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not-neverland06 · 10 days

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forgotten promises

pt two of broken promises (I know I'm so creative with names)

bodyguard!logan howlett x fem!runaway reader

a/n: SMUT 18+ MDNI they, like, never use protection (don't be silly, sheathe your willy) but I’d like to make it 100% clear now that she has a magic uterus and there will be absolutely NO baby-making. Just rocking unprotected sex 😎👍 If you’re tagged in this, it does not mean that I am permanently adding you to my taglist. It just means I saw you in my comments/reblogs/inbox asking for a part two and this was the easiest way to let you know I made one. If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask. Summary: Life on the road isn't exactly glamorous. Cramped spaces and too many cheap motels have you and Logan at each other's throats. You feel eyes tracking you everywhere you go but you're afraid to tell him, afraid it will be the end of the road for the both of you. One cheap bar and an explosion later and your whole life is flipped upside down.

“What are you doing?”

You glance over Logan’s shoulder at the register. The man behind it isn’t looking at either of you, just disinterestedly scrolling through his phone.

“Isn’t this what you do?” You ask, motioning to the pack of beef jerky you’re stuffing down your jacket.

Logan scoffs and shakes his head. “No, kid.” He takes the bag from you and rolls his eyes.

“Well, then how do you pay for this stuff?”

“Normally, with the money I get from my jobs. But your dad wasn’t too forthcoming with my last paycheck.”

You feel that familiar burning churn of guilt roiling around in your gut. You’ve definitely added another complication to his life and it makes you feel like nothing more than a burden sometimes. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry.”

Logan glances down at you. He gives you that familiar appeasing look, squeezing you closer, and drags you towards the register. He tosses the snacks and drinks onto the counter. The guy just barely glances up at you both.

“Will that be all?” He asks in a tone that says he could care less.

“Yeah,” you answer, eyes drifting towards the magazine rack. Your face is plastered on the cover of a cheap tabloid.

LOCAL POLITICIANS DAUGHTER STILL MISSING

Exclusive interview with family on PG. 6

Your eyes go wide and you turn your face further into Logan’s chest. He gives you a confused look before his eyes are snagged by the same thing that caught your attention.

“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” You nod and slip out of his hold, being mindful to keep your face away from the security camera near the front.

That keeps happening. You hadn’t thought you would have made news, but your father was making this a part of his campaign. Claiming you’d been taken by a mutant bodyguard and that he’s been praying for your safe return. “Experts” have been claiming that with no ransom demanded you’re being turned into a message for anyone who goes against mutants.

Now, mutants despise you and everyone else thinks you’re a martyr. In a few years, you’re sure you’ll be turned into some true crime documentary where people you’ve never met before are crying over your disappearance.

You slide into the truck and let out a deep sigh. You’d thought running away would be freeing. But even a hundred miles from him, you can still feel the cold grip of your father’s hand around your throat.

“Twenty on pump seven,” Logan tosses the cash on the counter, eyes drifting to you in the truck. It was instinct at this point, always keeping an eye on you. Especially since one of your father’s more fanatic supporters had spotted you in a shitty diner a week ago. They’d called the cops and tried to bar you and Logan from leaving.

It hadn’t gone over well for him.

He’d been trying to keep you a little more hidden since then, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d gotten you out of that house to show you what real life was like, to give you a taste of freedom.

He felt like he was no better than your father, keeping you cooped up and covered constantly.

When the kid in front of him doesn’t say anything, Logan clears his throat. He gives him a quizzical look but the boy’s eyes are stuck on the door.

“I swear I know her,” he mutters. Logan’s eyes drift towards the TV behind the counter and he sees an old news story of you. They’re using the footage of the acid attack, claiming you’ve always been the mutant movement’s target.

“Can I get twenty on pump seven,” Logan repeats, voice firm. The kid finally looks at him and whatever expression Logan is wearing is enough for him to finally start moving.

The second the receipt is in his hand he’s rushing out the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take that dumbass to piece two and two together but he can’t risk dawdling.

He fills the tank up, eyes scanning the gas station the entire time. He’s had a cloying sense of paranoia ever since the incident in the diner. He knows that at some point this little run of yours is going to come to an end.

He doesn’t know if it’ll end with cops finding the two of you. Or if you’re going to realize the real world isn’t all that fun and leave him behind. He knows that a girl like you, one who's used to the finer things, is never going to be satisfied by the life he can offer.

But he’s hoping that you come to your senses later rather than sooner. He’s enjoying traveling with you a lot more than he wants to admit.

He gets in the truck, starts it up, and glances over at you. You smile, the smile that makes him feel things he doesn’t like admitting to himself or you.

“All good?” You ask.

He nods, driving off without a word because he doesn’t want to tell you the truth. Doesn’t want to admit what you both know to be a fact. The time you have together has an expiration date and he’s worried it’s creeping closer.

Logan’s inside some shitty roadside motel. Whatever he’s talking about with the owner is clearly getting heated. You can see the way the anger’s growing on his face. His body is tensed up and he looks like he’s five seconds away from leaping over the counter and taking the greasy man leering at him down.

There’s a final word exchanged between them and then Logan is storming back towards the truck. He slams the door closed so hard you’re surprised the windows don’t shatter. Normally, you sleep in the trailer. It’s not always the warmest or coziest, but you make it work.

It’s too cold out tonight to do that and Logan doesn’t have a spare tank for the heating. He’d thought he’d had enough for a cheap room for tonight, but clearly, he doesn’t. There’s a tense silence in the truck as you mentally debate saying anything to him.

His fists are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel you can hear it creaking. You shift, sitting up straighter in your seat and uncurling your legs. There’s a stiffness to your joints that has you groaning. It’s involuntary, ripped out of you simply because you’ve been sitting for too long.

It catches Logan’s attention and he glances over at you. There’s a resigned sort of guilt on his face and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s used to this type of lifestyle, and sometimes you think he’s embarrassed to share it with you.

You’d never judge him for roadside motels or living off cheap gas station meals. You know you were privileged living up with the wealth you did. But there is something infinitely more satisfying about being poor and happy than there ever was being rich and miserable.

“Look, kid,” he lets out a heavy sigh and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’ve been expecting. You were a fun time, a nice ride, but you’re becoming a burden and he can’t deal with it anymore.

You let your nails dig into the thin skin of your palms so you can attempt to ground yourself. “I need to make some money tonight, so I just need you to bear with me for a while.”

Like there is every time he doesn’t boot you to the curb, a relieved rush of air expels from your chest almost violently. “Okay,” you say tentatively, the word dragging out while you try and understand his meaning.

“I just,” he stops and it looks like he’s struggling to find the words to say to you. You wait patiently for him to finish, or try to at least. “There’s a bar nearby. I’ll find some work there,” his words are ominous. They give you nothing and convey so much.

Clearly, he’s hiding something from you. You can tell that much from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you. He pulls out of the motel’s parking lot and turns the radio on. You’ve learned that's his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk without being a dick about it.

You want to respect his space because you still feel like an imposter. But it’s hard. He’s being oddly cagey about this.

The drive is short but it feels like you’ve been transported to an entirely different town than the one you were in before. He takes only backroads and middle-class homes turn into shady shops with barbed fences. Caged dogs bark at the truck as it drives by and you get a sinking feeling in your gut.

Perhaps it’s a little classist of you to automatically assume a few low-end homes equate to a bad neighborhood. But instinctually you know something is off about this place.

He parks in front of a run-down bar. Even from here, you can hear loud shouts and jeering coming from inside. You don’t know what’s being said but they’re certainly passionate. Logan turns towards you, the expression on his face so serious you feel like you’re about to be scolded.

“I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long, just an hour at most. But you need to stay in the truck.”

Your jaw gapes and you scoff at him. “Logan, an hour that’s rid-”

He cuts you off with a stern call of your name. Your mouth snaps shut and you narrow your eyes at him, teeth gritting together to keep your tongue at bay. “Stay here, I mean it. Got it?”

You nod and he repeats your name, sounding aggrieved. “Fine,” you huff. “I got it.” He lingers for a moment. You don’t know if he doesn’t trust you or is just reluctant to leave you alone. You’re reluctant to be left alone, especially in a shady dark parking lot like this. But clearly whatever is going on inside is worse than whatever could happen to you out here.

“I’ll be back soon,” he makes this whole thing sound so grave. It makes your brows furrow and doubt churn in your gut. What could he be doing in there that’s so awful?

He gets out and you watch his form under the flickering street lamps until you can’t see him anymore. You sit quietly in the truck for at least three minutes before you already feel the boredom set in.

You’d thought you’d be able to last longer. You used to go for hours dissociating at your father’s galas. This is different, though. You’re a little afraid to let your guard down here.

You try to listen to music but you feel bad wasting his gas so you just turn the truck off and huddle under a blanket in the trailer. You try and let yourself fall asleep but you don’t last long.

It’s too cold outside to really get a good rest and you can hear people moving around outside the trailer. After about an hour of rolling around and frozen limbs, you figure enough is enough.

As much as you don’t want to provoke Logan or give him any reason to get rid of you, you can’t stay in here all night. Besides, Logan said he wouldn’t be long, you can always just lie and say you were worried about him.

Satisfied with your excuse you leave the comfort of your blanket behind and slip into Logan’s jacket. You tuck the truck keys in your pocket and walk out into the snowy night. It’s less cold outside than it was in the trailer, you can see why he wanted a motel room for the night.

A few people linger by the cars, smoking and muttering to themselves. You slip past them, ignoring the feeling of their eyes burning into your skin. You’re sure it's because you look like you don’t belong here.

The noise in the bar gets louder the closer you get and it reminds you of the night Logan had snuck you out of the house. But you’d had him to lean on, right now, until you find him, you’re on your own. For all the noise coming from the building, the bar is surprisingly empty.

Only a few old men are sitting around, drinking beers in silence. The bartender cleans glasses behind the counter, sparing you an odd look before getting back to work. There’s not very far for you to look before you figure out that Logan isn’t anywhere nearby.

“Excuse me?” The bartender spares you a fleeting glance before barely grunting in greeting.

The floor underneath you tremors and you glance down at it in surprise. You can hear something going on underneath. You figure that has to be where all the noises are coming from. “I’m looking for someone. Tall, mean as hell, he’s got this hair,” you swoop your hands up by the sides of your head, trying to mimic the odd fluff of Logan’s hair.

“Downstairs.” You nod and move around the bar, trying to get to the door behind him. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you before you can get far. “It's a forty-dollar entrance fee, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrows in confusion and you frown as you dig around in your jacket pockets. You’ve come too far to be deterred now. Ignoring the moral implications, you slip Logan’s wallet out of his jacket and give the man forty dollars.

He nods towards the door and you give him a weak thank you as you slip past him. Opening the door is like breaking a seal. The noises bombard you almost immediately, so much clearer than they were before.

You still can’t understand what they’re screaming but there’s a violent atmosphere slipping around you as you head down the stairs. The heady smell of cigars and cigarettes threatens to suffocate you. Your eyes water at the smoke in the air.

You’d think you’d have gotten used to secondhand smoking after being around Logan, but he’s less inclined to hotbox the car if you’re beside him. The second your feet hit the floor you’re being jostled to the side violently by the people around you.

It’s nearly impossible to elbow your way through the crowd, but you’re determined to figure out what’s in the middle of the cage that’s got them all excited. You can hear the people around you screaming out bets and numbers you don’t understand.

For one nauseating moment, you think this might be a dog fighting ring, that Logan gambles on it to earn his money. It makes you want to turn around, to shield yourself from the truth. But this is something he tried to keep hidden from you and you need to know the truth about whoever you’re traveling with.

