderline absurd). Marta didn’t force him to do anything, he chose to help her of his own free will. And at the end of the day? Marta never shies away from doing the hard thing: taking accountability. And she does it every single damn time, no matter how hard it is. (let’s see if Tasio ever gets there, fully). And I now find myself needing a scene where Fina defends Marta with Carmen.

2. They found the most contrived way of using Marta’s journal against her - if it is her journal, that is; for all we know it’s Marta’s calculus notebook (Santiago invading their safe space and just so happening to find it laying there? It’s not only supremely absurd but a sacrilege as well, yet another violation of their intimacy). Rather funnily, this show might be trying to preach violence is not the answer yet here we are, ascending to the next level altogether (I personally don’t see any other way to be rid of Santiago - his demise needs to be imminent and it needs to happen). Not to mention how outlandish it is that a nobody is able to get into Fina’s cell, waltz into Marta’s office or walk onto their property like so? This level of absurd is top-tier for sure.

3. The one consistent thing? Marta’s love for Fina and Fina’s love for Marta. That hasn’t changed and it won’t (it’s very much obvious Marta is nothing but irritated with Pelayo and for good reason: that man is like fungus, chemical treatment needed)

Oh well. Since the inane seems to be the way? Let’s join the circus: Santiago is moved to tears upon reading Marta’s journal and gives them his blessing, for Pelayo and Santiago it’s love at first ‘stache and they buy the property next to Marta’s so they can be felices los quatro, Jesús launches a business promoting hair-growth (dar en el calvo) and Eladio writes a book in prison (from SIcario to NOcario).

On the bright side? Flirty and Horny Fina is back tomorrow? Or so it would seem. She’s been dearly missed 😌 Furthermore? For everything that’s not being said, shown or addressed? It’s still a feat Mafin remains the healthiest relationship on the show. No doubt about it!!!

[spectral-phases]

Tim Drake as Rook (and Blackbird)

I've seen posts floating around trying to suggest new names and new costumes for him, and I've seen really great designs (u/Hunkerdown_son's Gray Ghost suit) that I like a lot more than what he's gotten. (Poor kid's gone back to Robin and was feuding with Damian about who's the better Robin? Like, boy, you could be in college, you are a whole-ass adult now, god damn, can the writers let you develop). There's Cardinal, Flamebird, Redbird, every red bird there is. And like, I get it, Red Robin was one of his more iconic runs (pre-Flashpoint), his OYL costume was primarily red, he was Red Robin wearing basically a Robin costume for a little while there too.

One of the name's I've seen is Rook. And that fascinates me. I actually had a hazy image of it pop into my mind, like a terrible "got any more pixels?" JPG picture of an artbook all zoomed-in and blown out one, of what that might look like.

(Artist's recreation of the above described image)

So I made it.

(Look, I know. I know. That is not how "Rook" would be stylized for the logo, but listen, listen. Cursive k basically has a mini-R in it and I was having fun with this. Okay? I don't draw much these days and I'm not a comic artist/graphic designer. I do math for a living.) (I spent very little time on the logo for Blackbird, but you get the idea. The "R" gets twisted nicely into a "B" for Blackbird, in my opinion.)

Design choices and everything below. Very stupidly long.

Rook first because I know the color is going to be a sell.

Rook is a bird in the corvid family, with crows, so they're exceptionally smart birds. Rooks are also the name for the chess piece that can perform the trickster maneuver called castling where they trade places with the king (It's not hard to do, necessarily, just like, a 4D move compared to the normal chess moves, and not something the average person knows about). Being that he's been relegated to the "boy genius" role and he is vicious and cunning with his mind more than almost anything else (See Robin #137's "Show your face here again and we'll frame you for the kind of crimes even other hardened kills don't condone or forgive" speech, him blowing up the LoA's computers in Red Robin #8 after somehow creating a program/virus on their systems while under constant supervision, or all of Red Robin's "The Hit List" arc). (I know he's not the only one who can do or has done, things like this, but he does it a lot, is my point).

Rooks, the birds, as a symbol of death are also fascinating to connect to Tim. He's never "died" like the other Robins have, but his mantra in his introduction is basically "Batman needs a Robin." Because Batman/Bruce has been traumatized by losing his son, Jason, and is spiraling, dialing up the violence towards criminals, dialing down his ability to care whether or not he survives, destroying his interpersonal relationships in the process. Death as a symbol can mean the literal figurative death, but it also can mean the end of a phase of life, of letting something go, and moving onto a new chapter.

And that's what Bruce needed to do. He, of course, would always miss Jason, but he needed to move past the pain, move past the agony, become what Batman was supposed to be again. Tim's the one who got him there. He's the one who convinced Bruce to open that new door. Tim's the one who put the "family" in Bat-Family because Bruce sure as shit was not going to do that. Here, this post explains that a bit more eloquently.

https://www.tumblr.com/thattimdrakeguy/190044791065/would-you-consider-tim-the-heart-of-the-batfamily

Rooks, the birds, are also blue/purple in color, which I think is great for Tim. I know, I know, everyone wants him with red. I get. I really, truly, get it. But let's just...take a step back and go outside of the box a little for his color. Now, I know, not everyone keeps the same color consistently (the number of times Nightwing has just bounced between Blue and Red, for example), but there is usually a "main" color strongly associated with each member of the Bat-Family.

