#i woke up and drank some coffee

[silvershoe]

wow i have no self discipline. i dont know if i ever did its been like actually a life long issue its kind of miraculous i'm in college and got straight a's in high school because i really did the bare minimum to get those a's and now im at a school thats actually like pretty difficult in comparison and i have to actually work to understand the material and when i actually do the readings and spend time doing my homework i feel really fulfilled and happy about being at an academically rigorous institution but then the second i have to write an essay i dont want to write everything goes out the window and i end up rotting in bed on animal crossing pocket camp instead of doing the things i dont want to do. how do i force myself to do things when my brainwall against things i dont want to do is like 100 feet thick

[spacemilkbag]

I don't know what's in the air today but I've been feeling so tired throughout the day

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[reallyromealone]

Seconde chapter of little god?

It just came out so you dont have to

Title: little god 2

Fandom: Jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Megumi, itadori, nobara

Fic type: fluff

Pairings: -

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, child reader fluff, god reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Every morning was the same routine, Gojo woke up his tiny son who ran around in circles in the yard before coming in for some breakfast that consisted of a variety of foods for the little gods health, (name) pleased as he ate fish and other dishes "thank you papa!" He said as his tail swished, dressed in a more casual yukata compared to his godlier look "no prob, kiddo" Gojo said as he drank his coffee and ate his own meal, smiling at the difference in their tableware.

(Name) Had a cute kid set with zoo animals and plastic cutlery and Gojo with nice china "so today, we get to meet friends of papa"

"Su?"

"No no, not Suguru but he will be there later" Gojo chuckled as the boy looked confused "they're papas students, remember how I told you that I was a teacher?"

" we go?"

"After breakfast we are going" Gojo said happily and (name) bounced excitedly and continued eating his food.

(Name) Sat on his dad's arm as he was carried into the school grounds and Gojo watched as his kid sniffed around curiously "you sniffing, bud?" Gojo teased his son who looked focused "monster" (name) said as coldly as a toddler could as he locked onto Yuji who was waiting with the others at the steps "you can smell sukuna?" Gojo asked and (name) hissed at the mention of the king of curses "you know him?"

"Smelly man"

Gojo cackled at his son who wiggled to be put down, holding his dad's hand as they walked to the student's who looked at the child curious "uh, should a child be here?" Nobara asked as the little one dead stared Yuji "(name), these are papas students" Gojo pushed the boy forward "this is (name), he's my son~ isn't that right?" He crouched to the toddler who pulled some coins and held them out to the teens "it's you!" A mouth opened from Yuji's cheek "smelly!" (Name) Yelled angrily as his horns appeared "whoa, dont go fighting" Gojo held his son back who was ready to throw down.

"Pathetic little cretin, I could rip you--""aaand that's enough!" Gojo lifted his hellion son who tried kicking his dad's student with a growl "we will train at 1130, head to class you three!" he said cheerfully and took his little one away, Yuji tripping up the stairs as if he had two left feet "did you give him misfortune?" Gojo asked the tot who looked angry and frustrated "I know you don't like sukuna, none of us do but you can't hurt my student" he scolded the boy who pouted.

(Name) Was eating salmon and broccoli with cheese while his dad trained the students, abandoning the chop sticks in favor for his dragon form, tail swishing happily as he dived in. "Alright, we will be splitting into twos, let's work with people you aren't used to being teamed with" Gojo paired them up, seeing as his son watched curiously now in human form, face messy as his chubby hands held a piece of salmon "let's do some sparing, I will be right back" Gojo walked to his son and lifted him up "let's clean you up"

"I heard you had a son, didn't believe it" a Zenin clan higher up stated while staring at the toddler, the Gojo duo walking to the rest room "I do have a son, is that a problem?" Gojo stated coldly while adjusting the boy who looked between them, seeing papas glare and decided to match it.

Is it true he's... A god?" They tried to step closer but Gojos infinity halted him from doing so "if you don't mind, we have some business to attend to" the two walked off and (name) stuck his tongue at the Zenin member who glared back.

(Name) Let his dad wash him up, babbling nonsense happily "after school, uncle Suguru is meeting us to take you shopping" Gojo spoke softly, he loved telling his son everything that was happening and their plan. He wanted his son to be included and able to make choices- something he didn't get as a child.

"Susu?" (Name) Asked curiously and Gojo chuckled "yeah, susu"

[parkercore-69]

heeeyyyyyyyy guyyyyssssss, guess who made a new comic for his little comic thing,,,, (please check it out if you have the time!! it’d be really cool and epic)

yo dawgs i made a new comic

PART 2 !!

[rosenclaws]

i just know leopold would take such good care of a sick reader…….

Remedy || Leopold Mountbatten x Reader

warnings: fluff!! leo being the cutest, love confession <33

a/n: anon you are so fucking right Leopold would be the best person to take care of you and you should say it. ALSO OMG HES SO SOFT IN THIS MOVIE I CANT TAKE ITTTTT

You were absolutely miserable. From the moment you woke up you could tell everything was wrong. Your body ached, your head hurt, nose stuffed. There's no doubt that you were sick. Well that's too bad because you couldn't afford to be sick right now.

Work had been an absolute hell hole and you had mountains of tasks on your to do list. It takes every bit of energy you have to get out of bed. You throw on whatever work clothes are closest and head to your kitchen. As the coffee brews you lay your forehead on the counter, hoping the cool marble will somehow get rid of your fever.

"Good morning!" You recognize Leopold's voice from the window. You groan in response, hoping he gets the message. You look up and see him watching you with concern.

"You look ill." He reaches to touch your forehead but you gently shove his hand away.

"I'm fine." You mumble as you pour yourself a cup of coffee. He places his hand on your forehead and shakes his head.

"You are most certainly not fine, you're hot to the touch." You sigh and place your cup on the counter, searching your drawers for wherever your medicine was.

"No I'm fine. I can't get sick right now so I'm going to down as much Dayquil as I can and go to work." Leopold reaches out and grabs your wrist.

"Darling, you are not going to work today." He says softly.

It breaks his heart to see you so ill and refusing to let yourself rest. Not on his watch. It's his duty to take care of you, whether you want it or not.

"Leo I'm-" Your cut short by a wave of lightheadedness. Your eyes widen as you stumble slightly. Leopold catches you before you can fall.

"Okay fine maybe I am sick." He smiles softly as he gently guides you back to your bedroom.

"I will phone your work, you get back into bed." Being the gentleman he is he closes the door to let you get undressed.

You quickly strip off your clothes and get back into your pajamas. Your bed has never felt more comfortable in your life. You fight the covers, not sure if you want them or if it's too hot. So you settle on half on half off. You can hear Leo in your kitchen.

How lucky can you be you think. To have someone as amazing as Leopold in your life. Your relationship with him is newer. A couple months but it's been a dream. He's sweet and kind and ridiculously handsome. You know it's new but you think you might be falling in love.

"Darling are you dressed?" He calls through the door.

"Yeah" You say weakly as you snuggle into the pillow.

The door opens and he frowns at the miserable look on your face. He has a glass of water in his hands and Tylenol in the other. You smile, hoping it wasn't too hard for him to find it.

"Everything hurts." You say with a pout. He lifts the glass of water to your lips and helps you take the pain meds. His hand cups your cheek and he leans down to kiss your forehead. He soothingly runs his hand along your arm.

"I am here for whatever you need." You close your eyes, just wanting to sleep for a little longer.

"Sleep well." You hear him say before darkness takes over.

You don't know how much time has past by the time you wake up again. You still feel sick but the sleep helped. You feel around for your lamp and turn it on, the light making you wince. A delicious smell catches your attention as you get out of bed. Wrapping a blanket around you, you slowly make your way to the kitchen. You're met with the sight of Leopold in an apron. Fresh groceries sitting on your counter as he focuses all his attention to pot on the stove.

"Smells great," Your voice cracks and you grimace, maybe you should have drank some water before trying to speak.

"Hello darling," He walks over and kisses your cheek.

Like he could read your mind he offers you a glass of water and tells you to go lay down. You don't listen however as you want to watch him cook. Leopold has always had a passion for food and he let it be known whenever he was in the kitchen. It doesn't take long for him to be done and he shoos you away to the couch.

"It's my mothers recipe," He says as he places a bowl of soup in front of you.

There's a soft look in his eyes, you don't know much about his parents, he doesn't talk about them much. You do know that they passed a long time ago.

"She loved to cook, even though we had staff she always found herself making and creating new recipes." She must be where he got his appreciation of food.

"Whenever I got sick she would make me this and it would heal me right up." He carefully feeds you a spoonful, even blowing on it for you. Your eyes widen as the delicious liquid meets your lips.

"Oh my god this is the best thing I've ever tasted." He laughs as you reach for the spoon.

"This is what food can be when you use fresh ingredients darling, not frozen TV dinners." He always got on your case about those but they're quick and easy so it's fine.

"Well if you want to cook then I'll start buying."

"Anytime."

You finish your soup quickly, already starting to feel better. You rest your head in Leopold's chest as some TV show plays in the background.

"Will you stay here tonight? Think it'll help me feel better." You ask with a whisper. He wraps his arms around you, his hands gently rubbing your shoulder.

"Of course I can." He rests his chin on the top of your head, letting the TV play as he feels you growing sleepier by the second.

"Leo can I tell you something." Your eyes are fighting sleep and his warm embrace isn't helping.

"Anything."

"I think I love you." You can feel him tense only for a moment before his heart starts to beat faster.

He smiles, a warm feeling bursting from his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, gently lulling you back to sleep. You've never felt so cared for, so loved, so at peace than with him. You yawn and snuggle closer to him. He leans in close and whispers in your ear, letting his soft words bring you to sleep.

"I cannot begin to describe how much I love you my darling. Now sleep, I will be here in the morning."

[marlenesluv]

Lessons (LN) - Part 3

Summary: After Madelyn wakes up hungover, she remembers the night before and gets a little upset with her new roommate. Adjusting might be a little difficult.

Pairing: Madelyn Fewtrell x Lando Norris

Warnings for this part: Language, Mentions of sex, Not spell checked, A minor fight (barely)

Click here to go back to my masterlist for this series.

Click here to go back to my main masterlsit.

Note: As always, if you'd like to be tagged for upcoming parts of this series and you are not already on the taglist, leave a comment on this post! Also, sorry this part is shorter, I wanted it short and sweet :)

As Madelyn woke up with a killer headache and sweat dripping down her back, she picked up her phone to check the time.

12:34pm.

Groaning, she rubbed her temples and drank a water she had by her bed. Her room wasn't anywhere near done, so she made a mental note to start that after she showered, had coffee, and ate something.

While she was throwing some shorts and a shirt on, she started to recall the night before. Dancing with Heidi, drinking, more dancing, and- a guy? She faintly remembered a guy's hand around her as she danced but it was brief.

It dawned on her...Lando.

She remembered Lando ripping her away from the only guy that had made a move on her last night, leading her out of the club and back to the house.

He had literally cockblocked her. And from her first one as well!

She was livid as she walked out to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee and drinking it black to wake herself up faster.