You can hear the announcer, but you can’t get close enough to see anything yet. “Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?” There’s a resounding NO! from the crowd that makes you jump.

A booming voice shouts over the throng of voices, “I’ll take him!”

“Our savior ladies and gentlemen!” You shove through two men, ignoring the way they complain about how their beer sloshes on their sleeves.

“Hey-” You glance over your shoulder as one of them reaches for you. You flick your wrist, sending him and his friend tumbling back into the crowd. You roll your eyes and turn back towards the cage.

Your eyes widen and so do Logan’s as you finally see what exactly is going on. He’s cage fighting, this is what he’d been so secretive about. Honestly, it’s a relief compared to the brutality you were bracing yourself for.

You can see his lips starting to form the shape of your name but the man from before is barrelling into his side as the bell goes off. You wince, jumping away from the cage as you hear the meaty impact of his fist against Logan’s face.

The people near you scream, shouting for Logan’s blood. It’s easy to figure out that he’s been beating everyone he’s gone up against based on some bloody faces in the crowd. It’s smart, easy money. He can always heal, and can never really be beaten, not when he’s literally got fists of steel.

You’re surprised that no one’s ever caught onto this scam of his. You also wonder why he had been so adamant about you not seeing this. Sure, it’s brutal watching blood spray against the mat. But you don’t care. Besides, he’s ridiculously attractive in just his jeans as he pummels into some guy.

Maybe that’s not a normal line of thinking.

You shake your head, shelving that for later as the fight dies down. The man is limp on the mat of the cage and Logan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar and pointedly not looking at you.

You feel that familiar twisting feeling in your stomach and wonder if this was a horrible idea. You should have just stayed in the car like he asked. You’re sure it would have only been another hour of tirelessly rolling around before he came back. But you couldn’t help yourself.

He tells you so little about himself. If you get a chance to learn more, you’re going to pounce on the opportunity. Maybe it was a violation of his trust. You sincerely doubt that he would ever willingly have revealed this sort of lifestyle to you, though.

He seems to be under the same misguided intention that you need to be sheltered. It reminds you a little of your father. That might be a cruel comparison but it’s the same suffocating feeling of being kept in the dark to suit their needs.

The guilt you’d been holding unfurls and blossoms into anger. You find yourself retreating away from the cage and rushing back up the stairs of the bar. You don’t want to watch him fight any longer. You don’t want to look at him.

You just want him to treat you like an equal. Not like some little girl who’s going to run at the first sign of things getting hard.

You burst through the door of the bar, ignoring the cold laughter of the bartender behind you. He clearly seemed to think you couldn’t handle a little blood. He wasn’t the only one.

You’re only a couple of feet from the truck when you hear footsteps loudly stomping through the snow behind you. “What the hell were you doing?” You scoff, unbelieving that he would have the gall to shout at you.

You whirl around on him and it catches him off guard. His right foot slides against the slush as he tries to stop himself from ramming into you. “I’m not a little girl, Logan! You don’t need to hide stuff like that from me.”

He crosses his arms and glares down at you. “I wasn’t hiding anything,” he insists. But the tone of his voice gives him away. He doesn’t like that he was caught. “I don’t need to tell you jackshit about what I do for money.”

You can’t believe how he sounds right now. Why is he getting so defensive about this? “I don’t care what you do for money, alright. I just don’t get why you felt like I couldn’t know about this.” You hate the way the hurt is audible in your voice. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you try and cover it.

In the same way, he’s masking his feelings with anger, so are you. Just with less success. Something draws across his face, some emotion you can’t discern. His voice goes cold and quiet as he shoves an envelope full of cash into your hands.

“Go back to the motel. Get a room.”

He storms past you and walks towards the trailer. You follow after him, slightly dumbfounded by how he’s behaving. He rips his motorcycle out from the back and rolls it into a parking spot. You watch him do all this with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth.

It’s only when he starts to head back towards the bar that you realize he’s not coming with you. “Logan!” You call out, trailing after him slightly. He barely turns back to face you. “Are you,” the words die on your tongue and you can’t find it in yourself to finish.

Are you angry?

Are you leaving?

Are you going to ditch me at the next bus stop?

Instead of asking any of your ridiculously pining questions, you turn on your heel and storm towards the truck. You rip the door open with more force than necessary and drive off without looking back at him. But you know he watches, know he keeps an eye on you until he can’t see you anymore.

Your rides with him are normally silent, but this one feels painfully so.

You nearly get a room with two beds. But you feel like if you do it will be a horrendous mistake. Reluctantly, you give the man behind the counter enough for a room with one bed large enough for the both of you.

You’re not exactly excited about sharing a bed with him, not after how he behaved tonight. You grumble to yourself as you drag your bag inside and toss it on the ground. You picture putting up a wall of pillows between the two of you, just to be petty.

It’s as you’re showering that you realize you might not even have to. He might not come to join you tonight. He won’t know what room you’re in. And he’d made it pretty clear how pissed he was at you for sneaking into the bar.

Maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. You’ve been toying with the boundaries of his patience for a while. Little tests to determine whether he truly wants you around simply to have a warm body ready beside him. Or if he wants you because he genuinely cares for you.

You suppose tonight, whether you want it or not, you’ll finally have the truth.

The thought keeps you awake. You toss and you turn for hours, fighting with yourself. You should be happy, finally figuring out what’s been haunting you. But you’re not. You’re petrified. You’d rather keep living a lie than finally accept that he truly doesn’t want you.

You throw the covers off, the scratchy material only further adding to your irritation. You stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. You turn on the sink splashing some cool water over your face to try and rid yourself of the warmth lingering under your skin. You don’t know if this feeling of being uncomfortable in your own body is from pent-up anger or anxiety.

You don’t care. You just want to sleep this night away and pretend it never happened. But, of course, the universe has other plans. The motel door creaks open as you’re hovering over the sink, debating whether or not you’re nauseous enough to throw up.

You tilt your head slightly towards the sound. Growing up in your house, filtering through rooms like an unheard ghost, allowed you to get good at recognizing footsteps. Logan has finally decided to grace you with his presence.

You listen to him as he creeps silently across the room, landing on the squeaky bed. You press your ear against the door and can hear the way the sheets rustle and he cusses under his breath. There’s worry staining his voice and you figure you shouldn’t drag this on much longer.

You open the bathroom door and flip the switch, turning the lamps on like a disappointed mother waiting up for her teenager. You cross your arms mutely and lean against the doorframe as he winces under the sudden light.

He jumps, just slightly, and glares over at you. “Thought you weren’t here,” he accuses. He tries sounding angry, but you have a sudden rush of clarity in that moment. Where you would normally focus only on him being upset with you, you can see the truth of his concern.

Same as you, he doesn’t know where he stands in this whole situation. You doubt he had a clear plan when he rescued you from your tower like some ridiculous storybook knight. He most likely thought that you left, the same way you thought he would.

You remain silent, though, still a little too flustered to speak coherently. Instead, you examine him. There are cuts and blood all over his shirt. Splatters of it on his face. Though, you know if you looked there would be no physical evidence of him ever being hurt.

His brows furrow the longer you stare, a wall building between the two of you. “Kid?” He questions, equal parts worried and defensive. Does he really think you actually give a fuck about him fighting?

You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom. You rustle around in the cabinet underneath the sink until you find a washcloth. Wetting it, you bring it back out to him. You station yourself between his spread legs, holding the cloth between you like a peace offering.

He looks doubtful as he glances between you and it. Finally, he lets out a rough sigh and simply nods his head. But when he reaches for it you snatch it back, much to his chagrin. You offer him a small smile and tilt his chin up towards you, gently wiping some of the dried blood off his cheeks.

He doesn’t flinch or hiss away from the less-than-gentle fabric. He stares at you unblinkingly, like if he closes his eyes for a moment he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. “You don’t have to do this, kid.”

You roll your eyes and crane your neck to get a better look at him. “Would you shut up?” You whisper teasingly.

His lips quirk slightly and you can see his shoulder slump in relief at the sound of your voice. “So, she can talk.” You can’t help the little laugh that comes out of you. He grins fully at that and his hands come up to rest on your hips.

His thumbs rub soothing circles along the sides of your waist as his hands dip a little lower. “What are you doing?” Your hand drifts down to his neck to wipe some blood off there as well.

He shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You lift your gaze to his and your lips fall flat, “Logan-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. In one smooth motion, his hands drop to wrap around your thighs. He lifts you slightly and drops you onto his lap. He grins at the slight huff of surprise that rushes out of you.

His arms go back to your waist, pulling you closer to him and grinding you a little against him. You bite your lip to stop any noises from escaping. As much as you wouldn’t mind what he’s thinking, you need to talk.

“Logan,” you scold.

He smirks and tilts his head patronizingly, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s not happening,” you tell him firmly, hand still working on cleaning him.

He sighs and one of his arms drops away from you. He cups your hand in his, stilling your movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. Gently, he takes the cloth from you and tosses it somewhere you can’t see. “I’m fine,” he whispers, eyes searching yours.

It’s hard meeting his gaze. The worry and anxiety from the night still weigh heavily on your shoulders. He repeats himself, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. “Alright?”

“I don’t care,” the words come rushing out of you before you can stop them. His brows raise in shock and he gives a slight chuckle of amusement. A lump grows in your throat and your eyes grow wide. “Wait, I don’t mean-”

You cut yourself off and rub your hands over your face, trying to get your head on right. Logan’s patient, rubbing your back and clearly trying not to laugh at you. You finally take in a deep breath and face him again.

“I don’t care about the fighting,” you can see his shoulders tense slightly like he doesn’t believe you. “I don’t care, Logan. You do what you have to survive and I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“What if I enjoy it?” He cuts you off, tone harsh as he glares down at you. There's experience in how quickly he doubts you, how quickly he tries to get you to change your mind about him.

You wonder how many times he’s been rejected just for being a mutant. You’ve only ever been rejected by one person because only he ever knew. Your father. And that hurt enough for one lifetime.

You can’t imagine going for as long as he has and constantly being called a monster for something he can’t control. Your brows furrow and you lean into him until your lips are brushing. He remains stiff beneath you but you don’t let it deter you.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his before slowly pulling back. You wait for him to respond, physically or verbally, but he’s still looking at you with that cold unfamiliar gaze.

You wonder if maybe it was a mistake, to bring it up at all. But just as the thought comes he’s surging forward. His lips catch yours, his hands digging so desperately into your shirt you know it rips.

Your arms go to his neck, holding onto him so you don’t slip off his lap. You haven't been this close for a few days. You think it might have made you both feel on edge. There’s a relief that comes from not just having sex with him, but also just being intimate and close to one another.

It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, that there’s someone here beside you to be a partner and a pillar of stability. You’ve never had that before. Someone that you can rely on and trust fully. You don’t think he has either.

He craves you the same way you do him. Each kiss, every shared breath, is treated like it will be your last. You don’t know when your father will finally catch up to the two of you. You don’t know when the police might finally recognize Logan.

There’s no definitive future for either of you. It’s a real possibility that this could be your last night together. And neither of you wants to be upset with each other. Because you were never truly mad. You were always just worried.

Your hands drop to his shirt, dipping to find the holes in it from his fight and ripping at the flimsy fabric until you can just yank it off. He smiles against your lips at the eager way you move atop him. But he can’t tease you, he’s already annoyed with the buttons on your shirt.

