#he's teaching her to make noodles!

[squishescommishes]

Kofoodle commission for @moyaofthemist of the new adopt they got from me! Noodle shop owner and his tall wife 83

[oldmannapping]

Crack HC, because is there any other kind?

Bruce realises embarrassingly late that his Batkids can’t swim.

Gotham’s beach water is pure chemicals and sewage, and the city’s public school funding doesn’t exactly prioritise teaching kids to swim. Steph, Duke and Jason had never seen a swimming pool before meeting Bruce.

Tim’s parents meant to sign him up for swim lessons after he fell into their indoor fountain when he was three and nearly drowned - it would have been so embarrassing if it happened when they had guests! - but forgot.

So Bruce is like. Oh no my baby-soldiers must learn to swim.

Damian insists that since the League trained him to withstand waterboarding, he’s fine. Bruce pulls a muscle in his cheek from clenching his jaw so hard.

Dick insists that he can swim and manages one impressive mermaid-style undulation before becoming disoriented and slamming into the wall.

Duke covers himself in floaties and clings to a pool noodle for dear life, eschewing dignity because “this isn’t how I die”.

Conversely, Tim sinks like a stone, curls up on the bottom of the pool, and waits for death.

Cass, with the lowest body fat percentage, also sinks but manages to squeeze into one of the drains. She re-emerges six hours later in an estuary in New Jersey.

Steph refuses to let go of the wall by the deep end, scuttling away like a crab when Bruce tries to poke her into the water with a skimmer net.

Jason scoffs at them all and manages a perfect swan dive before flailing and crashing into Steph, causing both of them to panic and use each other as ladders to get out.

Alfred asks Barbara for the security camera footage and makes everyone watch it twice a year to keep their egos in check.

[magicalcreeks]

I literally woke up for an hour thinking of Kon watching Tim eat cup of noodles for a few days straight… he doesn’t say anything at first… he’s silently observes. Eventually he goes to Ma and asks her to teach him how to make her bangin’ chicken noodle soup recipe. After some trial and error Kon finally makes the perfect soup.

The next time he sees Tim he doesn’t say anything. He just takes Tim’s noodles out of his hands, chucks it across the room and puts down a thermos prob covered in knockoff Superman stickers.

Tim and his discarded cup of noodles are like ???? and Kon goes :))) and floats away.

[everythingspokenfor]

𝓜𝓻. & 𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓑𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

Pairing: Bakugou x reader. All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI Summary: Arrange marriage doesn't seem so 'arranged' when your fiance does everything that makes you fall in love with him...

Fiance!Bakugou who starts picking you up after work once you both get engaged, initially to learn the roads in your work commute but eventually because he wants to ensure that you are engaged and soon to be married, to a particular guy at your work place that had been bothering you.

Fiance!Bakugou whom you invite over for dinner as an act of gratitude, to thank him for helping you.

Fiance!Bakugou who stands bemused, watching you hop around the kitchen to try and make him some dinner. Who finds your eagerness to cook for him and your nervousness to not mess up, endearing.

Fiance!Bakugou who eats the slightly burnt and somewhat salty meal you prepared irrespective of how much you claim that it was bad and you'll just order.

Fiance!Bakugou who teaches you, how to cook not because he expects you to cook when you are married but because cooking is an essential skill, and he wants you to be able to cook more than noodles for yourself when he isn't around.

Fiance!Bakugou who doesn't berate you when the vegetables are chopped unevenly but does berate you when you cut your fingers, doesn't suckle on your finger like those movies instead he cleans it up and puts a bandage on it. He does however kiss your finger then your forehead and ask you to sit on the counter next to him.

Fiance!Bakugou who despite his wish doesn't barge in when his mom is helping you try on the wedding dresses, he either goes to agency or works in his home office. Mind still wondering to what you would look like in the wedding dress.

Fiance!Bakugou who helps you move into his penthouse, a month before your marriage, just so you could settle in and get comfortable there. Get used to his presence, form a routine with him.

Fiance!Bakugou who introduces you to his friends, staying behind and watching you mingle with them.

Fiance!Bakugou who pulls you into the kitchen, making sure you are doing good with the crowd, asking if his friends are too much or if you want to end the night.

Fiance!Bakugou who develops the need to constantly touch, his hands always searching for you, holding your hand in a crowded train station, holding onto your elbow in a busy grocery store, hand on the small of your back when showing you around the agency.

Fiance!Bakugou who gets giddy as the wedding approaches, getting his suit tailored, matching with your dress, buying bedsheets and cutlery that you chose. Tries to add things to the penthouse that match your vibe, installs bookshelves around the house because he knows that you love to read.

Fiance!Bakugou who stands at the end of the altar, waiting for you, excited to finally call you his wife, excited to be finally addressed as your husband.

Husband!Bakugou who pulls you into a kiss when the officiator announces you husband and wife, who pulls away from the kiss to pull your into a tight embrace.

Husband!Bakugou who insists on helping you change out of the wedding dress into your reception gown, but Mina pushes him out stating how he has you for the rest of your lives but for now you'll stay with her.

Husband!Bakugou who makes you feel comfortable at the reception, a hand respectfully placed on your back, guiding around the crowd.

Husband!Bakugou who ensures that you don't get overwhelmed interacting with all the people at the reception venue, who makes sure that your voice doesn't get lost amongst the crowd.

Husband!Bakugou who still keeps an eye on your figure, when Mina whisk you away into 'girl's corner', shoves a large gift bag in your hands, "wear it tonight", she whispers in your ear, voice breaking into giggles.

You politely smile at her, talking along with other girls in the group, you absent-mindedly look around the crowd, eyes unintentionally locking with your husband.

His title making your belly flutter, despite only knowing each other for a year and a half, he has proven to be such a good man. You hope you would be good enough for him too.

Husband!Bakugou that struts towards your group, gently placing a hand against your back, fingertips hovering as to not startle you.

"Hopefully you didn't give My Wife a hard time," He spoke, other hand reaching to take the gift bag from your hands, effortlessly carrying all the bags that the girls had gotten you. He kisses your forehead, when you try to reach back for it.

"They were just talking." You move a little closer to Bakugou, head bowed down, fingers fidgeting with the lace of your evening dress, too shy to look your husband in the eyes.

"Well, sorry to interrupt but it's time for us leave." Bakugou announced, let you go to bid farewell to your girl friends. Pretending to look away, when they tease him, telling him to go easy on you.

Husband!Bakugou who helps you walk out the reception venue, one hand holding the gifts you've received all night the other holding your hand. Both of you reach the car and he helps you sit in the passenger seat, closing the door being mindful of your dress.

"What did the girls give you?" He questioned, starting the engine.

You flushed at the question, you weren't really aware of what the content of the bag were but you had a gist of what it could be. "It's just some clothes Mina picked out, I think." You answered.

"Well we'll find an occasion to wear fancy clothes again." He swayed the car out of the parking, completely oblivious to what kind of clothes you both were talking about.

"I don't think I could wear those in public." You mumbled, he looked over to you, but you avoided his eyes.

It barely took him a moment before he figured what Mina could have possibly gifted you. "Ah, it's lingerie, isn't it?", He confirmed.

"Don't say it out loud." You press your hands against your heating face, warmth spreading down your neck.

"Why are you shy? Husband and Wife can talk about lingerie." He teased, finding amusement in your shyness.

"It's just surreal, you know," you turned towards him,"the whole wedding, I mean, till yesterday I was dreaming about marrying you and told I married you." You sighed happily, the tiredness of the finally settling in.

"You were dreaming about marrying me, huh?" Bakugou teased, butterflies swarming his belly at the thought of you being just as excited to marry him.

"I was, you are too good, had to put a ring on it." You giggled, teasing him back, Bakugou looked at you with a glint in his eyes, scanning your features before turning back to the road.

It didn't take long before you both reached home, Bakugou parked the car in the garage, got out of the car and jogged towards your side, opening the door he helped you get out.

Instead of walking into your home, Husband!Bakugou pulls you towards the main entrance, confused you ask him, "Are we going somewhere?"

Bakugou looks at your face, before he dips and lifts you up, carrying you effortlessly, "Am carrying my wife home."

You giggled loudly while Bakugou walked inside the house, carrying you, ready to start your lives together.

[sevikastrapjuice]

Pictures and videos Kenji Sato has/took of you on his phone (fluff edition)

ib: @deadbydad-writes

The first video he took of you was when you were taking care of Emi while he went to the city for an interview and he caught you teaching her the "Baby Shark" choreo. You looked so cute, wearing your bubblegum pink, silk pyjamas to match Emi's pink scales.

The second video he took of you was when you went to an amusement park as a third date and he got you a live size teddy bear. Then, recorded a video of you crying as you hugged the giant teddy bear he got.

The first photo he took of you was you spent the night as his place for the first time and when he woke up, he couldn't resist, seeing you so beautiful, and he took a picture of you while you were sleeping in his jersey.

The second photo was sent to him, while Kenji was driving home from practice, late at night. It was a selfie of you holding his favorite food, yakisoba noodles and chicken gyozas. He loved it when you cooked for him.

The third video he took of you, happened to be while you were taking a bath, watching "Barbie as The Princess and The Pauper" and singing the iconic song "Written in your Heart". Oh, how he treasured you!

The third photo is a selfie he took with you, hugging you from behind while you were cooking and biting on your dusted red, plump cheek.

The fourth photo he took of you was when he went to check on Emi after she abruptly got quiet and saw you sleeping with her. Emi protecting you, hovering her claws over your body. Kenji could just melt everything he saw the photo.

The fourth video was took at your wedding, a slow dance shared between you two. You looked so angelic in your wedding dress, so mesmerizing. This video makes Kenji blush every time he watches it.

The fifth video he has on his phone is a compilation made by his fans of your laugh and smile while you're supporting him during his baseball games. That laugh of yours, so addictive to Kenji.

The fifth photo he has of you, was sent by you to Kenji, during his practice. It's a selfie of yours, happily crying and holding up a positive pregnancy test. It was the best news he could've ever ask for.

[liwinly]

( 𖹭 ) ACCIDENTALLY PERFECT, JUST LIKE US

────── MON AMOUR you are my hearts favorite accident , no lie

【 𝒜 rchive 】 enha hyung line x f!r ꢾ꣒ fluff teen romance 600wc awkwardness skinship

ꢾ꣒ REBLOGS & FEEDBACKS

HEESEUNG y/n was sitting on the floor of the library, trying to look normal while definitely not watching heeseung from behind a book about frogs. heeseung, in his oversized hoodie and messy hair, looked like he walked out of a dream. or a really cute music video.

"hey," he said, suddenly right in front of her. y/n's heart jumped out of her body and ran a lap.

"hi," she whispered, cool and she was totally not blushing.

"i saw you staring," he grinned, plopping down beside her. "was it the hoodie? it’s giving mysterious heartthrob, right?"

y/n laughed, "more like confused puppy."

he pretended to be offended, but his smile gave him away.

and then he pulled out a cookie from his pocket.

"wanna share?"

she took it.

and maybe also his heart a little bit.

they were the perfect pair. like cookies and hiding in the library.

JAY y/n was horrible at science. like. epically bad. explosions-in-the-lab bad.

so when mr. choi said “you’ll be partnered with jay”, she nearly evaporated. jay, the guy who smelled like vanilla and wore rings and somehow made safety goggles look good.

“don’t worry,” he said, smiling as he handed her a beaker, “we’ll get an A… or at least avoid setting the school on fire.”

y/n giggled, already dropping something. Water. he just laughed and helped her clean it up, his fingers brushing hers.

her brain short-circuited.

by the end of the project, they had a half-working volcano, a weird inside joke about frogs, and jay had written “the perfect pair” on their report cover with a little smiley face.

“that’s us,” he whispered before walking away.

y/n nearly combusted.

maybe science wasn’t so bad after all.

JAKE y/n hated gym class. like why were they making her run?? for fun???

but then—boom. jake, the boy with golden retriever energy and a smile that could cure actual sadness, jogged up next to her.

“we’re partners for dodgeball!” he said like it was the best thing ever.

y/n blinked. “i can’t dodge.”

“don’t worry,” he grinned, “i’ll protect you.”

and he did. like full-on superhero mode. arms out, jumping around, getting hit instead of her. she was standing there like a confused little lettuce.

“you okay??” he asked after the game, sweaty and breathless.

y/n nodded. “you literally got hit ten times.”

“worth it,” he said, smiling like he meant it. “we’re the perfect pair, remember?”

she didn’t remember agreeing to that.

but she wasn’t complaining.

especially when he gave her his juice box after. strawberry. her favorite.

SUNGHOON y/n had never been ice skating before. so naturally, she thought she was gonna die.

and of course, sunghoon—figure skating legend, pretty boy, and certified menace—was the one who decided to teach her.

“just hold onto me,” he said, holding out his hand all casually, like this was no big deal.

y/n grabbed it like her life depended on it.

she slipped once every five seconds, and every time, sunghoon would laugh—soft and sparkly—and catch her.

“you’re doing so good,” he said, even though she was basically a human noodle on skates.

by the end, she could barely glide, but he still gave her a high five and said, “we made a good team, huh?”

“barely,” she said.

he grinned. “we’re the perfect pair though.”

and suddenly, the ice didn’t feel so scary anymore.

( 🌹 ) @chrrific @irasvr @amoressb @woniefication @cheruphic @ijustwannareadstuff20 @puma-riki

© liwinly — all rights reserved

[xi4oyan]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Teacher Tigress (=මᆽම=)Part 1 Part 2

: ̗̀➛ MK

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act normal around you, but it's obvious he's nervous. You have this intense aura that makes him feel like any wrong move could result in a punch (which… isn’t entirely wrong).

: ̗̀➛ “Are you like… stronger than Macaque?” “Do you want to find out firsthand?” “No, ma’am.”

: ̗̀➛ At first, he tries to break the ice with jokes and banter… You don’t laugh. That hurts his pride a little.

: ̗̀➛ He realizes that the only way to earn your respect is through dedication to training. So, for the first time, he stops talking and actually focuses.

: ̗̀➛ When he finally manages to block one of your attacks, he gets so happy he yells, "I DID IT!" … And then you take him down in one swift move.

: ̗̀➛ After a while, he starts following you around like a puppy. He wants to hear your stories, learn your techniques, and understand how you became so incredible.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he casually asks, “Were you always this tough, or did something happen?” The look on your face makes him instantly regret the question.

: ̗̀➛ MK doesn’t know exactly what Wukong did, but he feels like it was something big. He tries to mediate, only to realize you don’t want mediation at all.

: ̗̀➛ He shivers a little when you call him by his full name in that warning tone.

: ̗̀➛ He starts seeing you as an older sister—one he respects a lot but is also slightly afraid of annoying.

: ̗̀➛ Mei

: ̗̀➛ Mei becomes completely obsessed with you the moment she meets you.

: ̗̀➛ “WAIT, WAIT, YOU’RE A REAL TIGRESS??”

: ̗̀➛ She has absolutely no fear of bombarding you with random questions. “Have you ever hunted anything? How does your bite compare to a shark’s?”

: ̗̀➛ After seeing you in action, she starts calling you “Sensei Tigress” and refuses to stop.

