#i do think that's why they work so well as a team though

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 3

In which things are made official.

Warnings: smut in the middle. lando being jealous. Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 4.6k words

(a note: happy new year loves!!! hope you enjoy part three!!)

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted

yourusername testing testing... BFFSarah so jealous! >>>yourusername miss you! ❤️ landonorris stalker >>>yourusername 😘 >>>BFFSarah 👀

"I'm funnier than Greg, right?" Lando grumbles, not even bothering to take his eyes off of you.

"Mate, what?" Oscar replies, eyes narrowed, totally mystified as to what the hell his teammate is talking about. "Like, Greg, the guy on the strategy team Greg?"

"Yeah, him." Lando raises his chin towards where you stand opposite of said strategy Greg, laughing (even louder this time) at something he's said. Lando knuckles go white on the counter he's standing when Greg leans in just a bit too close for his comfort.

It was the first day of testing in Bahrain and Lando had just come in from his first test stint of the 2025 season. When he'd walked into the garage a few minutes earlier, he'd instantly clocked where you stood near the back of the garage staring up at a few computer monitors beside his newest nemesis, Greg. At first he hadn't thought anything of it but then he heard you laugh, a sound that was quickly becoming one of his favorite things, and he had stopped what he was doing to stare.

"I don't think I know Greg's sense of humor well enough to be the judge of that." Oscar responds, still confused as to why Lando was asking him such a random question. When Oscar follows Lando's line of sight though, everything clicks into place and starts to make a lot more sense.

"Oh..." He mutters, unable to quell the smirk that surfaces.

"'Oh' what?" Lando snaps, still attempting to assassinate Greg with a glare.

"You're jealous." Oscar practically giggles. He might be the quieter one of the driver duo, but that quiet demeanor meant that he noticed a lot more than other people gave him credit for and Oscar had caught onto Lando's crush after the first time he had stumbled into your office and disappeared on him for hours.

Lando finally tears his eyes away from where you're standing, still staring up in rapt attention to Greg. "I most certainly am not." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest in a move that is very reminiscent of a Stella temper tantrum.

"You two aren't even together, are you?" Oscar reasons, doing next to nothing to reassure Lando that he has nothing to be worried about.

Lando narrows his eyes at the Australian as he fights a pout. "I mean, no. Not technically, I guess."

And that was the problem, wasn't it? You two had been on a few dates and he'd been coming over to your house to hang with you and Stella more and more but a serious discussion of what was happening? He'd been too scared to have that kind of talk with you so quick. You made him nervous but being rejected by you sounded even worse.

"Maybe you should like, talk to her about it then? If that's what you want? I mean, I've never seen the sight of a girl talking to someone else send you into orbit like this before. You really like her, don't you?"

Oscar had worked hard to keep his opinion of you and Lando together to himself. He hated when people commented on his relationship with Lily, which was a big reason why they were so quiet together, so he had made it a point not to press when it came to you. He'd spent most of the morning with you though, while Lando was in the car and he could see why Lando was so attached to you already. You were wicked smart and the program that you had been writing for the team was impressive. He knew there were other people in Lando's life that didn't think the driver could handle being with someone like you but the more Oscar got to know you, the more he could see why you two got on so well.

Lando's gaze slides back to you then. "I do, yeah." He murmurs, a sudden sense of determination settling over him. Before he has the chance to chicken out once again, he pats Oscar on the back and starts off towards where you and Greg are still huddled together in front of a computer screen.

"Greg, can I steal her away from you real quick?" Lando says by way of greeting, his tone needlessly possessive. "Will and I wanted to go through last sessions data with you before lunch." He lies.

You hadn't noticed the way Lando had been staring daggers at you and Greg up until that very moment but the feral look he's giving you takes you by surprise. Greg had approached you as Lando's session had wound down and your new program was stretching its legs on your laptop. He wanted to talk about the inputs you were adding in for this year and give you some feedback on the initial data capture of this morning's session. It was totally innocent and when Lando had slid up next to you practically breathing fire, you had been a bit caught off guard.

"I'll see you at the cocktail party later tonight, Greg." You give him a smile before turning back to Lando. "Where do you want to go, the debrief room?"

"Sure." Lando huffs, giving Greg a fake smile before grabbing your elbow and leading you towards an empty conference room. Like hell you were going to see Gregory at any point for the rest of the day.

You're totally confused at the way he's practically dragging you down the hallway and even more perplexed when Lando nearly slams the door closed behind him and you find the debrief room completely empty. "Where's Will?"

"What?" Lando frowns.

"You said you and Will wanted to go over some data after your session." Annoyance moves through you. What in the world was going on?

"Oh, yeah no. I lied." Lando glares at you like you're the insane one, frown deepening.

"Lando!" You sputter, resisting the urge to chuck the nearest laptop at his head. "I was in the middle of a conversation with Greg."

When he rolls his eyes, you swear you see red. "Yeah, I know. We all saw how endlessly entertaining the conversation was."

The pout that finds it's way onto his face is what unlocks everything for you though. Sudden understanding washes over you as it all finally clicks.

"You're jealous!" You gasp, desperately trying not to burst into a fit of giggles.

Lando at least as the decency to look a bit ashamed of his behavior but attempts to deny it. "I am not."

You arch an eyebrow at the man standing across from you as if he's not the easiest book in the world to read. "Lando Norris, you were jealous of a man who was telling me all about how his boyfriend took him on a trip to the Bahamas over the holidays and got bitten by a wild swimming pig."

The way Lando's cheeks go scarlet as he crosses his arms over his chest nearly has you doubled over with laughter.

"Oh."

"Oh is right, you muppet." You chuckle, using the term of endearment he's become famous for. In a few strides, your within arms length of him, tugging at the waist of his half unzipped race suit. Lando takes a step forward as you pull him closer.

"Jealously looks good on you, Norris." You smirk before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, mindful of the fact that you're still at work.

Lando settles his hands on your hips, drawing you even closer to him, seemingly forgetting that he's still at work. He grins down at you, a flirty glint sparking in his eyes.

"Yeah, well. What can I say? The sight of some idiot flirting with my girlfriend kind of set me off."

Your hands slip around Lando's waist. Heart hammering so fast you're amazed Lando can't hear it, you beam up at him. You'd never experienced the kind of contentment and safety you felt whenever you were with Lando before. He frequently caught you off balance like this and had you feeling like you were a teenager again, still believing in fairy tales and happy endings.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

"That's right." He whispers. The rasp in his voice has you pressing your hips into his, seeking friction from his body.

"Well, since I'm your girlfriend then I guess you’ll be needing this for later tonight." Reaching into the back pocket of your jeans, your fingers find the thin plastic card you'd stashed there to slip into Lando's hand sometime this afternoon.

Anticipation sparks between your bodies as Lando figures out what you've just pressed into his palm. All this time he'd been building up this big conversation that he thought had to be had and nervously putting so much pressure on himself to do this all the right way. It had only taken a matter of seconds though and you had reminded him that it like most everything that happened between you and him, this was easy too. There's a silent understanding that passes between you two then that maybe this was how it was supposed to be from the beginning and that sometimes wires get crossed and we meet people later than the universe intended.

"I have to get back to work and you should really find Will and actually debrief but I think I'd like to skip tonights cocktail hour if that's okay with you."

Lando reluctantly lets go and nods, swallowing around the thick lump of emotion stuck in his throat.

"Yeah." He croaks before reaching back out to bring your face to his, kissing you so intensely your knees buckle. "I'll see you tonight."

Not even five minutes after Lando responds to your text, you hear the beeping of the lock to your hotel room door and it swings open moments later. Anxiety flows through you despite the flirty text you'd just sent. This kind of thing was totally out of your wheel house, with most of your adult life spent focusing on your daughter and not dating. It had been Sarah's suggestion to send that risky text but after your conversation with Lando earlier, you were briefly confident that it would be well received. And judging by his response, you were right. That didn't do much to calm your nerves though so the knock on your door sends the butterflies in your belly flying around in what feels like a category five tornado.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Lando groans when he sees you kneeling on the bed waiting for him. Every thought tumbles straight out of his head at the sight of you waiting for him in nothing but black bits of lace. If he had known this was what had been waiting for him all night, he certainly wouldn't have gone to dinner with some of the team.

"You like it then?" You ask, barely resisting the urge to dive under the covers you feel so exposed under his gaze. Lando can't stop staring and it's starting to make you nervous, the way he's dragging his eyes up and down your body without making an attempt to move from where he stands just inside your hotel room.

"Like it? Baby, are you fucking kidding me? I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sight in my entire life." The rasp in his voice drags down your skin like sandpaper.