Thoughts swirled in her head as she leaned on the island and took sips of her coffee.

'Why would Lando tear you away from this guy?'

'Did he like you?' 'Like...more than his best friend's younger sister?'

Shaking her head, she scoffed. Because, no, that would be impossible. Lando? Liking Madelyn? Someone he saw as, probably, a younger sister as well. The girl who constantly spilt juice on herself from drinking too fast to watch him race? 'Yeah, super flattering' she thought, taking a deep breath as she heard the front door open.

She heard Lando at the door, the sound of his bag dropping, and a bottle being set down. Followed by footsteps leading to the kitchen.

Lando then walked in, going straight for the fridge for a protein shake as Madelyn stood there watching him.

"You alright? You look like death, not to mention like you might want to murder someone." He asked, opening the shake and starting to take gulps.

"'M fine..." Madelyn set her coffee cup down, holding eye contact with Lando as he screwed the lid back onto his shake.

"Uhm, okay?" Lando looked confused now, biting his lip and looking at Madelyn as to figure her out.

"You suck, Lando. Seriously? You cockblocked me last night! What's wrong with you? Do you make a habit of cock blocking your friends?" Madelyn said, her tone laced with anger and annoyance.

"Excuse me? You actually were into that guy last night?" Lando asked her, placing his hands on the island as he stared her down with confusion.

"I mean, yeah! He was cute."

"So, you just fuck anyone that's cute? Really, Madelyn?"

Madelyn sputtered, growing frustrated and not knowing what to say. She couldn't even remember what the guy had looked like. All she knew, was that he had a dick. And that he probably wanted to fuck her, and that was enough.

"I was horny?" She said, but her voice cracked and turned it into a question.

"No, you were not. You were dancing with Heidi, and you didn't even acknowledge the guy! You literally ignored him." Lando shrugged.

"Not the point, Lando. You don't get a say in who I want to fuck."

"Mmm, my house, my rules. I'm not asking you to pay rent, I'm only asking you to not bring weird men around to fuck you, leave you unsatisfied and leave my house a mess." Lando left, walking to his bathroom to shower and not allowing you to get another word in.

Scoffing, Madelyn went back to her room, slamming the door as she put her music on and started to clean her room. She was angry, she couldn't believe he had just said that.

But cleaning relived some anger, so she cleaned...for hours.

She moved her bed, vacuumed the floor, rearranged everything, put her clothes away, put her pictures up, and made that room (and bathroom) her own.

Once it hit eight thirty at night, she was done. The room was perfect, it felt like home. Her bookcase was organized, nightstand was stocked, and her bathroom was cozy.

She only left her room two times. The first time was to put her coats in the front closet by the door. The second time was to grab the Chinese take-out she ordered as she ate in bed and watched Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

Halfway through her second eggroll, she heard a soft knock at her bedroom door. Sighing, she told Lando to come in.

"Hey." He said, opening the door and letting it click shut behind him.

"Hi." Madelyn answered, lowering the volume on her tv.

"Your room looks nice. I love the lights. Did you mount that tv by yourself?!" Lando asked, shocked as Madelyn laughed a bit and nodded.

"Thanks, and yeah. Got it up there myself."

"Wow, impressive..." He trailed off, feeling like he was interrupting her evening. "Well, I'll um, I'll leave you to your food and show." Lando sighed, turning around to leave as Madelyn stopped him.

"Wait...want to watch with me? I ordered extra spring rolls." She looked up at him, noticing he was in sweats and a tee shirt, already winding down for the night.

"You sure?" He asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

"Yeah, idiot. Come on." Madelyn lifted her blanket, Lando crawling in bed with her as she leaned on him, and they ate together. The show now turned back up as they laughed and talked about the show.

'Maybe I could get use to this' Madelyn thought.

'Maybe I could get use to this' Lando thought, his right arm now behind Madelyn's head as she leaned on his chest.

They weren't dating, they weren't anything at this moment but friends. But friends cuddled, right?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

note: wasn’t gonna release this part yet but it’s short soo, might as well!

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[maxillness]

If Daddy Knew || T.W x Horner!Reader

Warnings: 18+, hair pulling, oral (M&F reviving), handjob, fingering, degrading kink, praise kink

Wordcount: 2.1k

Part 2

If she knew how this would end up in the long term, she would had agreed to go with her father a lot sooner

She would always say no if she was invited to a Grand Prix and to come to the paddock

She hadn’t always been the most social person, and she was scared she would mess up her words or don’t talk at all

This time was different

She felt confident that day. She has been invited again, and she said yes. It surprised her father. He couldn’t understand why she said yes

She couldn’t either, but she’s glad she did

As she stood in the Red Bull garage, she kept feeling like she was stared down by people outside of the garage

And she was right. When she got to the paddock afterwards, people still kept staring her down as she walked with her father. He wanted to introduce her to all the drivers and team principals

It all went good, until they reached Mercedes

Don’t take it the wrong way, they were all very nice, but after she had greeted the drivers, she had to meet the team principal

Toto Wolff

She had heard about him through her father, now, of course she didn’t take his word for it. They were rivals after all, they’re bound to say bad stuff about each other that weren’t true

“Darling, this is Toto Wolff” He said his name through gritted teeth

“Hi. I’ve heard so much about you” He didn’t answer her, he just looked her up and down and went back to what he was doing

She would have said something about his rudeness, only if he hadn’t been so handsome

Maybe he was all those things her dad said

The rest of the day, she thought about Toto and if it was something she did or said to make him rude, or if it was just how he was

It finally became Sunday and she stood in the garage. She knew it was bad, but she kept starting at Toto from the distance

“You okay, dear?” Christian asked her as he walked over to her “You’ve been kinda starting out in the abyss” He chuckled

“Yeah, I’m fine, dad. Thank you” She nodded up at him

The race went well. Max won, no surprise there. We all knew he was gonna win. Even the opposite teams knew he was gonna win

That night, they all went out celebrating the win, even though it was routine that he won by now

She drank to keep the thoughts away. She really wanted to be on his good side, but how could she do that?

The next morning she woke up with a slight headache, but nothing a few painkillers couldn’t take away

Just as she was about to brush her teeth, her phone started ringing. It was an unknown number

“Y/N Horner” She answered the phone

“Hi, Y/N, it’s Toto Wolff” His accent was thick through the phone “I just wanted to apologise my behaviour when we met. I’m sure you’re aware that me and your father don’t have the bestest of friendship, that was the only reason why I didn’t say anything, and that’s no reason, I know, but I just wanted to apologise. Can I buy you some coffee to make up for it?”

She stood and thought about her answer a while “Yeah, that sounds nice. When?” She finally answered and she heard him sigh on the other end

“Great. Shall we say 12 o’clock at the Café across the street?” God, his accent was to swoon over

“Yeah. That’s perfect” A smirk drew on her lips. They hung up and she looked at the time. It was currently 10. She had two hours

Two hours would have been fine if she had anything to wear. She tried to look through her clothes. She tried all the combinations of clothing that was clean

She finally settled for an outfit after 45 minutes and some going back and forth trough clothes

Before she put on her clothes, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She stood there for what felt like hours, but was actually only 10 minutes

She looked back at the clock after she got dressed and put on her shoes. 11:30. She debated if she should go now and be early, or if she should wait and be on time

She has only now realised she had forgotten her perfume. She founded and sprayed it lightly on the skin on her neck

She now decided to go out, but she should probably had waited. She bumped into her father in the hallway

“Where you going in such a hurry?” He chuckled as he looked her up and down

“I was just going out, checking the city out” She smiled innocently

“Okay. Have fun, don’t be out too late” He said to her before he continued to walk away

She continued to walk over to the elevator. The ride down to the lobby seemed like it took ages. She got to the lobby and walked out and across the street

She walked into the Café. She looked around to see if she could see Toto. She found him sitting at a booth up against the far wall. She sat down across him

“Hello, can I get you anything?” The waiter asked as she walked over to them

“I would like a coffee, black and a chocolate scone” Toto said as he looked from her to the waiter

“Can I get a hot chocolate and a croissant?” She asked as she looked up at her

“Of course. I’ll bring it down for you” She smiled and walked over to the counter

“I’m sorry for how I reacted, Y/N, I really am” He rambled and she just stared at him

“Toto, it’s fine. It’s no problem. I know how your relationship is with my dad, I totally understand” She smiled at him, trying to reassure him

“Yeah, I’m not friends with your dad, but I shouldn’t take that out on you” He sighed as he placed his hand on top of hers

“Toto, don’t worry about it, okay?” She smiled at him, looking him in his eyes through his glasses

All he did was nod before the waitress came over with their order. As they sat and drank their coffee and ate their food, they made small talk

The only annoying thing about this whole conversation was his smile. He would smile every so often, and it made her legs week

Everything that happened between that time and when they were in the elevator was a blur for her. All she knew was that she was pressed up against the elevators wall, her hands intertwined in his hair while his lips was on hers as his hands roamed her hips and waist

The ding of the elevator startled them. They hurried out into the hall and over to her room. She struggled a bit when she opened the door, but managed fine

As they got into the room, he pushed her up against the door. Her hands went to his waist, and in one swift motion, she had them turned around

Her hands went up his torso to unbutton his shirt. When she got the last button unbuttoned, she discarded the shirt on the ground

Her hand went to his hair to pull his head back so she could start attacking his necks with kisses and bites. He groaned at the sudden dominance from her. Her other hand went to unbuckle his belt

Toto covered his mouth with his hand to minimise the sounds that came out of him. She took her hand away from his belt and up to his hand to remove it from his mouth

“I want to hear your sounds, Toto” She said as she drew away from his neck, which drew out a groan from him “Fuck, you sounds so pretty” He could feel her smirk on his neck

She turned them around again, but this time, she guided him towards the bed, their shoes getting kicked off in the process

When the back off Toto’s legs hit the bed, she pushed him down to sit. She got on her knees and zipped down his pants

He bucked his up from the bed so she could pull down his pants and boxers. When she had gotten them off, she threw them beside her

She licked a stripe up his shaft before spitting into her hand, and started stroking him slowly. He started moaning low, almost silently

“Keep up those sounds, I wanna hear you, baby” She told him as she looked up at him from between his knees

Her words could make him undone right then and there “Fuck, I want your mouth around me, please” His voice was getting desperate and his accent was getting heavier

She removed her hand, but quickly replaced it with her mouth. His moans got louder as she started moving her head up and down

He started bucking his hips up, trying to fuck her mouth, but her hands came up to push him back down to stop his movements, which makes him groan in annoyance

“Fucking shit, Ah…” He wasn’t making any effort to swallow his moans “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuck, please. I’m so-Ah. I’m so close” His head leaned back and his eyes rolled to the back of his head

His hand was shaking when he drew it up to his face to take off his glasses as they started fogging up. He got them off and threw them on the ground, not caring if they broke or not

“I can’t- Ah. Fuck, please, I can’t take it anymore” His words didn’t stop her actions, if it did anything, it made her faster

A few seconds later and he came down her throat. She held her head down as he finished. She got off of him and swallowed his loath