: ̗̀➛ She desperately wants to see a fight between you and Wukong. When she suggests it, both of you look away.

: ̗̀➛ “What? What?? What am I missing?!”

: ̗̀➛ You respect Mei’s energy, but sometimes she talks too much.

: ̗̀➛ When you finally praise one of her moves in training, she freaks out.

: ̗̀➛ You overhear Mei and MK whispering about your past once. Your ear twitches, and they freeze.

: ̗̀➛ She places mental bets on when you and Wukong will resolve this tension.

: ̗̀➛ She feels proud when you call her by her name without sighing first.

: ̗̀➛ Pigsy

Pigsy isn’t surprised when he meets you. He’s seen too much to be shocked anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Ah. So, you’re a tigress. Big deal. Want some noodles?”

: ̗̀➛ He treats you with quiet kindness, no questions or judgment.

: ̗̀➛ You don’t usually accept gifts, but you accept his food. It’s the one offering you allow.

: ̗̀➛ He notices the tension between you and Wukong on the first day. But unlike the others, he doesn’t try to understand or ask.

: ̗̀➛ You respect that.

: ̗̀➛ “I don’t like people who talk too much.” “Then why are you surrounded by them?”

: ̗̀➛ He notices how your eyes look more tired when you think no one is watching.

: ̗̀➛ When he senses you’re too tense, he simply places a plate of food in front of you without saying anything.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he says, “If you ever want to talk about it, it doesn’t have to be now.” You never respond, but something in your posture relaxes slightly.

: ̗̀➛ He knows that, deep down, you’re just waiting for a reason to trust someone again.

: ̗̀➛ Sandy

: ̗̀➛ Sandy loves you from the moment he meets you.

: ̗̀➛ He doesn’t mind your silence. In fact, he enjoys it.

: ̗̀➛ You feel comfortable around him because he doesn’t fill the space with unnecessary words.

: ̗̀➛ His cat likes you, which makes you lower your guard a little faster than usual.

: ̗̀➛ He notices that you never truly relax. You’re always in a defensive stance, even when you seem at ease.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to teach you breathing techniques to ease your tension. You resist at first, but eventually, you try.

: ̗̀➛ “So… you and Wukong have a long history, huh?” You narrow your eyes, and he raises his hands. “No judgment.”

: ̗̀➛ He sees how Wukong watches you when he thinks no one is looking.

: ̗̀➛ He never pushes you to talk, but he makes it clear that if you need a safe space, he’s there.

: ̗̀➛ You appreciate that more than you can express.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he sets a cup of tea beside you and just sits there. No conversation, no expectations. Just silent company. You don’t admit it, but it makes you feel… better.

: ̗̀➛ Tang

: ̗̀➛ Tang has so many questions.

: ̗̀➛ “YOU WERE PART OF THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST???”

: ̗̀➛ He freaks out and starts listing all the stories about Wukong, trying to figure out where you might have been.

: ̗̀➛ You stay silent. This makes him even more curious.

: ̗̀➛ He quickly realizes that your issue with Wukong runs deep.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to bring up legends, but you don’t seem interested.

: ̗̀➛ He tries, tries, and tries again—until one day, you casually drop a small, insignificant piece of information. To him, it’s like winning the lottery.

: ̗̀➛ “A-ha! So, you really fought demons!”

: ̗̀➛ He respects your strength, but he wants to know more about your story.

: ̗̀➛ One day, he catches you looking at Wukong’s statue with a complicated expression. He pretends not to notice.

: ̗̀➛ You think he talks too much, but deep down, you get used to it.

: ̗̀➛ Macaque

: ̗̀➛ Macaque lives for the tension between you and Wukong.

: ̗̀➛ He can tell the moment he sees you that there’s a lot of unresolved history.

: ̗̀➛ “So… The Great Sage had a partner in the past?” “I was not his partner.”

: ̗̀➛ He teases Wukong about it every chance he gets.

: ̗̀➛ “You know, she has every right to hate you.” “SHUT UP, MACAQUE.”

: ̗̀➛ He tries to get details out of you, but you don’t take the bait.

: ̗̀➛ However, he knows Wukong hurt you somehow.

: ̗̀➛ “If I were you, I’d make him crawl a little more before forgiving him.”

: ̗̀➛ You roll your eyes but don’t respond.

: ̗̀➛ Deep down, he respects you. Maybe because, on some level, he understands your pain better than the others do.

: ̗̀➛ “When you want revenge… just call me.” You don’t answer. He smirks, because he knows you considered it.

: ̗̀➛ Sun Wukong

: ̗̀➛ WHAT CAN HE DO TO FIX THIS??? HE DOESN’T KNOW!!!

: ̗̀➛ You avoid eye contact. He avoids it too, but for the wrong reasons.

: ̗̀➛ Every short answer you give feels like a dagger to his chest.

: ̗̀➛ He tries to act casual, crack jokes, but it doesn’t work anymore.

: ̗̀➛ “Are you still mad about that?” The glare you give him is so cold that he nearly shrinks back.

: ̗̀➛ He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

: ̗̀➛ Worse yet: he doesn’t know if he deserves forgiveness.

: ̗̀➛ For the first time in centuries, Sun Wukong is scared. Not of you. But of losing you forever.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . to be continued

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ girl i've always been

chapter summary: While having a relaxing, lazy morning, there is an attack on New York City being broadcast, with some familiar and unfamiliar faces.

word count: 8.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: as i said before with peter, i'm a mcu fan at heart, and i wanted to try and bring in the avengers into the x-men (plus i have an idea for a little side storyline. it'll make sense once you read!)

also, thank you for 1,500 followers! and happy easter (if you celebrate)!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, snow fight, slight angst, the battle of new york, the avengers, protective!logan

series masterlist - chapter 11 → chapter 13

“Please?” Theresa drawled, her tiny hands clasped together, the mittens looking particularly oversized on her.

“It’s freezing, Tess.” You replied, looking out the window to the snow covered grounds.

“But Scott and Jean are coming outside too!” Theresa added.

Jones nodded, “yeah, and so is Ororo, and Rogue, Bobby, Jub—”

“Summers, huh?” Logan questioned, his arms over his chest. He turned to look at you, “whaddya say sweetheart?”

You crossed your arms, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You only want to do this because Scott is going outside to have a snowball fight with the kids, and you don’t want to look like a wimp.”

Logan scoffed, his mouth pulling into a half-grin. “Sweetheart, I ain’t worried about Summers. Kid’s got an arm like a wet noodle.”

Theresa gasped dramatically, her mittens flying to her face. “Mr. Logan, that’s not nice! Mr. Summers is teaching me how to pitch!”

“Yeah?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

Theresa frowned, scrunching her nose. “I hit Bobby in the face once.”

Jones laughed. “You hit Bobby like, three times.”

“That’s ‘cause Bobby’s head’s too big to miss.” Logan quipped, earning giggles from the kids. He turned back to you, his expression softening. “What do you think? Wanna show these kids how it’s done?”

You sighed, glancing back at the window. Snow swirled outside, the grounds blanketed in white. The wind rattled the glass, making you instinctively pull your cardigan tighter. “It’s freezing out there, Logan. I’m not built for this kind of weather.”

“You sure about that? Thought you were tough,” Logan teased, stepping closer and lowering his voice. “What’s a little snow gonna do to you, darlin’?”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the familiar rush of playful irritation. “Fine. But if I get frostbite, you’re the one explaining it to Jean.”

Logan grinned, looking far too smug for your liking. “Deal.”

---

Outside, the cold hit immediately. You tugged your scarf up over your nose, trying not to shiver as you followed Logan toward the group of students. Snow crunched underfoot, the air filled with excited chatter as Scott and Jean stood off to the side, orchestrating teams.

“Alright, everyone!” Scott called out, clapping his hands. “We’re splitting into two teams. Jean and I will be captains—”

“Hold up,” Logan interrupted, his voice cutting through the noise. “What about me?”

Scott turned, his expression equal parts surprised and amused. “You? You’re joining?”

Logan shrugged, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby bench. “Someone’s gotta show these kids how to win.”

Jean rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “Logan, this is supposed to be fun, not a war.”

“Fun’s overrated,” Logan replied, cracking his knuckles.

You groaned, adjusting your glasses. “He’s going to take this way too seriously.”

Jean leaned closer to you, her breath visible in the freezing air. “He’s just trying to impress you.”

“By pelting kids with snowballs?”

“Exactly.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s voice boomed again. “Alright, Y/N’s on my team.”

“What?” you sputtered, looking at him incredulously. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“Too late,” Logan said, already rounding up a small group of eager-looking students. “You’re with me, sweetheart.”

Scott smirked, leaning toward Jean. “This should be good.”

---

The game quickly devolved into chaos. Logan, true to form, treated the snowball fight like a military operation. He barked orders to the kids on his team, pointing out strategic positions and even building a makeshift snow fort. You hung back, dodging the occasional snowball and trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking it.

“Y/N, cover the flank!” Logan shouted, ducking behind a tree as a snowball whizzed past his head.

“You know this isn’t an actual battle, right?” you called back, crouching behind the fort.

“Tell that to Summers!” Logan growled, launching a perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott square in the chest.

Scott stumbled back, brushing snow off his jacket. “Really, Logan? You’re aiming for me now?”

“Always, bub.”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Men.”

The kids, meanwhile, were having the time of their lives. Theresa and Jones worked together to build an impressive stockpile of snowballs, while Bobby used his powers to create perfectly round projectiles. Rogue ducked and weaved through the chaos, laughing as she nailed Logan in the shoulder with a particularly icy snowball.

“You’re lucky I like you, kid,” Logan muttered, brushing snow off his flannel.

Meanwhile, you stayed hidden behind the fort, because a few years ago when a snowball fight happened, someone—Scott—accidentally hit you in the face. But the worst part wasn’t that, it was the fact that your glasses broke and you couldn’t see for the rest of the day.

You huddled behind the makeshift fort with Jubilee, pulling your scarf tighter as the wind bit at your cheeks. Jubilee rubbed her arms through her thick jacket, shivering beside you. “Why is this my life? I could be inside right now, drinking cocoa.”

You adjusted your glasses, peeking over the snow wall just as a snowball zipped past, missing you by inches. “I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t sign up for this level of chaos.”

Jubilee groaned dramatically, flopping backward into the snow. “Who even decided this was a good idea? Oh wait, it was Scott. Of course.”

You smirked. “Blame Logan. He turned this into a military operation.”

“Speaking of...” Jubilee pointed to Logan, who was standing a few feet away, rallying your team of students like they were about to storm Normandy. His flannel was dusted with snow, and his eyes were locked on Scott like he was calculating his next move.

“Alright, kids!” Logan barked. “Jones, cover the left. Theresa, keep Bobby busy. Y/N, stop hiding and provide backup.”

You threw up your hands. “I am backup! From back here!”

Logan turned and gave you a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Sweetheart, what happened to teamwork?”

“Teamwork doesn’t involve me losing my glasses again,” you shot back. “I still have PTSD from last time.”

“I told you,” Logan replied, his smirk growing, “I’ll keep your glasses safe. Just stick with me.”

Jubilee snorted. “Oh sure, because he’s never broken anything in his life.”

“Hey,” Logan growled, pointing a finger at Jubilee, “don’t push it, kid.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. Logan’s unwavering confidence in this absurd snowball fight—and in dragging you into it—was annoyingly endearing. Before you could retort, a snowball hit the fort’s edge, sending bits of snow scattering onto your face.

“Y/N!” Theresa called, her red hair peeking over the fort as she ducked another projectile. “Bobby just took Rogue out! We have the advantage!”

You sighed, pushing yourself to your feet. “Alright, fine. But if anyone breaks my glasses, there’s going to be trouble.”

Logan’s grin widened as he lobbed another snowball, hitting Scott in the shoulder. “There’s my girl. Come on, darlin’, time to show Summers how it’s done.”

You stepped around the fort cautiously, scooping up some snow and packing it into a firm ball. Jubilee muttered behind you, “This is going to end in tears.”

“Probably mine,” you replied dryly.

Across the snowy battlefield, Scott and Jean were crouched behind a smaller fort. Scott’s tactical stance and determined expression were straight out of a playbook, while Jean looked like she was trying not to laugh.

“Jean, cover me!” Scott shouted, throwing a snowball that missed Logan by several feet.

Jean shook her head, smiling. “Cover you from what? You’re not even aiming.”

“Hey!” Scott protested. “I hit Logan earlier!”

“Barely,” Logan said, his tone smug. “Summers, you couldn’t hit me if you were standing two feet away.”

Scott scowled. “Alright, that’s it—”

Before he could finish, you lobbed a snowball that smacked him square in the chest. The kids on your team erupted into cheers. Scott looked down at the snowy mark on his jacket, then up at you with mock betrayal.

“What—Y/N?” he called, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Scott,” you replied, biting back a grin. “Logan made me do it.”

Logan barked a laugh, tossing an arm around your shoulder briefly before returning to the battle. “She’s finally coming around to the winning side.”

Jean leaned out from her fort, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Don’t encourage him, Y/N.”

Logan called back, “Too late! She’s all mine now.”

You rolled your eyes but felt a warmth spreading through you despite the cold. For all his bravado and bluster, there was something undeniably comforting about Logan’s presence, even in the midst of a ridiculous snowball war.

“Don’t get cocky,” you muttered, brushing snow off your sleeves.

“I’m not cocky,” Logan said, throwing another perfectly aimed snowball that hit Scott in the arm. “I’m just good.”

Jubilee groaned loudly from behind you. “Can we end this already? My fingers are icicles!”

“Not until Summers surrenders!” Logan declared, ducking another snowball and tossing one back with perfect precision.

Jean laughed, raising her hands. “Okay, truce! Before someone loses a limb or, worse, their dignity.”

Scott lowered his arm reluctantly. “Fine. Truce.”

Logan smirked, straightening up and brushing snow off his hands. “Guess we know who the real champ is.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Scott muttered.

As the snowball fight dissolved, you found yourself walking back toward the mansion with Logan at your side. He glanced down at you, his expression softer now. “Not bad out there, darlin’. You might just be my secret weapon.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “Next time, I’m staying inside.”

“Sure you are,” Logan replied, his grin warm. “You can’t resist me.”

“You’re impossible,” you said, nudging him lightly.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and amused. “But you love me anyway.”

---

You hummed along to the catchy pop tune playing softly on the kitchen radio as you stirred the stir-fry. The savory aroma of chicken, steak, and colorful veggies filled the air, the sizzling sound adding a cozy rhythm to your evening.

Footsteps approached, deliberate and heavy, and a moment later, Logan appeared beside you. He held out a glass of red wine with a casual smirk, keeping the other for himself. “Figured you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you said, pausing long enough to take it from him. You raised an eyebrow as Logan leaned slightly over your shoulder, inspecting the pan. His face was far too serious for something as mundane as dinner.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, taking a sip of the wine, “I added steak. Just for you.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Smart choice, sweetheart. Can’t go wrong with steak.”

You rolled your eyes and returned your focus to the pan, the warmth from the stove a welcome contrast to the winter air outside. As you adjusted the heat, Logan stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your hips. His chest was warm against your back, and the soft pressure of his touch made you pause.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, your voice colored with amusement.