He pulls back, glaring down at the fabric like it's insulting him. Without another word, he slices through it, leaving it in tatters on your shoulder. You grin, shrugging the rest of it off. “That was yours.”

He grips your hips tightly and leaves marks where his fingers are as a reminder that he was here. He flips you over, leaves you breathless as he hovers over you. “I really don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”

You’re addicted to his voice. How breathy and desperate it is when he’s with you. It’s a level of vulnerability you rarely get to see from him. He can’t hide himself when he’s with you like this. He wants you just as badly as you do him.

It gives you a confidence rush like no other, makes your ego grow ten times its size. If you can make a man like this fall to his knees from nothing more than a kiss, then you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.

But you don’t want that tonight. You reach for him before he can go much further, grabbing him by his hair and tugging until you know it stings. He nearly fucking moans at your rough touch, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The green of them has been wholly consumed by his desire for you and it makes you ache for him.

“Not tonight,” you tell him. There’s no room for argument in your tone. As much as he might want to taste you, devour you, all you want is to be as close to him as possible. You want to be covered and filled by him in every way you can be.

His head falls against your thigh, a rough groan tumbling from his throat at your words. You drag him towards you, pulling him up your body until you’re face to face. You smile softly up at him, lifting your head so you can meet his lips again.

You’ll never get enough of kissing him, of tasting him. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from reaching across the seats and kissing him while he drives. You’ve nearly made him wreck a few times and forced him to pull over so you could both have some fun in the back.

Addiction isn’t the right word for what you feel for him. It brings along its own negative connotations. The taint of dependency and toxicity. With addiction, it’s a parasitic relationship, hurts you but makes you feel good.

This is just goodness. This is a kind touch for the first time in your life and finally feeling safe in someone elses arms. This is opening yourself up to him fully and not once feeling like you need to mold yourself into something else to make him happy. It’s accepting him as he is, a broken dog who likes to fight to punish himself. You don’t want to change him or make him “better.” You just want him to be happy.

You use your powers to help yourself, flipping him over and straddling his hips. You drag his jeans down his legs and flick your wrist, sending them flying somewhere across the room. He watches you with eyes filled with awe, hands drifting over your curves like something to be worshipped.

You know he’s waiting for it, for you to sink yourself down on him and finally be filled. But you wait, hover over him even as the muscles of your thighs tremor. “You don’t hide things from me anymore,” you warn him. You’re not asking, for once, you’re demanding what you want.

He doesn’t look angry like you’d been expecting. Instead, it only seems to turn him on more. “Ya know,” his hands drift to your hips, dragging you down and over his cock until it’s wet with your want. Your nails dig into his chest until there’s blood beading under them and you��re trying not to let your noises slip out.

“I kinda like it when you’re all bossy like this.”

“Logan,” you grit his name out. It takes everything in you not to look as affected by him as you feel. “No more hiding shit.”

He leans up on his elbows. His hand drifts to the nape of your neck and drags you down until your lips are nearly touching his. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”

Like a taut rope being cut, you sink into him, your hips finally drop and he guides you down every inch of him until you feel like you’re so full you can’t breathe. He lets you linger for a moment, and get used to this feeling while he steals the very air from your lungs.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you. His hands always moving like he’ll never fully be satisfied with how much of you he can feel. He’s always reaching for you like he needs to make sure you’re actually real and not just something he’s dreamt up.

Even with how impatient he is, you’re always the one that moves first. You roll your hips over him, moaning at how he feels inside you. It’s like he’s perfectly molded you around him. He always manages to brush against the spots that make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The second your hips begin to roll, he’s wrapping his heavy arms around you, grinding you down into him. He keeps you trapped in place, using you like a toy as he bounces you on his lap. Your mind is fuzzy, every bad thought and feeling shoved out while he makes you go dumb on his dick.

You love how boneless you go. You don’t have to think now, don’t have to worry. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shifting yourself further on top of him until you're practically burying yourself under his skin.

Not thinking always comes with its own consequences, though. Your powers slip a little out of your grasp. The walls trembling and the drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The both of you have gotten used to the noise, know how to drown it out, and just focus on each other.

One of these days, you’ll need to figure out a way to have sex with him without bringing the room down around you. That’s a problem for later though. His whispered praises and grunts of your name filter through your mind until there’s nothing left inside you but him.

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, “you’re so fucking tight around me. You close?” He grunts, hand drifting down to rub tight circles on your clit. You dig your nails into his shoulders, nodding your head frantically against his neck. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you can barely think of your own damn name. Let alone what you want from him. “Fuck off,” you hiss. He chuckles at the attitude and you almost expect him to stop, just to be a dick because you were a brat.

But he’s just as close as you are and he’s too selfish to tease. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on you as your body shakes against his. He follows quickly after you, warmth shooting up inside you and almost leaking down your thighs. You feel stuffed, like your body’s been pushed to the limit and further.

You both sit together in silence for a while. You ignore the way your skin sticks to his uncomfortably, instead reveling in the warmth he provides you. Anyone else, and you’d be rushing to get away from them.

You’re always extra sensitive after sex, every little thing setting you off. But there’s a comfort to the way his hairy ass chest brushes against your breasts and his arms squeeze around you. It’s a nice grounding feeling.

The tips of your fingers drift over his arms, following the path of his veins and brushing against his fingers lazily. He flips his palm over, encasing your hand in his own wordlessly. Little things like that ease your worries. Makes you feel like something more than just a quick fuck.

He breaks the silence first, which is rare for him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You frown and peer up at him. “I told you, I don’t care about the fighting.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Not that. I shouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You want to interrupt him, assure him that you both acted pretty childishly.

But you understand it’s difficult for him to express himself verbally. He usually prefers silent acts of apologies and expression, you don’t want to mess him up before he can get out what he wants to say.

“I don’t want to be like your father.” Your face screws up a little and you shift uncomfortably on his lap. He loosens his grip, giving you room to leave if you want to, but you stay put. “I’m trying not to coddle you, sweetheart, or hide you away from the world. But I don’t like you seeing that shit.”

“You’re not my dad, Logan. He wouldn’t give me a choice,” you try and joke but it just seems to make him more irritated. Sighing you straighten up, bracing yourself on his chest and staring down at him.

Your head tilts to the side in contemplation and he almost looks uncomfortable under the attention. “I’m not so fragile or sheltered that I’m going to shatter at the first taste of the real world, Logan. I mean, for god’s sake, I’ve had acid thrown at me and bodyguards since I could walk. I know how dangerous it is. Whatever you want to hide from me, I’ve seen worse.”

You let your words sink in for a moment and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You know that it’s odd for him, to comprehend a girl who was afraid to go into a bar swallowing down an illegal fighting ring like it’s nothing. But you’re not lying. Everyday little things are what you’re unused to. But you’ve lived alongside violence your whole life.

“Look, fighting, sleeping in shitty motels, and your truck, that doesn't bother me. But I don’t like when you hide things and I don’t,” you take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. This is what you’ve been trying to tell him for weeks.

A few little words have your tongue tied and make you desperate to cover yourself up again. He can see the shift in your expression, and feel how tense you get. He sits up a little more, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“I don’t want to just be someone to fuck you, Logan. I didn’t come with you so you’d have easy access pussy,” he looks thoroughly amused at your crude words, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. Something like hurt.

“Is that what you think?” He asks, tone distant. You can’t find the words so you simply nod. He sighs and shakes his head. He eases you off his lap and you worry you’ve truly fucked this up somehow.

He goes into the bathroom, returns with a wet washcloth. He still doesn’t speak and you’re on edge the entire time he cleans the both of you up. You can see he’s thinking, biting his tongue, and trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say to you.

You’re impatient, five seconds away from just demanding a response from him. He tosses the cloth and drops into bed beside you. You draw the sheets up to your chest, glaring down at him while he rubs his hands over his face with a tired sigh.

When he opens his eyes again he laughs at how close you are. “Jesus,” he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you down into his chest even though you fight him. It must be easier for him to speak when you’re not staring at him.

“I didn’t go back for you so I could fuck you, kid. I… care about you,” there’s a long pause before he says the word care. You think it’s funny, that he can’t bring himself to admit what he actually feels. But you’ll take it, you’ll give him the time he needs to come to terms with the truth.

For now, you let yourself fall asleep, feeling just a little bit better about the road ahead.

Things get easier between the two of you. And somehow harder at the same time. You don’t walk on eggshells around each other, no longer afraid of scaring the other off now. Which also means that you find it easier to bicker with him about little things. Like, not just tossing his trash everywhere in the truck. You’re practically living out of the trailer, the least he could do is help you keep it tidy.

You know it’s weird for him. Suddenly having someone nag at him not to be a slob or to take breaks in between driving so he doesn’t wear himself out. It’s an adjustment you see him struggle with sometimes.

You try not to be too pushy, but there’s only so many times you can flick crumbs from his burgers off your seat before you lose it. “Logan!” You snap, glaring at him as you stand up only to find chip crumbs squished into the fabric of your leggings.

He glances over at you and shrugs, “What?”

You glance between the crumbs and him with a glare but he doesn’t seem to be connecting the dots. “Fucks sake,” you grumble, passive-aggressively wiping the truck seat off before you slam the door and storm towards the diner.

You’re sick of being cramped in the truck. You’re sick of the greasy food. You’ve begun to crave salads lately. Which is beyond weird. But the novelty of shitty food and milkshakes wore off a hundred miles ago.

Logan catches up to you, huffing with irritation as he swings the door open for you. You take a seat in the booth near the corner, snatching up the menu and pointedly staring at it and not him. “Really?” He demands. When you don’t answer he tips the menu down, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What is your problem?” He hisses, trying not to draw attention to you both.

You lean in, voice a harsh whisper. “How hard is it to just not make a mess? We live out of that damn truck, the least you could do is keep your crumbs on your side.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back in the booth. You’re both sick of having the same fight. But there’s really nothing else to do anymore. When you’re stuck together for so long, it’s the small things that get to you.

You’re going to say more but the waitress pops in front of you out of nowhere. “Hi!” She beams and gives you her name, the bows in her hair trembling at how hyper she is. “What can I get you both today?”

You and Logan place your orders, and he shoots you an odd look when you only order the salad. “We’ve got a couple more hours ahead of us, you’re gonna get hungry.”

You cross your arms and shrug, “No, I won’t.”

He licks his lips, sucking on his teeth and leaning against the table. “Yes, you will,” he argues with a stern voice.

You narrow your eyes at him and give him a bitter smile. “Kiss. My. Ass.”

Your stomach grumbles for the third time and you know that Logan can hear it. You’re pointedly not making eye contact with him. It feels like it's louder than the music at this point and you really don’t want to prove him right.

Without a word, he begins to dig around in the center console. You glance towards him, confused, “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything, just tosses whatever he’s grabbed onto your lap. You glance down at it and frown. It’s somehow cold as you unwrap it. You pull the parchment paper away and let out a relieved sigh.

He ordered you a wrap from the diner without you realizing. You take a bite, your hunger steadily easing away. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, pointedly looking out the window.

He glances over at you and scoffs. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya, kid.”

You roll your eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s already looking at you, a teasing tilt to his lips. “I said I’m sorry,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have been a bitch.”

He shakes his head and waves you off. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant myself. I’ll,” he huffs lowly and forces the words out, “clean up more.”

“I think we’ve just been stuck on the road too long. We’re gonna end up driving each other insane.”

His eyes glance along the signs on the highway. There’s a notice for food and shopping at the next exit and he nods towards it. “We’ll stop at a motel for a few nights. Take a break.” You want to ask him if he’s sure that’s smart.