He was panting hard when she stood up. She took his chin between her fingers making him look at her. She kissed him deeply, making him taste himself on her tongue

“Think you can return the favour?” She asked seductively. With closed eyes, he nodded “Good. Get on your knees” He quickly got on his knees where she once sat as she herself sat on the bed

She leaned back, her weight resting on her hands. She watched as his trembling hands tried opening the button on her jeans

She chuckled seeing him struggling “God you’re pathetic” She pushed his hands away to do it herself. She lifted her hips so he could pull down her pants and panties throwing them away with the rest of the clothes on the floor

He pulled her close to the edge of the bed, and therefore closer to his mouth. He drew his tongue through her soaking folds

“What wouldn’t my father say, hm?” She drew one of her hands through his soft, brown locks when he started attacking her clit

“His biggest rival eating out his daughter” He groaned into her cunt from her degrading, making her moan “What don’t you think he will do? Most likely kill you, or maybe, he would never invite me again to keep me as far away from you as possible so this could never happen again”

He groaned again, making her grip his hair tight and moan louder than before “Fuck, you’re so beautiful from here” She chuckled mixed with a moan

He drew one of his hands towards her cunt. One of his fingers drew through her folds, stopping at her entrance. She moaned as he entered her slowly

He started going in and out of her, drawing loud moans from her. He added another finger as he started curling his fingers up and hitting the spot inside her that made her see stars

Her moans got louder and heavier as she was pulled closer to the edge of her orgasm “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, Toto” She moaned pulling his hair so his face got showed into her cunt

“Fuck, I’m so close. Fucking keep going. Ah” Her head rolled back while she bucked her hips up and into his mouth “You’re doing so fucking good” He groaned which send her over the edge. Her legs shakes as she came down from her high

“Fuck, you did so good for me” She smiled down at him as she drew his face up to look at her “So fucking good” She leaned down to kiss him

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Alpine Meeting Yours and Bucky’s Newborn Baby

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Sierra and Alpine

Summary: Alpine meets yours and Bucky’s newborn daughter.

Warnings: nothing but Fluff and cuteness

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“There’s mommy’s and daddy’s favorite fluffy princess.” Bucky coos at Alpine as she rubbed against Bucky’s legs. “Did you miss us?” He asks.

Alpine looks up at the two of you and meowed. She followed close behind you guys as you two went to the living room. You carefully sat down on the couch with yours and Bucky’s newborn baby girl Sierra in your arms. Bucky sat down next to you and Alpine jumped up on the arm of the couch, curious looking at Sierra.

“This is Sierra, Alpine. She’s going to be your new best friend.” You say softly.

You and Bucky watched closely as Alpine got on your lap to get a closer look at Sierra. Sierra made a cooing noise when Alpine’s whiskers tickled her tiny hand. Alpine softly nudged her head against Sierra’s hand before giving her little kisses on her little hand. Yours and Bucky’s hearts melted with cuteness as you two watched Alpine giving Sierra kisses. Alpine then moved herself to Bucky’s lap and made herself comfortable.

“It’s safe to say that Alpine is in love with Sierra.” Bucky says, gently petting Alpine.

Alpine jumped when Sierra started crying. She approached her to see what was wrong.

“I’ll make her a bottle.” Bucky says.

Bucky got up and went to the kitchen to make a bottle for Sierra while Alpine stayed in the living room, watching as you tried to get Sierra to stop crying.

“I’ll feed her.” He says, sitting down next to you.

You carefully placed Sierra in Bucky’s arms and watched as he fed her. Alpine curious tapped the bottle with her paw, wanting the milk that’s inside of it.

“No, no, Alpine.” Bucky coos at her. “This isn’t milk for kitties.” He tells her.

“I’ll get you some milk that you can drink.” You say, petting her.

You got up and went to the kitchen. You grabbed a small bowl from the cabinet and poured a decent amount in it. You went back to the living room and placed the small bowl on the floor next to the coffee table. Alpine jumped off the couch and went to the bowl of milk. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Alpine’s little tongue dip into the milk as she drank it. The next morning, Sierra woke up crying, wanting something to eat. You went to get up to feed her, but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you back in bed.

“I’ll feed her, doll.” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“I can feed my baby, Bucky.” You say.

“I know you can, but you, my sweet doll, had a C-Section a few days ago and I can tell you’re still in pain. Besides you need your beauty sleep.” He says.

You looked at your husband and pouted, not wanting to argue with him. Bucky kissed your lips before getting up to check on Sierra. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when her cries slowly came to a stop. Bucky walked in the nursery to see Alpine in the crib with Sierra. He smiled widely.

“I see you’re doing your part, princess.” Bucky says, giving Alpine scratches behind her ears.

Alpine purred in response.

“You keep Sierra company while I make her a bottle, ok?” He says to Alpine.

Alpine looked at Bucky as if she understood what he was saying. Bucky went downstairs to the kitchen and made a bottle and went back to the nursery. He picked up Sierra and sat down in the rocking chair in her nursery to feed her. Alpine jumped out of the crib and jumped up onto the changing table to watch Bucky feed Sierra. A moment later, you walked in the nursery, smiling at the cuteness in front of you. Alpine meowed and jumped down from the changing table to greet you.

“Good morning, princess.” You smiled, reaching down to pet her. “Are you helping daddy with Sierra?” You asked her.

Alpine head butted your hand in response. You walked over to your husband and daughter, giving them a kiss on their foreheads. Alpine jumped back to her spot on the changing table.

“Our little family.” You say with a smile.

“Hmm.” Bucky hums, smiling.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[mj0702]

You patted down the hallway still half asleep entering the kitchen where you stopped confused. Something was different but you couldn't pin point it. It... looked different. You shrugged it off still not functioning this early in the morning and patted over to the coffee maker. You pulled a cup from the cabinet while switching the machine on with your left hand which worked out semi fine. You put the cup down on the counter pulled open the fridge getting out the milk emptying some into the milk container from the coffee machine and put it back. That's when you realized what was off – the whole kitchen was spotless. No cups standing around. No used plates in the sink. No cereal boxes standing on the counter. No peels from fresh cut fruit. No nothing – spotless... the whole kitchen. You turned around confused to find the living room tidied up as well. The pillows on the couch laid out like a catalogue picture. The magazines on the table where laying in one place not like usual all over the living room. Narlas bed next to the couch – empty. You shook your head before making yourself a Cortado padding out on the balcony sitting down on Onas lounge chair overlooking Barcelona. You leaned back and enjoyed the little quiet time you had counting on your sister bursting through the door at any second coming back from her walk with Narla. You couldn't remember where Ona was but surely she had some media stuff or charity stuff or fan meeting stuff or whatever stuff to do. So it was Lucy & you day. That's okay. You could work with that – maybe you could guilt trip her into getting ice cream later. Ona banned ice cream from the freezer after Lucy and you had a ice cream eating competition and both of you got sick. For the whole night and Ona had to pick up the pieces that once resembled two tough Bronze women now whining for attention and care. You quietly drank your coffee then padded back inside washing the cup immediately before your sister was back and complained about you being messy.

Two hours later you got nervous. Lucy still wasn't back and her phone was off. You tried to call her a few times but no use. You were hesitant to call Ona since you couldn't remember what she was doing and you didn't want to interrupt a possible interview freaking out about probably nothing. So you called the next best person you could think of.

“Yes Kjæreste??” Ingrid answered her phone after the second ring

“Ehrm... hi... ehrm..” you suddenly felt very shy your mind going a million miles an hour why you called Ingrid instead of Alexia... or Olga... or Jenni for heaven sakes

“Kjæreste?? Is everything okay?? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come pick you up somewhere?” the Norwegians voice turned worried

“No... no I'm fine... but... I woke up two hours ago and Lucy still isn't home from walking Narls and I don't know what to do... I'm worried something happened... I don't want to call Ona since she's in some kind of stuff you guys have to do today...” you started to ramble and where met with silence from the other end “... I'm sorry... I'm probably just being stupid... just... forget I called... okay bye”

“Wait Kjæreste... don't hang up... give me a second...” Ingrid quickly said sensing you wanted to end the call

You listened as she quickly and quietly talked in spanish – too fast and too muffled for you to understand before she started to talking to you

“Mapí and I are on our way Kjæreste... you be good and stay put okay?!” the norwegian said and it confused you even more

“Oh god... something happened didn't it...” you paled and started to shake

“No nothing hap...” Ingrids reassurance fell short as you suddenly heard another voice

“Don't worry mi neña... we're on our way to pick you up... pack a bag okay... you staying with us” Mapí said and her happy voice calmed you down a little bit

“Where the fuck is my sister then??” you snapped

“Ehrm yeah... we'll have a meeting with Alexia as soon as we picked you up... we'll be there in ten minutes...” Mapí said and you heard guilt in her voice

“Ugh” you groaned but apparently you had no other choice “Okay...”

Exactly twelve minutes later the doorbell rang but when you tried to open the door you figured out it was locked

“Great Lucy... lock me in like fucking Rapunzel” you grumbled as you fumbled for your own key to unlock the door

“Hola mi neña” Mapís wide grin greeted you just as you opened the door

“You wanna tell me now what's going on??” you grumbled locking the door after you

“Alexia will do that” the blonde quickly said “I'm just here to help you with your... bag? No bag?”

“I would've packed a bag if I would've found one” your grumpy mood didn't rise with all the not informations you were receiving

“Ehrm... okay... uh uh uh...” Mapí said confuse first before she started to happily clap her hands “... we can go shopping later”

“Just...” you wanted do say something but didn't know what to said

“Come on.. Ingrid is waiting for us” the tattooed woman smiled widely

“Hola Kjæreste....” Ingrid smiled friendly as you slided into the back seat

“Hola” you grumbled

“What's wrong Kjæreste?” the norwegian asked as she started to drive towards Alexias

“I don't know... no one will tell me” you grumbled annoyed

“It's not our place lille venn... but you get your answers soon” Ingrid smiled softly not giving into your mood

The drive was just short of 20 minutes and as soon as Ingrid pulled into the drive way the door opened and a slightly stressed Alexia appeared in the door

“Buenos tardes Cariño” the blonde spaniard greeted you as you pushed passed her

“Yeah yeah... Buenos tartlet” you grumbled as you made your way into Alexias living room where Olga was sitting on the couch tipping away quickly on her laptop

“Buenos tardes pequeña” the dark haired woman smiled up at you before going back to her work

“Can somebody tell me know what is going on? Is Lucy dead... oh my god... she's dead isn't she...” you first grumbled and then got worried “She got herself killed didn't she?? Where's Narla... she's with Keira right?? Oh god... Keira... I should call Kei... why didn't I think of Kei earlier... wait... Kei is okay isn't she... I'm not an orphan ain't I....???”