Logan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to sway, his movements slow and unhurried. You blinked, trying to stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

“You were hummin’, so I thought I’d join in,” he said, his deep voice low near your ear.

“I was humming to a pop song, not a ballad,” you replied, though you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away. His embrace was too warm, too grounding.

Logan tugged you gently, nudging you away from the stove. “C’mere.”

“Logan, the food—”

“It’ll be fine. Just a minute.”

The look in his eyes left little room for argument, so you allowed him to guide you a few steps away. The music from the radio filled the quiet as Logan pulled you close. His movements were uncharacteristically tender, his calloused hands resting lightly on your lower back as he led you in what could only loosely be described as a slow dance.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You know this is a pop song, right? This doesn’t really... fit.”

“I don’t care.” Logan’s lips twitched into a faint grin, but his eyes softened. “Music’s just noise. It’s the person you’re dancin’ with that matters.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, though you hid your face by tucking your head against his shoulder. His flannel smelled faintly of pine and something uniquely him, grounding you in a way few things could. The two of you swayed in place, ignoring the incongruous beat of the music and the simmering stir-fry just a few feet away.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you murmured, “You’re in a rare mood.”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Logan said, his tone softer than usual. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “’S nice, just... bein’ here with you.”

You didn’t respond right away, letting his words settle in your chest. For all of Logan’s gruffness and his habit of turning everything into a challenge, these rare, quiet moments reminded you of how fiercely he loved. How fiercely he loved you.

Nice didn’t seem like the right word for it. It was everything.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you teased, your voice quieter now.

Logan chuckled, his breath warm against your temple. “Nah. I’m lucky you love me.”

The crackling sound of the stir-fry snapped you back to reality, and you gave him a gentle nudge. “Okay, dinner’s about to burn. Let me go.”

Logan tightened his arms briefly, a teasing glint in his eye. “One more second.”

“Logan.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he loosened his hold, letting you step back toward the stove. You stirred the pan quickly, relieved that nothing had scorched. Logan leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy grin, his wineglass dangling from his fingers.

“You’re impossible,” you said, glancing over at him.

“Yeah,” Logan agreed easily. “But you love me anyway.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. In the background, the radio shifted to another upbeat track, the music filling the small kitchen like a promise of more moments like this. Moments where time felt like it belonged solely to the two of you.

---

Sleeping in was rare, even on the weekends. But today, as the noon sun poured through the curtains, bathing the room in soft light, you both indulged in the rare luxury. The warmth of Logan’s body beside you and the quiet of the mansion made the bed feel like the only place that mattered.

You stretched lazily, your hand brushing Logan’s chest as he gave a low, contented grunt. “Finally awake?” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“Mm, not yet,” you replied, burying your face against his shoulder. His scent—pine, leather, and something faintly metallic—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand slipping to the small of your back. “Y’know, most people are already up by now.”

“Most people don’t get woken up at 5 a.m. by the sound of kids trying to build a trampoline out of their powers,” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his shirt.

He smirked. “Fair enough.”

The room stayed quiet for a while, the two of you enjoying the stillness. Logan’s hand moved in slow circles along your back, a soothing motion that almost lulled you back to sleep.

“You’re a lot clingier today,” you teased, looking up at him.

“Guess I am,” Logan said with a shrug, his expression unreadable. “Don’t hear you complainin’, though.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “No. I’m not.”

A sharp knock at the door made you groan, breaking the moment. “It’s Jean!” came the muffled voice from the other side. “You two need to get to the common room right now.”

Logan frowned. “What’s the rush?”

“Just hurry! You’re going to want to see this,” Jean called back before her footsteps faded down the hall.

You sighed, reluctantly pushing yourself up. “Guess our lazy morning is over.”

“Always somethin’,” Logan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before climbing out of bed.

You slid out as well, slipping on your glasses and grabbing your robe from the chair. Logan was already pulling on his flannel shirt and jeans, moving with his usual efficiency. Within minutes, the two of you were heading down the hall toward the common room.

The mansion was unusually quiet for midday, the muffled sound of a news broadcast growing louder as you approached the common room.

When you walked in, the screen immediately caught your attention. Footage of New York City filled the TV, with buildings crumbling and smoke rising into the sky. The words “Breaking News: Alien Invasion in Manhattan” scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

"What the hell?" Logan muttered, crossing his arms as he stared at the footage.

Jean turned to you both, her expression grim. "It started an hour ago. There’s some kind of portal above the city. They’re calling it an alien invasion."

Your heart sank as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen. Cars were overturned, people running for their lives as enormous, alien-looking creatures wreaked havoc.

The kids spoke quietly amongst themselves.

“Who’s that guy with the hammer?” Peter asked.

Jubilee leaned in, “I saw a Reddit thread sayin’ he was an alien.”

Logan let out a groan, rubbing a hand down his face as he stared at the chaotic footage on the television. "Now there are damn aliens? What’s next, giant lizards takin’ over the city?"

"Don’t jinx it," Jean muttered, arms crossed as she stood beside the couch, her gaze glued to the screen. "This is already bad enough."

Scott stood nearby, frowning deeply. "They’ve got a lot of tech. Look at the size of that portal. That’s not something we can just ignore."

"We’re not getting involved, Scott," Jean cut in sharply. Her tone was firm but calm, the way it always was when she knew she needed to be the voice of reason. "This isn’t our fight. We don’t even know what we’d be walking into."

"She’s right," Logan added, his voice gruff. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. "Let the army or whoever deal with it. We’ve got enough on our plate without runnin’ into some other mess."

Bobby raised an eyebrow as he watched the screen. "That guy in the suit... isn’t that Tony Stark? The billionaire who’s always in the news?"

"Yeah," Peter said, squinting. "And isn’t that Captain America? Wait, I thought he was dead—or, like, frozen or something?"

"You mean that propaganda poster boy?" Logan’s voice had an edge, but there was something unspoken beneath it. His eyes lingered on the screen, his jaw tightening as the camera panned to a blond man throwing a shield with almost impossible precision.

Jean glanced over at Logan, her brow furrowed. "You know him?"

Logan gave a noncommittal shrug, his expression carefully neutral. "We fought together a long time ago. Doesn’t matter now."

You shifted your weight beside him, catching the way his knuckles whitened against his biceps. Gently, you placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

He looked down at you, his expression softening in that way only you seemed to bring out. "I’m fine. Just didn’t expect to see his face today, is all."

Scott cleared his throat, his arms crossed. "We still need to figure out what our stance is on this. If those things—whatever they are—start spreading beyond Manhattan, we’ll have to act."

Jean shook her head. "For now, we wait. The situation’s still unfolding, and we don’t even know what’s going on up there. Jumping in blind could make things worse."

Logan smirked faintly. "For once, I agree with Red."

Jean rolled her eyes at the nickname but didn’t argue.

The footage shifted to show the so called ‘alien’—a large man with a hammer, lightning crackling around him as he brought it down on a group of the alien creatures. Peter practically jumped up from his seat. "Okay, who is that guy? Thor? Like, the Norse god?"

Jubilee leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face. "Maybe he is! Did you see the lightning? That’s insane."

"Focus, guys," you said gently, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Their excitement was contagious, even if the situation was grim.

Logan’s hand found its way to your back, a subtle, grounding gesture. "Kids can get excited all they want, but we’re stayin’ out of it," he said firmly. "End of story."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Logan’s right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."

The room quieted, the group’s attention returning to the screen. Despite the chaos unfolding in New York, the decision had been made—for now, the X-Men would stand back. It wasn’t their fight, not yet. But the tension lingered, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

You leaned into Logan’s side, your hand brushing his as you watched the screen. His thumb grazed the back of your hand, a small gesture of reassurance. Whatever was happening out there, at least for now, you were together—and for Logan, that was enough.

---

The new book you got had you in a hold. You and Jean were reading the same book, which was a rarity since you both had different tastes. But Gone Girl was intriguing and had a way of pulling you in.

And since it was a Saturday, it was the perfect day to relax and read… and possibly finish the book in one day.

You sat down at the island as Logan made breakfast for the two of you. He placed your cup of tea in front of you, the steam curling upward like a warm invitation. “It’s hot. Don’t burn yourself,” he warned with a pointed look, then turned back to the stove where a skillet sizzled with eggs and bacon.

“Thanks,” you murmured distractedly, already nose-deep in the novel you’d cracked open just moments before. You adjusted your glasses, the light from the nearby window perfectly illuminating the pages.

Logan glanced over his shoulder as he flipped the bacon, catching sight of you. “That book got somethin’ I don’t? You didn’t even notice me makin’ you tea, sweetheart.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled, vaguely aware he was talking but too caught up in the tangled mess of secrets the characters in Gone Girl were unraveling.

Logan huffed softly, half amused and half annoyed. “Never thought I’d lose to a damn book,” he muttered under his breath. His tone was light, but he watched you carefully as he slid the food onto plates.

“Eggs okay? Or do ya want somethin’ fancier, like toast?” He set your plate in front of you.

“Mmhmm,” you replied absently, still buried in the text.

Logan’s brows shot up. He leaned forward slightly, his hands braced on the counter as he smirked. “Right. Guess ‘mmhmm’ means ‘chef’s choice,’ huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you said without looking up.

Logan straightened with an exaggerated sigh and dug into his own breakfast, watching as you ate your eggs without once lifting your eyes from the book. He shook his head, almost impressed by how oblivious you were to his efforts.

---

By mid-afternoon, Logan’s patience was wearing thin. After breakfast, you’d curled up on the couch, the book balanced on your knees as you fell even deeper into its story. He’d tried everything—talking about the updates he was making to his motorcycle, asking you random questions, even joking about how the least you could do was come hold a wrench for him. Your responses were minimal at best, a distracted hum or soft “uh-huh” here and there.

Logan stood in the doorway of the living room now, hands on his hips. “So, is this what it feels like?”

“Hm?” you replied without looking up.

“When I’m tuned out ‘cause you’re ramblin’ about Schrödinger’s whatever or that theory… the one with all the dimensions.”

“String theory,” you corrected automatically, flipping a page.

He snorted. “Yeah, that one. Pretty much what I sound like when you’re talkin’, huh?”

“Mm,” you replied, not even registering the teasing lilt in his tone.

Logan turned and trudged into the hallway, muttering under his breath. “Unbelievable. Even Scott’d get more of a reaction.”

As if on cue, Scott appeared at the other end of the hall, looking just as annoyed as Logan felt. “You too?” he asked.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

Scott gestured vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “Jean. She’s been stuck in that book all day. I asked her about a briefing—nothing. Asked if she’d seen Rogue—‘hmm.’ She’s completely tuned me out.”

Logan barked a laugh. “Let me guess. Gone Girl?”

Scott stared at him for a beat. “Yeah.”

Logan shook his head knowingly. “Figures. Guess that makes me one of the gone guys.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Glad someone’s having fun.”

---

Evening rolled around, and you were finally nearing the end of the book. The story’s climax was in sight, and you barely noticed the room dimming with the setting sun. You were perched on the bed now, your back propped up against a mountain of pillows.

Logan stood in the doorway, arms folded, watching you. He had to admit, it was kind of cute how engrossed you were. But after being ignored all day? Cute wasn’t enough to save you.

With a smirk tugging at his lips, Logan walked over, reached out, and plucked the book straight out of your hands.

“Hey!” you yelped, sitting up and reaching for it. “What are you doing?!”

He stepped back, holding the book up over his head. “You were ignorin’ me,” he said simply.

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you argued, scooting to the edge of the bed as if you could reach it.

“Yeah, you were,” Logan replied, his tone teasing. “All damn day, sweetheart. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Your eyes narrowed as you pushed your glasses higher on your nose. “Logan, give it back.”

“Not until you gimme a kiss,” he countered with a grin.

You blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, holding the book out of your reach. “One kiss, and you get your book back.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” His smirk widened.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then I guess you don’t need the book back.” Logan made a show of flipping through the pages as if he was about to start reading it himself.

“Alright, alright!” You got up on your knees, leaning toward him. “But just one.”

Logan lowered the book slightly, clearly pleased with himself. “One’s all I need, darlin’.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Logan’s grin widened against your mouth, and before you could pull away, his hand came up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss just enough to make you forget your irritation.

When he finally let you go, his eyes were full of mischief. “There. Was that so hard?”

You snatched the book from his hand, your cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” Logan agreed with a smirk. “But you love me anyway.”

---

After an exhausting day of classes and too much loud chattering from the students, all you wanted was to curl up next to Logan and watch whatever would make him happy. Even if it was one of those old westerns again.

You got to the bedroom and dropped your satchel onto the floor. Logan was already in the room, his hair partly wet from his shower and a towel over his bare shoulder.

“Rough day?” He asked.

“Would’ve been easier if I didn’t wear these shoes,” you grumbled.

Logan sighed and kneeled down in front of you, holding one leg with one hand and easily slipping off your heel before doing the same with the other. His rough hands brushed lightly against your ankle, sending a small shiver up your spine.

"You’re gonna end up with blisters wearin’ shoes like that all day," he muttered, glancing up at you with a mix of annoyance and concern.

“I didn’t think I was gonna be on my feet that much. I had to teach Scott’s class because he was busy doing something with the Professor.”

Logan ran a hand through his damp hair, tossing the towel onto a nearby chair. “Scott owes you big for takin’ his class,” he muttered, his gaze softening as he kneeled and pressed his thumb gently along the curve of your arch.

You sighed, melting a bit under his careful touch. “I didn’t mind. It just wasn’t exactly in my plans today.”

“Bet he didn’t even tell ya why, did he?” Logan asked, his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

You shook your head, leaning back slightly as he switched to your other foot. “Nope. Just said he and the Professor were busy. Typical Scott.”

“Figures,” Logan muttered, standing up and reaching for his beater. He slipped it on, the fabric clinging to him in a way that always distracted you for a moment longer than it should have. “How’s that feel now?”

“Better,” you admitted with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Least I can do.”

You were about to flop onto the bed to finally relax, maybe even convince Logan to watch something other than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, when a sharp knock sounded at the door. Before either of you could respond, Jean’s voice came through.

“Logan? Y/N? Charles needs us in the briefing room. Now.”

Logan groaned, his head falling back. “Of course. Can’t get a damn minute of peace around here.”

You pushed yourself off the bed, but the moment your bare feet hit the floor, a sharp sting shot up your heels. You winced, grabbing onto the edge of the bed for balance.

Logan noticed immediately. “What’d I just say about those shoes, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone part exasperation, part concern. Without waiting for a response, he stepped closer, his hands already reaching for you.

“I can walk,” you protested as he scooped you up effortlessly, arms cradling you against his chest. “And what if we get there and I need shoes?” you added, trying to inject some logic into the situation.

Logan huffed a laugh, glancing down at you as he carried you toward the door. “Guess you’ll just have to sit pretty and let me handle it.”

Jean was waiting in the hallway, a knowing smirk on her face as she saw Logan carrying you. “You’re really leaning into the knight-in-shining-armor thing, huh?”

“Don’t start, Jeannie,” Logan shot back, his tone light but his grip on you firm.