It seems risky, to slow down for so long. But you need to walk around, breathe fresh air, and stretch your legs. You’re too selfish to tell him not to stop and keep going. Instead, you nod and smile at him. “That sounds really nice.”

He gives you a slight smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. You move closer to him and he turns the radio up. You wonder why he doesn’t want to talk anymore but you don’t push it. You’re too excited to finally get out of the truck again.

The town is nice enough. It’s small, with only a few shops where you buy some new shirts to replace one’s that Logan has torn up. The motel you’re staying at doesn’t have a washing machine so you have to use the laundromat to wash your clothes.

Logan says he’s going to see if he can find a quick job nearby. You wonder if that means a real job or a more bloody one. You decide not to ask questions, instead taking the little change you have and figuring you’ll try to get the smell of grease out of all your clothes.

As you load the machine up and put your quarters in you can’t escape the feeling of someone watching you. You’ve been on high alert ever since Logan stole you away from the house. But this is different.

You’ve gotten used to your own paranoia, you know when it’s real or not. You walk away from the machine, glancing out at the glass walls near the front and trying to see if there’s someone out there. This, oddly enough, doesn’t feel like a police stakeout where they’re going to track you back to the motel and bust Logan.

This is something different. There is a deep-seated primal fear in you that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your heart races as your eyes search the dark street outside. What little glow comes from the streetlights isn’t enough for you to clearly make anything out.

But you feel them, tracking your every move. They’re somewhere nearby, you can’t see them but they see you. You feel sick to your stomach. You glance at the door before racing towards it. You turn the lock, slowly backing away and keeping your eyes trained on the street.

You look into the shadows and find shapes and movements where there are none. Your eyes spin as your brain crafts a horrible image of some monster waiting outside for you. When the timer for the washer goes off you let out a sharp scream, spinning around and clutching your chest as you glare at it.

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, angrily running your hand over your face and trying to catch your breath. You put the clothes in the dryer and by the time you're done, the feeling is gone. You don’t know if they were never there to begin with, or if they got bored and left.

You’d told Logan that you didn’t need a ride, you’d just walk the short distance back to the motel. Now, you use the phone on the front counter and call him, telling him you’ve changed your mind after all.

By the time he picks you up, he looks incredibly concerned. You know you sounded panicked when you called him. You still feel upset about the whole thing. But when he asks what’s wrong you just tell him you got a little scared walking back in the dark.

You don’t tell him someone was watching you because you know he’ll make you pack up and leave again. You want some stability. Even if it's just for a week. So, as stupid as it is, you lie to him and say everything’s fine.

When you try to go to sleep that night you feel like you’re being watched again. Even with the curtains closed their eyes burn into you. You toss and turn under the heavy weight of the sheets, struggling to get comfortable.

There’s a low grumble behind you before Logan throws his arm over your waist and tugs you back into his chest. “Stop movin’ around,” he demands, his voice barely audible. You smile a little at how tired he sounds before forcing yourself to settle down.

He doesn’t give you much choice, using his body as a weight to keep you pinned. You still feel their gaze, even more now, but his proximity brings you enough comfort to get a little bit of restless sleep.

Logan’s up before you, he always is. He comes in with cheap coffee and free breakfast from the lounge. You push the sheets off your legs, your shirt sticking to your back from the cold sweat of your nervous sleeping. You feel a little more at ease this morning.

You wonder if you’re developing some late-in-life fear of the dark. You don’t know why you were so upset last night, you feel perfectly fine now. It’s almost like it was all one bad dream. Logan walks over, handing you the coffee wordlessly and rustling around in your bag for something.

He pulls out the envelope of cash you keep stashed away and frowns at the contents. “Found a job,” he mutters, stuffing the envelope away and turning back towards you. He leans against the desk, face pensive.

You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a bit more so you sound coherent. “What is it?” You take a sip of the coffee and your face screws up at the aftertaste.

“Fighting,” his tone is clipped and you wonder what’s got him up in arms. He walks past you, heading into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. You tilt your head, gaze following him curiously. He doesn’t normally close the door, he usually likes to invite you to join him.

Something happened and you wonder if he’s hiding the same thing you are. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and closing your mind off to the fear from last night.

By the time Logan is done in the bathroom, you’re feeling more awake. You can’t just dismiss what happened last night. You’ve never gotten scared like that before. You refuse to ignore your instincts, but you’re also not going to let whoever that was terrify you into going back on the road.

You don’t want things between you and Logan to grow more tense than they already are. The time away from each other yesterday helped a lot. You no longer want to strangle him when you hear him breathe. You’ll just stick closer to him today and see if you feel the eyes on you again tonight.

“So,” you start, testing the waters to see if he’s still in a bad mood. He glances over at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity but you’re tongue-tied as you stare at him. However many weeks you’ve been with him and you’re never gonna get used to seeing him straight out of the shower.

The towel is draped low on his hips, giving you a taunting look at what lies underneath the white cloth. Droplets drip down his abs and you’ve never wanted to be water more than you do right now. It’s unfair, just how attractive he is.

You always forget what you’re going to say. You can’t think when he has a shirt off, it’s infuriating. Scoffing, you turn away from him and shake your head. You hear him chuckle, you know he knows what you’re thinking about.

“What’s wrong?” He creeps up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“Logan, dammit,” water soaks into the back of your shirt uncomfortably and you tilt your head to glare at him.

He smirks down at you, “Cat got your tongue, kid?”

You roll your eyes and push away from him. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” You snatch a shirt from the dresser and shove it into his hands. “Put this on.”

He scoffs and gives you a disbelieving look. “Are you serious?” You wait for him, gaze expectant. You’re not gonna be able to think when he looks like this. Sighing, he acquieses and tugs the shirt on. His lips fall into a sarcastic line, “Happy?”

Like a switch being flipped you finally remember what you were going to ask him. “The job you told me about. Where is it?”

You can see on his face how little he wants to divulge that information to you. But you know he’s going to tell you. You two made a deal not to hide things, although, you might be breaking your side of that right now.

“Some shitty bar a few miles from here. Listen-”

You’re not gonna like it.

I don’t want you tagging along.

You should just stay here and read or some shit.

You wonder which one he’ll pick today. “You wouldn’t like it, it’s just a shitty little place where I can make some quick cash.” Look at that, it’s rarely ever your first pick excuse. You must be getting better at reading him.

“I’ll come with you,” you tell him because you’re not asking. You’re not staying by yourself tonight and you both need the money. You grin at him even as his face falls in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll fight.”

He doesn’t even say anything and you immediately regret what you said. The look he’s giving you would put you six feet under if it could. “It was just a joke,” you mutter.

“Wasn’t funny, kid,” he tells you, tone clipped as he moves around you to grab his jeans. “I don’t even want you in those places, let alone fuckin’ fighting.”

You purse your lips and take a seat on the bed, handing him his jacket when he begins looking for it. “I have abilities too, you know. Maybe I could win a fight.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I win because I can take the hits people deal me. You can’t,” you don’t bother arguing with him that you heal too. You understand what he means. You might be able to recover physically, but there’s a mental aspect to being knocked on the ground. There’s humiliation and fear in cage fights, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle that side of it.

He waits for you to say anything else but when he realizes you’ve dropped the subject he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ll stay in the truck,” he tries.

You give him a deadpan look, slipping the keys out of your purse and handing them to him. “No way in hell, but I’ll stay by the bar if it makes you feel better.” He stays silent and nods but you know he’ll try and convince you otherwise when you actually get to the place. Tough luck, though, you don’t think it’s safe for either of you to be apart tonight. Even if it’s just staying in the truck.

The setup of these places is always the same. Though, this bar seems to be particularly disgusting in comparison to other ones you’ve been to. You position yourself near the corner, your back to the wall so you’re less likely to be noticed in the crowd.

The fights never last more than a few minutes. And that’s if Logan is feeling generous. Most of the time you only need to be here an hour before people get pissed off and go home. Someone bumps into you and you hear a small, “I’m sorry,” before they rush to claim a stool.

The crowd’s already begun to die out. Most leave while they still have a little money left in their pockets. You duck your head down, catching the eye of the girl who’d bumped into you. She looks young and incredibly skittish. Her eyes keep darting to the tip jar near the bartender.

She quietly asks for water but the bartender just shakes his head, tugging the jar closer to him. You don’t know why you’re drawn to her, maybe it’s because she looks like one of those sad pound puppies, but you take a seat beside her.

“Water,” you order, slipping him some change. When he gives it to you, you pass it off to her, spotting the greedy way she eyes it. You know a runaway when you see one, she clearly needs a little help. But Logan’s got enough on his shoulders, you’re not gonna bug him with adding another person to the mix.

“Thank you,” she gulps it down like she hasn’t drunk anything in days. You feel your stomach twist with empathy. What little cash you have in your wallet, you slip into her bag as you pass by her. Logan will have made enough for it to be spared and it's the least you can do.

Not everyone is as lucky as you to have someone help them navigate a new life.

Logan grabs his jacket, wiping blood off from under his nose and heading towards you. You know he’ll want a drink before you go, he always does. Before he can say anything someone’s shouting the name he uses in the cage. “Hey, Wolverine! I want my fucking money back.”

The big man he’d knocked down earlier takes a step towards him. His friend tries to hold him back, but there’s no stopping him. He’s already had his ass kicked once, what makes him think this is going to be any different?

“Not your money anymore, bub.” Logan scoffs and turns back towards you. You just want to leave now. You don’t want to stay for a drink or go get something to eat. You feel the eyes on you again, but when you turn to find them there’s no one there but the girl.

And she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are wide and staring at something else. “Behind you!” She screeches, and both you and Logan whirl around to find the man barreling towards him with a knife outstretched.

Logan moves so quickly that you stumble back slightly. He grabs the guy's arm, twisting his wrist until the knife drops to the ground. He shoves him back against the wall, claws out and pinning him there.

“Shit,” you whisper, glancing around as the few patrons of the bar stare in horror at Logan. The people counting his money stop and tuck it back into the cash box. You clench your eyes shut in irritation, he’s not gonna be getting paid tonight, that’s for sure.

There’s a strange noise behind you, like someone cocking a gun. You turn around slowly, gasping when you see the bartender pointing the barrel of his shotgun at your chest. He’s not aiming it at Logan, he’s aiming it at you. Like he somehow knows that’s the only way to get him to back off.

It’s not like he was going to kill the guy, besides, he came at him with a knife first. What’s the difference if Logan’s a mutant? He’s defending himself. Why does no one understand that?

“Get out of my bar,” the old man warns lowly, taking a step closer to you. Logan turns around and finally spots what’s going on.

“Pay me and I’ll be on my way.” You know you’d be able to heal from the shotgun blast, but you don’t exactly want to go through it.

The old man laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not getting paid, buddy. Get the fuck out of my bar before I put a hole in your little girlfriend.”

Your eyes narrow in disbelief. You debate with yourself for a moment, if this is smart or not. But the guy’s being a prick and you’re sick of people treating mutants like they’re less than nothing. You flick your wrist and the shotgun goes flying out of his hand.

You glance over at the cashbox and it comes floating towards you, landing easily in your outstretched palm. “Be thankful I’m not blowing a hole in you,” you warn, glaring at the cowering man. You walk forward and he stumbles back and you try not to focus on the sick feeling of satisfaction it brings you. You grab the tip jar and shove it towards the girl at the end of the bar. “Good luck, kid.”

Logan releases the man from the before, taking a step towards you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and rush towards the exit of the bar. You need to just get the fuck out of this town as quickly as possible, you’re not safe here anymore.