"Then stop staring and get over here."

Lando obeys immediately, toeing off his shoes before joining you on the bed. His hands find your hips and before you can make a sound, he's pulling you into his lap and attaching his lips to your neck.

"I think everyone got the impression I was about to be sick or something, I got up from that table so fucking fast." He mumbles against you. "Also, give me some warning next time you're going to send me that kind of thing, Osc nearly got an eye full of something that is for my eyes only."

Lando had been attempting to show Oscar something on his phone when your text had come through and the moment he'd swapped over to his iMessage app he was glad that Andrea had picked that exact second to call Oscar's name. He had shut down the message app so fast, all of his blood rushing straight from his head to below his belt.

"Oops." You giggle. "Sorry."

"You're not one bit sorry, don't lie."

All you do is shrug as you preen under his attention. He eyes drag lazy lines up and down your body, stalling when they fall on the black lace barely hiding your most intimate parts. The heat of his gaze has fire stoking deep in your belly and for the first time in years, you feel desired and wanted. It's an unfamiliar feeling that you're still getting used to but with Lando, it feels safe. You feel cared for and it's unlike anything you've ever experienced with anyone you've slept with before. Which, to be totally honest, wasn't a lot. You haven't been in a serious relationship since Stella's dad, the only dates you've gone on in the last six years usually ending in casual flings that don't end up meaning much outside of the bedroom.

This though? This feels different and you know Lando feels the same.

Lando's hands grip at your hips as he moves you off his lap briefly and stands up. Your eyes nearly roll back into your head when he unbuckles his belt with one hand, tugging it off in one smooth motion, the leather slapping against itself and echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. 

“Jesus.” You breathe and desperately try to catch your breath as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. You've known that Lando has a sinfully good body for a while, his entire career is centered around his body afterall so naturally, he is in amazing shape. There’s a reason that women will do next to anything to get any of the drivers in their bed. Nothing prepared you for the hard planes of his chest and the insane cut of his abs though. The way his waist nips in to show off a deep V cut of his torso makes your mouth water. With both his jeans and shirt now discarded, he stands in front of you in just a pair of gray boxers that do absolutely nothing to hide how rock hard he is.

Fuck. 

Before you can stop yourself, you rise up on your knees and move towards him, needing to get your hands on his body. On your knees before him while he’s standing, you only come up to his collar bones but that’s enough. You drop kisses on his heated flesh and relish the way his breath hitches in his throat when your lips make contact. He allows you to continue kissing him for several moments, his hands roaming all over your body. You don’t know how long it is but after his hands have taken full a full tour of your skin, he pulls back and looks at you with a primal glint in his eyes. “Lay down." He orders "I need my tongue on you. Now.” 

You obey and crawl back, watching him prowl after you. Your head rests on the pile of pillows as he covers you with his body and suddenly, the insecurity and anxiety from earlier flashes through your mind. You've never been with anyone who seemed to want to do anything but fuck you and then be done with it. This reverence for your body is completely foreign and the reality of what is about to happen crashes through the haze of lust that clouds your mind.

You must stiffen a bit because a frown appears on Lando's face as his arms cage you in and he hovers over you. “Baby?” 

You shake your head, refusing to let your insecurity ruin the night. Your eyes close and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’m fine.” You whisper but Lando doesn’t believe you. He drops back onto his knees and straddles you, drawing back so he can see your entire face. 

“What’s wrong? We don’t have to do this tonight if you’re not ready.” 

Your face heats, but from embarrassment this time. Fuck. You do not want to ruin this.

“No. It’s okay. I just…I’m just not used to this kind of attention.” You don’t tell him how your're used to being used for your body, for whatever pleasure your partner can get out of me and nothing more. You don’t tell him how insecure it makes you to think that he could do the same thing to you too, despite how safe and good he makes you feel no matter what. Sometimes, habits are hard to break. Especially habits that are born out of trauma. You can't tell him any of that though because you think it might break his heart. 

Lando tilts his head and seemingly understands what you're saying. “I don’t know what the fuck the guys in your life were thinking, having you in their bed and not treating you properly, but baby, I am not them. This is not about me, this is about you.” His fingers trace long, lazy lines from your shoulder down over your bra and continue down your body as you shudder with pleasure.

“That’s it." He coos. "I know you’re scared but I swear to you, you are safe with me.” His voice is barely a whisper but you can hear the sincerity in it. Your heart thunders in your chest as you hover between wanting to stop and throwing every bit of caution away and allowing him to do whatever he wants to you. 

“I know I am. I always have been.” You hum.

“Do you want to stop? You just have to say the word and we will. This is yours to control.” 

Your eyes search his for any trace of anger and when you find nothing but honesty in his face, you shake your head. “Please don’t stop.”

You desperately do not want him to stop. 

Once he’s sure you're okay, he crashes his mouth on yours once again and you melt into him. His body is so heavy on top of you but it feels oh so good. You never want it to end. You never want tonight to end. Lando presses kisses into your skin all down your body, starting at your jaw, moving slowly downwards. Kisses on that dip between your neck and shoulders, lower to your sternum, even lower to just above where your bra still sits. He stops then and snakes a hand behind you, lifting you up momentarily, and unclasps the back with surprising ease.

“Okay, that was way too easy for you.” You accuse, laughter bubbling up as he tosses the bra across the room. 

His eyes find yours and he shrugs casually, “What?” He feigns innocence, “Lucky first try?” 

“Oh, whatever. Get back to work.” You order, laughter teasing at the edge of your voice. 

Lando shakes his head again, dropping his head back where he had left off and turns his attention to one of your nipples, taking it fully in his mouth. You inhale a sharp breath at the sensation coursing through you. It feels like your skin is on fire, all leading down to a single throb between your legs. He hums in satisfaction when your back arches off the bed. A moan escapes your lips when he scrapes his teeth against the sensitive skin, the pain sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. After what feels like an eternity, he turns his attention to the other nipple, already pebbled and hard, aching for the same attention. Your mind goes blank as you focus on the jolts of electricity coursing through your body. Your hands tangle in his curls, gripping at the tangles of brown hair, needing something to latch onto. 

“Lan.” His name is a whispered prayer on your lips. 

“Fuck. Baby.” He comes up for air briefly to look at you again and you almost can’t stand to look at him, he looks so good. His lips are swollen from kissing you for so long and he's got this heavy lidded, lustful hazy gaze in his eyes that you've never seen from him before.

“You taste so good.” He rasps before shifting back up to land kisses on your lips. You're so focused on what his lips are doing that you completely miss his fingers digging into your hips. You let out a startled cry when the sound of ripping fabric cuts through the breathy sighs that have filled the room. 

“Lando!” You whine, “I liked those!” You look at the torn bits of black lace that he’s dropped next to him on the bed and sigh dramatically.

“They were in my way. I’ll buy you fifty more tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, his hand dips down towards your pussy and anticipation climbs in you. You gasp when he sinks not one, but two fingers into the heat between your legs.  Your entire body aches off the bed towards his hand. “Christ. Baby. You are fucking soaked for me, aren’t you?” 

It’s all you can do to just nod an affirmation as he swirls his fingers in achingly slow circles. His thick fingers inch closer to your clit but manage to avoid it and you know he’s doing it on purpose. You wiggle your hips in search of that friction you crave so badly but every time you get close, he moves his fingers out of the way. By the fourth time this happens, you're a whimpering mess underneath him and Lando is clearly enjoying it. “Lando.” You whimper. “Touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” He drops another hot kiss on your jaw and traces his tongue down your neck. You swear you're going to explode from the sensations coursing through your body. 

“You know exactly what I fucking mean.” You snap and move your hips again, only to find his fingers just short of the destination you want them in yet again. 

An evil chuckle tickles your skin. “I like you like this. A pretty little mess underneath me. My girl is so wet for me, isn’t she?” 

His girl. The emotions crash through you at his words and every other thought beyond those two words leaves your brain. 

His girl. 

His girl. 

Your brain chants the all consuming phrase. 

Just when you think you can’t take it any more and you feel that familiar tug at the base of your spine and Lando finally gives you what you've been aching for. The pad of his thumb brushes against your clit and your hips fly off the bed towards his fingers. A cry escapes your lips as you claw at his back. He keeps up the same pace and you can feel yourself barreling towards a delicious release.

“Please. Don’t. Stop.” You pant, breath coming in short gasps as you rock your hips against his hand. Thankfully, he keeps his hand exactly where it is and allows you to grind against it, knowing that this is exactly what you need from him. His lips come down on yours again and when he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, you fly over the cliff.