Nightwing gets blue, duh (and also bluebird). Red Hood gets red (and also Nightwing when he's having a shit time and also Kate Kane's Batwoman and also Damian's Redwing). Damian's Robin often gets green (though I low-key associate green with Tim's Robin more than Damian's, Tim's no longer going to be Robin here, so Damian can have it). The Signal gets yellow (and so does Cass's Batgirl/Black Bat/Orphan). Stephanie as Spoiler/Batgirl has purple (and so does Huntress and Barbara's Batgirl). And Oracle gets lime green.

We don't need any more red symbols in the family. It's already out of hand without throwing Tim in there. And out of all the siblings, he's the only one without a distinct color.

Anyway. If we dip into tertiary colors, we can fix all of that. I made a mock-up of what I mean drawing the symbols mostly by memory in a few minutes. For Huntress/Helena Bertinelli, I just used her mask.

See how Tim as Rook gets to be wedged in between Nightwing's blue and Stephanie's purple with Violet? Tim Drake is a Dick Grayson fan first, Nightwing fan second, and person a distant third, so going more blue with his scheme is a much better fit. You could come up with a name for him to be teal, but violet is better for Rook, and like he's also close to Stephanie's Spoiler/Batgirl colors and say what you will of his relationship with her, she is important to his character as friend/girlfriend/friendly-ex. And Dick went from "Red/green/yellow" to "Blue/black" so Tim can go from "Red/green/yellow/black" to "violet/black."

Oh, and it lets him get his "R" back. The one from the 90's that's just so iconic that he was literally introduced with as Robin. If we can have a million different bat symbols then we can have two different R's floating around and no one will be confused.

And anyway, with all of that in mind, and that terrible image haunting me, I decided to draw a quick reference sheet for what Rook might look like. I think I spent like 2 hours on the final version, with an hour and a half on sketches I hated/deleted. Anyway.

I had a nice dark green in here instead of sky blue and a dark purple instead of dark blue, but then I was looking at the purple/green combo and "I'm in dangered" my way out of the Joker color-combo.

Instead I decided, since he's a young person and the violet I chose was sort of blacklight-esque, then why not make him look like some kinda blacklight glowing guy. The youth these days still love that kinda stuff, right? And it ties into the themes of being a light in the dark and crime-scene stuff and all that. The colors came from how lead glass reacts under black light, and while I imagine the violet parts do show up in black light, it's the light blue parts that actually glow in blacklight.

If you want to draw this design or make up your own Rook design or tweak this design go ahead, like, for example if you wanted him to have the sharp pointy cuffs that I couldn't get to look good at all (but please tag me if you do, I wanna see it, unless you're shit-talking me. Then don't tag me.)(Shit talking means "my god, this asshole who cannot draw at all" and not "It was okay, but I thought it might be better like this/with some tweaks/more coherent colors" one I can take and the former will make me cry).

(If the notes are hard to read, they will be in text at the very bottom)

Obviously, I got a little too obsessed with the mask for my own good. I didn't want him to just have a domino mask, I liked the protectiveness of his Red Robin cowl (if not the look), and I wanted more coverage while also having his hair out because he has really good hair. So it goes around the back of his head in a band, protecting his temples and the back of his head, but nothing else for his hair to show. It is supposed to blend with his hair so we get the illusion of the cowl, but drawn by someone better/more time/shading it'd be fairly obvious up front where his hair and mask are, but less so from the back. And Tim has done the mask under a mask gag before and a self-destructing mask, so I feel like him having approximately 30-billion fail-safes to prevent it from just being pulled off of him is in-character.

And then I decided, that since Tim is Nightwing fan second, he can have a red version of the outfit named "Blackbird" for when he's feeling a little moody or feisty the same as Nightwing has the red Nightwing suit for...reasons ("We wear red in new continuities" or whatever. Why have one outfit when you can have several?). This time the colors were inspired by red cadmium glass under blacklight and the red winged blackbird.

Red Winged Blackbird's symbolically are "a sign of change and transformation. They represent the power of love and compassion, as well as the need to take action in order to make positive changes in your life. The red winged blackbird is a symbol for spiritual growth, inner strength, courage, determination and self-awareness." Which. You know. Fits Tim. And there's red. So. I feel like that's an easy sell. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I wanted to reference his OYL, Post-Crisis Red Robin (regular and data alter), and Robin (Post-Crisis/Rebirth) outfits for the design. I didn't care for much of his post-Flashpoint Red Robin outifts, adding Nomura/Kingdom Hearts zippers levels of belts to him or just being Robin with two "R"s for a symbol and bad hair. You can see the OYL in the edges of the cape and the interior of the mask. Robin, Rebirth in particular, with his elbow pads and knee pads, shoulder armor and the shape of his boots. Red Robin in the bandolier harness/belt thing he's got, but every thing on it is one of those hammer space utility belt pouches the Bats are so well known for, so he can have a bajillion of them as the "tool using" Robin. The "V" center and arm-stripe/finger-stripe combo is, obviously, reminiscent of Nightwing, and his Red Robin data alter, which is also reflected in the larger mask (though the nose is not as beak-like).