“Cari...” Alexia said firmly gripping your shoulders so you looked at her “... breath.... calm down and breath”

“BREATH?? Kei AND Lucy are dead and you say “calm down and BREATH”??? Oh god... does Ona know??” you freaked out your breath coming out more and more rapid

“Y/n!! Breath!” Alexia said in her captains voice trying to get through to you “No one is dead – no one get killed”

“You think Ona will adopt me??” you freaked out further

“STOP” Olga now stood up freeing you from her girlfriends grip turning you around so you now had to look at her “Take a deep breath”

You looked at the woman with wide eyes but the shock of hearing Olga speaking so strictly with you made you do exactly what she said – so you took a deep long breath

“Bueno... again” the dark haired woman said more calm and you did it again “... muy bien”

“Now listen to me Cari...” Alexia came next to her girlfriend “... Lucy is very much alive... Keira too... and Ona too... and they all are very much on Vacation... and... and... and..”

“And what?” you squeaked out your breathing still a bit laboured

“... and they forgot that you were still at home” the blonde mumbled embarrassed

“They WHAT???” you screeched dumb folded

“The plan was that you're staying with Olga and I while Lucy and Ona went on holiday...” the blonde said calmly “... if you remember we talked about it about three weeks ago...”

“Yeah... I do remember now” you said still bewildered

“... so the plan included Ona and Lucy bringing you over this morning before they drive to the airport... they overslept this morning.... and rushed to the airport... and forgot... that you... where still... there” Alexia said embarrassed

“So.... so... they...” you stuttered “... I... home alone?? I'm Kevin?!”

There was a stunned silence before Mapí bursted out laughing which caused the rest of the women to started chuckling too

“Stop laughing... I'm Kevin...” you cried out in agony

“You're not Cari...” Alexia chuckled “... there was a misunderstanding”

“Did you have something for breakfast pequeña?” Olga now asked trying to distract you

“No....” you mumbled still a little upset

“Come on then... I'll make you some Huevo rotos con Jamon” the architect smiled pulling you away sending her girlfriend a look to talk to Mapí and Ingrid

“Uh... I want some too” Mapí perked up following until Alexia grabbed the shirt and pulled her best friend back

“No Maps... bad” Alexia scolded her voice light

“But... breakfast” the tattooed woman pouted

“You already had two breakfasts” Ingrid rolled her eyes at her girlfriend antics

“Three if you count...” Mapí said without thinking wriggling her eyebrows at Ingrid

“Stop talking” the norwegian interrupted her girlfriend quickly – and a little embarrassed

“Ew” Alexia deadpanned “... topic change... Lucy and Ona are gone for about two weeks... can you...”

“Yes” the tattooed woman quickly said very happily

“You don't even know what I wanted to say” the blonde spaniard looked at her friend confused

“We take her in... mi neña can stay with us” Mapí nodded happily

“What?? No... absolutely not” Alexia exclaimed “... she's staying here like Lucy and I discussed”

“She doesn't want to stay with you” the tattooed said as a matter of fact “... otherwise she would've called you and not me”

“She called me... not you” Ingrid pointed out

“We're a team... she probably wanted to call me but Ingrid is before Mapí in the alphabet and that's why she called you.. she knew I would be there” Mapí said convinced

“Yeah... sure....” the norwegian said not believing it one bit

“She's staying with us” Alexia interrupted before Maps could jump into a 15 minute monolog about how you wanted to stay with her “Discussion over”

“You can't just end over a discussion without respecting the other party” the tattooed woman said perplex

“Oh but I can...” the blonde answered sweetly “... I'm pulling the elder and capitan card”

“But...” Mapí looked defeated

“Discussion over” Alexia just said while Ingrid snorted behind her girlfriend

“You can always call me if she's mean to you okay mi neña?” Mapí said as she fought Ingrid who tried to shove her girlfriend through the door

“Yeah okay... thanks Maps... you're really a good spaniard” you smiled

“HA!!! YOU HEARD THAT PUTELLAS???!!! I'M THE GOOD SPANIARD!!!” the tattooed woman yelled towards the living room using her whole weight against Ingrid

“AND I'M THE PRETTY ONE!!! NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” Alexia yelled back “And Cari... living room.. now”

“I didn't do anything!!” you screeched but shuffled down the corridor once Ingrid succeeded by poking Mapís side so she had to let go and the norwegian used the moment to push her girlfriend forward and through the door

“I didn't say you did... BUT... we have to talk about some things” the blonde said softly gesturing for you to sit down “... we're responsible for you and your well-being”

“... at least some one...” you mumbled as you plopped down on the couch

“Don't pequeña... you know neither of them meant it” Olga stroked through your hair as she passed the couch

“... as I said... we're responsible for you... so there are gonna be rules” the blonde said keeping her voice soft “... I want to know where you are when you're not with me or Olga... just if something happens I know where I need to go okay... just a short text nothing more... you don't have to explain anything just a short text where you are or going to be and we're good... if you break that rule I won't hesitate to drag you to any event I have scheduled for the next two weeks”

“But I don't wanna be on your boring events” you whined

“Then you inform me about your whereabouts and we're good” Alexia said smiling lovingly “... second rule... I want you home for dinner... if you can't make it you'll call or text – either Olga or myself”

“I'm not five” you grumbled

“Could've fooled me” the blonde smirked “.... rule no. 3 …. if you need anything or need to talk.. I want you to know that you always can talk to me or Olga okay...”

“Can I have some food?” you perked up making Alexia laugh

“Sure... Ona told me you like cuttlefish” the blonde chuckled when you looked at her with shocked wide eyes “... no?”

“Ew no!!” you squeaked disgusted

“Alexia....” you whispered waiting for a reaction “.... Lexia”

Other than a grunt there was no reaction at all

“Alexia” you said with more insistence shaking the Barca captain

“Qué?” the blonde mumbled sleepily

“Ale...” you shook the blonde harder so she would wake up a little more

“Sí?” Alexia sat up a little confused

“Ale...” you whined a little bit

“What's wrong Cari?” the blonde now asked worried

“I can't sleep....” you mumbled “... can I sleep here?”

“You... what?” Alexia looked confused

“She wants to sleep here...” Olga mumbled tiredly from behind Alexia “... so make space for her and both of you go back to sleep”

Before Alexia could reject anything you quickly shuffled your body in the small space between Alexia and Olga cuddling up to the brown haired woman as her blonde girlfriend turned around facing the two of you when a smile crept onto her face

“Don't even think about it Putellas” Olga said her closed eyes her voice a little muffled by your hair

“Motherhood suits you” Alexia grinned as she scooted a little closer seeing that you were asleep already feeling safe in Olgas presence

“We talk in a week again... this was just one day... she's a handful” Olga said and as she finished you got more comfortable ramming your elbow into Alexias stomach unconcussionly

“Madre mía” the blonde grunted

“Told you...” her girlfriend smirked

“ALEXIAAAAA!!!” you yelled through the apartment

“Yes?” the blondes head appeared in the kitchen door

“I'm hungry” you whined as you exit your room

“Jesús y María...” Alexia rolled her eyes “... is there a time where you aren't hungry?”

“I'm a Bronze...” you deadpanned “... of course not”

“I have another interview and then we can make something for lunch okay? 30 minutes top” the blonde said

“Can I have chips meanwhile?” you asked hopefully

“No...” the blonde shot that idea down quickly

“But I'm hungryyyyyyy” you whined loudly

“30 Minutes Cari...” Alexia tried to calm you down “... here... eat that”

“That's one big ass peach” you said with wide eyes your mood instantly increased

“That's a mango” the blonde said flatly

“Oh ew... soap peach.. no...” you threw the mango back at Alexia

“Cariño... please... I really have to do that interview” Alexia basically begged you at this stage

“Can I have a sandwich?” you whined again

“I just told you I'll make lunch in half an hour” the blonde look at you bewildered

“But I'm hungry now” you groaned

“ONE sandwich...” Alexia pointed her finger at you threating before turning to her laptop waiting for the online interview to begin – and it began right when she said “Single motherhood is so hard”

Needless to say she broke the internet that day with fans speculating about a possible little Putellas.

“I can't take her with me on Thursday” Olga said after she checked her calendar “... I have an important meeting”

“Mierda...” Alexia sweared glancing at you sitting on the couch munching on some churros Olga made for you watching some spanish soap opera “... I have the whole day full with interviews and media for Barca and Eleven”

“We could ask Ingrid” the dark haired woman said

“No... she's with me for Barca...” Alexia wrecked her brain trying to find a solution “... and I definitely won't leave her with Mapí... I have no desire to have to go to court for some shit they pulled off”

“Marta and Caro?” Olga try to find someone as well

“They're in Norway right now... visiting Caros family” the blonde mumbled her phone in her hand going through her contacts

“I'm out... I have no idea who to ask” the dark haired woman held her hands up in surrender looking past Alexia “Ay... stop jumping on the couch... sit your ass down or no more churros”

“But it's so enthralling” you answered your eyes glued to the TV

“I don't care... ass down” Olga said strictly and you slowly sat down again

“Again... motherhood suits you” Alexia glanced up from her phone smirking

“Don't Putellas... you fucked that one right up... single motherhood my ass...” Olga grumbled

“Not my fault they started early...” the blonde snorted before lifting her phone to her ear

“Who are you calling?” the dark haired woman asked

“My last resort for Thursday” Alexia mumbled waiting for the call to connect and when it does she didn't even bother with the typical hellos “... what are you doing Thursday Hermoso?”

[azzo0]

Someone She Used to Know

Summary: Katsuki meets his ex girlfriend after six years.

Warnings: Katsuki's drunk, throwing up, angsty.

Song: Ghost Town- by Benson Boone

wc: 1k

It's been six years since she broke up with Katsuki. He doesn't hate her for it. She did herself justice by breaking up with him. He wasn't there for her. Every day was a day of broken promises where he vowed to come home early, spend time with her, take her on a date, and cuddle on the couch, but he rarely fulfilled his broken promises, getting caught up in hero work instead. He doesn't hate her. He never can. It was his fault he was more focused on work instead.

She was the first and last person he fell in love with.

Six years later, he's sitting in a pub. He gets dragged out by Eijiro and Denki here every weekend, but some days, he prefers coming here alone. The clicking of heels catches his attention, and he glances up from the glass he's been staring at for the past couple of minutes, watching droplets of water race down the glass. It's a woman dressed in a beautiful black minidress with sequins like stars. His eyes move up to the woman's face, and he almost spills his drink. 

It's her, his ex. 

His hands grow sweaty, and he sets the drink on the table in case he drops the glass. He's still as a cat, his breath caught in his throat, heart hammering in his chest. He can feel his shirt clinging to his chest. He hasn't heard a word from her in six years. No texts, no calls, no meeting each other accidentally, so seeing her in the flesh made him dizzy. He couldn't tell if it was the drink or if it was just her. He remembers feeling the same way when he first met her in a cafe. She used to work there at the time, and he'd buy coffee every day from that very cafe despite not being a fan of coffee. Here he was, several years later, feeling the same way. He'd convinced himself that he was over it. Maybe he was not. Maybe that's why he drank like a sad old man by himself every week. Maybe his heart still yearned for her.

She's beautiful, he reminds himself. She's always been beautiful, but did he ever make her feel beautiful? Did he make her feel loved? Could he still make her feel loved? His schedule wasn't the same as it used to be before, given that crime rates had dropped significantly over the past few years, but there wasn't any point now, was there? It was too late. 