Ororo and Hank joined the group as you made your way down the hall, both raising eyebrows at the sight of Logan carrying you.

“Rough day, Y/N?” Ororo teased gently.

“You could say that,” you replied with a sheepish smile.

When you finally reached the briefing room, Logan set you down gently in a chair, crouching briefly to make sure you were comfortable. His large hand lingered on your knee as if to reassure himself you were okay.

You barely noticed because the moment your gaze lifted, your breath caught. Standing near Charles and Scott was a group of people you immediately recognized from news reports and scientific journals. One in particular had your jaw dropping.

“It’s Bruce Banner,” you whispered, eyes wide as you leaned closer to Logan. “Logan. That’s Bruce Banner.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “The science guy?”

“Yes, the science guy,” you whispered back, trying not to stare too obviously. “This is incredible.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but his response was cut off by Charles clearing his throat. “Thank you all for coming. As you may have noticed, we have some new faces here today.”

Scott, standing rigid at Charles’s side, didn’t look thrilled, but his posture screamed professionalism. Beside him, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Thor, and Steve Rogers stood with varying degrees of curiosity and skepticism.

But it was Steve who caught your attention next. His gaze swept the room until it landed on Logan—and then, surprisingly, on you. His expression flickered, something like recognition flashing across his face before it was gone. You frowned, unsure of what you’d just seen, but the moment passed as Charles continued.

“Allow me to introduce the Avengers.”

You reached for Logan’s hand under the table, your thumb gently tracing patterns over his knuckles and palm. His hand tightened slightly around yours, a subtle reassurance as you sat in the presence of these strangers.

“The Avengers? Whatta stupid name,” Logan muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You shot him a look, lips twitching despite yourself. “Logan.”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’.”

Charles continued speaking, his calm, authoritative voice attempting to bridge the gap between the X-Men and their unexpected visitors. “Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D. reached out to us following the incident in New York City. He felt it prudent that we meet, given the shared nature of our goals.”

Scott, standing near the Professor, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. His arms were crossed tightly, and his jaw was set in a way that screamed I don’t trust this.

Thor, meanwhile, was visibly intrigued, his gaze sweeping across the room with curiosity. “So these are the famed X-Men,” he remarked, his deep voice filling the space. “It is a pleasure to meet warriors of such renown.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and you glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at Thor; his eyes were locked on Steve Rogers, who was staring back at him with a mix of recognition and surprise.

“Logan,” Steve said, stepping forward slightly. His voice was steady, but there was a faint undercurrent of disbelief. “It’s been… a long time.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “It has.”

The tension was thick, but you couldn’t help noticing the flicker of something else in Steve’s face—something that shifted when his gaze slid to you. His expression softened, and for the briefest moment, he looked like he was about to say something. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

Tony Stark, leaning casually against the wall, jumped in. “Wait, wait. You’re telling me you two go way back to World War II? How old are you people?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Older than you, bub. That’s all you need to know.”

Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

Jean, seated beside you, leaned in closer. “You okay?” she whispered, sensing the tension in the room.

You nodded, though your mind was racing. You weren’t entirely sure what was happening between Logan and Steve, but it wasn’t just the history between them that had you unsettled.

Charles, ever the mediator, broke through the undercurrent of tension. “I believe it would be beneficial for all of us to share information and find common ground. We face threats that may one day require collaboration.”

“Agreed,” Natasha said, her voice calm but firm. “If we’re going to work together, we need to understand each other’s capabilities.”

Logan scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Capabilities, huh? You wanna see what we can do?”

“Logan,” you murmured again, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced at you, the edges of his frustration softening slightly.

Bruce, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat. “I think what Natasha means is that if we’re going to trust each other, we need transparency. We’re not here to fight anyone.”

“Yet,” Logan muttered under his breath.

You sighed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Honey.”

Thor chuckled, clearly amused by the dynamic between you and Logan. “Your companion has spirit,” he said, addressing Logan directly.

“She’s got more than spirit,” Logan replied, his tone softer now as he glanced at you.

The meeting continued, with Charles and Nick Fury leading the discussion while the rest of you listened. You couldn’t shake the feeling that Steve’s gaze kept drifting toward you, but you didn’t dare look back.

When the meeting finally adjourned, the room began to clear. Steve lingered, his eyes finding Logan once again.

“Logan,” he said quietly, his tone deliberate.

“Cap.” Logan’s response was curt, but his grip on your hand tightened.

Steve hesitated, his gaze flickering to you. “It’s… good to see you again.”

You blinked, startled. “Me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, pulling you gently to your feet. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

You barely had time to process what had just happened as Logan led you out of the room, his pace brisk, your feet slightly stinging. It wasn’t until you were back in the privacy of your shared room that you managed to catch your breath.

“Logan, what was that about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing you need to worry about, darlin’.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “Logan—”

“Not now,” he said, his tone soft but firm. He pulled you into his arms, his grip almost possessive. “I just… needed to get you outta there.”

You rested your head against his chest, your mind still spinning. You knew that whatever it was, Logan didn’t want to talk about it, but there were too many questions now rattling inside your head.

“What did he mean again?” You said, your voice muffled against his chest, “do you think he meant… one of my past lives?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. His arms around you were solid, grounding, but his grip tightened just enough for you to notice. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” he said finally, his voice low and gravelly. “Could be. Could just be Cap bein’ Cap. He’s always got that boy scout thing goin’ on.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, your brow furrowed. “Logan, don’t brush this off. He looked like he knew me. Not just ‘oh, you remind me of someone’—he knew me.”

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he stared down at you. “I told you about 1943,” he said after a moment. “You were a nurse. I met you right before I shipped out for Operation Husky. We didn’t get much time together—just a week—but maybe he remembers you from back then. I don’t know how else he’d know you.”

You bit your lip, trying to piece it together. “He said ‘it’s good to see you again.’ Not ‘it’s good to meet you’ or even ‘you look familiar.’ That’s… specific, Logan.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—I don’t like it. Him lookin’ at you like that. Like he’s got some kind of claim or somethin’.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Logan, are you jealous?”

His lips twitched in what might���ve been a smirk if he weren’t so serious. “No,” he said, but his tone betrayed him. “I just don’t trust him. Or any of ‘em, really.”

You sighed, resting your hands on his chest. “You know, you can admit it’s weird without growling at everyone in the room.”

“I wasn’t growling.”

“Logan.”

“…Fine. Maybe I was growling a little.” He finally cracked a small grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Look, darlin’, I don’t have all the answers. But I know this—whatever Cap thinks he knows about you, he doesn’t know you like I do.”

Your heart softened at that, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I know.”

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I told you everything I remember about the other lives. There ain’t much left to figure out, but… if Cap knows somethin’ we don’t, we’ll get to the bottom of it. Together.”

You nodded against his chest, but the unease lingering in your stomach didn’t go away. “Okay.”

For now, you let the subject drop, content to stay wrapped in Logan’s arms. But you couldn’t help wondering—what exactly did Steve Rogers know about you? And why did it feel like the past was about to catch up to you in a way you weren’t prepared for?

---

The next day you walked into your lab, ready to decompress a little even if it meant doing some complex calculus. You opened the doors to your lab and saw Scott and Hank leading Tony and Bruce Banner around your lab.

Bruce Banner—scientific icon, world-renowned mind.

You hesitated, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, already feeling your cheeks flush. Anxiety stirred low in your chest, as though stepping closer would somehow make you too exposed, too scrutinized by these larger-than-life personalities.

Scott noticed you first, turning toward the door. “Y/N,” he said, his voice even but softer than usual. He must’ve picked up on your hesitation because his gaze softened just slightly.

Hank glanced over as well, waving you forward like this was no big deal. “Good timing,” he said warmly. “Come meet our guests.”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

You swallowed hard and stepped forward, managing to avoid tripping over your feet—a miracle, really. Tony had already launched into a monologue about something, but as the new arrival caught his attention, his eyes landed on you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Tony said, cocking an eyebrow. “Another genius in the house? Don’t tell me Stark Industries has competition hiding out in a mansion.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words tangled up and didn’t come.

Scott, likely sensing the rise of your internal panic, stepped closer, standing at your side. His hand brushed your shoulder, solid and reassuring, before it returned to his crossed-arm stance. “This is Dr. Y/N,” Scott said, his tone brisk but protective in that understated way of his. “She’s part of the team and handles all our physics work. You’ll want her opinion on anything advanced.”

You winced a little, feeling like Scott had just put a spotlight on you. “I, uh… Hi,” you managed, adjusting your glasses as you glanced at Bruce, trying not to think too much about how much smarter than you he probably was. “It’s nice to meet you.”

To your surprise, Bruce smiled—not in that awkward, condescending way you sometimes got, but a genuine, warm smile. “Nice to meet you, too, Doctor,” he said, his tone polite. “Hank mentioned your work. I’d love to see what you’re working on sometime.”

Your cheeks flamed. “Oh—um—yeah, sure. I mean, it’s not that interesting. Just… you know… physics.”

Tony snorted. “Oh, ‘just physics,’ she says. Humble, too. Let me guess: some casual light reading on quantum dynamics?”

You felt rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond. Hank cleared his throat, stepping in smoothly. “Actually,” he said with an amused tone, “Y/N specializes in quantum field theory, but she’s been working on some breakthroughs in spatial-temporal fluctuations.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Spatial-temporal fluctuations? No kidding.”

Bruce adjusted his glasses. “That’s fascinating. I was actually reading a paper recently on the potential overlaps of that field with time-reversal symmetry.”

You blinked, your mind simultaneously thrilled and spinning. “That’s—well, that’s exactly what I’m looking into,” you said quickly before you could lose your nerve. “Though it’s still in early stages. Nothing like what you’ve done.”

Bruce tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe we can exchange notes later?”

“Oh,” you said, startled. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, clapping his hands together. “Brilliant minds, bonding over impossible science. Warms my heart.” He glanced around the lab. “So, Specks, you’re not gonna, you know, shoot lasers outta your eyes, right? Or turn into… that.” Tony lazily gestured at Hank. “No offense.”

Hank let out a sigh, “none taken.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. The sudden shift in attention felt like a spotlight bearing down on you, and your cheeks warmed. Before you could stammer out an answer, Hank stepped in, his tone calm but firm.

“Y/N’s abilities are unique,” Hank said, resting a steady hand on your shoulder. It was a quiet gesture, but it helped ground you. “She can manipulate time. It’s not something she uses lightly.”

Bruce Banner tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Time manipulation?” he asked, his voice gentle, more intrigued than intrusive. “That’s… incredible. I can only imagine the complexities.”

You adjusted your glasses, your hand fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “It’s, um… not as impressive as it sounds,” you said quietly, the words tumbling out before you could think them through. “It’s not like I can just—just rewind things or stop time completely. It’s more… nuanced. And honestly, I try not to use it if I don’t have to.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Not as impressive as it sounds? Manipulating time doesn’t exactly scream ‘humdrum.’ What, are you worried about messing up the space-time continuum or something?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet. “Something like that.”

Scott, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, stepped closer, his stance subtly protective. “Y/N’s powers are powerful, but she’s not reckless with them. It’s not exactly dinner table conversation.”

Bruce nodded in understanding. “I can appreciate that,” he said, his voice kind. “With abilities like that, caution is probably the smartest approach.”

Tony, however, wasn’t quite ready to drop it. “Still, that’s gotta be a lot of pressure,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Knowing you’ve got all this power but not wanting to use it. I mean, if I could bend time, you’d better believe I’d—”

“That’s enough, Stark,” Scott cut in, his tone sharp enough to silence Tony. He shot you a quick glance, his expression softening. “You don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

You offered Scott a small, grateful smile, but the unease lingering in your chest didn’t fully dissipate. Bruce, perhaps sensing your discomfort, shifted the focus of the conversation.

“Regardless,” Bruce said, his tone thoughtful, “it sounds like you have a deep understanding of your abilities. And paired with your work in physics… well, it’s clear you’re contributing something remarkable here.”

You felt your shoulders relax just a little at his words. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice still shy but sincere.

Tony clapped his hands together, clearly ready to move on. “Alright, enough about bending the fabric of reality. Let’s get back to the fun stuff—labs, gadgets, all that good stuff. Specks, you’re the quantum genius here. What’s the coolest thing you’ve built?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t really build things. I mostly focus on theoretical models and equations.”

Tony feigned a look of disappointment. “No gadgets? No flashy inventions? What do you even do in here?”

Hank cleared his throat, fixing Tony with a look. “Y/N’s work is critical. Without her models, most of what we develop wouldn’t be possible. She’s the foundation.”

Bruce nodded in agreement. “Theory drives application,” he said. “And if you’re working on spatial-temporal fluctuations, you’re tackling some of the most challenging questions in physics. That’s impressive, no matter how you slice it.”

You bit your lip, feeling a small swell of pride despite your lingering nervousness. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your gaze flickering between Bruce and Hank.

Scott, always attuned to your emotions, gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing great,” he said under his breath, his voice so low only you could hear.

You shot him a grateful look, the tension in your chest easing just a little. As the conversation shifted back to lab equipment and theoretical possibilities, you let yourself take a small step back, content to observe for now.

---

You looked in the cupboard for your mug only to find nothing. You had even checked the dishwasher and sink, and it wasn’t in any of those spots.

Jean walked into the kitchen with a dramatic sigh, “I’m pretty sure that… guy—who I still can’t believe is actually Thor—crushed my thermos.”

You closed the cupboard door, “I think one of ‘em took my mug.”

The two of you heard footsteps outside the kitchen, watching Clint and Natasha walking with Ororo down the hall. Clint had your mug.

“Why are they still here?” You grumbled.

Jean let out a chuckle, “now your startin’ to sound like Logan.”

You scoffed lightly, crossing your arms as you leaned back against the counter. “I’m not that grumpy. Yet.”

Jean grinned and opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of orange juice. “Give it time. You keep hanging out with him, and you’ll start growling at people too.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, adjusting your glasses. “Yeah, well, if Clint doesn’t give me back my mug, I might start sooner than expected.”

Jean poured herself a glass of juice, shaking her head in amusement. “You and that mug.”

“It’s my favorite mug!” you argued, throwing your hands up. “It’s the perfect size, the handle doesn’t get too hot, and it has the constellations on it. I’ve had it for years.”

“And now it’s Clint’s favorite mug,” Jean teased, sipping her juice.

Before you could retort, Logan walked into the kitchen. His boots thudded against the floor, and he gave a short nod to you and Jean. “Mornin’.”

Jean raised her glass in greeting, but you turned to Logan, still fuming. “Clint took my mug.”

Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway. “Want me to get it back?”

Jean snorted, clearly entertained. “What are you gonna do, Logan? Growl at him until he gives it up?”

Logan shot her a dry look. “Worked last time, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “It’s fine. I’ll get it later. Maybe.”

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his gruffness easing slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing it off, though the thought of Clint sipping coffee from your mug still irked you. “Not worth starting a whole thing over.”

“Could be fun, though,” Logan muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Jean laughed and set her glass in the sink. “Well, this has been delightful, but I’ve got a Danger Room session to run. Try not to maim Clint over the mug, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises,” Logan said, earning a laugh from Jean as she left the kitchen.