(OYL References, the dialogue in the second to last panel of the first reference is misattributed, in case you were confused as to why Tim is dissing his outfit and Dick is talking like Tim)

(Red Robin References)

(Robin References)

And obviously, I just put his "R" symbol on a circle and called it a day. Although I was clearly going off of memory instead of a direct reference, but whatever. Whatever. It fits better in a circle the way I did it. And a circle is a better buckle/clip than the oval, which was a deliberate choice. So. Anyway.

Notes (from top left to bottom right, grouped by what they're describing):

Shoulder Shot: "We're brining back his iconic 'R' from the 90's for 'Rook. (pointing to the R symbol)." "The cape can be rolled back to reveal some light shoulder armor that doesn't change his silhouette when the cape is down (pointing to his shoulder armor and the rolled back cape that is reminiscent of his over the shoulder "black with yellow" capes)." "Feather pattern that emulates Nightwing's arm/fingerstripes (pointing to the side of his arm)." "His elbow pads have the same shape as his kneepads for the skaterboy vibe. (pointing to the pads over his arms and knees)."

Sketch of harness: "Bandolier harness hides under the cape that clips into his insignia (pointing to the symbol in the center)." "Each space is a pouch (pointing to every area between the pointed ridges (which are hollow tubes with screw caps that can also hold things for maximum hammerspace))."

The detailed shot of the mask: "The face mask is partial emotive with white lenses that have thermal and night-vision (next to the white eyes)." "The foil layer of the mask can peel off unless actively held when the mask is lifted, and cling to his skin with a static charge that makes it almost impossible to peel from his skin (pointing to the teal circuit bit that is lifted from the pointy bit of the mask (the circuits are water/sweat proof, don't worry))." "There are dozens of magnetic locks that have to hit in the right on/off pattern to life all layers of the mask. Each finger in his gloves can have an active magnetic charge, so there are over a thousand combinations (pointing to the foil layer and the inside of the mask)."

The sketches of the mask lowered and raised: "The back of the mask is made of interlocking combs that seal together with metal locks to avoid it coming off unintended (pointing to the back of the raised mask)." "Durable, flexible rubber-like material (pointing to the sides of the mask, back, and the expanding fan like section that allows it to raise while still being one-piece and the top of the mask that would roll against his forehead)." "The mask can be lifted up when the locks are undone (pointing to the raised and lowered mask and the expanding accordion like structure)."

The sketch of a side profile of his head with his bangs and face half there: "Where does the mask end and his hair begin? Like Kujo Jotaro's cap, the world may never know (pointing to the back of his head where the black mask and black hair would blend together)." "The back of the mask combs through his hair and the top layers of his hair cover it (providing an actual answer)." "The nose of the mask has padding that protects his nose from breaks and conceals the shape of his nose and cheeks (next to his nose, which is half covered by the mask)."

[beef-brisket]

The whole crowd was infatuated with Adam's voice, and that included Lucifer.

The song started slow with lyrics that broke the crowds heart, all of them relating to the heartbreak and betrayal Adam was signing about.

Even as the tune picked up and people started dancing, the lyrics were still somber.

Lucifer was the only one in the crowd not moving, completely floored by the song. How could Adam be this hurt? Or have such bad luck in love? Was this Lucifer's fault?

Once the song ended and Adam walked off stage to everyone cheering and clapping, he went to the designated drinks table and started to mix himself something. He was thriving off the buzz of being on stage, but he almost wanted into the blonde man behind him.

Adam: Oops- sorry man.

Lucifer blushed, mustering up the courage to talk to Adam, but before he could get the words out, a large man made his presence known and asked Adam for a dance.

He couldn't believe this. Can't this guy see Lucifer's trying to do something here?!

Adam: I'd love to!

Lucifer: I-.

Hank: Sweet, babe. Let's show you a good time~.

Before Lucifer could even understand what was going on, Adam chuckled as the man took his hand gently and led him into a crowd of people.

Sighing, Lucifer knew it was almost impossible to talk to Adam here. He's a catch! And everyone in this damn house knows it.

Poring himself a strongly mixed vodka, Lucifer found a railing on the second floor that overlooked the party. Sitting down, he slotted his legs between the balusters.

His eyes scanned the crowd for Adam and the man, and of course, he found them quickly. They were dancing, Adam leaning against him. The man's hands on his hips as they slow danced to the song. Adam looked like he was enjoying himself.

Lucifer should feel happy for him, but there was a part of him that was furious. How was he meant to make it up to him if Adam was actively going after other people?