He wonders if he should go up to her, watching her check the time on her phone. She shook her head when the waiter asked her if she'd like something, giving him a smile. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, tapping a finger on the table. He catches the glint of a beautiful emerald ring on her ring finger, and he understands. She's waiting for her fiancé. 

He picks up the glass and downs his drink in one big sip. It makes his throat burn. He doesn't care. He gets his glass refilled again. Her fiancé arrives a few minutes later. A tall and handsome man with kind eyes and a warm smile. He watches her eyes light up at the sight of him. Once upon a time, he was the one making her eyes light up like that. She gets up and plants a quick peck on his lips. The man sits across from her, taking her hand, thumb brushing over the ring.

Katsuki thinks of how that could've been him if he wasn't so obsessed with his work back then. If he didn't come home late, after she was deep asleep, cuddling a pillow because he wasn't there and leaving in the early hours of the morning so his side of the bed was cold by the time she woke up. He thinks of how he could have been the one she dressed up so pretty for. How he could've been the one asking her to marry him. 

I don't deserve her, Katsuki reminds himself. She deserves someone who puts her first, someone who's far kinder and loving than he is. Someone who isn't him.

He's lost count of how many drinks he's had at this point. He doesn't remember when he got up. He doesn't know when he got into the parking lot. He's throwing up into a trash can. He feels a hand on his shoulder while he's still vomiting. He glances back to see her watching him with concerned eyes. Her fiancé stands behind her, equally concerned. 

"Are you alright?" she asks. Her voice reminds him of a flower garden. Soothing and calm. 

"Yeah," he manages to croak. Her eyes dart around, looking for his car. He's in no state to drive himself. 

"Would you like me to call Mina or Eijiro?" she asks. 

"No," he slurs. He's drunk, but he's sure her fiancé raises his eyebrows questioningly. 

"Do you know him, love?" he asks, surprised she knows the number two hero. 

"Oh, I used to know him," she replies casually, scrolling through the contacts on her phone. 

I used to know him. 

He tries not to stumble as he watches her talk to one of his friends on the phone. He wants to tell her he's glad she's found the one for her. He's glad she's happy. The words never leave his throat. 

When she was done talking on the phone, she glanced at him with a worried smile, "Would you like us to stay with you in the meantime?" 

He wishes she weren't so kind to him. He wishes she'd give him an ugly stare and tell him he looked pathetic, but she's always been like this. Too kind for her own good. He shakes his head in response. She hums and locks her arm with her fiancé, telling him it was nice meeting him with a goodbye. No see you around. Just goodbye. 

He sits in his car, the back of his hand over his eyes as he waits for one of his friends to pick him up, her words echoing in his head. Oh, I used to know him. She did not say something like 'ex' or a 'friend'. He was just a stranger to her. A someone she used to know. 

Nothing more. 

[pygmi-cygni]

a spoonful of sugar

summary: marc's not very good at taking his medicine.

(I was the worst at drinking this stuff as a kid so I need validation)

cw: fluff, sickfic, marc is a little baby

You knew it was coming. Even as he flapped his hand and rolled his eyes and laughed allergies, baby, you knew. When it was eight in the morning and your early bird boyfriend hadn't even stirred, you knew. That rumbling cough wasn't an annual pollen allergy.

There was a pot of tea on the stove before he woke. You'd prepped the supplies - tissues, a damp towel, some anti-inflammatory, and were in the middle of making food when his croaky voice broke the silence. You knelt by his bed and pulled the blankets away from his sweaty face.

"Help," he rasped, "I'm -cough- dying..."

The desperate display of obvious dramatics made you grin. He was always such a tough guy; scoffing at band-aids and ice packs. It was tempting to tease but his puppy eyes were too much.

"Come on, big guy, let's get some food in you." You gently pulled the covers down to help him up, but he harrumphed and yanked them right back.

"Sod off," came Steven's weary voice from under the comforter. "Marc's being a toff and making me deal with the sore throat." A pitiful sniffle and a hacking cough erupted from his broad shoulders. The blankets shuddered as Steven raked in a breath.

"Marc, come on," you cooed, rubbing his back. "Leave poor Steven alone. I've got some stuff for you, you'll feel better."

A pause, then some grumbling as he sat up. "Poor Steven? Wha' bou' me?"

His whining was choked up by the pressure in his throat. You could see the blockage in his sinuses as he struggled to keep his eyes open. A whistling sigh left his lips. He was definitely sick. Deliriously, Marc dragged a hand through his wild, sweaty hair. He reminded you of a scruffy ragdoll cat dragged in from the rain.

With a fussy Marc in tow, you fixed a cup of herbal tea and some food. So far he just seemed congested but he needed some food to handle the medicine. He miserably blew at the steaming mug, swaying on his feet. You held him against you sympathetically. He greedily drank in the attention, sniffing louder to earn a few forehead kisses.

Marc didn't get sick very often. He was pretty good at eating well, getting sleep when he could, and exercising regularly. Usually he could sleep it off and be totally fine. Every once in a while though, he'd get kicked on his ass for a while.

The kitchen island had every box of decongestant and cough syrup you could find splayed out in a heap. You weren't sure which one he preferred, so you'd let him pick. Not one of them seemed to be opened.

He had finished half of the tea, grimacing after every sip. Marc much preferred coffee, said his beseeching glance at the coffeemaker.

"Caffeine won't help," you chided gently, standing in front of the alluring machine. He sent you a sour look and folded his arms, shivering at another wracking cough. You reminded yourself to be gentle - Marc didn't like feeling weak.

Letting him go about grabbing water and wolfing down more toast, you examined the available medicines.

He'd need some ibuprofen, and probably a decongestant. You'd give it to him now so he could take a hot shower while you changed the sheets. Airing out the flat would clear the germy air well enough.

Marc approached you warily, eyeing the pharmaceutical stash you had amassed.

"Whassat?" he asked hoarsely, ducking his chin against your neck. Petting his cheek absently, you continued your perusing.

"We need to get you some meds, honey. Do want the grape stuff or no flavor? Haven't got anything better, looks like."

You felt his lips frown against your skin. "I'll just take a shower, don't neeb all tha' stuff." he coughed again, wincing at the blockage in his nose. His breath was hot. You frowned, pressing your palm against his head.

"You're feverish, Marc, you need something more than a shower. You can take one after." Filling a glass with water, you handed him a tablet and nodded. "Take that."

Muttering, he knocked it back and slugged down the water. Sliding behind you, he made his way towards the bathroom but you tugged his sleeve back.

"Hang on, one more." You slowly measured out a dose of decongestant. The garish red syrup glug-glugged quietly, an acrid smell of medicinal berry coating your nose. Blegh, you winced. It was baffling how nobody had thought to make it a tasteless pill. Drinking ounces of disgusting syrup was your least favorite way to knock out a cold.

Turning, you carefully handed Marc the little cup. "Drink that and another glass of water, then you can shower. I'll address the sheets."

You made sure to adjust the thermostat on your way to the bedroom. Once his fever dropped he'd want some warmth to sleep in. The window let in a cooling breeze, washing away the stuffy scent of sick. London's quiet din rumbled outside, providing a soundtrack for your relaxed cleaning.

Bundling the sheets and towels into your arms, you made your way to the washroom. You paused.

Marc was hunched over the counter, glaring at something.

"Marc?"

A flicker of embarrassment, then he curled his body away and grumbled a response. Frowning, you tossed the sheets in the hamper and crossed to him.

"What've you been doing? I gave that to you a while ago."

He nodded, still scowling at the viscous berry medicine. A pause. you tilted your head.

"...You okay?"

Marc didn't respond. That little serving of medicine continued to endure his baleful wrath, practically trembling on the countertop. The spell was broken by an enormous sneeze. Marc reeled from the sound, shaking the fuzz from his head.

"I think you've intimidated it enough," you joked softly, rubbing his shoulder. "But really, honey, you need to drink that."

A familiar pair of wide brown eyes blinked sorrowfully at you. "But...it tastes foul," Steven whined, sticking his lip out for emphasis. You raised your eyebrow and poked his side.

"Spector, stop shoving off to Steven. You're the one who wanted to sleep with a window open in November, you gotta suffer the consequences."

A moment of twitching and he was back, bleary and disgruntled. Ears pink with Steven's admission, Marc hedged away from you again and tried to escape to the bathroom. His clumsy feet shuffled along the creaky baseboards. You let him have his way for a moment, but soon enough was enough.

"Marc, you've literally drunk the most disgusting alcohol ever without a second thought."

He looked at you reproachfully, trying to work Steven's angle of adorable petulance. His grumpy frown did make your heart fawn, but the wracking cough and guttural sneeze overran the knee-jerk reaction.

Irritated that his tactics weren't working, Marc slumped onto your shoulder. Chuckling, you rubbed his back, rocking him side to side. His hands were insistent, tugging you backwards. You realized, almost too late, that he was trying to angle himself closer to an escape path.

"Spector-"

Before you could grab him, he had disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the tap.

You sighed. At least he was showering.

The laundry was done, and the apartment sufficiently sanitized by the time Marc reappeared, damp hair curling around his ears. He looked a little brighter. His eyes were clear and his cheeks a healthier ruddiness rather than feverish.

And, just like before, the little cup of syrup lay sitting on the counter for him. He was visibly bothered when you hadn't forgotten.

"Meds," you said firmly when he moved in for a kiss. The comment offended him, and he tried to peck you anyway. You put a hand over his mouth and pushed gently, handing him the cup.

"I don't wan' to," he rasped, lip curling. "It tastes like lighter fluid - cough - and I don't feel better anyway."

"How would you know, you haven't taken it?"

Marc huffed, dramatically folding his arms and turning his nose up.

"Marc."

Your tone made him duck his head. It was funny to watch him squirm; his reluctance almost reminded you of Steven. Usually he would bite the bullet and do anything that made him uncomfortable with nothing but a shrug. Hell, you'd seen him clean Steven's sick off the toilet after a night out with less of a reaction.

Sympathizing a little bit, you poured a glass of orange juice and slid it over.

"If you drink the medicine really fast, you can wash it down with juice."

Marc grumbled, still wrinkling his nose.

"Does that work?"

"Hmmm no," he huffed, folding his arms tighter. "I thin' you should gib me a kiss 'cause you're bein' meab," he garbled, voice strangled around the congestion. You bit down a laugh, trying to seem sincere.

"You can't even talk, Marc, I am not gonna kiss you."

The admission made his head snap up, eyes terrified. You worked this new angle, putting your hands up and backing away. "I don't want your germs."

He protested quietly, hands reaching out.

"Hug?"

"Meds."

"But-"

"No buts," you said, tone gentle again, "come on. Just a second. It'll take like two seconds and then you can drink some juice and go lay down. Yes, I'll lay with you," you acquiesced at his narrowed gaze.

He was stubbornly refused. "Marc," you sighed, dragging a hand over your face. "You'd be done with this by now if you just drank it."

"I don' like it," he bit out. Unbelievable. You stared at each other for a moment, disdainfully scowling at the situation.