Logan seems to agree with you. He gets into the truck and doesn’t turn back to the motel. Instead, he turns onto the highway while you keep your eyes peeled on the trees outside your window. There’s someone out there, still following you.

“Something’s wrong with the suspension,” you glance up from where you’d been working on breaking open the cashbox and frown. Logan’s glaring down at the steering wheel, it seems like he’s struggling to get it to turn properly.

“What?”

He scoffs and glares at you, “How should I know?” He pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and lets in a rush of cool air and snow. You toss the cashbox to the back of the trailer and follow after him.

He goes to where he’s pulling his motorcycle and you feel like you notice an extra bump under the tarp. “What’s that?” You take a step towards it just as Logan pulls it back. You have to bite back a laugh when you see the girl from last night curled up next to his motorcycle.

She gives you both guilty looks and slowly sits up. “I’m sorry,” Logan offers her a hand and she gets out of the trailer. He grabs her bag and drops it at her feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Find a different ride,” he growls, already heading back to the truck. You open your mouth, prepared to argue, but you can’t force her on him. As much as you might want to help her. She’s better off away from the two of you.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” She snaps at him, a little attitude finally showing through.

“Yep!” He gets in the truck and you know he wants to drive off immediately but he has to wait for you. You shoot her an apologetic look as you follow after him, slipping into the seat beside him. He starts the engine, driving off slowly, eyes drifting towards the rearview mirror.

You bite your tongue, trying not to point out how cruel he is leaving her on a snowy highway in the middle of nowhere. He glances over at you, “What?” He snaps.

You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing.” You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s slamming on his brakes.

“God dammit,” he mutters, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. You can’t help the grin on your face, reaching over to open your door. It doesn’t take long for the girl to catch on, scooping up her bag and chasing after you.

“You’re such a softie,” you tease him.

“Shut the hell up.”

Rogue is nice, if not a little odd. She claims to be a mutant too but doesn’t want to give specifics on her abilities. You don’t want to push her but you are curious about the gloves she wears. “What kind of name is Wolverine?” She asks, spotting Logan’s tags.

He glances over at her and smiles slightly, “What kind of a name is Rogue?”

She goes to say something but you throw your arm out, holding her back as you shout, “Logan, watch out!” He tries to hit his brakes in time but the tree’s already coming down. The truck slams into it and it’s like time slows down, only for a moment.

You can feel the impact of your body against the windshield, the glass dragging along your scalp and skin. It’s like a million razors each slicing into you. And then, you’re flying through the air, head snapping so hard against the ground you can’t see anything.

You hear something happening around you, a roar that doesn’t sound human echoing through the air. There’s the sound of metal crunching and someone is screaming in the distance but you can’t see. It’s not like a total void of darkness, there’s just nothing.

You feel the blood slowly leaking down the back of your skull and something lands harshly against your head. You don’t think much time has passed. When your eyes finally open, however, you’re not lying on the pavement.

The world around you is foreign. It smells like a hospital but it’s not like any you’ve ever seen. X-rays are hanging on the wall and paperwork is scattered on a desk near the bed you’re lying on.

Your mind is blank for a moment. Slowly turning back on while you process the sudden change of scenery. You don’t even remember closing your eyes, you don’t know when your vision came back to you or how long you’ve been here.

The terror sets in quickly. You throw the blankets off your legs, staring down at the pajamas you wear in disgust. Someone had changed you. They’d run tests and done X-rays on you and you don’t remember a second of it.

You rip the needle out of your arm, tossing it to the floor and running towards the door. Your feet slip on the metal floors as you run but you’re afraid to stop. Everything around you looks more and more like a lab.

Did someone from the bar call some government agency? You’ve heard horror stories from your father about the tests the military has run on mutants. You’re starting to worry that’s what's happening to you.

But you doubt the military would make it so easy for you to escape. This has to be something else. You’d heard other voices when you’d been lying on the ground. People who had been trying to help. Could that be who took you?

“You caught on quicker than your friend.” You nearly fall flat on your face, flipping around to see who spoke. But no one’s there. You’re completely alone. “I’m just grateful you didn’t choke out one of my associates.” it’s coming from beside you now.

It’s all around you, the voice floating through the walls until you think he might be in your mind. “Much faster than your friend,” he sounds gleeful and it makes you even more anxious. “I’m a telepath, darling, nothing to fear. If you’d just take that elevator and come up to meet me.”

You’d have to be an idiot to actually listen to the voices in your head. But you don’t see another way out of here. So, reluctantly, you follow the floating voice’s instructions and slip inside the elevator.

When the door opens up again you don’t have a chance to step inside before someone’s pushing you back. Logan stands in front of you, hands clamped tightly around your shoulders while he looks you over.

You sink into his arms, hugging him tightly to you. You’d been terrified you were all alone here. It’s more than a relief to see him again. “You’re okay?” He asks, pulling back to look at you one last time.

You nod, throat too dry to try and form a coherent sentence. You glance over his shoulders brows furrowed at the people awkwardly watching you reunite. There’s a man in a wheelchair smiling at you, “Ah, glad you could make it.” The floating voice, of course. “Logan here was quite worried about you.”

Logan turns to glare at the man and you offer a slight smile. There is something comforting about him. You’re not exactly threatened by an old guy in a wheelchair. The redhead behind him, however, is bugging you. Something about the way she’s looking at Logan doesn’t sit right with you.

“Welcome to my school for the exceptionally gifted,” something about the way he says that makes you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t know what he means until there’s a puff of smoke behind him and some kid is walking by with their hair on fire like it’s nothing.

Mutants. It’s an entire school for mutants. You think you could pass out again.

“It’s the best place we could have ended up, Logan. This is amazing.” You’ve been going back and forth for an hour. He won’t see reason. He keeps saying you need to leave. That you don’t know these people and it could all be one big trap.

You don’t understand him, why he’s so desperate to get away from people like the both of you. You’re rejected in every other corner of society. You could have something real here.

It hits you at once. That’s the problem. He’s not ready for something real. He’s not used to it because he’s never had it before. At least you could pretend at a sense of normalcy living at home. It’s an entirely new concept to him, sticking to one place for so long.

“We don’t know these people,” he hisses, leaning over the bed to argue with you. You narrow your eyes but your conversation is cut off by a knock on the door. You sigh, walking away from him and swinging the door open.

Jean is on the other side, a surprised look on her face when she sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to drop these off to Logan.” You glance down at the towels in your hand and give her a strained smile. That’s a flimsy excuse if you’ve ever seen one. “I must have the wrong room.”

You step to the side, opening the door wider so she can see him. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy angrily unmaking the bed. “No, you have the right one.” You hold your hands out expectantly, “I can just take those for you.”

The look on her face is priceless and finally causes a real smile to grow on your lips. She wordlessly hands you the towels, looking disappointed. You don’t know if it's because of what she was trying to do, or because she couldn’t do it.

Before she leaves you call out a quick, “Tell Scott I said thank you again. Wouldn’t be here without him, after all.” Her shoulders tense and she rushes back down the hall. Whatever little crush or interest she has with Logan is going to need to be dealt with on her own.

You’ve got enough shit going on without having to worry about her too. You shake your head and slam the door shut, tossing the towels on the desk. Logan sits on the bed, watching you with an odd look.

“What was that about?”

“She’s into you,” you tell him bluntly, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t even blink, just glances between the towels and you before shrugging.

“Not interested.” You don’t want to admit that you feel any relief. There was never any real doubt. But it’s still nice to be reassured.

You slip into bed beside him, taking his hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. “I know that this isn’t what either of us was expecting, but this is good, Logan. We don’t have to worry about pretending we’re something we’re not. We don’t have to worry about my dad or anyone finding us.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. But he lets out a heavy sigh and drags you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, placing a brief kiss against your forehead. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay. But I’m not putting on that fucking costume.”

You laugh a little, peering up at him with a grin, “Deal.”

There’s a place for you here, even if there isn’t in the rest of the world. You can be safe here, you don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to fear the eyes on the back of your head because they can’t get you here.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡

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

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allilium @insomniachox ♡

Asked for part two: @enchantedbutterflies @strawberrylore @ittoscumdump @enananawoah @wotcherboo

@cali0101 @fluffy-b33z @pcrushinnerd @izbelross @saltwaterburns

@likeficsinthewnd ♡

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #wolverine #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #hugh jackman x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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astonmartinii · 11 months

Text

we don’t play about halloween | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem reader

max doesn’t play about three things: formula one, his cats and his girlfriend’s love for halloween

MASTERLIST | TIPS

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 607,344 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: yes we dress up to carve pumpkins, it’s rude if you don’t.

view all comments

user1: gosh they are so cute

user2: did max just dress as himself whenever he’s within 5ft of y/n?

maxverstappen1: i get why the americans don’t play about the statue of liberty

yourusername: i think they should build one of you in zandvoort

maxverstappen1: and they still wouldn’t worship it as much as i worship you

yourusername: i literally light candles in your name and pray for you with you mum, i think i worship you more sorry

maxverstappen1: the ONLY loss i’ll take

user3: i feel lonely year round because of them but it’s SO much worse during halloween

user4: they are the definition of the couple costume they invented it and they PERFECTED it

landonorris: i thought your apartment was a safe space, why did i get harassed over my costume?

yourusername: it was more of the lack of costume? “streamer” does not count

landonorris: who actually dresses up to carve pumpkins?

maxverstappen1: COOL PEOPLE

yourusername: imagine not dressing up and having an awful pumpkin … could never be me

landonorris: STOP BULLYING ME

maxverstappen1: do better then.

user5: obsessed with how peace and love y/n is for the whole year but as soon as someone doesn’t care about halloween it’s fight time

charles_leclerc: remind me to never accept an invite to a halloween event at the verstappen-l/n household - far TOO much stress

yourusername: but you’re like the only one who deserves an invite to next year because the air max costume slayed

maxverstappen1: i might even let you back on it

charles_leclerc: might???

maxverstappen1: follow me on instagram

yourusername: 2019 was so long ago we really need to move on

danielricciardo: you seriously underestimate just how petty these men are

maxverstappen1

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 894,560 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: halloween is a full family affair

view all comments

user8: JIMMY AND SASSY I CAN'T

user9: yall looking at the croissant and the lobster i'm focusing on AMY AND NICK?

user10: has max even seen this film?

maxverstappen1: nope i just like doing the costumes y/n wants to do

user11: i wish i had enough friends to have like ten billion halloween parties

oscarpiastri: i didn't know what to expect but i did not think i was going to see alex trying to drown george at the apple bobbing station

yourusername: i let them work out their own mess as long as they don't accidentally flood our living room again

oscarpiastri: AGAIN?

maxverstappen1: f1 drivers are just competitive about apple bobbing as they are about driving

alexalbon: in my defence there is a sick trophy for the champ i simply cannot let anyone else win it

user12: they got a trophy made? and girlies are serious about this?

yourusername: custom trophies for apple bobbing, pumpkin carving and best costume

alexalbon: three time apple bobbing champ right here

charles_leclerc: i'm coming for best costume this year

danielricciardo: pumpkin carving was an easy dub last year

maxverstappen1: but no one has out done us for costumes thus far

yourusername: and that's not bias, there is a democratic voting process x

user13: i need to be in this friendship group right now

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, maxverstappen1 and 723,409 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: it's the most wonderful time of the year ! thanks to everyone who came out and making the spooky season special. p.s. shout out to max who found this wig while going through our costume box and insisted on not taking it off the whole set up.

view all comments

user16: NOOOOO WHY IS HALLOWEEN OVER ALREADY

user17: rip to all of us who were hoping for a sexy y/n x max costume

user18: they heard we wanted sexy and gave us ratatouille i hate their asses

oscarpiastri: okay so lando wasn't lying when he said you guys go insane for halloween

yourusername: i fear not. i hope you enjoyed your dip in the pool, we found you in a guest room in my bath robe at 3am

oscarpiastri: oops.

maxverstappen1: you fared better than others on their rookie halloween appearance, just ask lando and charles

landonorris: you told me there was no alcohol in the jelly so it's not my fault i ate the whole bowl and threw up in your shower

yourusername: wow way to blame the victims there lando, you literally blocked the drain

landonorris: MAX SAID THERE WAS NO ALCOHOL

yourusername: it was labelled with the ingredients. you just can't read

landonorris: no comment

yourusername: and charles got so drunk that he decided he would sleep on the couch but got 'lonely' and insisted on cuddling with us

charles_leclerc: Y/N!!!! YOU SAID YOU'D KEEP THAT A SECRET

maxverstappen1: don't worry we thought it was cute

carlossainz55: wait is that why you came as a "cuddle bug" this year?

charles_leclerc: NO

alexalbon: and that must be why he got best costume RIGGORY

yourusername: no riggory here, you and lily as mavis and jonathon were a close second

user19: i won't rest until i have an invite next year.