Verosika: Hey.

Lucifer jumped and looked up: Uh-.

Verosika: Nice costume, ever think you should put on a human disguise when coming to earth?

Lucifer blushed: I just-.

Verosika chuckled and sat next to Lucifer: Do t worry about it, your highness.

Lucifer: Wait-! You know?!

Verosika rolled her eyes: Obviously. Apart from the demon form, you have the same hair and everything. I know it's a popular look, but fuck shorty, you were staring at Adam with such intensity, I'm surprised he didn't burn up.

Lucifer: ...Everyone's looking at him. How am I different?

Verosika: Because of HOW you're looking at him. Your minds are running a mile a minute. Everyone else only looks at Adam with one or two things on their minds. You on the other hand? You've got a lot going on, huh?

Lucifer sighed: You've got no idea...

Succubus au

@beef-brisket

@fanofstuff01

(This au was originally on @things-aren't-what-they-seem66blog and was originally thought of by an anonymous ask)

The roaring of the crowd and the playing of his guitar deafened his ears but the incubus didn't care. He loved the way they cheered his name while he shredded on his axe. With one final strum, his song was done. He raised his arms and gave the horns, to which his fans reciprocated, and bid them all goodnight. He walked away his hands still raised until he was out of sight from them. Adam sighed heavily and wiped the sweat with his forearm as he made his way to his dressing room.

Once there he flopped onto the couch and groaned. Though Adam loved being a rockstar and having adoring fans, he wouldn't lie to himself, each performance, especially concerts, can be quite draining since he always had to prepare with mic checks and making sure he sounded right. Steve, his producer/manager/on-and-off-again fling, always assured him that these were mandatory. Just one of those sacrifices that come with being a star. Still, Adam felt a little like shit and he needed a drink, a hard one. Unfortunately, his evening wasn't quite over yet as knocking was heard from the other side of the door then a voice called out.

Assistant: Excuse me? Commander? I'm sorry for bothering you but I brought the VIP guests here with me.

Adam sighed completely forgetting about that. Almost all VIPs get access to meet him after every show. Though he loved his fans coming to him and saying how much they loved him, maybe even getting some head from the older crowd, tonight, he didn't want to. However, he knew that he didn't have much of a choice. Unless he wanted Steve up his ass, and not in a good way. Letting out a long groan he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and yelled out to her.

Adam: Bring them in.

He closed his eyes and sighed once again as he heard the door open and feet shuffle in. He prepared himself for the immediate responses of squealing and clamoring over to shake his hand. However, he was not prepared for a familiar voice to call out his name.

Charlie: A, Adam?

He opened his eyes and standing in front of him were Charlie, Vaggie, and a one-eyed sinner.

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x pregnant!reader

warning : overly cuuute husband kelvin (I need him)

husband!kelvin who knew he wanted you to be the mother of his kids after y’all kissed for the first time.

husband!kelvin who couldn’t help but smile every time he would see you running towards every kid you would see at a family function.

husband!kelvin who chokes with either his drink or his spit when asked about a baby with you.

"Damn you be in my business ?"

"Well.."

"Don’t do that." he would laugh.

husband!kelvin who overtime develops the cute habit of caressing your belly when cuddling with you before sleeping.

husband!kelvin who annoyingly starts to sing random lullabies, which leads to you being pissed off because the songs are now stuck in your head.

husband!kelvin who quietly snaps pictures of you each time you find yourself with a baby in your arms, gushing about how beautiful you look.

bestie!aaron who tells kelvin he has a baby fever, which makes him wonder if you actually wanted to have kids with him.

"bro, look how cute she looks !" he said, showing aaron a picture of you holding your cousin’s son.

"you would make cute babies, that’s for sure."

"huh ?" he asked, dumbfounded. "you think she wants to have kids with me ?" he seriously asked aaron.

"brother, I don’t think she would’ve accepted to get married to you if she didn’t want your babies." aaron simply answers.

"You right ! hum.. baby ?" kelvin said, now searching for you.

husband!kelvin who when he finally finds you in the kitchen, feeding one of your brother’s kid, definitely knows he wants to have kids with you. Now.

"you would make the best mother, you know that baby ?" he says, coming behind you while circling his arms around you.

pregnant!reader who is a mess after actually finding out she was indeed pregnant and immediately calls Kelvin’s mom.

husband!kelvin who laughed in your sister’s face when she congratulated him, not knowing he didn’t know you were pregnant.

husband!kelvin who cries in your arms when you told him you were pregnant. He never let you go after that.

husband!kelvin who decided to buy a camera and record every little thing you would do. From the first sonogram, to the first clothes you bought for the baby, etc.. at every end of the day he would film himself saying good night to the baby.

"okay, so today we’re finding out if you’re a boy or a girl ! What are you thinking mama ?" He says, turning the camera so you would be seen on the screen.