"You know what, fine," you griped, taking the cup in your hand. "Pick a number between one and five."

He blinked, but relented. "F...four," he wheezed, wiping his nose with his sleeve. You held up four fingers.

"I will give you four kisses if you drink this."

He brightened. "snfff- wait, I meant fibe."

You leaned forward and nudged his nose. He tried to grab you for a kiss but you ducked back, taking the opportunity to grab his jaw gently. Eyes hazy and loving, he smiled at you.

"Open," you said softly, tapping his lips and winking.

Marc obeyed, clearly expecting a kiss. Instead, you gently tipped the medicine to his lips. Marc yelped at the sharp taste. He fussed and balked, struggling not to choke. You shushed him, tipping the cup until it had all dribbled past his lips.

"Drink it quick, honey, there you go, all done-" You shoved him the glass of juice, coaxing him to finish the dose. Marc spluttered and gagged, wincing at the taste. Eyes watering, he glared at you.

"Tha' was rude," he pouted. You cuddled him up and kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, but now you can go snuggle into bed." This outcome placated him greatly, nuzzling into your shoulder as you situated the bed. Marc jabbed your side insistently and you paused to give him a kiss.

Wrinkling your nose, you nodded. "Wow. Yeah, I can taste that. It's pretty shit."

He threw his hands up, rolling his eyes as you giggled. "Sorry for torturing you," you teased, peppering his cheek with light kisses.

"Fuggin' waterboarded me with that," he grouched, suppressing a grin at your doting affection.

The blankets, still warm from the dryer, were tucked high around his drowsy face. You lay as close as you could, draping your arm over his side. Marc snuffled and coughed for a few moments but was asleep soon, breath puffing hot against your neck. You monitored him for a while, hands gently stroking his hair before succumbing to your own nap.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma

@iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world

@ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine @weasleyswizarding-wheezes

comment to join tags!

[eyelessfaces]

mid night

miguel o'hara x reader

summary: you wake up in the middle of the night and find miguel in your living room, hurt.

warnings: descriptions of injuries

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, taking care of your lovers wounds (godtier trope), miguel is in love

word count: 1k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

A loud thud coming from the living room woke you up, making you jump. 

You could feel and hear your heart beat loudly in your ribcage, suddenly alert about your surroundings. 

You nervously tapped and ran your hand through the bedsheets, only to find the spot next to you cold and empty. 

Hell, you didn't even notice he left in the middle of the night, but at least you felt relieved that the thud in your living room was confirmed to be only him and not some burglar breaking into your apartment. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, bringing your hands to your eyes to try to rub the sleepiness out of you before grabbing and putting on a sweatshirt to ease the chill of the night.

You walked out of the bedroom to find Miguel on your couch, running a hand through his damp hair, mask in his other hand. He looked up at you, and pinched his lips in a sheepish smile before he closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, sorry” he muttered, throwing his mask over the armrest of the couch.

“That’s okay." you mumbled sleepily, fighting to hold back the yawn threatening to interrupt your words. "People usually use the front door to get inside an apartment, you know” you said with a chuckle, making your way to the kitchen, and pouring him a glass of water. 

You came back to the living room and put the glass on the coffee table before you kneeled next to him and took his hand in yours, contemplating his face bathed in darkness. "Miggy" you called. He held your hand tighter, and you rubbed his knee softly.

"You should drink," you advised, replacing your hand with the glass. He brought the glass to his lips and quickly drank the entirety of it, blocking a cough with the back of his hand before putting the empty glass back down on the coffee table. You sat next to him on the couch and put a hand to cup his jawline, angling his face towards the window so you could examine it with the faint light of the moon. 

His bottom lip was busted, and his nose was slashed with a cut. An horizontal cut that would perfectly align if he had glasses. Small drops of blood of the same color of his eyes were trickling from a graze over his forehead, a bruise starting to form around it.

“Shit Miguel” you muttered under your breath, bringing a hand to his wet hair so you could brush a stray strand away from his face.

“I’m okay” he declared wearily, his red eyes softly shining at you. 

You got caught off guard by the rain starting to violently beat against your window again, and you sighed before redirecting your attention to him.

"Is there something else? Somewhere else?" you asked, and he blinked slowly, looking down at himself.

“I uh– I think my ribs are bruised”

You nodded and watched as he struggled a bit to slide out of his suit, displaying a trail of blue and purple spots over the side of his torso, covered by light scratches.

"Alright," you declared, sitting up to go grab your first aid kit. He grabbed your wrist before you could go and you looked back at him, startled.

"You don't have to do this" he nodded, a soft expression over his face. “You can go back to bed, I can take care of this myself, I've seen worse.” 

You shook your head immediately. "I want to. You rest now, I’ve got you, okay?” you rhetorically asked, running a hand through his hair.

He looked up at you with a star-struck expression and pinched a soft smile. You would have done it anyway, even if he said no and insisted that you go back to bed. He could be stubborn, but you were ready to be even more stubborn. 

You guessed he was too tired to put up a fight with you at the moment.

—

Miguel had insisted that you straddled his lap while you cleared his wounds, and frankly the position allowed you a better access to his face. 

He hadn't insisted so it would be more practical, he had insisted because the proximity soothed him, he was thankful and relieved to be able to be close to you after that night.

He was fascinated by how careful and precise you were at taking care of his wounds, his eyes following every single one of your movements, looking up through his eyelashes when you took care of the injury at his forehead.

One hand was at the small of your back while the other one was holding onto your thigh, gently squeezing it whenever the contact against his wounds hurt.

"Here you go big boy" you smiled, brushing his hair back once finished with your task.

"Thank you amor" he mumbled, his thumb stroking your thigh. "I'd kiss you but I think it would hurt" he chuckled pointing at his busted lip, even his slight smile hurting, and his fangs digging there when he tried to bite back the pain certainly didn't help.

You chuckled back at him before leaning to kiss his forehead, carefully avoiding his wound there. Your hand rested at his cheek, gently tracing his sharp cheekbone. 

"That's what you get for not being careful. You're not as tough as you look and as you try to make it seem" you smirked, your other hand resting at the back of his neck. 

He chuckled and playfully rolled his eyes before pulling you closer and burying his face into the crook of your neck, his damp hair teasing your skin. "You're the only one allowed to see it" he mumbled almost childishly, his nose nuzzling under your ear before he left a kiss there. 

You chuckled softly, both of your hands burying into his wet dark hair, your body still pressed close to his. 

You remained like this for a while, and when you declared that you should probably both head to bed and got no response, you quickly realized that Miguel had fallen asleep in your warm embrace.

—

feedback is always extremely appreciated plsplspls!!

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[supernovafics]

Hi! I recently found your "I'll be there for you" universe and I love it.

I was wondering if you'd want to do a sick fic where reader gets a sudden fever/body aches/chills/so on and tries to shrug it off as no big deal even though it absolutely is and Steve, the ultimate caretaker he is, forgets all about his plans for the evening to stay in and take care of them. Thank you, have a great week!

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 4.7k words

warnings: explicit language, descriptions of sickness/being sick, brief mentions of parental neglect, mentions of weed, overall very soft and wholesome and cozy<3

summary: in which you and steve are sick on christmas 

author's note: thank u for the request !! when i started this series one of the first ideas i had was something where reader and steve are sick during the holidays so this request fit with that perfectly<33 i couldn't really figure out how to end this so it kinda just ends lmao

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Winter 1985

“This is your fault,” You told Steve as you sniffled.

“I know, I know,” He responded— he had been hearing your grumbling from the moment you woke up, so he was pretty much used to it by now. He walked over to where you were sitting on the couch and held out a capful of cough syrup for you to grab. “Here. Take this.” 

“Thank you,” You mumbled as you drank the medicine and then immediately went to grab your glass of water sitting on the coffee table because of how strong and bitter the cherry flavoring was. “Ugh.”

You now fully regretted that moment a few nights ago where you and Steve sat out on the fire escape and smoked weed in the freezing weather; an idea that had fully been Steve’s. It was fun in the moment, even though you could barely remember most of the conversation the two of you had, but a hint of a cold started building from the second you woke up that next morning and now it was at its worst. You currently had a stuffy nose and a horrible cough that gave you the shittiest headache. And after hours of laying in your bed and falling in and out of sleep, you finally decided to go out into the living room and complain to your best friend about how much you blamed him for your current sickness. 

“Can you pass me the blanket, please?” You asked, pointing to the one that was laying on the back of one of the dining table chairs; it was barely five feet away but you didn’t have it in you to move out of the comfortable position you found yourself in on the couch. 

“You become such a baby when you’re sick,” Steve told you with a roll of his eyes that you knew wasn’t serious as he handed you the knitted throw blanket, which you immediately wrapped around yourself after putting your water back down.

“Oh, whatever. I swear you’re always worse than me,” You said with your own eye roll; if he was closer to you, you would’ve given his arm a light smack. Your gaze moved upward, taking note of the time on the clock that hung on the wall above the television; it was a small round red clock that Steve had thrifted a few months ago. “Anyway, when are you heading to the Wheeler’s Christmas Eve party? Make sure you have fun for the both of us, and bring me back some of those gingerbread cookies that Karen makes.”

Steve sat next to you on the couch. “I’m not gonna go to the party.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in both surprise and confusion when you heard him say that because he loved going to that holiday party just as much as you did. All of the kids would be there as well as Robin and Eddie, and always at some point during the night, you all would end up migrating downstairs to the basement away from the real adults. The kids and Eddie would start playing D&D as you, Robin, and Steve sat on the sidelines watching the madness unfold. And then eventually the three of you would simply start playing random card games with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“I won’t be mad if you go. Jokingly, yes— I’ll probably pretend to be mad at you for going for the next few days. But, I’m not actually,” You told him and then sniffled again because you couldn’t help it.

“No, it’s okay,” He said as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay, well, in that case,” You scooted closer to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. It was a position that never failed to comfort you, and you especially needed that in this moment where your body was telling you that you needed to sleep and the cough syrup you just took was making it easier to do so. “Thank you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You weren’t entirely sure how or when you ended up in your bed, but you were happy about it. It was now dark outside and the digital clock sitting on your nightstand told you that the time was only nine o’clock. 

You turned on your side and saw Steve next to you— head against one of your pillows, eyes shut, and lips slightly parted. It was a nice surprise seeing him asleep next to you, but you also knew that he probably shouldn’t be. 

You reached out and lightly poked his cheek a few times. His eyes slowly opened just for a second before closing again and he let out a soft, “Hm?”

“You’re gonna get sick too if you sleep here,” You told him. 

“I wanna stay close just in case you need something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “And you wonder why I act like a baby when I’m sick. It’s because you treat me like one.” 

“Well, someone has to.” Steve shrugged through his half-asleep daze and you knew exactly what he meant by his words. 

When you were younger, before you met him, you had gotten so used to taking care of yourself because your parents weren’t the type to do much; your dad was always on some sort of business trip and your mom was always busy working at her office. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time either of them gave you medicine or soup or even worried about you at all when you got sick. However, the day your parents met Steve’s on that cruise and it was discovered that you all lived in towns that were only twenty minutes away from one another, things changed— you and Steve started taking care of each other. 