Once it was just the two of you, Logan moved closer, grabbing a coffee mug from the cupboard—one of the generic ones everyone used. He glanced over at you as he poured his coffee. “You okay?”

You sighed, leaning back against the counter. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess. And maybe a little annoyed. It’s been a long week.”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful as he sipped his coffee. “Anything I can do?”

You smiled softly at the offer. Logan always had a knack for cutting through the noise and centering you without effort. “No, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, that familiar softness appearing in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Alright,” he said, his voice low. “But if Clint doesn’t give that mug back, you just say the word.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the tension ease ever so slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two of you shared a brief moment of quiet, and then Logan took a step closer, his coffee steaming in his hands. “How’s the lab stuff goin’? That Banner guy giving you a hard time?”

You shook your head quickly, pushing your glasses further up your nose. “No, actually. He’s… nice. Really nice, actually.” You paused, then let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “It’s just overwhelming, you know? People like him—and Stark—they’re so brilliant, and I can’t help but feel like I don’t measure up.”

Logan grunted, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning one hip against the counter. “You’re worried about not measurin’ up to Stark?” He arched a brow. “That guy’s got enough ego to make up for every flaw he’s got. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You smiled faintly at Logan’s bluntness. “It’s not him. It’s… me. My own head is the problem.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp but kind. “Y/N, you’re probably the smartest person I’ve met—and I’ve met Banner and Stark. You need me to remind you again of the times you’ve bailed Hank out with your brain?”

The warmth in his tone brought a deeper flush to your cheeks, and you averted your gaze, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “That’s sweet of you to say, but—”

“But nothin’.” Logan’s voice was firm, though not unkind. “You know how many times you’ve pulled the X-Men out of a mess just by bein’ you? Hell, if it weren’t for you, none of us would even have the equipment that makes half the missions possible. You’re not just smart, darlin’; you’re vital.”

You blinked at him, warmth blooming in your chest at the way he looked at you—earnest, unwavering. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He tipped his head, his smirk more subdued now. “Anytime.”

this was 2012 (or the rest of it) and 2013!

and btw, 'girl i've always been' is underrated, it's one of my favorite's from guts spilled

[riddlesrizzler]

Gracie babyyy what are your thoughts on lifeguard! himbo Theo who notices a suspicious number of girls needing cpr while he’s on duty, so he decides to do adult swim lessons. And suddenly there’s a suspicious number of girls who don’t know how to swim. And fellow lifeguard! reader is just so done with him

Just spit balling here, Leigh’s AU festival is taking over my entire brain rn

THEO would be eating it up for sure!!!! like this is what he is made for, attention. especially female attention. and like what better way to spend the summer with girls in tiny bikinis who need saving? (but obviously he is more interested in wondering if you can blow his whistle)

@nottslove what are your thoughts on lifeguard! theo? i loved your fic where he basically undoes the readers swimsuit!

It starts with CPR.

Specifically: a suspicious number of girls needing it.

“Third one this week,” you mutter, arms crossed, as Theo hoists yet another sunburned twenty-something out of the shallow end and gently sets her down on the pool deck like he’s performing a sacred ritual. “She choked on her own gum. In three feet of water.”

“She panicked,” Theo says seriously, brushing wet hair from her forehead. “It’s a real thing, you know. Shock.”

“She winked at you mid-rescue.”

He shrugs. “I have that effect on people.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Theo.”

“Yes, my beautiful and morally upright co-lifeguard?”

“Stop giving people fake CPR.”

“It’s not fake. It’s emotional CPR.”

“I will push you into the deep end.”

He grins at you-big and harmless and golden in that shirtless, sun-kissed way that makes your job so much harder. Not because you’re into it (though, okay, maybe you are, just a little), but because half the female population within a ten-mile radius seems to be faking medical emergencies just to get mouth-to-mouth from Theo Nott.

It’s getting exhausting.

So when he shows up one Monday morning with a laminated flyer and a hopeful look in his eye, you already know you're in trouble.

“I’m starting an Adult Swim Class,” he announces, slapping the flyer onto your clipboard.

You squint. “Since when do you teach?”

“Since now. It’s about public service. Drowning prevention. Lifesaving stuff.”

The flyer has a photo of him shirtless on it. Holding a pool noodle. Smiling like a himbo Greek god.

“Theo. This is just your Tinder profile in Arial Bold.”

“Marketing is everything.”

You sigh. “You're doing this just for the attention, aren't you?”

“I’m doing this,” he says, flashing that stupidly perfect grin, “for the community.”

The first class sells out in five minutes.

Fifteen girls show up in full makeup and matching pastel swim caps. One of them brought a waterproof ring light.

“I think I forgot how to float,” one says sweetly, clinging to Theo’s bicep like she’s just been rescued from a riptide. “Can you hold me up?”

You lean against the lifeguard tower, watching the chaos unfold.

To his credit, Theo really is trying.

Sort of.

“Okay, ladies,” he says, chest puffed like he’s teaching a masterclass. “Let’s start with breathing. In through the nose, out through the-uh-smile.”

Someone giggles. Another pretends to slip and grabs onto him for balance. A third is live-streaming on TikTok.

You can’t take it anymore.

“Alright, fish sticks,” you bark, blowing your whistle. “Float practice. Spread out. That does not mean dogpile on the lifeguard.”

Groans ripple across the pool, but they obey. Reluctantly.

Theo gives you a sheepish look. “I think they’re learning.”

“They’re learning how to flirt with a himbo with a whistle”

“I don’t wear a whistle”

“Exactly.”

He chuckles, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you again-like it used to be before Theo became the Poolside Panty-Dropper.

You raise an eyebrow. “You enjoying yourself, hotshot?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits, glancing at the group now dramatically practicing synchronized floating. “But hey. No one’s fake drowning.”

You snort. “Yet.”

He leans a little closer. “Unless you’re planning to.”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t even try.”

“I’d save you first, you know.”

You scoff, but your cheeks go warm anyway.

Theo winks. “Emotional CPR. Just say the word.”

You roll your eyes and blow the whistle again.

[luvologyy]

Crew headcannons.

Characters: Anya, daisuke, curly (before crash), Swansea, jimmy..(ik ik🙄)

Dating headcannons next ! ᵔᴗᵔ

A/N: my first post hai guys 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Anya

Age: 27 ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Height: 5'6

Anya is Vietnamese and Brazilian 🇧🇷🇻🇳 her mom is Vietnamese, and her dad is from Brazil.

Graduated at the age of 18

She's closer to her Vietnamese side of her family but still close with her dad's side

She's the oldest sister over her younger brother and sister

She's bisexual but prefers women

LOVES TABBY CATS AND PERSIAN CATSS

Her favorite subjects in school were math and science

Has a small shelf with shoes, sandals, and slippers near her front door

NEVER WEARS SHOES INSIDEE ALWAYS.

Used to have doctors play kits and play doctor with her dad when she was a kid🩷

She prefers wine over any other kind of alcohol. Fancy.

She uses rose scents or clean scented hygiene products/perfume (daisuke HATES when she uses floral stuff)

HATES seafood.

Is an older sister figure to daisuke, always looking out for him

She used to smoke then quitted (proud of her)

Dresses in frilly long skirts with bigger shirts and cardigans for everyday clothes

Wears sm eyeliner or mascara she literally brings like 6 tube's of each

Wear doc Martin loafers

Loves Sims 4

Listens to artists/bands like The Cranberries, TV girl, Clairo, Laufey, Beabadoobee, MARINA, and Lana Del Rey.

She'd rather smell like roses or raspberries

Her favorite color is purple

Daisuke

Age: 22 ᵔᴗᵔ

Height: 5'11

His full name is Daisuke Juarez

He's filipino and Hawaiian 🇵🇭 (WHERE MY FILIPINOS ATT?)

Gooner.

He listens to K-pop groups like stray kids, enhypen, or kiss of life

He listens to artists/bands like Steve Lacy, beabadoobee, Tyler the creator, creepy nuts, frank ocean, and sun-kissed Lola

LOVES LISTENING TO ATARASHII GAKKO

SOME BEABADOOBEE REFFERANCES IN HEREE.

He's from Californiaa

He smells like oranges or fruit punch

Daisuke is fluent in tagolog

Taught Swansea to say "putang Ina" thinking it meant "thank you" 💀

Him cackling in the corner when Swansea says it to the other crew members.. hay nako.

Likes watching ghibli movies, his fav ghibli movie is spirited away.

Sometimes, accidently calls anya "ate anya" (ate = older sister) he gets embarrassed but anya doesn't mind it.

He plays baseball

Gossips about old people from school with anya

LOVES PHÓ NOODLES (anya would always make it)

Loves building lego sets

If he was in the hunger games, he would die IMMEDIATELY. He'll just start crying

Daisukes a horrible liar. HE'LL LIE ABOUT THE MOST STUPIDEST THINGS.

Reader: "daisuke, did you take my candy bar?"

"... no." The wrapper sticking our his pocket..

*You raise your eyebrow at him*

* sigh* "yeah.."

He thinks that santa is real

He would have anime girl posters in his room😭

He likes reptiles. He'd have a pet beared dragon and put tiny hats on it

He collects Pokémon cards

He likes beetles

Daisukes favorite drinks are Arizona teas or apple cider

SNORES SO LOUDLY.

Captain Curly

Age: 35 ˊˎ-

Height: 6'5

He's Australian 🇦🇺 NO DENYING.

He moved to the U.S. in his early teens (13 or 14) with the rest of his family, then met Jimmy in high school

Actually enjoys watching YouTube shorts..

He'd have the newest or most expensive iPhone and not know how to use it 😭

HE CRIES WHILE WATCHING DISNEY MOVIES.. what a REAL man.

PLEASEE teach this man to season his food😭🙏 ITLL SAVE HIS LIFE.

Decorates his house in Christmas decorations as soon as November starts

He's sings in the shower and wears shower caps (he's extra like that)

Played hockey in high school

PLEASE INTRODUCE YOUR CULTURES FOOD TO HIM, it'll be his new favorite

Snores but isn't as loud as daisuke

He loves history. It was his favorite subject in school

He smells like clean laundry

Uses dove products or method bodywash

Has containers of protein powder

Goes to the gym almost everymorning

He still has an Australian accent (MMMH🙈)

He's allergic to peanuts or other nuts straight up (he missing outt)

Growing up, he had a tree house in his backyard and hung out with Jimmy when they were teens, and they always decorated it with posters and lights

Went to military school with Jimmy

He's such a millennial.. he'd laugh at the most unfunniest Facebook quotes. It's sad.

"Cmon, you can't say this is so funny!"

"Curly, it's not that funny.."

"IT makes sense though!"

"CAPTAIN NO.."

"..aw."

He always helped Jimmy with his school work in high school

He HATES it when people crack their knuckles. HATES IT

He likes musicals his favorites are Hamilton and Chicago

He keeps old trophies and jerseys from his high school hockey team hung up on shelves or frames

He listens to punk floyd, cigarettes after sex, the weekend, beyonce, and sade

Jimmy

Age: 34 ᝰ.ᐟ

Height: 6'2

He's polish and white 🇺🇸🇵🇱

He drinks really bitter black coffee. He thinks adding sugar ruins it.

He smells like cigarettes and liquor

He only uses men scented products (idek if he showers but wtv)

He met curly in highschool

He always skipped class and snuck out of school while curly was the exact opposite

He took a little Spanish in highschool

He also went to military school with curly and made him sneak out of campus with him

He listens to divorced dad rock like blink 182, linkin park, limp bizkit, ac/dc, and radio head

Listens to other artists, too like icp, judas priest, metallica, Nirvana, Rob Zombie, or ozzy osbourne

He used to steal or break into cars when he was in his teens.

He lived with his dad and older brother after he lost his mom at a young age.

He sleeps in his underwear. If not, he's sleeping in pj pants with no shirt

His favorite subjects in high school were gym and history

Even though he skipped class, he still has favorites!

Besides the rock and metal he'll listen to, he loves listening to SADE. (It's his guilty pleasure for him) aww

Every time he'll listen to SADE, it'll remind him of his mom he lost

Thinks toaster struddles are better than pop tarts

He used to smoke weed, I can kinda see it in him.

He honestly likes chemistry and math, even if they weren't his favorites

SUCKED ASS in English class, He couldn't write poems and essays for shit.

Swansea

Age: 58 ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Height: 5'10

MERICAAA🇺🇸🔥 RAHH

Married to his wife of 30 years (sorry, Swansea fans)

He sneezes so LOUDLY

He snores like a loud train

Has 2 daughters and 1 son

Likes cooking barbecue

He likes to take his family camping and teaches his kids how to fish

He definitely shops at Costco or Sam's club

He'd get confused when his daughters would put selfie filters on him, but he doesn't mind. Whatever makes em happy

He always puts his kids in sports clubs

He used to be a coach for baseball

A/N: sorry these suck😑

[takusan-no-ai]

In Love with Love

PAIRING: Yanagi/Miyabi/Grace/Koleda x Male Reader (Romantic) (Separate)

SUMMARY: They have a crush on (Y/N), Phaethon’s younger brother.

Things were, awkward, at first. You weren’t aware of how your siblings became friends with Section 6, but you knew it had to be more than Random Play. Your curiosity led to you spending time with Yanagi; and being Phaethon’s younger brother, Yanagi acted like a mother to you; despite you being close in age. She’d share her favorite red bean buns with you. And sometimes while relaxing outside, Yanagi would sing a lullaby as you rested next to her.

But that didn’t deter your drive to discovering the truth. Which you eventually did. Just when things seemed like they couldn’t get worse, Soukaku let it slip one afternoon that everyone in Section 6 knew. It was shocking to Yanagi why that hurt you; she assumed you were a part of the proxy business. So, when she saw how hurt you were it was like the natural caring side of her resurfaced; she apologized and reassured you that nobody at Section 6 meant any harm. Especially herself. Why she insisted on that? She couldn’t explain.

You had a hard time being upset at Yanagi, her sincerity shining through. While you had issues with your family, you still cared for them. And similarly you still cared for Yanagi and Soukaku, both of which you had bonded with. So you both were amicable with each other. You even became a big brother figure to Soukaku, something that Yanagi really loved; the way you treated her made Yanagi see you in a more mature light.

Naturally that came with seeing…other parts of you differently. She became hyper aware of your presence. Yanagi could easily find you in a crowd, and she’d always have a dopey smile on her face as she watched you. Please don’t tease her for that time you handed her a red bean bun and she stood frozen, over analyzing your action, until she bit it while you still held it. Romance was never her strong suit.

It was finally afternoon, after some long and grueling decades at work. At least for Soukaku it felt that long. With Yanagi and (Y/N) right behind her, the group made their way to Waterfall Soup in Lumina Square.

“C’mon Nagi! (Y/N)! I’m starving!” Soukaku was practically dragging them forward, her stomach growling so loud it scared away the birds.

“Patience, Soukaku.” Yanagi corrected her.

“The noodles aren’t going anywhere.” (Y/N) chimed in.

Soukaku eased back on her whining, preferring to rub her stomach in what would normally be exaggerated pain for any other child. Yanagi giggled at her, walking slightly faster so the little oni wouldn’t have to be in hunger any longer.