Sitting pretty in the passenger seat, you put your sunglasses on, smiling. "I think it is a girl," you say, caressing your 4 month belly. "I do too actually !" Kelvin nodded.

husband!kelvin who can help but feel bad for you every time you would throw up and crave weird things such as ice with pickles (wtfff) but would nonetheless give you anything you desire.

husband!kelvin who can’t help but worship the ground you walk on everyday. His eyes would glisten each time he would see you wear whatever that made your pretty bump visible.

"smile for the camera mama !" he would say.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would jump out of the bed when you told him that your water broke, freaking out already.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who holds your hand through it all, looking at you with concern as he watched your face contorting in pain. he would do anything to ease your pain : ice chips ? He got you. Hand ? Take it. Need him close ? he would do anything to be in your skin.

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who is so proud of you for going through all of this and handling it like the champ you are !

"You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you." He would whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. He would then kiss your forehead as you pushed. "c’mon you got it, the baby is almost here mama."

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would be nosy as hell, trying to see the baby coming out of you in live, almost pushing the doctor and nurses just so he could see.

girl dad!kelvin who waited a whole 9 months to be able to sing to you "your pum pum bring life ! your tight pum pum bring life !" While holding y’all daughter.

"You’ve got so much hair my love ! Yeah, you’re so pretty.."

@ melosliving 2025

[star-spacer]

You Don't Need to Try to Belong

Sorry if the tone near the end doesn't quite match the rest of the fic something happened in the middle of me writing it and like all good writers do I used this as an emotional outlet. But hey, who doesn't want Marco to hold them amirite? This was meant to be shorter, but the rest of the crew hijacked it like the pirates they were.

Phoenix Marco x Reader (fluff, near-death experiences, dash of sickfic & hurt/comfort)

As the unofficial ‘Fixer-Upper’, the jack-of-all-trades of the Whiteboard Pirates with a helpful Devil Fruit to boot, you tend to overwork yourself helping any issues that arises. Sometimes at the detriment of your own health.

You don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing the sun rise over the horizon from your vantage point up in the Moby’s crow’s nest. 

The gentle blush of pink peeking over the horizon, watercolor-soft as the veil of the night pulled back. Blackness faded away to reveal the glittering waves of the ocean stretched seemingly infinitely all around you. It was a freedom given to you by the Whitebeard Pirates, one you could never repay.

Sunrise also had the added bonus of signifying the end of your lookout ship, the promise of your bed waiting for you.

Below you, on the deck, the morning bell rang out, signifying the official end of the night shift’s work. The hubbub of the ship coming to life stirred up as you climbed down the mast, seeing the specks of the other lookouts doing the same at the other crow’s nests. A few members glanced your way as your feet hit the deck, and you returned the greetings thrown at you, albeit with slightly less energy.

Your stomach growled as the aroma of food from the galley drifted over when you entered the halls. However, you didn’t join the others for breakfast like normal and instead went deeper into the Moby’s bowels to where the crew’s quarters were. You’d been bothered by a persistent headache all night, and you knew that going into the noisy mess hall would no doubt make it worse.

The shared cabin was thankfully empty for the most part, and you made it over to your hammock before collapsing into it and tugging the blanket up to your chin before blacking out, looking forward to the long, uninterrupted rest you’d get.

“WAKE UP!”

You grunted in pain as you were upended from your hammock, bedding and all falling down with you. Blearily, you sat up and squinted at the pair of legs in front of you, smacking your dry lips. You didn’t know how long it was since you’d fallen asleep, but you knew it was not long enough.

A freckled face and messy black hair invaded your vision, the inquisitive expression of one Portgas D. Ace showing who exactly it was that woke you up.

“Hey! Got a moment?”

Even though it was phrased as a question, you still found yourself forcibly dragged to your feet, his grip on your wrist the sole thing that kept you moving as you stumbled through the halls and out into the deck. Sunlight pierced your half-closed eyes, and you winced, squeezing them shut as you trusted Ace not to run you both into something. You two finally paused and you cracked your eyes open to show that you’d stopped in front of Striker, in all her dripping glory as she hung hoisted up over the deck.

Ace finally released your wrist, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry to drag ya all the to fix up the Striker for me? I’d ask Blenheim, but he’s with the other fleet right now.”

At the request of a fixing, you forcefully shook off your sleepiness. Tiredness still lingered, and that damn headache still nipped at your temple, but you pushed it all back. Alert eyes assessed the damage in front of you as you tuned into Ace’s chattering.

“I got cornered by a few small Marine scout boats and had to take the Striker through some sorta reef. Thought I got through it fine, but I guess the coral—”

A sudden thud.

You paused in your observation to haul Ace out of the way of the crew and lay him out straight before returning to the Striker. True to his word, the bottom of Striker’s hull was deeply scratched when you bent down to take a look at it. The wood was gouged in a few points, areas where leaks would’ve no doubt let in water. It was a miracle Ace made it back. You hummed at the thought, making a note to get Pops to talk with the young man about his recklessness.