In tenth grade when you got the flu, he spent his lunchtime every day that week driving to your house to check on you. And even though he hated school, he’d still go to yours and pick up your assignments from one of your friends, and he’d help you do most of them so you didn’t fall behind too much; most of it was wrong, but it was the thought that counted. And when he got sick last Summer, you spent every night at his house until he felt better. It was slightly funny because those four days led you to getting sick the next week, and it felt like that same thing was about to happen in this instance. 

“You saying that just reminded me that I need to call my mom and tell her that I can’t come to the Christmas brunch thing she set up with my Aunt and cousin,” You shifted a bit and pulled the blanket higher over you. “Now, I’m actually glad that I’m sick.” 

“I already called and told her while you were sleeping, but she didn’t really believe me, so yeah you should probably call her too,” Steve said, which made you laugh a bit.

“That’s actually not surprising. I’ll call in the morning,” You said and then yawned. “You don’t have to go to your parent’s tomorrow, right?”

“Nope, they’re in California for this business thing my dad has to be at.”

“Nice,” You responded with a small nod. “For some reason, I can’t remember the last time it was just you and me during Christmas.”

“Ninth grade,” Steve said with a small sleepy smile on his face and his eyes opened again. “My parents were out of town, and then yours had to leave too to do something last second. We had the great idea to set up the tent I got in sixth grade and camp out in my backyard.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, laughing at the memory. “We got way too cold around one in the morning and decided to just sleep in front of the fireplace in the living room.” 

“I wish this place had a fireplace.”

“We can sleep in front of the radiator?”

Steve thought about your suggestion for a second before shaking his head. “Not the same.”

“Okay, that’s true,” You said with a quick nod before reaching beneath the blanket and lightly poking his t-shirt covered side. “Hey, do you remember what I got you that year?”

Steve immediately let out a laugh. “Yes, and I actually still have that Mickey Mouse poster.” 

You turned away from him then and covered your face with your hands. “Oh, God. No, you don’t. You’re kidding.”

“Yes, I do,” Steve said and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “It’s rolled up in my closet. I would go grab it, but I’m too tired to move right now.”

You remembered exactly how excited you had been to give him that poster, which was supposed to be a really cool picture of one of his favorite basketball players, and the guy that you bought it from at the flea market even told you that it was signed. But when Steve pulled it out of the plastic and unrolled it in his living room on Christmas, instead of it being anywhere close to a photo of any basketball player, it was a picture of Mickey Mouse on a train.

“I’m still so embarrassed and mad that the sales guy at that flea market tricked me,” You said and sighed. You were still a little upset with yourself that you didn’t make him open up the poster and show it to you before you bought it, but he said that was “against the rules” since it was sealed in the plastic, and that reasoning had somewhat made sense to you. “And it’s not like I could try to return it or yell at him because the flea market was only here for a weekend.”

“Now that you’ve brought it up, I think we should hang the poster up in the living room. Maybe where the dining table is?” 

You turned to face Steve again. “I will never allow that to happen.”

“I guess I’ll just have to put it up when you fall asleep,” He said, and you ignored his overdramatic wince when you playfully punched his arm. “Do you remember what I got you for Christmas that year?” 

“Of course,” You nodded. You still had that silver bracelet he got you, and you were a thousand percent certain that you would keep it forever, even though now it just sat in your jewelry box because the clasp broke sometime last year. “I still can’t figure out how to fix that damn clasp.”

“I could just get you another one.”

“Not the same,” You told him with a quick shake of your head. “One day I’ll figure out how to fix it.”

“Okay,” He said and then brought up a different time that the two of you decided to try camping in his backyard, which was in the Summer and on a very warm night, but you and him still didn’t fully spend the night outside because there were too many bugs. 

You laughed at the memory as Steve talked about it now because it just reminded you that you and him were probably the least “outdoorsy” people ever, but somehow that never stopped either of you from trying to be. 

That was how the rest of the night went; reminiscing about more random stuff— memories from various moments of your friendship that always made you smile or laugh or even feel a little bit embarrassed— until both of you fell asleep again. And it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Steve woke up in the morning sniffling.

“I told you this would happen,” You said to him as you walked back to your bed, cough syrup in hand because you knew that he’d be needing it. You were actually feeling the tiniest bit better; still pretty bad but not as horrible as yesterday.

“Merry Christmas to you too,” He grumbled as he rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and then sneezed.

“Here. Take this,” You said with a small smile, mimicking the same words he had said to you yesterday. 

“Our roles changed way too fast,” Steve said before drinking the capful of cough syrup. “I was supposed to be taking care of you, and now you’re the one taking care of me.”

“We’ll take shifts on who gets to be the more helpless one,” You told him amusingly. “Right now it’s your turn. Do you want some water?”

He nodded and you went to the kitchen to grab a bottle and then handed it over to him before you settled back in the bed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A handful of hours passed, all of which marked the most boring Christmas you’d probably ever had; but you’d take this silence and sickness over a tense brunch with your mom any day.

You were reading a book and Steve was still asleep next to you, turned on his side and blanket covering his head. A knock on the front door pulled your focus away from the page you were in the middle of reading.

You really didn’t feel like getting out of bed to answer it, but you also didn’t want to wake Steve and make him go do it, so with a sigh, you closed your book and placed it on the nightstand and then walked out of your bedroom. You headed to the couch first to grab the knitted throw blanket and wrap it around your shoulders so that it covered your bare legs, and then you proceeded to answer the door. 

Miss Johnson, the sweet older woman that lived a few doors down, stood in front of you with a red and green plaid patterned tin of what you assumed were the Christmas cookies that she told you about the first time you met. When you and Steve moved into the building, she introduced herself on that first day and gave you a welcome basket of muffins that were probably the best muffins that both you and Steve had ever had, and she also mentioned that for the holidays she gave out cookies to people in the building.  

She smiled at you for a brief second before a surprised look crossed her face. “Hi– Oh, you look terrible. What happened?”

Somehow the brutal honesty actually felt more sweet and worried than rude; and it warmed your heart and simultaneously hurt it so fucking bad that she was the only older adult in your life that actually seemed to care. 

You let out a small cough. “Me and Steve are sick right now. Just a cold.”

“Oh no, that stinks,” She said with a frown, and then held the tin out toward you. “Here take these cookies and I’ll be right back. Let me go make you both some soup.”

You grabbed the tin and smiled at her. “Thank you so much for the cookies, but you don’t have to make us soup.” 

In all honesty, you would’ve loved soup at that moment because you and Steve hadn’t eaten all day aside from the two slices of buttered toast that he made around noon, since neither of you could really be bothered to make anything else. But, Miss Johnson had already made the cookies for you two, so you felt bad about her also doing this for you and Steve. 

She shook her head at you. “No, no, it’s not a problem at all. I know I already have all of the ingredients, so it’ll just take me fifteen minutes, twenty tops.”

You were about to assure her again that she really didn’t have to do that, but she was already walking away and heading back down the hall before any word could leave your mouth. 

There was something about the gesture that felt way too sweet and nice, and it made you wish that you had someone like her in your life when you were younger. And then that thought made you feel so fucking grateful that for the past almost ten years, you had Steve. 

You placed the cookie tin on the kitchen counter and then tightened your blanket around you. You could see from the large window that led out to the fire escape that the sun was beginning to set, and as you got closer and peaked below at the street, you saw that some snow still lingered on the ground from when it came down a few days ago; the same night that you and Steve sat out on the fire escape.

The sudden sound of Steve saying, “Please don’t go out there. I don’t wanna repeat this sick cycle,” made you turn around and look at your best friend. He had slipped on a hoodie, which was yours (although back in high school it technically had been his), and his hair was the messiest you’d seen it in a while, and that let you know exactly how bad he was probably feeling right then. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going out there without an actual jacket anytime soon.”

“Okay, good,” He yawned and then smiled when he saw what was on the counter. “Miss Johnson brought the cookies?”

“Yes,” You said, walking back to the kitchen and watching as Steve opened up the tin. There were at least a dozen cookies in it; a mixture of Christmas trees, Santa Clauses, and snowflakes. “She also went to go make us soup since we’re sick.”

“She’s way too nice to us,” Steve said and grabbed one of the Santa Claus cookies.

“I agree,” You told him, deciding to grab a snowflake cookie for yourself. “Meanwhile, we’re horrible people and didn’t even think about getting her something for Christmas. Once we’re better we have to get her something.”

“Yeah. We can get her a nice sweater or cardigan,” Steve said, and you nodded at that suggestion; whenever either of you saw Miss Johnson she was almost always wearing some sort of fun and colorful cardigan so that idea felt right. He took another bite of the cookie in his hand and then looked at you. “Will this ruin our appetite?”

“Considering the fact that we’ve barely had anything to eat today since we’ve felt so shitty, I don’t think that there’s really an appetite to ruin.”

“Very true.”

The two of you migrated to the couch, bringing the cookie tin along with you, and mindlessly watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special that played on television as you ate some more cookies. 

When there was another knock on the door twenty minutes later, right as the Charlie Brown episode ended, you looked at Steve and pulled your legs off his lap. “Your turn to get it.” 

He nodded and got up, running a quick hand through his hair, which didn’t really do much to tame it, before opening the door. 

“Hi, Miss Johnson,” Steve said, and even though he was facing away from you, you could hear the smile in his voice. He received a smile back as she handed him a full tupperware of soup. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to make this for us.”

“It’s really no problem. I hope you two feel better soon,” She responded. “And also here are some tea bags. You guys should be drinking that too.” 

You watched as she put a few in Steve’s free hand. Neither you nor him really liked tea, but you weren’t about to tell Miss Johnson that when she was being so damn nice and thoughtful. 

“Thank you so much,” You said from the couch and smiled at her. “Also, we’ve already tried some of the cookies and they’re amazing.”

“Just wait until you try the chocolates I make for Valentine’s Day,” She said and you smiled even wider at that. 

“Can’t wait.”

She said her final goodbyes and headed back down the hall to her apartment after telling you both that you could knock on her door if you needed anything; more soup, medicine, etc. And that offer, which sounded completely genuine, only further confirmed the fact that you and Steve definitely needed to get her a gift as soon as possible. 

Steve pulled two bowls out of one of the cabinets and split the soup, which you then learned was chicken noodle, evenly in both of them and then handed one over to you. 

“Thanks,” You said as he also gave you a spoon and then sat down on the couch again. 

He took control of the TV remote and you didn’t argue when he stopped on a channel that was playing a James Bond movie. After finishing your soup, you maneuvered around so that you were laying down and your head was in his lap and you fell asleep just like that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another set of hours passed, although you were unaware of exactly how many. You were woken up by the feeling of Steve softly stroking your ear; which he knew would always either annoy you or make you laugh because of how much it tickled— most of the time it was both. This time was no different. 

You were laughing as you shooed his hand away. “Stop that.”

“I needed to wake you up.”

You looked up at him and rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

You nodded at his answer and then suddenly realized through your half asleep daze why he decided to wake you right then. “Oh, we have to open the presents.”