Sweet release shatters your entire body and you stiffen against him. Your nails dig into his back, leaving little half moons embedded in his flesh. He’ll have red welts there for days and he couldn’t be happier about it. You don’t know how many times you cry out his name but he keeps completely still, allowing you to get the relief that you desperately need against him. 

When your orgasm subsides, you practically melt into the bed, mind too muddled with pleasure to talk. You open your eyes and grin lazily at Lando, who has shifted so he’s lying next to you on the bed. He’s grinning right back and tracing shiver-inducing lines up and down your naked skin.

“Fuck. Lando. That…” You are completely lost for words so it takes you a moment to form a complete sentence, “That was the first time anyones been able to make me come with just their fingers.” 

“Well, I’m glad I could be your first.” He smirks, dropping a kiss on your temple as he pulls you closer to him.

You turn to face him and you're struck at how handsome he is. His curly hair is messy from when you pulled at it while he was getting you off, his eyes glassy with satisfaction even though he hasn’t even come himself yet. He seems to get off just watching you and that is a completely foreign concept.

You reach out and feel the light stubble that covers his jaw, enjoying the rough feel against your fingers. You idly wonder what that stubble would feel like against your thighs and decide that you're just going to have to find out exactly what it feels like soon. That one single thought sends heat flooding through your veins once again and you're surprised. You've never considered myself to be one of those girls that could go several rounds. Usually you were finished after one orgasm, most of the time it was faked anyway. But with Lando laying next to you, you feel like you could do this for the rest of the night. A mischievous grin slips across your face as you reach over and push him back into the pillows.

Before you allow yourself to think about what you're doing, you straddle him and relish in the feeling of his dick that is now nudging against your ass. “I think I need you inside me now.” You tell him and squeal when his pupils blow and he flips you onto your back without warning. 

Hours later, you fall into such a deep sleep you don't notice Lando slip out of bed to get a drink of water from the bathroom. You'd spent the better part of the evening underneath him as he gradually worked you over so good you had lost count of how many times he had made you come.

The mattress dips when he joins you back in bed and Lando is surprised to find that he doesn't want to leave you. Up until meeting you, Lando had been more of a one night stand, never sleep over, kind of person when it came to sex. Getting back into bed with you and pulling you close so he could fall asleep with you tucked next to him was something he never thought he'd want but now that he had it, he knew he'd never be able to live without it again.

When Lando pulls you towards him, you stir a bit, enjoying the way the heat of his body warms your naked skin. You're so fucked out from everything Lando did to your body, your brain is a little sluggish but you turn into him, burying your head deep into his chest.

"You left me." You whine sleepily.

Lando slots his leg between yours, hitching your top leg up over his waist. "I'm sorry, baby." He whispers against your hair. "I needed a drink but I'm not going anywhere."

"I thought you left." In your sleepy haze, the words you probably would've tamped down slip out. "Please don't leave me."

Lando knows you're more than half asleep and probably don't realize what you're saying but something in your words has him feeling you don't just mean for the night. "I'm not going anywhere, sweet girl. Not ever." He whispers, listening to the soft cooing sound you make in response before you drift right back off to sleep.

Tag list: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @glitteryturtledeer @mindless-rock @piastei-fvx

[hellsslibrary]

there is literally not a single thought in my head other than wanting to spoil reo or isagi ROTTEN in bed. they’re just so sweet taking care of everyone around them and now it’s their turn to be taken care of. i just need to praise and shower them in love.

The sweetest things in the world deserve the most mind-blowing pleasure and comfort.

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : they really deserve it, right!! Isagi after the last chapters of the manga especially... My poor boys :(

!!Warnings: top!SOFTdom!male!reader, pillow princesses!Reo and Isagi, praise (very much), fingering, anal sex, protected(!) sex, nipples play, Reo has a boobs(idk, I just want to squeeze his pecs), crying, many kisses, pretty wholesome.

Isagi Yoichi.

"Hey? How are you feeling, baby? Is everything okay, hmm?" your voice is gently carried over his ear, to which he can only nod and mumble something unintelligible. "Come on, say something."

Isagi swallows dryly, looking at you with eyes clouded by lust, love, and the sensations of the previous two orgasms, and barely whispers: "Ye-yes, [Your name], just fine... Although... A l-little slower?"

Your thrusts become slower on an almost instinctive level, but they remain just as deep to make sure that you constantly hit the sweet spot that your sweet boy NEEDS.

Until his brain melts, until he forgets all the players on his and someone else's team, until he forgets why he was mad at them... Until the very word football disappears from his brain.

"Great, baby, whatever you say. Anything else?" he just whimpered at your question, trying to get his brain to work for at least five seconds by grabbing the sheets next to his head while he looked at you with teary eyes.

"...Hug?" Yoichi practically hisses, coughing a couple of times, your thrusts immediately slow down, which is why he closes his eyes, opening them only when he feels a drop of water on his lips.

"Drink it, honey, come on," you gently press the neck of the open bottle against his lips and he greedily gulps down the cool liquid until you remove the half-empty bottle from his lips.

You kiss him on the cheek, leaning over his body. Your chest is pressed against his chest, and his arms immediately wrap around your shoulders, squeezing you. You resume your thrusts, lifting his hips slightly to increase the angle of the thrusts.

You can hear him sobbing into your hair, moaning with every thrust, while you kiss his neck and chin, leaving hickeys there from time to time. The way his tears run down your hair. The way his fingers dig into your back, even though your thrusts aren't that hard. The way his cock twitches against your stomach.

You feel every cell. Every dangerously pressed part of his body against your own. Even the way his heart beats, which is exactly like your own rhythm.

"Fuck, so tight... Such a good boy, you take me so well. Do you think you can cum again?"

Isagi hardly hears your words, he just feels with his being that this is something pleasant and his cheeks turn even more red as he tries to figure out if his body can take more.

"Yeah..?"

He mutters, biting his lower lip, not sure if he can. But at least he'll try, for your sake. Although in this situation, you obviously won't be satisfied with such a sacrifice.

"Are you sure? I don't want to overexcite you, honey," your lips touch his lips to stop him from gnawing on his bottom one.

His hips immediately move up, and his hands tangle in your hair as he responds to a slow, almost savoring kiss from your side. The beautiful blue eyes close and a couple more tears flow out of them.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure... Just don't stop, please?" he chirps between kisses, biting your tongue in the process, which makes you pull away, looking at his sweetest face, and then wiping the tears from his eyes.

If he wants something, he'll get it.

Reo Mikage.

"Please, please, m-my love... Please," Reo bubbles, tilting his head back while he sat on your lap.

All you've been doing for the last fifteen minutes is finger him, and your mouth is literally glued to his nipple, as it seemed to Reo. Your hand felt his chest, as if he had tits, as if there was something to knead except muscles, although you didn't really care.

"Relax, I want you to completely relax," you whisper as your tongue runs over his nipple, and with the tip you deliberately press on the hollow in his nipple, forcing him to squeeze your thighs harder.

"I would have relaxed faster if you hadn't been pretending to be a newborn," Reo chuckles softly, biting his lips with the pleasure of your long fingers inside him, moving so smoothly and precisely where he needs them.

You just smile back, moving to the other nipple, which makes Reo moan, arching his back, and one of his hands gets tangled in your hair.

You can feel his hips moving slightly on your lap, trying to make your thrusts with your fingers even deeper, while his mouth opens in quiet, almost inaudible moans and rare praises from his lips to motivate you to continue.

"The main thing is that you feel good. What difference does it make how I behave? You like it," he just smiles at these words, but nods convulsively when your fingers poke exactly the spongy point that he needs.

"That's right... So just keep going, yeah?" Reo exhales, pushing his head back, and then shudders slightly as he feels you lowering him onto the bed, hovering over him in the same position.

His fingers grab your shoulders, trying to hold you in place, on his chest, not that you're going to run away, of course. His hips lazily moved to the beat of your fingers, trying to push them even deeper, although doing nothing to do so.

Your free hand squeezed one of his pecs, massaging that hard but pleasant muscle, stroking the pink, hard bump on it with the tip of your tongue, causing his purple eyes to close, fluttering.

His sweet sounds echoed throughout the room as his body lay flat on the soft pillows, allowing you to do whatever you want for his own pleasure. Reo wanted to cry just from the thought that you were completely focused on his pleasure, even if it didn't look like it considering how hard you were sucking on his chest.

But it warmed him up like hell, and he did... He wanted the same thing.

"Can I do something for you too? I'm embarrassed that you're aroused without any friction," Reo asks, kissing the top of your head, making you finally pull away from his nipple, which makes him sigh softly as the cold hits his wet nipple.