The Striker swayed gently from the lines holding her up as you pushed gently, tilting your head to catch the sound of sloshing water in her bowels. It wouldn’t do to mend everything only to have her rot from the inside out by trapped moisture. When nothing came back, you nodded approvingly and crouched down, hand reaching up to touch the largest of the holes. There was a dim glow before the wood seemed to seal up wherever you dragged your fingers over it, returning to its previous pristine state. You did the same for the others, each spark and glow only tugging at the tiredness in your bones. It was light work, but you were still exhausted by the time you finished, opting to take a seat by Ace where he lay. You were only beginning to blink off into sleep when the young man sat back up.

“—scratched ‘er up real bad and—Oh.”

Ace blinked at the newly repaired full before turning to you, sending a thousand-kilowatt smile your way.

“F’xed it,” you mumbled, shooting him a thumbs up. Your head tilted to the side and you dozed off. While your Devil Fruit, the Mend Mend Fruit was extremely useful, it did take a toll on you.

Strong arms once again wretched you to your feet, and you squawked as Ace bodily hauled you off, cheerful as ever.

“Thanks so much! Let’s go get some food. I’m starvin’’”

You went limp in the newly minted commander’s hold, resigning yourself to your fate as he dragged you along to the mess. There were a few others there who were the stragglers from lunchtime.

Ace shifted you to drape over his shoulder like a sack as he assembled a plate for the two of you. The world flipped around as he set you down at a table, and you murmured your thanks, dragging heavy limbs to your utensils to force a few bites down.

A call of your name and a harried-looking Thatch halted right by your table, relief on his face. “There you are. Glad I could catch you. Think you can get that pipe done for us now?”

Your eyes widened as you straightened. Right. You were supposed to have stopped by this morning after breakfast to help fix up the leak in the piping that the division didn’t have the supplies to replace. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, Thatch.”

Shooting to your feet, you pushed your plate to Ace and quickly set towards the galley, Thatch on your tail. The Fourth Division greeted you, wrapping up post-meal duties as they avoided one particular section in specific. Someone already peeled away the wooden boards to expose the problematic pipe, and rags were stuffed along the spaces in the wall and sprawled on the floor. As you approached, you noticed that there was something on the pipe. You squinted at the stain and sniffed.

“Is this–Is this dried molasses?!?” 

Thatch whistled and adverted his eyes under your scrutinizing stare. “We had to make do.”

You exhaled despairingly, pressing your fingers into the sticky mess. It was concerning how often you all ran short on miscellaneous supplies, despite being an Emperor’s crew. A glow sparked up, and you sealed the gap.

The sticky, dark substance stuck to your fingers as you withdrew them, and your stomach suddenly churned. Rushing to an empty sink, you quickly washed it off as you called back, “I’m not cleaning that.”

“Fair,” Thatch said. He withdrew a rag from his chef apron. “Thanks for this.”

You hummed as you exited the galley.

Somehow, those two actions seemed to unleash a catalyst upon your peace. The promise of rest seemed further and further away as you were directed all over the ship, fixing this odd thing or that odd part. Your headache never went away, only getting worse as nausea was added to the list.

Skull called out his thanks as you bolted away from him, clapping a hand over your mouth as you beelined for the railing. You made it just in time to empty your stomach over the side. The only food in your stomach—the meager bits you managed to shovel down before Thatch interrupted—splashed sadly into the water.

Shivering, you closed your eyes to block out the sight of the swaying waters below you. The railing dug into your stomach as you slumped down into it. Everything felt hot and cold at once, and you admitted to yourself that maybe it was time to lie down. No more using your Devil Fruit for today.

As you were straightening up, a scuffle broke out from behind you. It was two recruits, roughhousing or fighting, you couldn’t care either way. But before you could move, one of them stumbled and slammed into you. Your eyes widened as your grip slipped, and because of the way you were leaning over the railing, you felt gravity tugging you to the wrong side as you pitched overboard.

Your wide eyes were fixed on the spot where you just were, too stunned to make a peep. There was a shout of alarm on board.

It was never fun falling from the Moby Dick. Its massive size meant nothing less than a painful impact, and even a few broken bones if you were unlucky.

But you wouldn’t call yourself lucky either way if you fell over the Moby in the first place.

You slammed into the waves.

The first thing that hit you was the pain. Like crashing into solid brick, your back ached from bearing the brunt of the impact. Then the insidious cold seeped in, past your clothes, past your skin, until everything went numb. Bubbles swirled past you in a dizzying spectacle, and it would’ve been pretty if not for the death grip of the weight pulling down on your limbs.

Motes of bubbles passed your lips, but you had the foresight to not open your mouth, to not breathe. But that was all you could do as you sunk deeper, black edging into your vision.

They always said that drowning was a horrible way to go, the choking of water in your lungs. But to you, it felt soft. Like the welcoming of the tiredness you’d carried around all day.

It’s so easy,

Your eyes fluttered, lips cracking open, allowing the saltwater to rush in.

You could get the rest you wanted.

You didn’t feel the arms clamping around your waist to drag you upward.