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 821,309 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: sorting the recycling with your head barely attached is always the worst part of halloween

view all comments

user20: drunk max looks like so much fun

yourusername: i think i might drink my weight in coffee today but i need to see the kitchen floor soon before i lose my mind

user21: ma'am i know you're clinging to life rn but can we know who won what?

alexalbon: ALEX ALBON APPLE BOBBING CHAMP FOUR YEARS IN A ROW

charles_leclerc: i won best costume and it's purely because i'm cute cause NO one there knew about my cuddling escapades last year

landonorris: ugh pretty privilege back at it again

charles_leclerc: jealousy is a disease get well soon

oscarpiastri: my pumpkin ended up winning !! turns out people love a kangaroo in the ghostface mask

maxverstappen1: first rookie to win that title (i am so impressed by the kangaroo)

yourusername: you were actually so good you have to help me with all the decorative ones next year

oscarpiastri: i'm in

user21: but who won the real award - most embarrassing moment?

maxverstappen1: daniel got stuck in the door in his inflatable horse/cowboy costume

danielricciardo: NO esteban dressing as the cheese string man was worse

estebanocon: that's real creativity at least i didn't fall asleep in the bath like carlos

yourusername: not to gang up on carlos but the blanket you took in their is damaged beyond repair and i request a replacement

carlossainz55: fair, but it was me, lando and george in the tub

georgerussell63: fake news @carmenmundt

carmenmundt: i was also at the party babe, it was impressive how you all fit in there

user22: the fact they do all of this and race like two weeks later and the teams just deal with it

maxverstappen1: we've done much worse on race weekends

yourusername: someone didn't have to try and get home after abu dhabi 2021, halloween is nothing compared to that

note: a lil halloween one for you all. i also DO NOT PLAY ABOUT HALLOWEEN. and am currently planning my costume lol. just wanted to get a small one out before all my work comes in tomorrow, much love xx

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 #f1 x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

Hear me out.....pretty...pretty Please, some general fluff headcannons for 141 and Konig?! I'm desperate for some fluff. Stuff like how soft they r how they r at home, kisses that sort of thing? Id die of happiness if u did!!!!!?????

141 + König General Fluff Headcannons

Warnings: fluff🩷, mild NSFW references

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

It takes him a while to open up to you, but once he does? He's yours forever.

He is more of a listener than a talker, and he is damn good at listening

You always have to be within his line of sight. He always wants to make sure you're safe.

Definitely gets up before you in the mornings and loves to wake you up with coffee

Not big on PDA, but he doesn't mind holding your hand out in public.

Doesn't say I love you often, but when he does, it turns your whole world on an axis

Says no to a getting a dog at first, but when you finally get him to say yes? The dog is that man's best friend.

He's not a very good cook when you first get together, but he teaches himself in secret one year to surprise you on your birthday by making you your favorite meal. (Your heart nearly melted at the proud smile on his face when he told you he made it)

This man is loyal as hell. You will NEVER catch him looking anyway at anyone the way he looks at you. No person's beauty in his mind will ever compare to yours

Loves going for long car rides with you. Weekend trips, day trips, whatever works for him. Will ALWAYS have his hand resting on your thigh

He developed a ritual with you, where he will wear one of his hoodies for a few days straight so it smells like him when he goes on deployments

Secretly loves when you wear his dog tags. It's a kink of his he won't voice out loud

Loves to spoon you in bed. Very rarely will he not be holding you, or touching you in some way when he sleeps

Takes him a while, but he'll start to look forward to holidays with your family. They welcome him with open arms, and for the first time in a long time, Simon feels like he has a true family who loves him

John Price-

Loves to hear about your day. First thing he asks you when you come home after work is how was your day? And this man GENUINELY listens

Loves to spoil you. Man gives inadvertent sugar daddy vibes. You even hint at something you like or want? He will get it for you

Huge on spontaneous dinner dates. Loves to come home randomly and tell you he's taking you for a night out

Literally has the hardest time saying no to you. For ANYTHING.

He tries to act all tough, but this man is so whipped for you

Loves when you rest your feet in his lap on the couch, as he loves to massage them for you after a long day

Fight me, but this man loves to take baths with you. He loves to relax in the hot water, with you against his chest. He can literally fall asleep like this

Always insists on paying when you go out to eat. Never, ever let's you foot the bill (if you pout enough, he may let you, but will feel bad about it afterward)

Will watch any TV show you want. He says he hates romantic dramas, but he's just as invested as you are

Kisses with him are always longing, and always want you leaving more

Man is a Valentines Day legend. Flowers, chocolates, jewelry, fancy dinners THE WORKS

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

An amazingly fun boyfriend to have.

Johnny always wants to do something fun, go somewhere fun

He's surprisingly amazing at giving massages

Doesn't mind PDA, he'll randomly kiss you in public, hug you, and hold you close. He doesn't care who sees.

Loves to try new things. Whether it's food, movies, or something to spice up the bedroom, the man will never say no to trying something at least once

Not a morning person, and he will have an iron tight grip on you in an attempt to force you to stay in bed longer with him every morning (he always ends up succeeding)

His ideal date with you is a pub. Something with good food, good beer, and even better company.

Loves to "mislead" you about when he's coming home from a mission, because he absolutely adores the look on your face when he surprises you earlier than expected

Adores double dates. Loves to hang out with couple friends.

When you're walking on a sidewalk, he'll always push you on the inside so you're away from the cars

Definitely is that boyfriend that will send you a dozen tik tok reels a day

Please go to an amusement park with him. He'd be so happy winning the various carnival games for you, getting you any stuffed animal of your choosing

You two cannot do surprises for one another. You get too excited and end up telling each other gifts or surprises the minute you plan them

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

This man loves to surprise you with flowers. Had a bad day? Flowers. Wants you to feel a little extra loved? Flowers. Thought you looked cute one day? Flowers.

Loves to go to furniture stores with you. Even if you don't actually need it, the two of you can spend hours looking around at various stores

Enjoys cooking for you. He's one to try new recipes, and loves seeing your reactions to them.

Firmly believe this man loves to dress up as a couple and that Halloween is his absolute favorite holiday.

Adorably loves to have a "chore" day once a week with you, where you both do house chores together for a few hours, while each of you gets to pick what song plays in the background

So supportive of any hobby you might have. Like to paint? He'll continuously buy you paint brushes. Love video games? He'll buy you any new one that comes out he'd think you'd enjoy.

Whenever you guys go out, he always orders something you like for his meal, in case you don't like yours

If you have longer hair, he loves to play with it and help you style it

Best movie buddy ever. He LOVES going to the movies with you, and will get you all the popcorn and snacks you desire

Will hold your bags for you while you shop, and will fight you if you try to carry your own

König-

Possibly the sweetest boyfriend out of all of them

You will catch him staring at you ALL the time. Any second he gets, he will be looking at you

Loves date night ins. Cooking together or getting takeout and cuddling on the couch together while watching a movie? This man'll be in heaven

Loves to offer you his arm in public. Plays into his size kink when your small hand wraps around his bicep whenever you walk anywhere.

Man will WORSHIP you in bed. Wants nothing more than to make you happy in every aspect of your life.

Is more of a cat person than a dog person, so you two end up getting quite a few kitties around the house

Always kisses you like you're delicate. Loves to place gentle, loving kisses to your lips when you least except it, and his cheeks always flush a deep pink when he does

Will always shower with you. When he's home from missions you very, very rarely shower alone. Loves to help you shampoo your hair

Adores ADORRESSS when you wear his clothes. Triggers the man's size kink like no other when his shirts are like dresses on you

Amazing at aftercare. Always wants to make sure you're satisfied. Will warm a towel for you, get your water-whatever you need.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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ponderingmoonlight · 10 months

Text

Yoriichi saving you just in time from getting killed by a demon

Pairing: Yoriichi x midwife!reader

Word Count: 4k

Synopsis: Your job takes you to the poor Kamado family, who are expecting their first child. But instead of a joyful birth, you are greeted by the cruel claws of a demon. What luck that an extraordinary swordsman shows up on this fateful evening.

Warnings: near death, injury, child birth, I'm not a midwife mystelf so this part isn't that detailed, lots of angst but comfort, this is my first demon slayer fic EVER so please show some support, I really appreciate it 🤍 (added 2 additional pics into the fanfic because I'm so amazed by the insane quality of these ai pics)

Tags: @froufrousnowman

„Excuse my rude interruption, but is this the Kamado residence?”

You are exhausted, sweat dripping from your forehead on this warm summer day, the sun shining down on you with all its strength. But you were called here, so you came. After all, this is your job. As a midwife by heart, you fear no weather when it comes to aid another woman by delivering her child.

“Yes, I am Sumiyoshi Kamado. Are you the midwife we were calling for?”

The man in front of you smiles at you kindly. You can tell by one look into his inviting eyes that he’ll be an amazing father. But before that, you have some work to do.

“That’s right, my name is (y/n). May I see your wife?”, you ask kindly, taking off the package of tools you were carrying on your back.

“She’s sleeping at the moment, but please allow me to lead you inside. Would you like to eat or drink something? I just cooked dinner!”

The excitement dripping from his voice really warms your heart. In times like these, gifting a child into the world seems like a burden, like an impossible task. It was in no way granted that an expected child was in any way welcomed. You’ve seen it all, the horrible things father and mother would do to prevent the new life from existing, how fate itself decided to stretch its hands out and take the child away from this earth way too soon. You’ve seen tears of joy, tears of grief, tears of despair. But oh, just one loving look of fresh mother and father into their babies’ tiny face is enough to make it all worth it for you.

“How did your wife feel within the last days? Did she complain about pain, especially in her back? Bleeding? Did she have to defecate more often than usual?”

Carefully, you place your tools onto a white cloth and disinfect your hands with strong alcohol when entering the room.

“She looks very peaceful, that’s great”, you hush.

What a beautiful woman she is, laying on her side with her hands covering her belly even while she sleeps safe and sound. Instinctively you kneel down next to her, gently caressing her cheek.

“This is your first child, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And I am beyond grateful you decided to help her even though we aren’t able to pay you decently. I wish I could give you more-“

“Please, don’t worry about it. I really enjoy being here. And if it helps your wife, no coins in the world are a better reward”, you interrupt with soft voice, looking down at her one last time before getting up and silently leaving the room along with her husband.