"Stay down, Mr. Mikage. Relax, stop thinking about your humble servant," you smirk, kissing his fingers on your face, and then bending down and kissing him, causing his body to melt instantly.

Although he immediately twitched when he felt a third finger enter him and he hit you on the shoulder, throwing his head back with a loud half moan, half sob.

"Warn me next time..." Reo whispers, frowning, even though she doesn't do anything to stop you.

He just lies there relaxed, letting all thoughts disappear from his pretty little head, watching as your mouth cups his nipple again and just sighs contentedly.

[universalzones]

"I think they did right after Eggman was beat and he lost his control over the entire world, though I think it was rushed for the most part. I didn't really have time since I was busy blowing up any standing bases, though if I were to guess he might've ran unopposed if no one really heard about it. It would make sense too. I wouldn't be surprised if not many wanted be President with how much work there was to do to get things back in order." The entire planet was a mess from when Eggman has complete control of the world.

"That is a sound theory, and if he has strong ties to G.U.N then I'm sure they wouldn't have had second thoughts about 'convincing' anyone attempted to run against Thawne not to do so." Blaze would turn her focus on the Chaotix. "Perhaps you time might be better looking into this Thawne. I still hold hope that he didn't have any involvement and is intentions are genuine with his concerns."

"Maybe we could simply ask him some questions? I mean, it can't hurt, and he shouldn't have any reason to lie to us. I know this is me being optimistic, though I just hope I'll see the best in people." Belle wasn't really using reasoning rather than feelings with what she just said, though sometimes being kind and direct got answers. Throwing out the idea doesn't hurt anyone either.

"That's... foolish thinking." Kitsunami seemed to want to say something else, though he bite his tongue and softened his words. The fennec actually liked Belle's company so didn't want to be mean to her. "Though it's not like it'll do any harm. The worse that could happen is he deflects or simply refuses to answer. If you want to ask then ask, though I personally think its a waste of time."

===========================================================

"Sounds like you'll miss me being a pain in your ass, which is just weird. Though I guess no one on this team is normal." Surge wasn't good at this, mainly because she simply expected them to shut her out and leave her to face the music solo style. Now they were saying they'll miss her and how she caused problems? Ugh, why does being a good guy have to be so weird.

"...Just take it easy Lanolin. I know you gotta deal with Tangle being Tangle, though you seriously need to relax more. Plans are fine, though if you wanna deal with Eggman you gotta learn to role with the punches and change on a dime. I know it's sucks to be put in a position like that when you gotta lead, though I think it's important." Why was Surge trying to give advice in a situation like this?

"I could dash you where you want to go before heading to the command center. I know a lot of people get stomach sick, though I've got more control now, weirdly enough." Surge actually had a moment to process just how stable her powers were. Made her wonder how tied her emotions were to her powers. Well, not like she'll have time to explore that.

That village, they condemned her the moment they found out who tinker was. It was also ground Zero for the Zombot virus. Of all the people they were hit the hardest. They of course put that blame on poor Belle. Miles couldn't help but feel like it was a sore spot for her, and hoped deep down that she was right. They'd have to contact him, get papers and confirm it all. But he knew it was just as likely even the mayor would turn on her. He'd be there to help her through it regardless--- chaos he hoped she was right.

Miles flipped through his phone as he looked for information on this president. A Name, a birthdate anything he could use to give him a clue about who he was.

" Here we go, President Thawne... first name Luthian... 28 years old, served in GUN from the time he was 18, fought with GUN in the War-- yea right more like cowered in a hole. Not much else here... just lots of photos of him with Abe. Guess they knew each other... still young for a president... did they even do an election i wonder? "

He flipped through the photos and checked his social media but until he could hack in and check things. He could only tell so much.

" Likes his guns, gives to charities, helps out at the local homeless shelter... guy is squeaky clean... like to clean, this feels--- Staged? no angry posts, no joking posts... nothing from before the war... Dunno if this will help us, and its very sus..."

The chameleon didn't seem phased by her decision, and frankly if she knew someone to counter that ability good. But he guessed they'd get involved before it was over. Plus they knew the lay of the land well enough. No point in arguing right now, they'd have time to discuss it later.

" As you wish princess, we'll be here if you need us. "

==========================================

She chuckled at Surge being upset that she wasn't angry, that it might be easier if she was. If anyone was angry it was Sonic, pissed that she wouldn't fight for her freedom. But that wasn't to say Lanolin wasn't feeling emotions. She was, but they were a jumble of sadness and feeling like she failed Surge on some level. She hugged herself and looked down at her feet, just for a moment that stern façade she wore faded away.

" Anger would be easy... i wish i could be angry at you. Yelling would have been so much easier. But i just feel... i'm going to miss you Surge. Even your little outbursts, and raiding the fridge at all hours of the night. Our little arguments about how to handle missions... i'll miss it... "

She said in a softer tone less the commander and more like a friend, even if they had there problems. She saw Surge as more then just a weapon, more then just some soldier.

" But i guess i'm being sappy, and sentimental--- Yes Report to the command center. Get Miles to get your testimony and get it all on tape concerning that day. I have one more stop to make, and then i'll be back at the command center. "

She took a deep breath and let her personal feelings go. She held a hand out to Surge as if to shake her hand.

" It was a pleasure working with you Surge... I hope we one day in the future we can do so again..."

[dock57]

[If you haven’t already noticed, I just really like talking about how much I love this series.

I’m not sure what it is about this particular shot of the first episode, but this one is what really got me in.

We have a build up to the plot of the first episode, where we’re introduced to the continuing plot itself of the series, but a build up to the introduction of the main characters. We’re given a glimpse of who Shrike and Beebs are, not just based on their icon alone, but as who they are based on the information given along with them. As I have said many times, I really love MW and its details. Including this shot.

We’re told here the difference between Shrike and Beebs. We’re given a dose of who they are as well of how the two work together. Which is something I would really like to talk about another time.]

[I think EP 4 has pushed the understanding of Shrike’s and Beeb’s relationship and their character and well, the overall story. Shrike is considered a loser to well, majority of the people who know him. We also know that Shrike is quick to make decisions- usually not good ones and seems to “get by” by either luck or, having Beebs with him. Which is why Shrike’s description of being a low threat and easier target to take out before Beebs, makes sense. It just gives you an idea how little Shrike is considered to others, enemies or rivals. Even if Shrike did make Kara look like a fool at the end of the first EP- it was really by chance- luck really. I will say it is funny how it’s mentions he is awful with close range- despite doing a great job in EP 2 doing close range sword fighting- guess the only times cartoons did save him.]

[Then you have Beebs, or Bulldog Browns is the first name given. I always look back at this shot for Beebs. Because even before EP 4, we’re told he’s a threat- which is odd as before EP 4, we’re really only shown a more chill side of Beebs. I know in EP 3 though, we are given a taste of how Beebs could potentially be dangerous, or well, he has a limit. Even so, EP 4 is when we really start to get a taste of how much of a threat Beebs could be. Not just from what we saw from Ajax too and what Ricket said, how Beeb’s kinds can be “a lot,” but how Beebs can haul weight around with no problem. Opening closed doors with his own strength and like Ajax, has his eyes light up red as well when he is frustrated. So the 9/10 threat makes a lot of sense now. I remember when I first saw that, I was a bit surprised? He doesn’t seem like the type who would hurt a fly? Now seeing EP 4, makes you wonder how much he can handle before he loses it? Its clear though, that Beebs is seen as a threat, not just species alone, but also seems to taken more seriously compared to Shrike, he is set up in the team to be the “straight man,” the middle guy, really the one to well, solve all the problems. Even in his little description, it says that you might have an easier time with Beebs if you take out Shrike, who really is not. Taken seriously.

Also Shrike being 6”3’ and Beebs being 8”11’? I love ridiculous heights for characters. These two are tall, man- even Shrike who appears “short” compared to others.

I’m not much of a theorist or type to create headcanons, I just really like talking about what I love about a series. And what I love about this shot? The set up. We’re introduced to the characters, a glimpse about them and watch the development, and the overall plot itself.

I’m just a rambler, but hope you enjoy.]

[receivedhope]

I feel like it's pretty undeniable that from Season 3 onwards, there seemed to have been a shift in Blaine's character from how he was in Season 2. While I am not the first to point this out, I do think there are some greatly underutilized traits of Blaine present in S2 that get phased out as he receives more screen time and are not usually brought up in such conversations.

This will unfortunately get long because I love Blaine meta.