But you did notice as the two of you breached the surface, water spewing out of your mouth as you coughed. It burned going up, and you clung limply to the form you now identified to be Rakuyo as he stretched up his other arm. “Bring us up!”

He crushed you to his chest as the two of you shot up from the water, hauled up by his living flail. You both landed on the deck again, him on his feet while you were still in his hold. However, that quickly changed as your body spasmed.

“Woah there!” The man exclaimed, quickly crouching down so you wouldn’t meet a second painful impact if you spilled out of his arms.

“Someone grab Marco!”

Quickly, you were set on your side. Just in time as you retched. More seawater (seriously you don’t know how you swallowed so much) came up, through your nose, through your mouth. Warm hands rubbed your back as you gathered the strength to prop yourself up, as the spasms continued. It would’ve been mortifying to have the crew see you like this if you hadn’t seen these same full-grown men projectile vomit their dinner after a few too many drinks. As of right now, you were busy trying not to feel like death warmed over. Someone’s oversized sash fell around your shoulders as they used it to dry you off of the cold water.

“What’s going on, yoi?”

Marco’s voice was like a balm to your raw nerves as indistinct voices murmured over your head. Someone draped something soft over you (a towel?) and you sneezed.

Like the world’s most pathetic, bedraggled, wet cat, you were picked up from underneath your arms and passed over to warmer ones.

“H-Hol’ on,” you slurred, getting wrapped up in the fabric around your shoulders. Your head lolled against a warm chest. “Might throw—throw up.”

Marco shushed you. “Don’t worry about it, yoi.”

Blue and gold flames fluttered to life around you, your aches and coldness fading away. However, you still felt that bone-deep tiredness, and your lungs still rattled wetly. 

“I’m taking you to the infirmary. We have to monitor your lungs, just in case.”

Aw, man. You hated to be a bother.

Weakly wriggling in his grip, you voiced your protests, “‘M fine. L-Lemme jus’ go sleep it off.”

“You can rest in the infirmary. I healed your superficial injuries, but I can’t fix the drain your Devil Fruit already pulled from you or expel any potential water. Don’t fight me on this, yoi.”

You let out an unintelligible noise, sagging deeper into his hold. The hubbub of the ship fell away into muffled peace as he entered the infirmary, greeting the nurses there.

“Goodness! What happened?” Lisa asked as she pulled out more towels and a pair of spare clothes.

“We had a tumble off the deck,” Marco said, setting you down on a bed in the corner and stepping back for the nurse to let her set the clothes down by your side. He grabbed the privacy curtain, readying to pull it close as he asked you, “Think you can get changed, yoi? Lisa or another nurse can assist if you think you’ll need help.”

You looked down at your shaking hands, then to the set of folded clothes beside you. It was a simple enough shirt and pants, nondescript for their versatility. “I’ll be f-f-f-fine.”

The shiver that broke your words into a stutter wasn’t convincing, but Marco didn’t push it as he pulled the curtains closed around you to give you a bit of privacy. His voice came from the other side, “Let me know when you’re done, yoi.”

It took you much longer than you’d like to admit, wrangling yourself into the change of clothes, but just when Marco began shuffling on the other side of the curtain, you managed to pull the collar of the shirt over your head with your stiff limb and wrapped your hair in a towel.

“I’m d-do-done.”

The curtains were pulled open again and Marco stepped through. In the span of time it took for you to change, the man had collected equipment of his own. His stethoscope hung around his neck, and he carried a blanket rolled up under an arm and a thermometer.

“Just a precaution, yoi,” he said when he saw you eyeing his getup. You took the blanket when he handed it to you. The back of his hand came up to rest on your forehead and he hummed as he began putting on his stethoscope. “I want to listen to your lungs and keep you here to rest up.”

Letting out a put-upon sigh, you tilted your head back, staying still as Marco pressed the cold metal of the chest piece into your skin, expression calm as he focused on your breathing. After a few moments, he pulled away and tugged off the instrument.

“Your breathing sounds alright from what I could tell, yoi. But your temperature’s a little out of its normal range. How are you feeling, yoi?”

With the assessment done, you pulled away and curled up on the bed, tugging the blanket up. “Blegh, fine. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“You do that, yoi,” Marco said, patting your shoulder. “I’ll watch over you.”

Letting out a huff, you allowed the lull of sleep to finally pull you under.

***

Warm hands on your forehead and cheek stirred you from the fretful slumber you were in, and you murmured, trying to pull away from the disturbance. Your breath whistled when you sighed, nose closed by a painful pressure and the rattle when you breathed seemed more prominent than ever.

There was a quiet tut before they came back with greater insistence, pulling you into a sitting position. You resisted, but your limbs felt leaden when you tried to lift them up. A slow, pounding pain pulsed in your temples on top of that, intensifying when you cracked your eyes open. You squeezed them shut again, but that peek was enough to see the slight chastisement on Marco’s expression as you identified him to be the one taking care of you.