Your eyes dart towards the small window. How lovely the sunset looks today. Is it already this late? You must have been traveling for quite some time. As if on cue, your stomach begins to rumble. Well, maybe a cup of tea and something warm to eat would be a blessing right now.

“I am a little nervous. After all, I know nothing about the birth of children and how to care for them afterwards. But I love my wife so dearly, imagining a little child with her eyes truly makes me feel whole. Do you have any children yourself?”

What a kind man he is, sitting opposite to you with a cup of tea in his hand and his eyes glistening in the down-going sun. Despite the cruelness of the world, the tales of demons hunting down humans with what seems like no aim, all the bitterness and tears, this man was able to keep his warm smile and optimism.

“No. While I do adore children, I am not married. It’s hard to find a man willing to marry a midwife”, you explain briefly.

There is no sense in denying the fact that you are of low birth, a self-taught midwife since no man was willing to teach you. And in a world full of gorgeous young girls with skin like porcelain and kimono’s worth more than your housing, you will never catch the attention of a male. But somehow, you’ve found your inner peace with that. After all, helping other woman to finally receive their own little family fills you with enough joy to overlook that you’ll never have a man or a chid by your side yourself.

Confident knocks against the wooden door rip you out of your conversation.

“Are you awaiting someone?” you question.

Within the village you live in, it is told over and over to not leave the house after sunset. And while you don’t consider yourself superstitious, not going out when it’s all dark always seemed plausible enough for you. But now, the sun almost set, the trees around you barely lighten by the weak beam.

“No, but maybe it is someone who needs help.”

You get up from the ground, mindlessly holding onto the cloak in your hands tightly while holding your breath. It might be someone in the need of help. But out here in the woods, who knows…Shivers run down your spine, eyes staring at the door filled with curiosity.

The sight in front of you isn’t one of a robber, an old lady in distress or a demon though. Your orbs widen slightly. No, this is a man. And what a man he is.

The way he carries himself with so much peace and elegance. He looks…majestic. His fuchsia eyes lay upon your host. And even though you don’t understand from afar what they are talking about, you can tell that his firm but calm voice could tame entire oceans. What a remarkable perfect face he has, the only interruption being a scar covering his forehead. So elegantly clothed with a katana attached to his belt? You draw a little closer, take in his sight a little clearer. He looks like one of the men you’ve seen before in your village right after a whole family was brutally killed during night. He was armoured with a katana too. Could it be?

“Are you a demon slayer?”

You want to curse yourself for speaking to him so ruthlessly, for interrupting their conversation so harshly. But you’ve got so lost in his sight that it seems your mouth opened itself.

“Indeed. This is a riskful area. Keep your doors and windows locked during night time and do not leave your wife unattended. Please don’t roam around the house on your own and stay with your husband”, he instructs towards both of you.

Why does he look at you while calling you “wife”? You blink a few times when realization slowly but surely hits you. Oh. Your face reddens instantly, eyes snapping towards your host in pure shock.

“Oh, you misunderstood! She isn’t my wife, but the midwife that will help my wife delivering our firstborn. She’s sleeping at the moment”, he explains calmly while smiling at you.

The stranger’s eyes lock with yours, you can’t help but hold your breath. From all the men you’ve seen come and go in your lifetime, he definitely is the most captivating one. Is it because of his flawless appearance, because he carries himself with so much elegance? Or is it the calmness that radiates from his voice, the power you’re able to sense on him? Maybe nothing, maybe both.

“That is very kind for you. I will stay in this area tonight, but please look after yourself”, the stranger continues, glancing at you one last time before turning around and heading back into the woods.

“Thank you!”

“What an interesting man!”, your host comments towards you, closing and locking the door like he was told you.

“Do you believe in demons?”, you question.

His eyes darts towards you, the positive spark in them gone for the split of a second.

“I’ve witnessed a lot of deaths that happened during the night, terrible massacres with no one surviving. I am firmly convinced that a human being could never to something like that.”

“Humans can be cruel too”, you argue, pictures of all the horrible things you’ve seen within the years you’ve been working as a midwife flooding your mind.

Sometimes you can’t help but wonder who the real monsters in this world are. The demons, the wild animals? Or humans who pretend to be on top of the world, who tear down everything and everyone when they feel like it?

“That is correct. But we are trying our best, right? And that is all that matters for me.”

“It’s getting late, I should look after your wife. Is it alright if I rest with her for today?” you mumble, fingers fumbling with the white cloak to distract your mind from the stranger, from his words, from this whole conversation.

“Of course! I will prepare everything!”

You sign to yourself, gaze glued onto the woman laying in front you sleeping peacefully. Everything will turn good, right?

-at night-

Your eyes shoot open immediately, roaming around the dark room. There they lay, bodies intertwined with each other while being fast asleep. What was that fade away rustle you’ve heard, then? As quietly as possible you lift yourself off the futon Kamado-san prepared for you, naked feet greeted by the cold of the wooden floor underneath. Maybe you just dreamed it. Or is an animal outside? Given the fact that you are located in the middle of a forest, this wouldn’t be a surprise. You furrow your eyebrows, a fade away cracking from outside catching your attention all over again. No, something is off, you can sense it by the way your guts turn.

Instinctively, your hands grab the knife with which Kamado-san prepared your food just a few hours ago. You are by no means an experienced fighter, you have been skilfully avoiding situations like this your entire life. But waking up both of them over nothing would be ridiculous. Just a little glimpse outside the door, just to check on what’s probably a deer. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, palms sweaty in response.

With your free hand, you grasp the handle of the door. Breathe in, breathe out. Tame your pounding heart, get a hold of yourself. With a swift motion, you swing it open.

And get greeted by a pair of venomous red eyes.

There is no time to react any further. Not too late you are able to escape his grasp, naked feet carrying you further inside the forest.

“A demon! There’s a demon outside! Get into safety! A demon!” you scream on top of your lungs.

Please, let Kamado-san hear your desperate cries, let him drag his wife into safety. The disturbing tall and crippled figure of the demon draws closer to the house, closer to the soon to be family.

You don’t know what has gotten into you. Sympathy, a protective instinct? Whatever it is forces you backwards, right into the claws of the demon.

“I can’t allow you to harm a single soul in this house”, you hiss through gritted teeth, holding onto the knife in your hands for dear life.

How is it even possible to kill a demon? Do you even stand a chance against it? It doesn’t matter now. You slash forward with a cry of determination, aiming for its carotid artery. The cut doesn’t have to be deep if you hit him with enough precision, your muscle strength should be enough.

But before you are even able to come close to his body, his claw slices open your right arms with ease. Your eyes widen in pure horror, body unable to move even an inch. It moved so fast you weren’t even able to see its hand moving, sliced you open so effortlessly while you’re gasping for air like a fish on land.

Your body falls to the ground, the demon positioning itself on top of you. No, you won’t let it end like this. After all, you still have plenty of work to do, Kamado-san’s wife didn’t deliver her child yet. With full force you push your arms against it, trying to keep your keep your face out of its gaping mouth.

With one push you free your arm, yanking the knife into its eye. Now or never. While its loud groans fill the air with fright, you get off the ground, run deeper into the forest, desperately try to stay alive. You can’t die like this. Not you, not Kamado-san, not his wife, not their unborn baby.

But the demon is right on your tracks, hunting you down the dark forest without any mercy.

“Ouch.”

A moment of inattention is enough for you to stumble over a thick branch, knees meeting the floor harshly. Is this your end? All you can do is stare up, glossy eyes widen in the dim moonlight with a tiny trail of its blood on your face. Hopefully the demon slayer from last evening will return soon enough to at least safe Kamado-san and his family. If not you, at least they need to survive.

There you kneel, face gone emotionless, orbs directed towards the frightening creature that lunges towards you. One hit. One hit of its claws will be enough to behead you. One second and your life will be nothing more than a fade away whisper in the darkness, ended way too soon just like so many others. You never thought it would be you, that of all the people you’d get killed by a demon slayer. After all, you were always so skilled in avoiding trouble, never allowing yourself to get into danger.

But oh, now you are. And it will cost you your young life.

Yoriichi can’t catch his breath, feet carrying him so rapidly to the scene laying itself out in front of him that the trees around him merge. He told you to stay inside, to keep windows and doors shut. Why are you outside? Where are the man and his wife? Please, let it not be too late, let him be able so safe those people.

Finally. With a determined slash of his blade, the demon in from of him gets beheaded, its ashes raining down onto the ground. You look…uninjured. Frightened, in pure shock, but uninjured. And unbelievably lovely with the dim moonlight highlighting the delicate features of your face.

“Are you alright?” he questions softly, slowly approaching you and stretching out his hand.

Carefully he lifts your trembling limbs off the ground, your hand holding onto his for what seems like dear life while your sharp and heavy breaths hang in the cool air.

“Yes”, you finally breathe out.

“Are the other two alright? Did someone get hurt?”

“There are inside. It was only this one. I lured him away”, you huff.

Yoriichi swore himself to never get close to another human being again, to fulfil his duty in silence. But you…Did you really risk your life for a family you didn’t even know until yesterday? Did you run into the woods so selflessly to distract the demon? What a brave woman you are, truly remarkable.

“I was hoping for you to return”, you add.

His warm hand feels almost therapeutic against yours, calming down your tingling nerves and beating heart. You survived. Is this really possible? While kneeling down and staring right into the face of that frightful demon, you already accepted your fate. But that he’ll show up like a knight in shining armour, saving you just before getting beheaded…It seems like a miracle to you.

“I came here as fast as I could. This area was full of these creatures”, he explains briefly, fuchsia eyes resting on you.

“(y/n)!”

A thick stone falls from your heart. It’s him.

“Kamado-san, is your wife alright? Are you alright?” you blabber, the man sprinting towards you as if his life depends on it.

“You saved us. Even though you don’t even know me and my wife, you risked your own life to save ours. And you…You really came. I’m beyond thankful.”

He falls to his knees, leaving you completely speechless.

“She really was outstanding brave. Normally the sight of a demon alone is enough for most humans to lose their minds. You are exceptional, (y/n).”

It sounds so strange, hearing your name out of this charismatic stranger’s mouth. But the way his eyes lock with yours sends shivers down your spine, makes your heart pound against your ribcage all over again.

“What is your name?”

“Yoriichi Tsugikuni.”

Yoriichi. What an exceptional name that matches his majestic appearance perfectly. It seems so easy to get lost in his eyes, to study every inch of his face. And his smell…

“I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation, but I think my wife will deliver her child soon.”

Your eyes dart towards Kamado-san immediately.

“Why are you saying so?”

“Since she woke up from your screams, she seems to have contractions.”

You don’t think twice. As fast as your feet are able to carry you, you sprint back into the house, back to the reason why you originally came here.

-the next morning-

“Sleep well. You deserve it”, you whisper into the woman’s ear gently, wrapping her up inside a blanket before leaving the room discretely.

The birth went smooth and faster than you expected for a first born. Not long after you arrived by her side, she delivered the baby with tears of joy running down her face, her husband telling her over and over how much he loves her. It was bittersweet, seeing in front of your very own eyes what you’ll never have. Just after encountering him, just after those strange feeling that he triggered in you.

“I’m glad to see you are alright.”

You stop in your tracks, staring at the back of him in disbelief. There he sits, facing the sun while his broad shoulders catch your attention all over again.

“I’ll make some tea”, Kamado-san discretely announces before hushing into the house.