There was always some half attempt at making Blaine out to be bossy and while Puppet Master is an episode that aims to address this, I did think it fell a little flat in selling this side of him. He was more whiny than anything lol. This bossy side of him that always wants to be in control of the room and the people around him was... given a better set up, I'd say, while he was in the Warblers. It was more subtly showing than outright telling, though unfortunately we spend so little time in Dalton that it was hard to gauge the inner hierarchy and dynamics of the group accurately since they always presented a united front to outsiders - Trent's betrayal in S4 is a big deal. But I always did find it interesting how hung up they were on Blaine, who at the very most attended Dalton only for two years, as well as that he had no actual title such as a captain or head Warbler, yet was the decided leader of the group not just star performer. (See: Will shakes Blaine's hand after their Sectionals tie. Based on just the Warbler court scenes, you'd assume Wes stepping up here to do so make more sense.)

Though it was not lost completely and I always have been of the opinion that most conflict Kurt and Blaine have stem from their respective control issues. Kurt needs schedules, sufficient space to move on his own and he exercises his need for boundaries freely (see: retreating to his room in Home and asking Burt to leave as well, not allowing Finn to touch him in Theatricality and Grilled Cheesus, scheduling Friday night dinners with Burt, scheduling make outs with Blaine in DWS) while Blaine enjoys being the protector and ultimately having the last word (see: the entire plot of Tested and NNY). It makes a stupid amount of sense that the times they butt heads the core issue stems from an external force limiting their movement, like how in TFT Blaine sees the opening night closing in on him as a deadline and makes him panic, or when Blaine cheats in TBU to gain some control over how to identify their long distance relationship, or how Kurt feels their impending wedding more suffocating than anything pre S6.

However something that unfortunately did seem to get entirely lost from Blaine's character as time went on, that I do think miss from him entirely in latter seasons, is his conformist attitude from S2.

Blaine is almost Kurt's foil during his Dalton arc. While Kurt hates having to fit in (and has never quite succeeded in it at all), Blaine likes moving as one with other people. He likes being a part of a team, being depended on and being liked. And this attitude ultimately is why he is stuck in a rut before he meets Kurt - he retreats to Dalton when real life gets complicated and messy, because he is never challenged by it. Dalton is how Blaine ultimately sabotages himself.

Even his wardrobe in S2 was telling this story - a completely normal guy who likes being only that. The very few times we see him in everyday clothes, they are average with nothing outstanding to note. Dark colors, jeans, simple shirts. A far cry from "I am the center of attention and this primary colors proves it" and wacky bowties. While I always liked that Kurt is most likely the one picking out his clothes, I did enjoy this side of Blaine more, the subdued, regular everyday guy who wears only what his peers do - even if the costume department would have found it painfully boring to stick with in the long run lol.

Why he got so worked up about and increasingly frustrated with Finn actively excluding him from the ND in early S3 also makes sense. While Kurt, as a true individualist with no real desire to fit in is not easily phased by not being included, Blaine takes it to heart.

(I always thought Blaine views having a significant other is like always being in the same team with someone and is why he desires a relationship so much.)

I like this aligned with his hesitance and slight uncomfortableness over Kurt's prom outfit in PQ as well. (Though, I'm sorry to grasp as straws, I also enjoy the thought of Blaine deciding to side with Burt as a way to impress him - if you look closely, Blaine is more impressed and smitten with Kurt's outfit at first... But you are free to disregard this point because this is just me being insane.)

A natural conclusion of his bossy and conformist personality would ultimately result in him also leaning towards being authoritarian, which I think makes great sense for someone who likes being part of a team, knowing where they all stand and making sure he fits in but also preferring to take charge and be the head. I really like that! And I think this all being contrasted with Kurt, who can't blend in, even if he tries (see: Preggers, Laryngitis, his entire dalton arc, I'd argue that even his senior class president campaign as well as starting in NYADA qualify a bit) and always makes his own path to follow is just sooo interesting and can really sell the whole opposites attract thing! Because I do believe that Kurt found it particularly nice that there is this outstanding, well mannered guy who is respected by all his peers and is ready to go to bat for him, helping him push Kurt's ideas as well as using his influence to help him - I think somthing very similar attracted Kurt to Finn as well in S1 - and it is pretty much canon that Blaine finds Kurt's fighting spirit inspiring and something hopeful (I think he was inspired by Kurt to transfer to McKinley, which is why "I did this for me" and "I even switched schools for him" can simultaneously be true), as well as attractive that Kurt is a one of a kind (cut to 'youre the only one...' in DCT). Also put a pin in that last part, because I have so much to say about the consistent bird allegories and imagery associated with their relationship, but maybe at a later date since this is already getting long.

Other times, I also think that S3+ Blaine is not that out of left field if you pay attention to him in S2. Something that gets pretty early established is that Blaine is a rash and impulsive person. When he is hurt, he lashes out. You can see this in NoN when Karofsky picks a fight with them, it gets physical pretty quickly, however you can see Kurt being just... disappointed? Resigned, almost?

Blaine is also quick to react to Sandy's heckling that Kurt shuts down asap.

We later learn that Blaine is also entirely capable of doing things with the intent of hurting Kurt - he sings a Whitney Houston song at him that implies Kurt much less ambigiously cheated than in reality, in front of all his friends, because at the core of it is his anxiety about Kurt leaving him. He cheats on Kurt when he feels neglected.

And I think it is a bit naive to think he dated Karofsky entirely because of a supposed mutual attraction, ignoring the Kurt of it all. The history them three share is undeniable and he did want Kurt to feel like shit about it - which, for the record, I think is understandable since Kurt broke off their engagement rather ungracefully and it pushed Blaine into a depressive state, to the point of getting cut from NYADA and having to move back to Ohio.

All that to say - I always found all of the above very in line with the S2 Blaine who was quick to compare Kurt to Karofsky in BIOTA, just because Kurt said something mildly offensive in a moment where he was also hurt!

I guess this is also the time to quickly, as a sidenote, talk about Kurt's biphobic comment. I think the ultimate, intended purpose of the scene was more comedic. A mean, off color joke, but a joke RIB wanted to make nonetheless. However I do not find it out of character. Firstly: that is a seventeen year old boy who was told his whole life that he is disgusting and sick for liking men by the entirety of the conservative town he lives in. He is sexually assaulted by his closeted bully and has to transfer schools and he was never afforded to be "in" the closet either, because everyone around him assumes his sexuality. How right or wrong that is to do, is another topic. He has a crush on the only other out and proud gay kid in Ohio - who would rather give it a shot with a girl before Kurt. And to add insult to injury, Kurt already lost a crush of his to Rachel!

Of course he is hurt, of course he will say something less than gracious!

And Blaine in the only other person who is fully aware of Kurt's situation - for him to compare Kurt saying something mean and a bit offensive to Karofsky's actions is out of pocket, in my opinion.

I'm not sure how to end this neatly, but I will say this: I do like all of the above about Blaine and would have loved to see these traits more consistently. I do not think this darker side of his negates the good parts of him. If anything, understanding his lows helps me appreciate his highs even more.

[future-of-freedom]

Tumblr wormhole shenanigan's!

The Neo Diamond Cutters are returning home from a successful mission when suddenly the Diamond Cutters from All Together Now (complete with Bean and Bark) appear in front of them!

How does either team react to their new imposters?!

(this is gonna be long, bear with me)

“Oh, wonderful. This is becoming a theme…” Ashley grumbled.

“So, uh, care to explain why there’s TWO TANGLES AND WHISPERS?!” Bean shrieked, shaking Ashley by the shoulders.

“Relax, dude. Something to do with a wormhole, I guess. It’s not the first time it happened in our world,” the leopard explained. “One time I came across this freaky looking shrike that sounded like static.”

Bark shivered, while Bean winced. “Sounds terrifying…”

“It was. But it blipped back into its world shortly after, so the same thing should happen with you guys, too. But while you’re still here… how’d you get in the Neos?”

Bean and Bark just looked at her, confused.

“Neo Diamond Cutters? Are you not called that in your world?”

Bark shook his head.

“Gotta admit, that sounds a lot cooler…” the bird mumbled. “But Tangle and Whisper took us in, even after realizing we were criminals! It’s been smooth sailin’ ever since! The boss lady’s kind of a downer, though…”

“Eh, in her defense, you gotta have someone to keep things in check…” the leopard chuckled. “Whisper was actually the one who offered me a spot on their team. I was kinda shocked, considering I kept accusing her of ki-“

She stopped. Whoops. She was saying too much.

Bark sat in front of Ashley, curious.

“…accused her offff…?” Bean asked.

Ashley shook her head and pat Bean’s head.