His voice was low, kept to a manageable level that wouldn’t upset your head as he said, “Looks like you’re getting a fever, yoi. That’s strange.”

Blue flickered through your closed eyes as a gentle wash of his flames coursed through you. The pounding in your head lessened

“Tried my best to alleviate some of your symptoms, but since most of them aren’t physical injuries, I don’t think helped much.”

“It’s fine,” you rasped, blinking the crustiness from your eyes as you sat up. “Thanks for tryin’”

He hummed, pulling away. “What I’m surprised about is that you’re getting so sick from a dip in the waters. As far as I’m aware, the waters in this part of the Grand Line should be temperate enough to avoid that issue, yoi. Unless…” He narrowed his eyes at you, suspicion flashing in his gaze as he picked up on your guilty air. “You were on deck at a time where you would usually be asleep, yoi. Why weren’t you resting?” 

“Listen,” you began. “You’re not allowed to scold anybody involved in it…”

Marco sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like I already know who it is, yoi?”

“Ace took me out to help fix Striker,” you agreed, ignoring Marco’s muttered ‘I knew it’. “Then we swung by the galley where there was something I forgot to fix for Thatch. Some of the crew caught me about, and it kind of escalated from there.”

The way the man tilted his head was distinctively avian. “Now, why would you do that, yoi? We’ve discussed using your Devil Fruit when you’re tired.”

You pursed your lips and adverted your eyes, shrugging. “I dunno. I couldn’t just say no.”

His eyes softened. “You know… You’re deserving of rest when you’re tired. You don’t need to bend over backward to please us. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Unbidden, you felt tears spring up in your eyes, and you blamed it on the mess running through your system, pulling away so you could wipe them.

However, Marco’s hands came up to hold your face, thumb wiping away the bit of saltiness that spilled over your lashes.

“Silly love,” Marco murmured as he tugged you into his chest and enveloped you.

Pliantly allowing it to happen, your face ended up buried in his chest. His hand rubbed your back comfortingly as he shifted to take a seat and pulled you into his lap. You sank deeper into him, instinctively relaxing at the soothing warmth he emitted.

“Nobody would think less of you for resting. There’s no payment to be on the crew beyond what you can safely provide. And you’ve done plenty, are doing plenty. Pops is not going to kick you out if you don’t repair Skull’s necklace or somebody’s sandals for the fiftieth time. You belong with us. We want you.”

You closed your eyes in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face. Marco’s chuckle jostled you a little bit, and the arm around your waist squeezed you, dragging you even closer to him. His flames flickered over you again, and you went boneless against him, hands dropping from your face. The ache in your chest that you didn’t even know you were carrying lightened with his presence.

“You just rest now, yoi. I’ll take care of you.”

You sighed, a trembling shaky thing. “Thank you, Marco.”

[freneticfloetry]

I know. I'm late. Who's shocked, at this point? The end of esta noche will be up this weekend (or before, if the odds are in my favor tomorrow). In the meantime, have a taste of the next thing in line (which I'm super excited about, actually), along with a shiny new header for 2025!

Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @nisbanisba @carlossreaders and @heartstringsduet for the tags today. 😘

"Do you think this was his way of breaking the news that he doesn't want to live with me anymore?" Snorting, she snags the last strip of bacon from his plate. "Yeah, you've officially lost me." "Think about it. The guys he hooks up with, he doesn't even stay to see sunrise." He draws his shoulders up to his ears and lets them drop back again. "Now he's just gonna, what, live with one for the rest of his life?" "The rest of — wow, okay." She puts both eyebrows up in that particular way that means she thinks he's pathetic but thinks actually saying so is too basic. "Alejandro, I say this with every shred of affection between us, plus the brunch you're now buying because you've made my brain hurt: there are literal lesbians who move slower than this." "Nora, I'm serious," he hisses, snatching what's left of his bacon back. "He's noped out of the last three showings. He gets cagey whenever I send a link to a listing. At this point, I can't even come anywhere near him with an open browser." But it's also Henry, who hates confrontation, who gets anxious about change, who can pluck endless poetry out of thin air but struggles with words that will hurt to hear. Alex shakes his head. Regardless of Nora's trash take, the rest of his life feels pretty damn accurate. In hindsight, he'd sort of figured that they'd find a place and move themselves in and just keep going like this forever — the same companionship and cohabitation that some might call co-dependence, with Henry fucking his way through every dude with Daddy Issues until either his looks or his trust fund ran out, and Alex secretly, silently, stupidly in love with him until the approximate heat death of the universe. He'd never considered that Henry might opt for a secret third thing: moving on with his life, without Alex in it. The bacon crumbles to bits in his hand. He bites into his lower lip, instead. "What if..." He stops. Swallows hard. Starts again. "Nora, what if he just fucked me goodbye?"

Y’all were quick this week! Tagging in @never-blooms @liminalmemories21 @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @lemonlyman-dotcom @orchidscript @ladytessa74 @three-drink-amy @herefortarlos @carlos-tk @welcometololaland and @alrightbuckaroo.