But as she walked Yanagi tripped over a small stone that had blended in with the street pavement. (Y/N) quickly caught her, helping her readjust her glasses. “You okay Yanagi? That was a close one.”

But she couldn’t answer his question, too focused on the close proximity. His cologne. His beautiful eyes. The comfort of being enveloped in his arms—

“Hehehe.” Soukaku was giggling right next to Yanagi. The latter quickly fixed her heel, walking ahead to hide her encroaching blush. (Y/N) stared off at her quickly departing figure, making a small glance at Soukaku, who was still fighting off a large grin.

Now sitting at Waterfall Soup, Soukaku immediately started digging in. Yanagi and (Y/N), who were sitting next to each other, watched her with a smile.

“I think I get it.” (Y/N) whispered. Yanagi turned to look at him, a questioning look on her face. He continued, “This is probably how Wise and Belle felt. Watching over me like a child.” Yanagi nodded.

“Even though I know Soukaku is capable, I still want to protect her.” She said. “But I won’t shelter her from everything. Instead, I’ll teach her so she can be ready.”

(Y/N) gazed at Yanagi, a soft smile encompassing his face. She looked at him for a moment before hastily turning away. Again she was made aware of how close they were. Shoulders almost touching. Why was he looking at her like that? She wondered.

“You would be an amazing wife, Yanagi. And an even better mother.” He mumbled. His smile had turned into a cheeky grin as he watched her face turn fifty shades of red.

“Fl-flirting is not appropriate around children, (Y/N).” She tried to state her claim firmly, but her stutter made it lackluster.

“Who said I was flirting? Unless that’s what you want me to do?” He teased.

Yanagi resigned to eating her noodles, not trusting her voice. But she didn’t decline his offer.

Soukaku cleared her throat. Both of them froze up, having forgotten for a moment where they were.

“So…,” she started.

“…are you guys getting married now? Like the princess and prince in my storybook?”

Miyabi was initially indifferent when she met Phaethon’s younger brother, but that quickly changed when she realized you were both flocks of the same feather. The silly back and forth’s, training (goofing off), like kindred spirits, it was as if you’d known each other for years. You made Miyabi feel young again, before being a void hunter came with such responsibility. While you were curious as to how Belle and Wise knew a void hunter, like smoke over the screen, you opted to ignore the obvious.

You had later found out about your siblings side business, and you thought it was a secret they kept between themselves. So when Miyabi mentioned in passing, asking why you don’t go into hollows or train to fight in them, it was safe to say you were confused. That’s when she reveals that, yes, everybody at Section 6 knew. And you felt so blindsided. But you knew she didn’t mean harm and Miyabi had more things to worry about than keeping a secret like that from you.

So instead of seething about it all you decided to be proactive; you asked Miyabi to train you. To which she agrees. That way you could join Belle and Wise in their proxy work. Prove to them that you’re capable. Of course Miyabi warns you of what being a “hero” meant, that she would train you to survive and overcome that hardship, but that it was an unavoidable risk. She was so serious about it, and truth be told she was hesitant to even train you; all because she didn’t want to lose you.

Miyabi had an inkling of what she felt for you, but she chalked it up to her being possessive of someone she cares for. That feeling motivated her to train you to your limits. And while seeing the progress you made in such a short time was impressive, it was a little hard for her to remain focused. There were two brain cells in her mind fighting: one was worried about you going into a hollow, the other was busy ogling your body like she’d never seen a shirtless man before.

Slash!

Miyabi’s blade clashed against (Y/N)’s. This was their new training regime. It took a while, but (Y/N) could now wield a sword decently enough. “Your core strength has improved. However your arms are still too tense. You’ll cramp up before you can overpower your opponent.” She stated.

(Y/N) could only grunt in response. He was still parrying every one of her attacks. It was a constant barrage. He could tell she was going easy on him though. Something (Y/N) was currently very grateful for.

Having said that, Miyabi wasn’t doing it intentionally. She didn’t want to go easy on him. She wanted (Y/N) to truly undergo the kind of training he would need to survive the hollows. But she was too lost in thought, only making the occasional comment about his stance.

It had gotten to a point where they both started taking it too seriously. (Y/N) was getting eager, deciding to try and move on the offense. But anytime he did Miyabi would strike for a finishing blow, something he would just barely dodge. Not without a small graze either.

She was getting more distracted.

The thought of him getting killed by an ethereal.

Or the thought of him turning into one.

She couldn’t bear to see such a future come to pass. So she wanted him to be fierce, to go through a brutalizing, almost tortuous phase. All so that he would never have to endure such a fate. And so that if anything were to happen to her…

“…so that you could finish me.” She mumbled.

“Miyabi!” His shouting finally brought her back to reality. She snapped out of it, now realizing her mistake.

(Y/N) was using all of his strength to hold back her attack. Just inches away from his head.

Miyabi dropped her sword and fell down to her knees. (Y/N) took a moment to catch his breath before crawling over to her, holding her in his arms. She was trembling.

“What’s wrong, Miyabi?” He asked.

She sucked in a deep breath. Just talking felt like a stab in the gut. But like a broken dam, those emotions came bursting out with no end in sight.

“I don’t want to risk losing someone else again. All I have left is my father. What of my colleagues? The ones I’ve come to call my friends? What if…I become like my mother? Who will slay me?”

(Y/N) looked at her in bewilderment, eyebrows scrunched and breath hitched. What could he say? Should he tell her it’ll be okay? Or that she won’t have to worry about anything?

Instead, he comforted her the only way he knew how.

“I promise you, Miyabi, that I will live.” (Y/N) held her tighter. She stopped trembling, looking at him in astonishment.

“How can you promise that?”

“Because…,” he held her face, “…I promise to live for my family and friends no matter our disputes. And even more so than that, I promise to live for my love for you, Miyabi.”

It didn’t stop her from believing the danger she could become. And it couldn’t possibly prevent the possibility of death. But it did comfort her. And it did make her smile.

“I promise to love you too.”

Grace, being as antisocial as always, didn’t pay much attention to you at first. That was until you showed an interest in her “children”. Who knew Random Play was hiding such a sweetheart! She got to work immediately showing you how she makes them, even offering to teach you a thing or two. And when you made one together it led to you both roleplaying as the “child’s” mom and dad. Grace wasn’t prepared for the shock when she day dreamed what the real thing would be like while upgrading Belobog’s machinery.

Grace never intentionally kept the proxy work a secret, the topic simply never came up. Besides, updating you on her babies always felt more important. But she did feel bad for you. She saw a bit of sweat pea in you, being unable to trust your family. That doubt is hard to diminish. Logically she knows with enough time you’ll get through it and make amends with everyone, but for some reason she still couldn’t seem to focus afterwards. Especially when she thought of the hurt look you gave her in passing.

Surprisingly Grace is the one who changes, hunting you down to spend time together. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to spend time with some guy when her robots existed, but she couldn’t get you off her mind. So she just went with it. Plus your constant frowning wasn’t good at all; she really wanted you to smile like before. And so with her mission to make you happy, your own attraction for her grows more than before.

She steps out of her comfort zone, opting to make more time for a human instead of being nose deep in her work. It’d been a long time since Grace actually did something other than rant about her children, so the sudden change to being hyper aware of your smile, laugh, likes, dislikes, the times your hands would bump into each other…it was more than a little overwhelming. For once Grace actually started to regret being “single as hell” most of her life prior to meeting you.

Grace waited eagerly on her stool, fiddling with one of her machine cores. Who was she waiting for? Why (Y/N) of course! They agreed to meetup at Belobog Heavy Industries since he wanted to learn more about making advanced machines.

Both Grace and (Y/N) knew it was because he wanted a distraction. Something to challenge himself until he felt like he could talk to his siblings about Phaethon…

But that was enough about sad thoughts! Ben’s knock on her door had Grace racing to open it. “Uh, Miss Grace, please try to keep the expenses low. I know you’re excited to teach (Y/N), but—”

“Aw, don’t worry Ben! It won’t cost too much.” Grace said with a gleam in her eyes. Ben escorted (Y/N) inside, leaving with hefty sigh.

From then on it was completely quiet. Grace knew what she was doing when it came to tech, but explaining it was another matter. So she opted to show (Y/N) instead first. Saying the occasional “Good” or “Move it a little to the left”, she pretty much left him to his own devices.

“Grace?” He asked.

“Yeah?” She replied.

“I get that you’re going out of your way and all…,” he turned around to look at her, “…but do you think you could help me a little? I’m not a licensed mechanic like you so this is all new to me.”

Grace, who had been hovering above him and watching like a hawk, gawked. “Oh! I guess I have been a little…distant. I learnt most of this from my own experiences so I was kind of hoping it’d be the same for you…,” she trailed off.

Grace wasn’t lying when she said this. However it wasn’t the full truth. Yeah, she had been distant during it because she wanted to see (Y/N) in his element. But she also didn’t want to stand too close to him. Her heart beat, blushing face, and distracted thoughts were clear indicators of…something Grace would rather ignore.

(Y/N) grasped her hand suddenly and pointed her finger towards one of the modules. “Do I put this on or not for the next step?” Grace could feel her hand sweating and she was so grateful to be wearing gloves. But she was again getting distracted. Something about the way he held her hand, it got her thinking.

A ring in a box…

Church bells chiming…

Doves flying…

And him holding her hand softly, a smile on his face as they walked down the aisle…

“Hello??? Grace!” He called out to her again, snapping Grace out of her thoughts. She fanned her face with her other hand, humming and pretending to be lost in thought.

“Uuuh—yes! Remove that part!” She said confidently.

“But I haven’t even added it in yet.” (Y/N) reminded her. She deadpanned. “You okay, Grace? You seem really distracted today. Which is weird considering your kink for machines—”

“It is NOT a kink! It is a pure love and admiration!” She quickly defended herself. (Y/N) laughed at her quick retort, almost hunching over. Grace huffed in annoyance, eyebrows twitching and cheeks puffed.

“And to think I wanted to make a child with you.” She mumbled angrily.

(Y/N) stopped laughing.

Grace stopped pouting.

(Y/N) started blushing. “You-you meant like a robot…right?” He had to confirm that.

“O-of course! What else could I have meant?!” She shouted while covering her face, now red as her sweet pea’s hair.

“We st-still could. And we technically already have. What would today change?” He added.

Grace looked at him completely flabbergasted. And they say she’s bad a romance! He didn’t even understand what she said at all!

“The difference is that was a love confession!” She said while crossing her arms. Her eyes were squinted, clearly indicating (Y/N)’s next words were to be said carefully.

He covered his face, hiding his blush. “I mean I love you too but that wasn’t obvious at all.”

“What about it wasn’t—! Wait what?”

From the get-go Koleda liked you. Finally! Someone who didn’t tease her for her size or mistake her for a child! Being treated like an adult with you was very calming. In fact it made Koleda not so paranoid about appearing “childish”. She could have a calm, nonsensical conversation with you one moment, and gorge on desserts the next. Especially since most of the guys at work had a hard time believing she was the boss at Belobog. But you? You believed her instantly and showed her with respect.

Koleda was made aware that you didn’t know of the proxy work your siblings did. However she felt it wasn’t her place to intervene in your family affairs. Which is why she sympathized with you when you inevitably found out. She went through similar trust issues with her father, so Koleda understood what it’s like to question the trust of your loved ones.

But you were offended she didn’t even try to tell you. If she knew how you felt then why not tell you the truth? You could see why Koleda didn’t want to be involved but it still felt unfair. Koleda didn’t feel the same though. When you told her how upset the secrecy made you, she told you to be more mature. Because what she saw before her in her mind was a little boy who risked abandoning his family in a fit of pain. She saw herself in you and wanted you to take time to think about your feelings. But nonetheless, a strife was brewing between you two.

It was always thorny from then on whenever you became the topic of discussion at Belobog. Everyone would get quiet, looking away anxiously, quickly changing the subject. But Grace wasn’t having any of it. With the help of Anton and Ben, they successfully encouraged Koleda to have a proper discussion with you. It was tricky, but when Grace started teasing her for getting in a disagreement with her “crush”, Koleda quickly bolted out of there to get it done and over with.

“Ugh!” She groaned. Koleda was currently waiting outside of Random Play for (Y/N). She kept circling around the building, kicking rocks and second guessing herself; she reaches out for the door and immediately backpedals away for what felt like hours on end.

Wise was currently working at the counter, whilst Belle was out making a stock run, and as for (Y/N) he was…somewhere. Tensions were still there with his siblings, but they still treated each other well enough, so he didn’t leave home. That much Koleda knew for a fact.

Eventually Wise took pity on her and approached the nervous Koleda outside. “Hey, looking for my little bro?” He asked. Koleda was going to deny it, not wanting to acknowledge how obvious she must’ve looked, but the smarter option would be to swallow her pride.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to him. Know where he is?” Wise nodded in response.

He pointed towards Godfinger. “He’s been there for a little while now. Think he’s playing games to blow off some steam.” After being pointed in the right direction by Wise, Koleda thanked him and made her way over to the arcade.

It was in there that she saw him playing Bizarre Brigade. She took and deep breath and walked over to him. He was so absorbed in the game that he didn’t even notice her.

“Excuse me.” Koleda cleared her throat. Normally she would wait for someone to finish gaming but this was important.

“Still standing there?” He said.

Okay so apparently he did see her!

“Yeah! C’mon, let’s go somewhere more private. I need to talk to you, (Y/N).” She said.

He finished the game, having reached the final level on endless mode. (Y/N) turned to look at her clearly, his face cringing. “About what? How I’m immature?” His snarky remark had Koleda’s knuckles twitch.

She took a deep breath. “I get that what I said hurt your feelings; thats why I’m here to talk to you.”

He sighed. “Fine. Lead the way, munchkin.” He said with a smirk. Koleda could feel her blood boiling.

“Sure! Just remember that I’m the perfect height to break your knee caps!”

She led him to the bench outside of Box Galaxy, where they both sat at the furthest ends. (Y/N) had his arms crossed, looking indifferently at his surroundings. Koleda on the other hand was fiddling with her fingers, not really having planned this far ahead.

“Aren’t ya gonna say something?” He chided.

“I didn’t think this far ahead!” She replied. (Y/N)’s eyebrow was raised, a more than confused look on his face.

“Then why come here?”

“Because! It’s…important that I say this.” She took a deep breath, scooting over so that she was now looking directly at him. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) shivered a little.

“It wasn’t fair to call you immature for sharing how you felt; that was actually more mature than just being quietly angry at me for a reason I wouldn’t have known.”

He could feel his breath hitch.

“I still don’t regret not getting involved—”

“And I understand why you didn’t want to be.” He cut in.

Koleda breathed easily now, seeing as to how (Y/N) was less stiff than before. “Yeah. But the main reason I told you that was because I didn’t want you to make any hasty decisions or come to any conclusions without thinking it through.” Her voice trailed off, leaving a void of silence in the air.

“Koleda…,”

“The world lied to me about my father and I didn’t find out until it was too late. At least you still get to make amends. So…don’t make the same mistake that I did; or else you may regret it.” She said while fighting back tears.