“…it’s a more personal thing on Whisper’s side. Don’t press the one for your world about it, though, alright? She’ll tell you if, or when she thinks it’s the right time.”

Bean happily leaned into Ashley’s robotic hand.

“Gotcha,” Bean answered, while Bark gave her a thumbs up.

-

“Mimic gave you that scar?!” ATN!Tangle gasped.

“Yeah… it’s all good though! He’s been locked up ever since! My face healed up nicely after a couple days, and now I’m living well in a nice home with Whisp!” FOF!Tangle answered. “Can the same be said for you?”

“Pretty much! Although there have been some hiccups. We got through ‘em though, and now we’re sharin’ a house with Bean and Bark!” ATN!Tangle said.

“Woah, with those guys?” FOF!Tangle laughed a little. “That must be fun.”

“Trust me, it’s not as bad as you think. And it’s nice to have a living space that I can call mine after… um…”

ATN!Tangle trailed off a bit.

“You good?” FOF!Tangle asked, concerned.

“Well… sorry, I was thinking about some familial issues. I don’t wanna be a downer-“

“Hey.” FOF!Tangle put a hand on her counterpart’s shoulder. “You’re not gonna be here forever. If you need someone to talk to about that, I’m happy to hear it.”

ATN!Tangle smiled softly and wiped her nose.

“…thank you.”

-

“Nice to see I’m eating well in this world, too,” ATN!Whisper said happily.

FOF!Whisper gave her an appreciative nod. “Have you… also gotten insecure about it?”

“Oh, absolutely. ‘Course, I was told it was okay. Just shows that I’ve been a lot happier as of late.”

“That’s goes for both of us, then,” FOF!Whisper responded, giving her counterpart a thumbs up. “Well, while you’re still here, I must ask… have you used your wisps’ powers on yourself?”

ATN!Whisper cocked her head to the side.

“Y’know, kinda like Sonic has…”

“…I can do that?”

“Possibly, if you’re able to train yourself. I haven’t perfected all their powers yet, but that’s only part of the process.” FOF!Whisper explained. “Can give you tips if you’d like.”

“Won’t be necessary,” ATN!Whisper declined. “I’d rather not mess with their powers like that.”

She smirked. “I’ll keep what you said in mind though.”

-

Both Lanolins were leaning against the wall all nonchalant, both holding cups of coffee.

“So… you also hate your mom?” FOF!Lanolin asked.

“Mhm.”

“Always got worked shoved in your face?”

“Yup.”

“But you have friends that make it somewhat worth it?”

“Correctamundo.”

They looked at each other, and clinked their glasses together.

“Livin’ like Lanny,” they both said at the same time, sipping their mugs.

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

What I think the Leverage Team is truly afraid of:

Nate: Losing. Not just losing the con- but more importantly losing the team. Of course he never voices it. However the team knows. It's why they always come back. Nate already lost his son, his job, and his wife- can't lose his team. He can't lose his second family.

Sophie: Broken Masks. This may be a jump in the dark- but. Sophie has SO many personas. Mask's she's created all on her own that I don't think she even knows who she is anymore. I think she's afraid of somebody finally figuring her out and that terrifies her. Not only because she'll lose all sorts of control- but she'll think if they figure out the real her, all they'll see is a women that's weak.

Parker: Abandment. She's finally found people who are like her. In a way that of course their different- but still they are like her. These people know what it's like to be alone. To be lost. Having to figure out a way to get out, because it's a way to survive. She's afraid that one day- they'll walk away. Just like everyone else. And I think that's why she pokes and pushes. Trying to figure out what it'll take for them to walk away. They don't.

Hardison: Uselessness. I think this is why he's so outgoing. Why he's so out there and personal with everyone. He wants to be seen as strong. As being useful. I mean- he hacked into Sweden(?) to pay for his Nana's surgery. He felt useful then. Now, he's in a team- and with all these useful members. He's afraid they don't need him. That's why he's tried multiple times to be the mastermind. And of course he fails- not because he doesn't know what he's doing. But because even with the "I know what I'm doing," attitude- he's terrified that he'll do it wrong.

Eliot: The Dark. This I can't explain fully. Maybe it's from the tidbits I hear in conversations. But he's afraid of the dark. Not the actual dark. No. The darkness that's in him and that he tries to keep control of. It's the darkness he had when he was working for Monreau. The monster that was created in him every time he spilled innocent blood. Eliot is afraid that the darkness will come out and his family will see just how much of a monster he is.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

"Violet would do it for us" "Yeah, she would.

"Louis would do it for us" "...I guess"

WHAT WAS THE REASON. WHY.

I think I know why.

So, yes—when we're trying to get James to help us, Clementine has to walk through the barn with his mask on. AJ's understandably anxious about this, and here's how these optional conversations can go:

Clementine: You know Violet would do it for us. AJ: Yeah... She would.

Clementine: Louis would do it for us. AJ: Yeah. I guess.

So... why? Why this small difference in the way AJ reacts? Or, even in the way Clementine phrases it?

I think it's easier for us who like Louis/clouis to look at this negatively, like "Well, what the hell? That seems unfair."

But, we gotta remember which route this appears in. AJ doesn't say this in Louis' route, he says it in Violet's route where Louis is captured.

In that route, we obviously spend less time with Louis. More importantly, he doesn't get to grow as much as a character. That's the nature of this game; you know less about the one you don't choose.

The player probably didn't go hunting with him, didn't appeal to him, didn't follow him, and definitely didn't save him... meaning the perception of him might not be the greatest depending on the player. Especially if that player is still pissed about his vote... and I think AJ might be echoing some of that doubt.

Violet in Louis' route, at the very least, earns some favor by voting to keep Clementine and AJ. Hence why Clementine is pretty confident that Violet would do this for them and why AJ agrees... even though through meta-knowledge we know that Violet despises Clementine for letting her get captured. So, we could argue that she wouldn't do it for them in that moment. It's all part of the irony that ep3 likes to play into... y'know, "Imagine how Violet will feel when she finds out you came to rescue her. You'll have given her hope again."

Oh, will she have hope again, Lee? Is that what she's going to feel when she sees Clementine again? Are you sure?

But, in Violet's route, Louis is shown to be apologetic but not to have stepped up. He doesn't get the chance to. Hence why Clementine states he'd do it for them without the "you know" and why AJ seems more doubtful.

And the thing is, anyone who knows anything about Louis knows that he would do it no matter the route... but he'd also complain about it, y'know?

Fine, he'll climb up and distract the walkers, but he's gonna make a half-hearted threat about eating first Clem and Violet if he dies. Fine, he'll rub walker guts all over himself, but he's gonna be grumpy about it. Fine, he'll carry the bomb when they infiltrate the boat, but he's gonna be anxious about it the entire time.

Like... sometimes, that's just how Louis is?

If it were him James handed that mask to and asked to walk among walkers, Louis would be like, "Fine, but only because Clem, AJ, and my friends are my reason for existing and without them, I'll die anyway... and because I'll look good in these walker skins."

On the other hand, Violet's more of a "just shut up and do it," kind of gal. You hand her the mask and she'll be like, "Ugh, fine. Let's get this over with."

So yeah, there's a purpose for the slight against Louis there. You don't know him unless you choose him, and if you don't, the game adjusts accordingly.

I also see this sentiment of "Why would AJ say that??" at the end of Louis' route where AJ has the option to question why Clementine's trusting him with an important task.

But, like... you don't have to pick that option. Y'know? I understand being annoyed that it's even there; I was annoyed, too... but, if you like Louis and you understand his arc, you're not going to have AJ say that. Because you know better. You didn't just hear the jokes and the piano. You're making sure AJ didn't stop listening, either.

In my opinion, that choice is there to test you.

So yeah, anon, I hope this reasoning helps.

[poundfooolish]

my work is undergoing a lot of restructuring and we're all getting shuffled off to new teams, and my boss just floated to me a team he thinks I'd be a good fit for, basically doing the same stuff I'm doing now with a closer focus on just fixing problems, ie, my favorite part of the job

If I do actually get moved to this new team though the actual new favorite part of the job is gonna be no longer working under this man

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

I've had a stupid merlin au idea stuck in my head for days now and I know I'll never get around to writing it the way I want it written but I kinda wanna try anyway even though I am 100% of the target audience

[deus-ex-mona]

starting the year ✨wrong✨

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna who makes you kiss his gloves before his match for good luck.

masterlist

His team had left the locker room and it was just the two of you now. You were sitting on a bench while he organized his bag. “I didn’t know you got so many freebies from your sponsorships.” In your hand, was a brand new boxing shoe that he received from UnderArmor for a sports shoot campaign.