From that very first Christmas you spent together, it was agreed upon that you would do your gift exchange at night— once you both were done being stuck all day with your parents and other family members that you never saw any other time of the year. 

You’d sneak off to his house once those family members were gone and your parents were asleep, or he’d come to yours, and then you’d exchange gifts and almost always end up talking about nothing until the morning. 

You sat up. “I’m just now realizing that we could’ve done it earlier today.”

“Yeah, but that would’ve broken the tradition,” Steve said and you agreed with that, there was something about always doing the gift exchange at night that felt like the only way to do it at this point.

You went into your bedroom and grabbed Steve’s present that you had stashed away in your closet. When you left your room, you saw that he was already sitting next to the small Christmas tree that sat lit up in the corner close by the window and he was holding what you rightly assumed was your gift from him. 

The tree was so small that it didn’t make sense to put gifts under it, so that was why you kept the one you got for Steve in your room and he had yours in his. The only things that did sit next to the tree and slightly under it were the little presents that you both got for Harold the Hamster. 

“Merry Christmas, Stevie,” You said, sitting down next to him and giving him his gift. He let out a laugh when he noticed that the green wrapping paper had pictures of polar bears wearing Santa hats on it— when you had seen it weeks ago at the store, you thought it was adorably funny and knew you had to get it.

He handed over the gift he got you and the sight of his messy wrapping job made you smile. “Merry Christmas.” 

The nostalgic sound of wrapping paper ripping could be heard as you tore into your gift. A happy yelp emitted from your lips when you saw the vinyl of The Breakfast Club soundtrack. It was quite literally the perfect gift— you had held the tape of the movie that you rented from Steve’s Family Video hostage for a month straight when they first got it in, and sometimes you’d watch the movie just to hear the songs.

“After how many times you watched the movie this year, this felt very fitting,” Steve told you. He hadn't opened his gift yet, and instead, he was playing with the red bow that was placed on top of it; he always liked to see your reaction first.

You looked at him and smiled. “I hope you’re prepared to hear this at least three times a week for the next few months.” 

He laughed a bit. “I knew you were going to say that, and I’ve already accepted the fact that I will have to hear Don’t You Forget About Me on an endless loop for a while.” 

“Good,” You said, still smiling, and then you bumped your knee with his. “Open yours.”

Steve finally started opening your gift for him, tearing the wrapping paper off to reveal a shoebox, which had a new pair of white Nikes inside. They were the same as the pair he already had that had the red “swoosh” on the side, but that pair was now a lot less white since he had them since Sophomore year of high school and he’d wear them almost religiously. 

“It’s time to retire the ones you’ve had for the past three years,” You said as he pulled out one of the sneakers. “Oh, also, there’s a note at the bottom of the box.” 

Steve put the one sneaker down and then grabbed the small notecard with your handwriting on it that was buried underneath the other one. “‘This is long overdue. You probably should’ve gotten rid of your last pair after the basketball season ended Senior year. And speaking of basketball, after your many years of begging and pleading I will finally grant your wish and play basketball with you. You’re welcome. Shit, I already regret writing this.’” He looked at you, a smile growing on his face. “You’re serious?” 

“Sadly, yes,” You answered, and when he smiled wider, you said, “It’s only gonna happen one time and just for a couple of hours, and if I break my leg or arm or anything else during this, I will sue you, Harrington.” 

You had two left feet when it came to any sort of sport— in a way, it was funny how clumsy you’d get whenever you had to play anything— and Steve knew that, but for perhaps the entirety of your friendship he still always tried to convince you to play basketball with him, and you always said no because why would you ever do something that you knew would only lead to embarrassment? Even if it was just with your best friend. He’d seen more than enough of your accidental embarrassing moments, and in your mind there was no need for him to also see one that could easily be avoided. 

But, you knew that finally doing this would make him happy, and that made your imminent embarrassment feel somewhat worth it.

“You’re not gonna break anything, but if you do, I’ll completely understand if you decide to sue me,” Steve said and you could hear the joking undertones in his voice. “So, when can we play?”

“You can choose the day, but please wait until we’re not sick and when it’s not freezing cold outside.” 

He nodded at that. “Okay, deal.”

“What did you get Harold?” You asked as you picked up the present next to the tree that Steve had wrapped.

“A new wheel,” He answered and that made you laugh.

“I also got him a new wheel.”

It actually wasn’t entirely surprising that you and Steve had the same gift idea. You two loved Harold with your entire hearts, but at least twice a week he’d wake one or both of you up at three in the morning by running on the current wheel he had, which was the squeakiest thing in the world.

Steve looked over at where Harold’s cage sat on the coffee table in the living room area. “Maybe he’ll like having two.” 

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Maybe he’ll designate one for daytime running and the other for nighttime running.”

Steve smiled at your joking statement. “Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[darkfantasysworld]

I’d love to see some more forced impreg, maybe with more forced sex while preg reader is growing :3 ? If you do decide to do this, anything else would be totally up to you !! I love how you write its so damn sexy

Aww, thanks Anon, here you go!

F!reader x M!bunnyboy

Your bunnyboy boyfriend, Zion, was always obsessed with the idea of having you carry his kids but you wanted to have a bit of a career first. You guys were already pretty financially stable but you had a degree and wanted to put it to use. You and Zion were having shots to celebrate his promotion. You reached your limit and insisted on stopping so Zion agreed and while you went and sat on the couch he made you a drink. You took it and couldn't taste any alcohol so you drank the whole thing while you and Zion talked. "Hey babe, can you make me another drink, that was really good.." You asked, handing him your empty glass. "Of course! Wait right there, my love." Zion kissed your cheek and went into the kitchen for a few minutes before coming out with another drink, since you seemed to like it he got you a larger glass so it would last longer. You sipped on it throughout your chat with Zion but realized something was wrong, your head was spinning and you told Zion you were heading to bed. Zion helped you up and into the bedroom then helped you undress. You were too hot to cover up so you laid on top of the bedding and closed your eyes. You slipped in and out of consciousness as you thought you felt something rubbing against your cunt. You were too intoxicated to move any part of your body, you were so out of it that you passed back out only to wake up to Zion getting in bed, he was undressed as well and he cuddled you, holding you close. You happily fell asleep in Zion's arms, cuddling up to him even though you were hot.

You woke up with a killer headache and groaned, Zion opened his eyes, his sleepy amber gaze met yours and he smiled a little. "Good morning, my love." Zion said, his voice thick with sleep, he kissed your forehead and rubbed your back, tracing small patterns on your skin. "Morning.. what happened last night..?" You asked, you couldn't remember anything from last night, you didn't even remember what time you went to bed. "We drank and talked, at about 10:45 you looked completely wasted, I helped you undress and get into bed, then I had a few more drinks while you slept." Zion responded, his dark brown ears flopped onto the pillow which made him look a little silly, plus his short, fluffy hair was a complete mess. You smiled at his funny appearance which made him kiss your forehead again. "You're so pretty.." Zion murmured, holding you closer as if he couldn't be close enough to you. You giggled at how clingy he was being, he was always clingy during hangovers so you didn't think anything of it. After a while you both got up and tossed clothes on, you took one of his shirts because it covered enough of your body that you could walk by windows and not worry about anyone seeing your intimate areas while Zion just put some boxers on. You both walked downstairs and Zion made a pot of extra strong coffee for your hangovers and he got some meds from the bathroom for you since your hangout was worse. He made your coffee the way you like it and kissed your head. "Thank you." You said, smiling as you took the medicine with the coffee. Zion sat with you until he had to get ready for work.

You were bored out of your mind while Zion was gone, typically you'd have the same days off but his schedule recently got changed. You remembered you had to take your birth control so you went up to your room but couldn't find it in your nightstand or dresser, you assumed maybe you just took the last one and forgot until you saw some on Zion's nightstand. You grabbed it and looked at the box, it was open so you decided to look at the pills but to your surprise there was a note inside. You pulled the note out and read it.

I noticed you were running low when I organized some stuff, I know it's not the same brand you buy but I couldn't find any other ones. I hope this will work, at least until you get your usual brand.

You smiled, you loved how thoughtful he was and you took one of the pills. You put the birth control in your nightstand and decided to clean up the house a bit, typically Zion did it but you wanted to surprise him. You vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the windows, organized some stuff, did the dishes from last night, cleaned out the fridge, and did the laundry. You didn't know where your sudden energy came from, maybe it was just boredom driving you insane. As you were taking laundry out of the dryer Zion came home. "My love?" He called out as he walked around, he saw you bent over, trying to grab a sock in the back. "I didn't think we were in the "help I'm stuck in the dryer" type of industry." He teased, walking up behind you and putting his hands on your hips. "Ha ha." You said in a sarcastic tone as you got out of the dryer, tossing the sock into the laundry basket. Zion smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. "I love you." He said, giving your neck a quick kiss before letting go of you and grabbing the laundry basket. You smiled and told him you loved him as well before you both walked upstairs. Zion set the laundry basket on the floor and turned to face you. "You're my everything, love." He said, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you. You wrapped your arms around him and smiled.

A few weeks passed and you didn't know why you felt so sick so you decided to take a pregnancy test. Zion was there to hold you as you checked it. "It's positive.. we're going to be parents.." He said, looking at the test, you could tell he was holding in his excitement based on his tail and ears twitching, he was clearly trying to gauge your reaction. You were shocked, Zion always pulled out or used a condom and even if cum got inside of you, you were on birth control, you shouldn't be pregnant. It's not that you didn't want kids, you just wanted to wait a bit, you wanted to put your degree to use before you started a family. You looked at Zion and kissed his cheek, even though you wanted to wait, you didn't want to regret getting rid of the baby, what if this was your only chance to have one and you got rid of it? Zion held you close, he could see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes and just held you.

At first you had a normal sex drive but as you got bigger you got more insecure which caused a lower sex drive even though Zion was almost always in the mood. You were laying in bed when Zion walked in and got on top of you. You could smell the alcohol on him and tried to push him away but he forced your clothes off and removed his own. You cried and tried to get away from him but he held you down and forced his cock inside you. He mumbled an excuse about how you're his girlfriend, he loves you, he's just expressing his love in a pleasurable way. His words were slurred as he talked about how hot you looked carrying his babies, how he wanted to put more in you, how he'd have to stop himself from doing this 24/7 or else you'd end up pregnant forever. Your heart skipped a beat as he talked about how the birth control he'd left for you to take was actually fertility pills, how the non alcoholic drinks he made you that night were drugged, how he was gentle with you so you wouldn't suspect a thing. You felt him cum inside of you but he didn't stop fucking you, you tried to fight back but it only made him thrust harder. You begged him to stop but he wouldn't, you occasionally glanced at the clock, you knew bunnyboys and girls had insane stamina but as you looked at the clock you realized he was going for hours until you passed out from exhaustion. It only got worse the further along your pregnancy got, the last time he got to do it during this pregnancy was when you were actively in labor and he just needed to fuck you through it, there was no way he letting you got to a hospital when you had a perfectly good pool that he made a nest in.