(Y/N) stood up and walked off to the convenience store, leaving Koleda confused. He quickly returned with a small chocolate bar in his hand.

“Here.” He handed it to her, wiped the tears from her eye, and smiled. “I’m sorry too, Koleda. Let’s put it all behind us and start over again.” He comforted her.

Koleda smiled in return, already taking a bite out of her chocolate bar.

“This time how about we start dating?” He asked.

…

…

…

She almost choked to death.

- Fin

[sa1ntn3k0]

Strawberries, Cherries, and an Angel’s Kiss ≽^•⩊•^≼ nsfw!

Warnings: Stepdad Gojo x Stepdaughter reader (of age)

Satoru didn’t know he’d be married, let alone settled down, or, scratch that, have a girlfriend. Life for him was simple: work, work, work some more, then finally sleep for three hours and do it again until he had the rare Sunday off. He loved teaching; his students, Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara, were his kids, he was practically their dad, though he’d never admit it aloud. Their chaotic energy mirrored his own, a confetti bomb of mischief and grit he’d grown fond of. But having said all that… he hasn’t a clue on how he ended up here: sat in a cozy, sunlit, dark wood home in Setagaya at 7 p.m., a time where he’d usually be balls-deep in exorcising curses or doing paperwork, not breathing in the comforting aroma of veggie gyoza and lemongrass-infused rice noodles wafting from the kitchen. The warmth of the room seeped into his bones, softer than any mission’s aftermath, and the faint hum of a jazz playlist playing Colette by Piero Piccioni wrapped around him like a hug.  

How? He takes a look to his right and sees a beautiful woman, all elegance and poise, her laughter like slightly weathered wind chimes as she adjusts the pearl clip in her chestnut hair. Just the way he likes them, confident, sharp, hot. Like… milf hot, cougar hot, not that he’d ever say it to her face (again). He looks ahead and sees you, a wisp of a girl, all tiny limbs and soft edges, nibbling shyly at your dinner. You look just like her, same cute nose, same cupid’s bow lips, but where your mother radiates bold magnetism, you’re… sparkling. Like a firefly in a glass jar, glowing even when you think no one’s watching.  

Ah, this was his life, of course. He should know who’s who! 

The girl being you, just a little thing, well, to him you’re little, being a mere child (19 years old), and he being all old and stuff (33 years old, yet he feels so much more). He’s seen a lot: he’s seen Sukuna carve him up like a holiday roast (survived, so, lol, Sukuna sucked majorrr balls), he’s seen curses gnarlier than a week-old sushi platter, and especially teenagers with more angst than a Shakespearean tragedy. So why does this little thing make him feel so… paternal? It was like the flicker he’d felt when he first met Megumi, a scrawny kid with a death glare and a family name heavier than a curse, but even then, he’d seen the little sea urchin as a little brother, not a son. Time had nudged that dynamic into something fatherly, sure, but Megumi was still his brat.  

All Satoru knew was- oh, he zoned out. The beautiful woman beside him, your mother, nudged his ribs with her elbow, her burgundy almond-shaped nails glinting under the pendant light, the rock of a diamond sat on her ring finger, glimmered too. “Earth to Satoru,” she teased, her voice syrup-smooth. “You’ve been staring at your gyoza like it’s a cursed object. Everything alright?”  

Satoru grinned, that trademark lopsided smirk that made your mother roll her eyes even as her red lips twitched upward. “Just wondering how I ended up here,” he said, gesturing grandly at the spread of home-cooked dishes. His voice softened, almost shy. “Feels like I stole someone else’s winning ticket.”  

You, ever the quiet observer, peeked up at him through your lashes, cheeks stuffed with gyoza like a chipmunk hoarding treasure (your greed sickens even you, lol). Your doe eyes, so pretty, wide and guileless, framed by those unfairly long, thick lashes, locked onto his, and he swore he felt Infinity stutter. Dare he say… dumb? Not dumb, no. Just… silly. Clumsy? Absolutely. The way you tripped over air, spilled chamomile tea on your textbooks, and somehow turned even misplacing your overly charm-filled keys into a five-minute comedy routine, it was nice. Refreshing, even. A life spent in the shadows of jujutsu and clan politics made him crave your kind of softness. Your innocence.

A flashback flickered before he could attempt to stop: the three of you in Shibuya, your mother tugging him toward a boutique while begging for a Chanel bag that matched her favorite red lipstick, the same shade he’d caught you swiping across your lips one evening, pouting at your reflection like it’d betrayed you. “Too grown-up,” you’d mumbled, wiping it off with a tissue until your rosebud lips were raw and puffy. Satoru had tossed a tube of gloss you left in his hoodie pocket (yes, you wore his clothes, yes, they were so comfy) your way the next day, all casual nonchalance. “Dark shades wash you out,” he’d lied (you looked ethereal, but his heart couldn’t handle the sight). “Stick to this. Matches your… uh… vibe.” You nodded, always so dumbly-no, cutely. Right.

Off topic again, pay attention, Satoru! Back in the memory, he’d been holding your mother’s hand, his other tucked in his pocket, but his azure eyes never strayed far from you, a few steps behind, wobbling in baby pink ballet flats as if they were stilts. You’d looked like a fawn navigating ice, all wobbly knees and nervous giggles. He knew the issue, the freshly rained cement with the shitty grip of the flats called for a disaster, and hell, you were the queen of disaster. He wasn’t a total dick, so he’d snagged your hand too, ignoring your squeak of surprise. And then, his chest did this thing. A squeeze, a flutter, a warmth that had nothing to do with his cursed energy. He’d glanced down, taking in your lacy dress fluttering in the breeze, your hair catching sunlight like spun honey, and your fingers, so small, tucked trustingly against his big, warm palm. Infinity was off, but he hadn’t even noticed until you’d squeezed back.  

The memory dissolved as you swallowed your gyoza, cheeks still dusted pink, and pointed at his buzzing phone. “Satoru,” you mumbled, voice feather-light, “your phone’s ringing.”  

He waved it off, not missing the way your nose scrunched at his casual dismissal. “Nah, it’s just Yuji asking how to defrost a microwave meal. Priorities, kiddo!” (not true, that boy was a chef, rivaling the best in his opinion). He winked, and your resulting giggle, a tiny, hiccuping sound, nearly made him drop his chopsticks. God, you were cute. Cuter than the cartoon pajamas you wore: Hello Kitty one night, Miffy the next, as if you’d raided a kindergarten’s lost-and-found. He’d bought you a Rilakkuma bathing suit last month, just to see you swim in it. (You’d hugged it to your chest, eyes shining, and he’d had to flee to the roof to recompose himself, and don't get him started on you trying it on for him.)  

The conversation drifted to your academics, top of your class, because, of course, you were, and your mother’s question about finals had Satoru puffing up like a cocky peacock. “She’s a genius!” he declared, reaching over to ruffle your hair. You ducked, but not fast enough, and he relished the way your pout rivaled Megumi’s. “Bet she’s got the whole psych department wrapped around her little finger. Right, kiddo?”  

You mumbled something about “research papers” and “case studies,” but Satoru was too busy plotting his next surprise, maybe those strawberry mochi you loved from Family Mart, or that kitten plushie from the crane game you’d eyed last week in Akihabara. The first time he’d brought you treats, you’d teared up, clutching the pastel packaging like it was a lifeline. Your mother had explained later in bed that night, her voice hushed over midnight tea, that your father had been a ghost long before Satoru arrived, and how he should be careful about you, not overwhelming you with something as new as a “daddy” so soon. After your mom was asleep, he’d crept into your room, perching at the foot of your bed like an overgrown guardian spirit. You’d been curled around a chubby Totoro plushie, breaths even, moonlight painting you in silver. He’d sat there for an hour, wondering how the universe had handed him this, domesticity, family, without him even noticing.  

Ah, spaced out again. Your mother slid the strawberry cake he’d bought onto the table, its sweetness mixing with the scent of your lavender body wash, a scent that clung to the couch cushions, his shirts that fit you like baggy dresses, everything. You lit up, clapping softly, and Satoru’s chest tightened as you scooped a bite. You ate like a storybook creature: nibbling at the frosting, eyes fluttering closed in bliss ever so slightly, a tiny smear of pink on your chin. He itched to wipe it away, but your mother beat him to it, tutting fondly. 

He’d do it next time, for sure.

“Satoru,” your mother sighed, though her smile betrayed her, “stop staring. You’ll make her even more shy.”  

“What? I’m appreciating the view!” he protested, leaning back with a grin. But his gaze lingered on the delicate lace of your nightgown, the way the sweetheart neckline fell just enough to highlight collarbones he’d once compared to “angel wings” (a comment that’d made you flee the living room, scarlet-faced). Appreciation, of course. The kind a father would have. Totally.  

As you launched into a story about your study group, hands animated as you sighed about people half-assing even a voluntary thing, Satoru let himself sink into the moment, the clink of porcelain plates, your mother’s melodic laughter, the way your socks had tiny bows perched near your baby pink painted toenails, a little visible under the sheer cotton fabric. He didn’t understand this luck, this grace, but he’d fight heaven and hell to keep it. 

He deserves this, all of it.

He deserves you.

Satoru wasn’t expecting the night to go the way it did. But before he could untangle the messy knot of feelings clawing at his chest, he took in the present: the quiet hum of the night, the faint glow of your strawberry-shaped nightlight casting blushing shadows across the room. He was lying in your bed, no, not next to his wife, but curled awkwardly under your baby-pink duvet, its frilly edges tickling his chin. He turned his head slightly, stealing a glance at you, cheeks still rosy from earlier, now warm with sleep, your nose adorably scrunched, and your hair a wild halo against the pillow. A strand clung to your parted lips, and he reached over instinctively to tuck it behind your ear, fingers brushing the delicate shell. Your lacy pajama collar had twisted sideways, revealing your pretty skin, so soft-looking. He adjusted it gently, careful not to wake you, then sighed up at the ceiling.  

Hating how the night went.  

Rewind to a few hours earlier: Satoru had returned home at 8 p.m., expecting the usual symphony of your mother’s jazz records and your muffled giggles as you scribbled notes for some impossible-sounding lecture. Instead, he’d been met with silence, then the crack of your mother’s voice, sharp as shattered glass, and your choked sobs. His blood had gone cold.  

He’d found you in the hallway, your Miffy tote still dangling from your shoulder, your daisy-patterned dress wrinkled from the day. You looked smaller somehow, like a doll dropped mid-play, your face slick with tears that caught the lamplight like diamond dust. Your mother stood rigid, arms crossed, her fury a storm contained.  

“What happened?” Satoru had asked, tone casual, though his fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to bundle you into his arms, tuck your head under his chin, and vanish into the night.  

Your mother gestured to your neck, her voice clipped. “She came home late. Smelled like cologne, cheap, at that.”  

Satoru’s gaze flicked to the marks, faint, pinkish imprints scattered like careless constellations across your skin. His Six Eyes cataloged every detail: the uneven pressure (clumsy), the placement (too high, too obvious), the way your fingers trembled as you tried to hide them. He crouched a little to your level, his voice dropping to a rumble. “Who’d you let paw at you, kiddo?”  

You’d hiccuped, doe eyes swimming, and his chest ached. “I-I didn’t let him-!”  

“Enough,” your mother snapped, storming off. “You’re old enough to know better.” The bedroom door slamming left you to flinch like a spooked bunny, and fall to your knees, obviously overwhelmed from everything, leaving him to feel all kinds of things… Some he would rather not acknowledge.

Satoru knew hypocrisy when he smelled it, hell, at your age, he’d been sneaking into hostess bars just to swipe champagne flutes, but the thought of you, his sweet, clueless bunny, tangled up with some greasy college kid who didn’t know how to treat a girl, how to pleasure one… Infinity flickered at his fingertips.  

He’d scooped you up, ignoring your squeak, and carried you to your room. “We’ll talk,” he’d said, depositing you on the bed. You’d curled into a ball, your sobs muffled by Totoro’s plush belly.  

The ice-cold shower that followed was less about cooling off and more about freezing the image out of his head, your bitten lips, the way your dress had ridden up when you’d crumpled to the floor, showing your pretty thighs… No. Not his business. Except it was, because you were his.  

When he returned, you were in your pajamas, pale pink, lace-trimmed, the collar crooked, and staring at your lap like it held the secrets of the universe. He sat beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight.  

“Listen,” he began, voice softer than he intended. “It’s normal to… experiment. But you gotta be smart. Boys that age? They’re idiots. All hands, no heart.”  

In reality, he wanted to say much more. He wanted to say how you should find someone like him, someone who’d cherish you the way he did (though he doubted anyone else could), to be rational and not impulsive, and to just-no. Scrap everything. He wanted you to be with him, always his.

You’d sniffled, still avoiding his glued gaze. “You don’t understand.”  

“Oh, I understand.” He’d forced a laugh. “I was that idiot.”  

Your phone buzzed then, lighting up with a name he didn’t recognize. You reached for it, but Satoru snatched it first, his gut churning at the god awful texts. Disgusting. The kid’s vocabulary seemed limited to late-night nude demands (though you never sent, that's his baby) and more for “proof” you’d “missed him.”  

“This is the genius you’re starting fights over?” Satoru hissed, waving the phone, your charms jingling like high-pitched death bells. “He’s not worth the lint in your Miffy bag!”  

You’d argued, cheeks flushing, babbling nonsense about him being “sweet,” and something in him snapped. Before he knew it, you were over his lap, your tiny tummy rested against his thighs, his big hand coming down in a swift, measured spank. Not too hard, never hard, but enough to make you yelp and leave a little sting. “You’re better than this!” he’d growled, each word punctuated by a tap that left your pajama-clad bottom tingling. “You’re my good girl! Act like it!”  

By the tenth, you’d melted into hiccuping apologies, whispering “Sorry, Daddy” into his shirt as he cradled you. His anger dissolved, replaced by a guilt so thick he could taste it. He wished he had a beautiful platter of kikufuku infront of him, it’d drown the shitty feeling. 

Now, lying beside you, he traced the curve of your spine through the thin fabric, marveling at how fragile you felt, like blown glass. You stirred, nuzzling into his chest with a sleepy murmur, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering in the scent of your strawberry shampoo.  

“Love you, my girl,” he whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear. “Daddy’s got you.”  

Tomorrow, he’d buy those cherries you loved, the fat, dark, glossy ones you’d suck on until they gleamed like jewels. He’d let you drag him to that absurd cat café downtown, even though the siamese there hated him (so what if he teased them, they should be able to handle it, they’re cats!). And if that sleazeball ever texted again? Well. Satoru knew a few curses that’d make him regret breathing the same air as his angel.  

For now, he let your steady breaths lull him, your warmth seeping into bones he hadn’t realized were so cold.  

As soon as the weather turned warm, the beach called to Satoru, but not as loudly as it did to you. You were a mess of a girl in the heat, complaining about the slightest rise in temperature, flopping around the house like a disgruntled kitten, and blowing up over trivial things like ice cubes melting too fast. What triggered the final straw was a calm Sunday evening. The windows were cracked open, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of blooming hydrangeas and distant barbecue. Satoru was sprawled on the couch, deep into Haruki Murakami’s Dance Dance Dance, a rare moment of peace after ducking out of a mission early. Your mother was out with friends, leaving the two of you alone, a fact that had you perched by the living room window, dressed in a baby-blue cami and cotton shorts so short they might as well be napkins, panting like you’d run a marathon.