“Eh, they’re not really what I need in the actual matches but I use them during training cause I don’t wanna waste ‘em,” he mumbled. He seemed to be more on edge than usual. During his last match, he lost by a landslide, having a sour taste in his mouth from the experience. He blamed you because you weren’t there to kiss his glove prior to the match.

You turn to look at him staring down at his gloves.

“Sukuna.”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. No smiles, just a deadpan expression. You walked towards him and held his face in your hands. You could tell he was nervous about the fight even though he had won so many before.

“Honey, what’s on your mind?” Your voice was sincere and comforting for him. “What if I’m in a slump? My last match was so bad. I’ve never lost like that. What if I’m on a losing streak now?”

You get on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Sukuna, you’ve worked hard have you not?” He nods. “And you feel like you’ve trained well this time.” He nods again. “Then why are you so worried? Is it because you were distracted last time?”

He sighs and wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck in the process. “Look, I don’t know if you think it’s weird but when I see you outside the ring, I feel like I have a reason to win. It drives me to fight better. I had a really shitty day last time and when I didn’t see you I just didn’t feel like giving my all.”

Your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces after seeing your husband sulk. “I just felt burnt out. I was hoping that once I saw you then I’d feel better.”

You hugged him tighter and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sukuna, I promise I’ll never do that again.” You start rubbing your hand up and down his back in hopes to calm him down right before his match.

“Kiss my gloves for me?” he asks as he pulls away. You nod. He takes his boxing gloves out and places them in your hands. You leave a delicate kiss on each of them, your gloss leaving a small sparkly stain. He takes them from your hand and kisses them on the same spots as you did, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he says as he strokes your head.

You show him a teethy grin and nod.

“And you’re mine.” Your reply made him smash his lips to yours. “I’ll be sure to win now that you’re here.” He mumbled against your lips.

—

No thoughts. Just boxer!sukuna

[nereidprinc3ss]

diva

in which flirty!reader shows up to work in a bad mood and it’s spencer’s job to deal with her attitude. not that he minds. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: fem!reader, mentions of reader coming to work from a casual hookup, flirting, lots of teasing, the BAU being silly geese bc this is before all the trauma, insecurities about reader's job performance, spencer wants to be a cyborg, borderline cuddling hehehe a/n: nanana diva is a female version of a hustler (bandages!reader theme song) no but really i just missed them so much lowkey always accepting requests for these two!! I hope you guys likeeee bc i loveee them and also this was based on a request so i hope u see this LOL

As soon as Hotch calls wheels up in thirty you’re slumping forward, resting your head on folded arms. The to-go cup on the round table in front of you has long been emptied but you look at it longingly anyway. 

Morgan chuckles, slapping his folder down on the table next to you. “Aw, look at that. Bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“It’s Sunday,” you groan. “It’s seven in the morning. Excuse me for not being ready to carpe the diem.”

“It’s just carpe diem,” Spencer interjects, standing and slipping his file into his bag. You sit up and give him the most indignant look you can manage, though it’s hard when you’re this tired and he’s that cute. Slacks. Sweater vest. Button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. An enviable waist. 

“Whose side are you on?”

He frowns, brushing a tuft of shining-clean brown hair out of his eyes. 

“If I was on anyone’s side other than my own it would cease to be their side. We’re all always on our own sides.”

“No, you’re on my side. Defend me.”

His brows only dart up and he looks back down to his bag. It’s a look you know well. Don’t get me involved. 

Morgan spins in his chair to face you, one elbow resting on the table. 

“I’m just saying, if this is your Sunday morning, I’d love to see your Saturday night, little miss forty five minutes late.”

“You heard Hotch say he called me half an hour earlier than everyone else. It was technically fifteen,” you frown. “And I… was at church.”

Rossi gestures at you with his coffee cup. “You step foot in a church, your shoes are going to start smoking.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Wow. I thought old people were supposed to be sweet. Come on, Spencer.”

Spencer knows better than to put up a fight as you get up and grab him by the hand not holding onto your cup and folder, dragging him to the bullpen to sit at your desk until the team is ready to go. 

He stands in front of you, hands in pockets, as you plop into your own chair. “I… can’t tell if you’re actually mad.”

“I am. At you. For not being on my side.”

Spencer sets his bag down and leans against the adjacent desk, arms folded. You stopped caring a long time ago if he’d notice you ogling the long, lithe lines of him. Maybe you never really cared, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s a little harder to scandalize these days, anyway. But you’ll never stop trying. 

He bites his lip thoughtfully. 

“If you’re mad at me, why am I the one you dragged down here?”

“I’m not taking questions, Reid.”

He hisses. “Ouch. Reid.”

“Mhm. That’s how mad I am.”

“Okay, grouchy. Do you want a refill?”

You borderline pout, continuously perplexed by his kindness in the face of your insolence, but holding out your hollow cup for him anyway as you slouch lower in your seat. 

“Don’t call me grouchy.”

“Then don’t call me Reid,” he says, taking your cup as he passes, and you think you sense the faintest wash of amusement coloring his tone. 

The jet doesn’t do much to put pep in your step. 

“Aberdeen,” Morgan muses, letting his file closed on his lap. “Isn’t that where, uh, Kurt Cobain grew up?”

Spencer sits down in the chair next to you, setting the day’s third cup of coffee in front of you on the small table. “It is. It’s also where Washington’s first suspected serial killer William Gohl resided.”

“First of many,” Rossi amends. Reid nods. 

“In the US, Washington State comes in fifth place in terms of serial killers per capita. Some blame a widespread vitamin D deficiency. Just under eight hours of sunlight in the winter, the least in the contiguous United States.”

Emily gives an abhorrent rendition of a famous Nirvana riff, imitating a twangy electric guitar, before gesturing to your boss. “Hotch, you’re from Seattle. Did you ever get into Nirvana? The whole grunge scene?”

Hotch lowers his folder, giving her an unimpressed look. “Did you?”

While the exchange is amusing, the coffee is not perking you up and you’d like to be slightly less upright, if possible. You bump Spencer’s knee with your own, and he looks over at you obediently. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanna move to the couch.”

He nods and gets right back up. When you pass, and he doesn’t immediately follow, you turn around. Maybe the lack of sleep has rendered you unable to hide your look of contempt as he tries to sit back down. 

“What are you doing?”

Morgan snorts. “Uh oh. Lapdog almost forgot his training.”

“I am not a lapdog,” Spencer defends, giving Morgan a harsh look of his own, before following you, much to the amusement of the rest of the BAU. 

“Don’t listen to them,” you mutter as you step aside to let him pass. 

He settles into the corner of the couch. “I almost never do.” When you cozy up next to him, he seems surprised. “Um, hi?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“This is… unprofessional.”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see. “Oh my god. They don’t care.”

That’s enough to shut him up. Eventually he relaxes, and though he doesn’t put his arm around you (they remain crossed in front of him) he doesn’t seem too distraught over the way you’re leaning against him, head on his shoulder. The sky is a soft grey where you can see it through the little rectangles lining the far wall, like a pale tea with plenty of milk. 

“What’s up with you, anyway?” He asks eventually, gingerly, and though he’s bold to ask it you know the last thing he means to do is offend. Luckily for him, he’s your soft spot. You let your eyes flutter shut against the boxes of diffuse light. 

“Tired.”

“I know that. You’ve had three cups of coffee and you’re still about to fall asleep.”

“Well… that’s all it was.”

“Mhm.”

“God, you’re—” you lift your head, about to give him a good old fashioned verbal lashing, but he’s so sweet looking, and he’s so kind to you even when he’s not, that you deflate—all your air coming out on a sigh as you settle back against him. “I… was… not home, when Hotch called me.”

“Yeah, you said you were at church?” He sounds utterly bewildered. Your heart melts, and you can’t hide the fondness seeping from every pore as you look up at him through your lashes. He really is so beautiful. 

“That was a joke, Spence. I was with a friend.”

His brows knit and a faint blush tinges his cheeks. 

“Oh. I knew that.”

And he really is getting better at detecting your brand of sarcasm. One day you doubt you’ll be able to pull any over on him, and he’ll stop being so adorable and bashful and embarrassed and sweet all the time. You don't relish the thought.

“What were you doing this morning?” You ask, in a bid to quell the very embarrassment you covet, because you’re not actually a demon, despite what Rossi had implied earlier. 

“Sleeping.”

You hum. Imagine taking his hand. Don’t really take it. 

“Me ’nd you should hang out outside of work more often.”

“Like… in the mornings?”

“Uh, probably not,” you laugh, your own face heating at the implication he’s only sort of and undoubtedly accidentally making. “I mean—we could. We could have breakfast sometimes.”

“I like breakfast,” he muses. “I know a couple of good spots. I can show you when we get back. There are these ube pancakes that are like bright purple on the inside. Have you had ube? I think you’d like them. The pancakes and the tuber. They’re the same color as your laptop case.”

You giggle, too tired for anything more dignified and too charmed for anything less authentic. Spencer has a moment of apparent self-awareness and after a second chuckles along with you, and like 99% of your moments with him, it’s a nice one. 

It slowly fades, and you sigh. 

“We’d probably get called in right in the middle of breakfast.”

“It’s always a possibility,” Spencer agrees, and you feel him nod. He smells really nice—clean and sort of cedar-y. Warm. 

“You ever think about how we’re just… robot arms to do the bidding of the federal government? We’re not even people. We’re cyborgs.”

“I’d love to be a cyborg.”

“But then you wouldn’t be so warm and comfy.”

“If I were a cyborg I could install a heating element. I’d still be warm. I don’t know about comfy. Maybe if I kept the biomechatronics to one side of my torso.”

“You’d install a heating element just for me? So we could keep cuddling?”

He clears his throat. You smile to yourself. 

“Why are we cyborgs, exactly?”

“Because we don’t get personal lives. The job comes first. I could be doing anything. I could be in the middle of eating bright purple pancakes with my good friend and colleague Spencer Reid and it doesn’t matter. If we get called in we have to leave.”

“If we were in the middle of breakfast, we could just… take our food to go and finish it at our desks.”

“Well—I guess it would be different if it was us, but with my other friends… it’s kind of a bummer, sometimes.”

You’re thinking about the friend you left this morning. Nobody you’re particularly invested in, but you wonder if that friend is still asleep in bed—and you realize you don’t much care. You’re glad to be here, and not there. 

“I think if the job didn’t feel worth it to you, you would’ve left by now. But you haven’t. You can complain all you want, but you show up every day.”

You scoff. 

“Fifteen to 45 minutes late, depending on how you look at it.”

“That is… atypical. You’re usually on time.”

“Usually…” you repeat darkly. A moment passes. An uncomfortable insecurity begins to bloom and ache like a rotting tooth. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Do you think…” you falter, unused to this kind of vulnerability. A cloud swallows the jet and the cabin darkens into a place for secrets. “Do you think I’m worth the trouble?”

You know Spencer senses the unease like a sheepdog can sense a storm from the way he perks up next to you. He’s always been like that—incredibly attuned to the moods of others. You hope he doesn’t think profiling is just another of many learned skills. It’s a genuine talent, a sort of savantism in its own right. You can’t imagine him doing anything else as passionately as he does his job. Sometimes it almost makes you insecure. 

“What trouble?”

“Like… Hotch having to call me half an hour earlier than he calls the rest of the team. Or you, accepting my constant teasing. I know I’m—I can be kind of a diva. I don’t always really feel as professional as you guys. Or… qualified, maybe.”

You can imagine the way he’d narrow his eyes as he thinks this over, though you’d still like to see it for yourself—but you keep your head on his shoulder. In a way, he’s already getting a closer look at you than you usually grant to anyone. 

“I think… you’re good at your job. And you care more than you’d like to admit. That thing you do—where you sometimes show up a few minutes late, or you piss Rossi off on purpose, or you flirt with Hotch—I think… we all have things like that. We all self-sabotage, because it’s a really hard job, and I think we all wonder if we’re really qualified for it, or deserve to be in these positions, or if we even want the responsibility of trying to save people’s lives. But you’re a genuinely good person and a gifted profiler. And everyone else knows it, too.”

The deep thrum of the jet’s engine blurs the rest of the team’s incomprehensible chatting and the pounding of your heart into one big muddied streak of paint. Hopefully Spencer can’t feel the heat of your cheek through his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

A moment passes. 

It’s a relief when Spencer’s anxiety comes bubbling up before your own can. “Sorry, was that too much?”

“No,” you hurry, “no, it was—no. That was really really nice of you to say. Thank you, Spencer.”

He relaxes. “Well… it’s all true.”

How could anyone ever deserve him? How does anyone get lucky enough to know a man like Spencer Reid?

When you burst through the other side of the cloud, the sun has come out. It burns away the milky early morning fog and makes your eyes ache just enough to finally wake you up. You blink and stretch against him like a cat. 

“Spence?”

“Hm?”

“I just want to clarify… I don’t flirt with Hotch. I flirt with you.”

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[theglamorousferal]

Immortal Everlasting Trio who have been exploring the Infinite Realms for the last few centuries. The three of them are flying, braiding their paths as they make their way through the Realms.

“How do you think Ellie is doing in her current incarnation?” Nightshade asks of her partners,

“Hmm probably well, she was exploring the galaxy this time right? I could always check?” Pharaoh responds, a keyboard made of sandstone appears at his fingertips.

“She feels content.” Said Phantom, soothing the worries of the other two. The stars that are freckles on his face brighten with the comment.

They swirl around each other in lazy patterns, unknowing of the passage of time, when Phantom feels a tug at his core. The trio circle up, his partners noticing the shift in mood.

“I don’t recognize this one.” He mutters to himself, placing a hand on the center of his chest. “It’s none of the family, but it is a bit familiar.” He furrowed his brow, trying to trace the sensation to its source. He closed his eyes and felt the pull of magic. “It doesn’t feel malicious, there’s desperation and curiosity for sure, but I feel no ill intent.” He thought for a moment. “I’m going to follow it. I want to know why this feels familiar”

Nightshade formed a purple bloom and tucked it behind one of his ears and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Be safe.”

Pharaoh gently took his hand and kissed it, bestowing a glass bangle to his wrist. “Don’t make stupid decisions,” he smirked, “without us.”

Phantom laughed and in a flash of bright white light he was gone.

* * *

With a flash of light so bright it temporarily blinded, Phantom appeared in a summoning circle. The room he now occupied was large, a massive sofa made up a good portion of the room and there was a kitchen off to the side. Turning around, there was a large screen with even larger windows behind it. He turned back and now saw the people in the room.

One was green with a unitard on, one was sitting criss cross in front of some candles, a book and a small cauldron, one was floating and had a mass of bright pink hair, one was a cyborg of some kind and stood at the ready with a cannon for an arm and the last was shielding his eyes with a black cape.

“Who summons me?” Phantom asked in a far quieter tone than the teens apparently expected.

The one who appeared to have done the ritual stood and spoke first. “Mighty Phantom, we seek your assistance in dealing with a massive threat to our world. The demon Trigon looks to the Earth as his next conquest.” They took a breath and looked down. “He intends to use my power to do it, and I do not have the strength to stop him.”

Phantom settled his feet on the ground and placed a hand on their shoulder. “Peace young one. Why don’t we start with introductions? As you know, I am Phantom, he/him, now who has managed to summon me?”

“I am Raven, she/her, the rest here are my team the Teen Titans.” She turned to her team, they all seemed shocked. “I apologize for them, usually they take things in stride a lot easier. This is Beast Boy, he/him, Starfire she/her, Cyborg, he/him, and Robin, he/him.”

“Hmm, may I see the text you used to summon me?” He gestured to the book on the floor. “I was not aware of anything that could summon me in this realm. It is familiar to me though, I can’t place why.”

Raven raised the book into his hand. He leafed through it humming to himself before stopping on a photo of a note that looked familiar. He smiled to himself, remembering the time a century ago to him that himself and his partners helped a small civilization and they left a way for the leader to contact them if they needed help. He skimmed the next few paragraphs and then laughed and closed the book.

“I’ll help. In fact, my partners and I will help. It’s been a long while since we were in a mortal realm. I will return in a week’s time your time to discuss what we need to do. This will work to summon us if we forget or if your danger arrives early.” He magicked a paper with a seal on it and handed it to her. “I must discuss with my partners and will do research on this Trigon. Thank you for calling us, we’ve been aimless for too many decades. Have a good night.” He vanished in another flash of light.

* * *

Phantom appeared in a flash of light cackling as he tumbled across the chess board his partners were playing on, scattering the flowers and sandstone pieces across the green sky.

“Beloved you know not to do that,” Nightshade gathered the giggling king into her lap, Pharaoh moving to lean against her shoulder and push the hair from the eyes of Phantom, “but what has you laughing so?”

Phantom mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Remember that civilization we helped out a century ago? Well apparently a few hundred years have passed in that world and the people we helped revered us as gods. A sorceress summoned us for help defeating a demon. They were so cute, little teenage heroes like we once were.” He sighed and settled into the arms of his lovers. “Have either of you heard of Trigon?”