“It’s boiling,” you whined, fanning yourself with a math textbook. “I’m melting, Satoru!”

He peered over his book, smirking at the way your hair stuck to your slightly damp neck. “Kiddo, it’s 75 degrees. You’d explode in July.”

You shot him a glare that could’ve curdled milk, cheeks puffing like an offended chipmunk. Satoru laughed, loud and unrepentant, before relenting. He shut the windows, cranked the AC to arctic levels, and flopped back down just as Clint Eastwood’s drawl filled the room. You hovered nearby, eyes darting between the TV and him, then the TV and him, until-

“Ugh,” you groaned, collapsing onto the couch like a deflated balloon. “I’m bored.”

“Read a book,” he suggested, knowing full well you’d rather eat chalk.

You responded by becoming a human worm, wriggling across the cushions with dramatic sighs until Satoru caved. “Fine, fine,” he grumbled, snatching your hand. “But if you complain about the heat again, I’m leaving you in a snowbank.”

The walk to the park was a parade of your hyperactivity, skipping, humming, pausing to gawk at every butterfly like it was an alien. Satoru trailed behind, hands in his pockets, secretly cataloging the way your sundress fluttered (you changed, taking every opportunity to dress up), the way your sandals slapped the pavement in a rhythm only you understood. Life was absurd: one hour, he’s exorcising curses in a moldy warehouse; the next, he’s listening to you rant about how snow should be a year-round accessory.

At the park, you dragged him to a patch of sunlit grass, spreading his jacket like a picnic blanket. “For your old knees,” you declared, plopping down.

He joined you, stretching his legs as you babbled about your latest psych lecture. A fat cottontail hopped nearby, and you squealed, clutching his arm like it was a lifeline. “Look! It’s so fluffy-!”

Satoru didn’t see the bunny. He saw you, the way golden hour gilded your skin, the way your eyes sparkled brighter than the pond beside you. His phone buzzed, breaking the spell: your mother was staying out late. Drinks with the girls, her text read. Don’t wait up!

Dinner was all sugar. You tied on a bunny-print apron, he donned Shoko’s gag gift, a “Kiss the Cook” apron, and together you weaponized flour and syrup into a tower of pancakes that’d give a dentist nightmares. You were a disaster, blueberry compote smeared on your cheek, batter on your apron, but Satoru couldn’t stop grinning.

“You’re like a rabid bunny,” he said, flicking powdered sugar at your nose.

“You’re the one who added chocolate chips to the third batch!”

Post-feast, you curled up on the couch, a shared Hello Kitty blanket tented over your laps as some forgettable comedy played. Your tiny knee brushed his, and Satoru froze, hyperaware of the way your giggles vibrated through the cushions.

Then- the question.

“Satoru…” You fiddled with the blanket’s fringe, suddenly shy. “Is kissing really all… icky? Like, with too much spit?”

He nearly choked on his hot chocolate. “Uh. Depends?”

“My first kiss was gross,” you mumbled, nose scrunching. “But the show said it’s s’posed to be nice. Is that… true?”

Satoru’s brain short-circuited. Fatherly. This is fatherly. “It can be. If it’s… gentle. Like this.”

Before he could stop himself, he’d cupped your face, rough thumbs brushing the apples of your soft, warm cheeks. You leaned in, eyes wide and trusting, plush lips parted just so-

The first kiss was a featherlight press, strawberry gloss, and mint toothpaste. Innocent. Brief.

But then you whimpered, little fingers fisting his shirt, and Satoru’s resolve crumbled. The second kiss was deeper, sweeter, his big hand sliding to the nape of your neck as you melted against him. He told himself it was a lesson, a way to erase the memory of that sleazebag’s sloppy mouth. But the way you sighed his name-

“Daddy-”

-nearly undid him.

He pulled back, heart hammering, and found you flushed, lips glistening, doe eyes dazed. “See?” he rasped, voice uneven. “No ick.”

You nodded, forehead resting against his collarbone. “...Can we… practice more?”

Satoru swallowed a groan. Hell was a corporate office with fluorescent lighting, and he was already drafting his resignation letter.

Instead, he tucked your head under his chin, fingers carding through your hair. “Later, kiddo,” he lied. “Daddy’s feeling tired.”

You fell asleep like that, curled into his side, tummy full of pancakes and hot chocolate, while Satoru stared at the ceiling and wondered when exactly he’d signed up for this particular brand of torture.

But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t heavenly, feeling his lips on yours. It was angelic, a little angel’s kiss all for him.

End.

So uh… what's up? Disappeared for a hot sec (entire month) for good reason lol. UC decisions dropped for transfer students, and well, I got into my 2nd top school! Waitlisted from UCLA but into UCD for psych! Anyways, that being said and done, I can finally focus on writing more since April was me dying over checking my emails like a madwoman. Daddy Gojo supremacy, cause why not? I love this far too much so expect more soon. Obvi, put a warning up top, so do keep that in mind when I post, they are there for a reason!

[cicerfics]

So, I have been vaguely noodling around with an idea that's, like...

OK, first of all: I choose to headcanon that the SIS has a K9 unit, because why wouldn't they! They have dogs that are trained to sniff out bombs and do all kinds of other things! And I don't know if realistically these dogs and their handlers would be kept anywhere near MI6 HQ...but make-believe land can have anything I want, so they are there now!!

And I always choose to headcanon that Q was a Weird Neurodivergent Kid Who Spent All His Time With Animals Instead of People and had like ten million pets of all different species. But mainly he had cats and dogs, and he's as comfortable with dogs as he is with cats.

And he gave up having dogs when he moved to London full time and got very busy with grad school and MI6, but he still loves dogs very much. So he visits the K9 unit regularly and makes friends with one of the handlers and helps her with training and exercising the dogs. It's like free therapy for Q! It helps him decompress after a bad day! He is soothed by working with these creatures for an hour or two!

And I've been thinking about how maybe one or two of these dogs have been retired from active service but still hang out with the others. Their handlers take the retired dogs home with them at night, and bring them into work in the morning, and the retired dogs get to exercise with the others and stay busy and feel useful! They are also helpful for socializing the newly trained puppies and keeping them in order!

Aaaaand maybe the handler of one of these old dogs has to move away to take care of her sick mother, or something. And she can't take the dog with her. And she's very upset because she doesn't know who will look after this dog now!

And Q is like ☝️🤓 💡

Because, as it happens, there is another old dog lurking around HQ these days who is about to be retired from active service but needs to stay busy and feel useful!

And so Q simply leashes up the dog and hands him to Bond.

Congrats, Bond! You have your very own retired-from-service dog now! He is scarred and grumpy and suspicious of everyone and he has a bad hip! You two are gonna get along GREAT. Also, he needs to go for walkies every morning, and he needs to go swimming every afternoon, and you are going to have to spend two hours a day working with him in the training room or he will fall into a deep depression. And also, he needs a special expensive kidney-health diet and distilled water and regular brushings and nail trimmings. I will teach you all his commands and walk you through his daily routine for the first few weeks until you get used to each other! You two are going to have so much fun together! 🤩

Bond does not want this dog. The dog does not want Bond. But Q is determined, and now Bond is walking this dog around Hyde Park (or the dog is walking HIM) and they're both eyeing each other like...it's rotten work. Especially to me, especially if it's you. I'll do it, but Jesus Christ.

But both Bond and the dog have a strong sense of Duty which carries them through until they can properly get used to each other, and they do become very fond of each other in time!

(Also, I just have a nebulous Thought in my head of Q teaching Bond the dog's routines and commands and giving the dog treats and headrubs, and Bond getting jealous and needing Q to also give HIM treats and headrubs for participating in the Training Routine with the dog. After each training sesh, Q has to have them both sit politely while he feeds them treats and rubs them down and tells them they are Good Boys.

@halfbaked00q, maybe you have more thoughts on this, idk!!)

[rookiesbookies]

mischievous COD ideas😈

Heavily pregnant reader knowing that her hubby doesn’t want to be rough in the slightest with her due to her pregnancy and refrains from punishing her, so she abuses that fully to be a brat

To my sweet sweet brat reader, Im sorry if this is not all you hoped as I am a resident good girl. The one time I was a brat I got degraded (“such a good bitch”) and cried. I hope I do a good job portraying the relationships, if I dont let me know and I will edit it or rewrite sections that dont fit. You also didn’t specify so imma write for my usual set of lovelies. (Im also added Krueger because I’ve recently fallen in love with him a lil bit and he kinda fits thi)

The boys with pregnant brat wife

Price

This man is too worried about helping you get your shoes on. “You’re pregnant, isn’t not being able to see your feet punishment enough?” He’s not going to do much other than pinching you. Whether it’s your ass or your arm, and they’re hard “i had to discipline Soap subtly and im a dad” pinches. He’ll also use pressure points. Give the back of your arm the good pinch and twist. He’s just trying not to take it personally.

Soap

He’s googled what positions he can put you in. He’s googled if its safe for the baby. He has googled what he can and cannot do. He has spoke with your doctors about it, as embarrassing as that phone call was. And for certain punishments, its a long game. Like holding your ice cream you crave hostage until you learn. If he can’t make it sexual, he’ll find other ways.

Ghost

Like Price, he’s also using pressure points. Not the ones that knock you out but the ones that feel weird or make you got “ow”. Cannot get hard and it’s not because you’re not hot its bc he literally gets more flaccid than a limp noodle at the thought of possibly hurting that baby. He’s also very good at holding grudges and every time you brat out and walk all over him, he’s making a note on his phone for later.

Konig

Oh but he just got you to whine and cry you admit you want his cock. He knew eventually he could wait out your little game. “You acted out and now you must wait until I want to give it to you. You ask so nicely though, keep trying. I like when you beg.” He’s so mean, he’d make you wait until after you gave birth and however many times you acted out is how many weeks (or months depending on how he’s feeling) after you have to wait to get any pleasure from him.

Keegan

your toys aren’t doing it for you anymore? Nope. He’ll keep fluttering his fingers over you figure and let you use that tiny dildo he got you that cant even stretch you like he can. That’s all you get. His hands wont even go lower than your waist. They wont even touch close to your nipples. This is real torture. Every orgasm is so unfulfilling. I feel bad for you really. Hope this teaches you.

Gaz

He’s a doormat anyway. I don’t see him punishing anyone. He’s too much of a gentleman. I do believe he’d pull orgasm after orgasm out of you casually when you act up with his hands. Never giving you his dick as much as you beg. Pleading, crying for it, he wont budge. No you can deal with the consequences of your actions while he sits here and watches this movie. “Why aren’t you watching, love? You picked the movie. No, no, stop your whining, just sit and watch.”

Krueger

Sebastian doesn’t care. He’ll find other ways. Like right now you’re legs spread and hands flat against the wall as he spanks your ass, every time he does you have to say thank you and apologize for snapping at him. He knows you’re hormonal, but he’s going to make you apologize. Oh and he’s kissing away those tears and asking you if you understand what you do wrong while running you a nice bath and all the rubs and lotion for your poor butt.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, don’t forget to leave me a comment or a request in my inbox to let me know what yall want to see!

[blockedbykei]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 !!

— half filo!iwaizumi headcannons

— a/n: there's some parts here only understood by filipinos okay 😭 (fic filler until chapter 2 comes)

- iwaizumi is half filipino and that is a fact

- when he gets mad at oikawa or at the whole team he's definitely cursing in tagalog (hardass "putangina ninyo" with the crisp T)

- eats the lucky me pancit canton like twice a week and is probably addicted to cup noodles too

- puts fishballs in his ramen because he loves them in pansit too

- has a playlist with mixed japanese and filipino songs

- he will court you. literally will do all the traditional filipino courtship shit

- you will find him with a guitar outside your house singing a song, with makki, mattsu, and oikawa behind dancing

- also loves giving you flowers even if there's no occassions

- VERY hospitable his place is always the house you and the boys go to all the time

- you're all bringing home tupperware with homemade food every visit and he's also pestering you about it because his mom would kill him if he doesn't get them back

- knows how to play basketball a little because of his filipino relatives

- speaks tagalog in the household sometimes, most especially to his mother, and you've picked up a few terms such as "magandang umaga" and "salamat"

- and when you're used to it, you'll start saying "po" and "opo" (the filipino terms of showing respect) because iwaizumi told you to use them

- when his mom is on his ass, she will be on EVERYONES ass

- one time when iwaizumi pissed her off, all of you started cleaning the house because you were all kind of scared

- doesn't brag about being half filipino though but hes proud of it

- annual trips to the philippines and brings you a whole bag of piattos

- kanal humor in the philippines, aircon humor in japan

- which means that his humor in the philippines is very chaotic, backhanded, sometimes perverted jokes, and in japan, he's more reserved and has to hold back in making very mean jokes 😭

- very romantic towards you though he loves dancing with you in your bedroom in the dark

- good at killing flies

- once a week, when you're having dinner at his place, they're always having a barbecue, and he's wearing a tanktop even in the cold weather fanning off the flies that hover on the grill

- also very clean too he's good at cleaning

- GOOD at singing he secretly loves karaoke but it's only something between the two of you

- he loves to sing for you

- also the receiving end of his filipino cousins' teasing because he's half japanese, but he also teaches them how to speak japanese

- you, iwa, oikawa, makki, and mattsun bond over filipino street games such as chinese garter and luksong baka

- iwaizumi's mannerisms and attitude is strongly inherited by his mother, so to others, he may seem full japanese, but once you've gotten to know him, best believe you feel like you're at the philippines with him

- very trifty, you don't remember the last time you've spent on something new because he's always fixing things himself

- teaches the boys a few curse words and dirty words in tagalog and says that it meant "youre handsome" or "i love you" in japanese but it's actually "motherfucker" and "dick"

- has a special heart for stray cats so you're stray feeding with him hehe

[iwashie]

My Tokyo Revengers Headcanons | pt.II

✯ Hakkai mixes food and once Smiley threatened to kick him out of the restaurant if Hakkai mixed something into the ramen.

✯ Once, Sanzu ended up in the hospital for eating spicy noodles because an inscribed challenged him.

✯ Angry stutters when he's shy and Baji stutters when he's mad.

✯ Once a strong wind almost took Hanma away—Kisaki said he needs to gain weight—so he wears heavy clothes and accessories.

✯ Izana doesn't know how to whistle and the tenjiku guys tried to teach him.

✯ Shion always brings up Ran's embarrassments when they are arguing.

✯ Emma believes in luck and signs, she keeps seeing her compatibility with the Draken; She also carries the lucky object of her sign. 

✯ Hanma and the Haitani brothers always cheat at card games - uno- making Koko take the whole deck and when he quits, they take the hidden cards out of their sleeves. 

✯ Baji, Kazutora and Chifuyu beat up people who say that black cats are unlucky.

✯ Mikey even kicks Kazutora's father when he sees him; Sometimes they do it together.

© iwashie 2024, please do not translate, modify or republish my works