“I am in no way responsible for the miracle that happened tonight. That was you and Kamado-san’s wife”, you explain briefly, sitting down next to him.

The sun caresses your skin gently. You never thought its hot beams would calm your nerves before the incident of this night. You smile at the little bundle of joy Yoriichi is holding in his arms. Oh, how well it suits him. Someone like him must be a good father.

“I’ll be leaving after I had a cup of tea. It wouldn’t be right to keep eating for free here”, he announces all of the sudden.

“Don’t say that.”

Out of instinct, you place on hand on his firm shoulder and wrap the other around his strong biceps.

“You saved our lives tonight. It if hadn’t be for you, not only would we be dead, but this child you’re holding in your arms wouldn’t be born, either.”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

Your eyes freeze, unable to tear away from his beautiful sight. Why does he make you feel this way? What is it that makes this stranger so special? Is it his sword skill, his ability to fight? No. In fact, you couldn’t care less about that. It’s the way he carries himself, the elegance within every step he takes. It’s the fact that he sacrifices himself for others.

Just like you do.

“Like what?” you hush.

“As if I am some kind of special person. I don’t deserve the affection you hold in your gaze.”

“You deserve every spark of affection for your being”, you argue.

“You’re wrong about that. I failed to protect anything that was important to me. And throughout my life, I was unable to do what I was supposed to do. I am worthless.”

“How could you even say something like that? How could you talk about yourself so negatively after saving four lives this night?”

“Because of the countless lives I failed to protect.”

“So what? Does it make be a bad midwife that I wasn’t able to save every single child? The losses are tragic and never forgotten, but as long as we are doing our very best, there is nothing to regret. Tonight, you were able to save a young family. You should be proud of yourself instead of talking you down.”

He stands up, handing you the new-born carefully before grabbing his sword.

“Are you about to leave?” Kamado-san questions from afar, storming outside with tea in his hands.

You thoughtlessly hand him is son, eyes directed towards the charismatic man in front of you.

“I have to leave now. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Wait!” you shout all of the sudden.

You don’t know what has gotten into you, but there you are, running after him and grabbing his hand just like you did this fateful night.

“Will I ever see you again?”

For a moment, time seems to stand still. He can’t believe his ears, usual tame heart almost beating out of his chest. When was the last time a woman ran after him, the last time a female even looked his way? He can’t remember. But especially you…Why would a woman like you be interested in a broken man like him? What do you see in him?

“Why would you want that?”

“I can’t tell. I just know I have to see you again”, you reply automatically.

The air between both of you seems thick enough to get cut by his knife, your eyes almost piercing through the back of his head. Please, just say something. Just move, turn around, smile. Just do anything besides standing still. Never in your life did you even think about the possibility to get to know a man better. Why him? Why a man you didn’t even know before last evening? Why someone who seems so unapproachable?

“You will see me again.”

And with that, he’s gone in the wind, leaving you with your feelings all over the place.

-a few months later-

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come”, you comment, resting your head against the cool grass.

The weather changed. As soon as the evening arrives, it’s getting way too cold outside to stay for long. But when he’s here, none of that seems to matter.

“You know I always do. How was your day?”

He lays down next to you, closing his eyes for a brief moment while you position your head on his shoulder. Oh, how much you loved these innocent little meetings. After you returned to your little village, Yoriichi found you wherever you went. Always keeping an eye open for you, staying longer from meeting to meeting. Until you randomly laid down in the grass the whole evening, talking about your life and eventually, got even closer. Innocent touching, him drawing circles on your back while you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

“The baby I delivered today, they were actually twins. Two healthy girls, the father almost fell unconscious when he found out.”

Your cute little giggle lights up the air around him and fills his heart with joy he hasn’t felt in a long time. Being happy seems so easy since he got to know you.

No. It’s far more than simply knowing you. The feelings he holds for you go far deeper than that.

“I love you, (y/n).”

Your heart skips a beat, gaze darting towards him the second those magical words leave his lips. Did you dream that? Are you really resting in the meadow with Yoriichi telling you none other but that he loves you?

How much you longed for this sweet moment, how often you thought about saying those words too. Without hesitation, you press your lips against his.

While the world around you seems to fall apart, at least this is fine. Yes, laying here in Yoriichi’s arms while tenderly kissing him like you’ve always imagined makes everything around you whole again.

“I love you too”, you whisper against his lips.

Who would have thought going to work and almost getting killed by a demon would turn out this nice?

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russellsppttemplates · 7 months

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Sharing is caring (George Russell)

A long weekend with the Russells

Note: english is not my first language. I know this is very very very overdue, but hopefully it's still enjoyable!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you guys doing well back there?", you asked the kids as George drove the four of you up to his parents' house. According to the screen display, you still had a little over an hour until you arrived at George's parents house where you would be staying for the long weekend to enjoy some family time before the season picked up again.

"Does anyone need a bathroom break?", George asked, looking at Olivia and Arthur through the rear view mirror, "I'm fine", Olivia chirped in, "me too, I'm okay", Arthur added.

"You're doing okay, too?", George asked you, hand on your thigh as he drove, "I'm fine. I never want to say it too loud, but I think morning sickness stopped two weeks ago", you added.

"Little one has had enough causing raucous", George whispered, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"We're nearly there, right, daddy?", Arthur asked as he recognised the streets as the car approached his grandparents' house, "yes, we just turn here and at the end there", George replied as you texted your mother in-law, letting her know to open the big gate so no one had to get out of the car.

"Guys, you're here! Did you have a good trip?", Allison welcomed you into the house, hugging the kids who immediately ran and hugged her legs, "grandma!!", they excitedly said.

"We did, it was fine. There was a little traffic at the end, but we were so close I think it barely bothered us", you said as you greeted Steve, walking inside the house and making sure the kids left their shoes by the door.

"I'm going to take the bags upstairs", George said, kissing your forehead, "I'll be right back", he smiled as you ushered Olivia and Arthur to the bathroom, "Y/N, here, darling, our some slippers on!", Allison offered.

Since Allison and Steve lived on their own again, as every child had now fled the nest, they updated the bedrooms, you and George staying in the guest bedroom with a double bed and the kids occupying the room they had for whenever the grandchildren stayed over.

"Lunch is ready, so when you can come down, we're waiting for you", George's mother called him as he helped you sort out the room for your children, "we'll be down in a little, thanks!".

After eating and helping tidying the kitchen, George took the kids out to the garden, hoping to use up their energy since they spent the whole morning inside a car.

"Is the swing alright, dad?", George questioned, "yes, me and Benjy sorted it out a few weeks ago. It's good as new", he answered, prompting George to take the kids to the renovated swing set.

When he was younger, he didn't spend too much time at home since racing required him to spend a lot of time away, but the times he did spend back home were filled with memories os this swing.

"Is this the old swing you told us about?", Arthur said, unsure of the whole apparatus since he heard stories from when his father and his uncle and aunt were much younger.

"Yes, me and uncle Benjy used to spend a lot of time here with auntie Cara, too! Who wants to go first?", he said as Olivia volunteered.

"It's safe, Arthur, see?", she said as she balanced her body back and forth, making her brother feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing, "I'll share it with you later, okay?".

"Sharing is important", George began, "and the fact that you guys always share is very nice, me and mummy are very proud of you", he said as Arthur picked some flowers from the grass and gave some to Olivia.

"We're siblings, of course we share everything", Arthur said naturally. It was true. For him, even if Olivia picked on his buttons a few times, he wouldn't ever not want to share something with her.

"Would you want to share your things with somebody else?", George tried as the kiss both looked at him like they didn't know what he was on about, "what I means is, would you mind having to share your things with someone else?", he clarified.

The pregnancy news were still between you and George, excluding your doctor. Because the kids could easily spill the news to somebody else and you had been specially careful so the news would stay between the people you wanted to until the doctor considered it was okay.

"I always share with my friends, too. But yesterday I had all the grapes mummy cut up for me because they were really good and I really wanted them", Arthur admitted as Olivia quirked a brow, "I think we could, yes. Even our toys, we share them too", Olivia added.

George seemed satisfied enough with the answers, hoping that when you broke the news they wouldn't have a complete meltdown.

"C'mon, Liv, it's Arthur's turn", George requested gently, the girl hopping off so her brother could have a go.

"What is mummy doing?", your son asked, "she was helping grandma with tonight's dinner when I asked if she wanted to come with us", George offered.

When they arrived back in time to have a quick shower and get ready for family dinner, you and George dressed them in comfortable clothes since it was just close family. Once they started arriving, the kids found their spot on the floor of the living room, playing with toys and colouring books while the adults caught up with eachother.

"Y/N! I haven't seen you in so long!", Cara said as she came up to you for a hug, "we've been busy, but we managed to sort some time out to come up here", you smiled, offering her the little pastries you had been working on with your mother in-law, "these are delicious!".

Excusing yourself from the group, you went to check on the kids, sitting on the sofa and getting a few cuddles from your nieces and nephews, "auntie Y/N!", one of them gasped, "you almost fell asleep while I was showing you my drawing", he said as Arthur snickered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, you can show me again, please", you offered, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

"Darling, do you want some wine? We found your favourite in the shops the other day, Steve bought a couple of bottles", your mother in-law smiled as she stretched her arm to receive your glass when you were all in the dining room, "I don't, thank you for thinking of me, though", you smiled, exchanging a look with George that wasn't missed by his sister.

"I saw that!", Cara pointed out, "what was that?!", she questioned her brother, knowing he would break under her stare.

"Y/N has something to tell you", he quickly offered, passing the ball to your court as you felt everyone's eyes on you.

"This is not how it was supposed to go, but there wasn't a proper plan either, so... we are having a baby!", you announced, unfolding your leggings and letting your small baby bump show.

"Oh my goodness, another baby!", Allison cooed as your children looked at George for confirmation, "you're going to have a little brother, guys!", he said as they ran to hug you baby bump.

"I noticed your tummy was bigger, but I just thought you had a big lunch!", Arthur said, delighting everyone as they laughed, George watching everyone congratulate you before also congratulating him, "congratulations, darling", his mother kissed his cheek.

"We've been a little more careful this time around, did all the tests and in the blood test, the doctor told us were having a little boy", you smiled, kissing the top of your kids' heads as they latched onto your sides.

"Well, we can celebrate with the wine still! Some juice for you, Y/N", Steve poured in your cup.

When it came to bedtime, the kids didn't want to sleep in a separate room from you, and since the bed was big enough, you allowed them to sleep with you and George.

"That's what I'm saying, guys. It doesn't mean mummy is sick, but it means she needs our help more, she won't be able to do all things at once and it's our job to make sure she rests, as well", you heard your husband tell the kids while you brushed your teeth in the en suite bathroom.

"Time for sleep, kids", you said, lying down on the mattress, you and George brushing each of their hairs as they switched off, almost like a button, "they used up all their energy today", George began, "Did you know these two were wondering how they could help you, because they were worried that you are tired. You even fell asleep on the sofa..!", George tried his best to mimick his nephew shocked expression, earning one of your beautiful laughs.

"I love them so much", you sighed, "and I love you", you kissed his lips.

Kissing your forehead, George's hand managed to reach your bump despite the little boy latching on you like a koala and your daughter lying on top of him, drawing random shapes on it, "not as much as I love all of you".

#george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell x reader #george russell fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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lazycats-stuff · 11 months

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My latest obsession > motorcycles ,i know so many people call them death machines but i can't help but get heart eyes when i look at them, anyways i wanted to know how would the batfam react to the youngest family member batbro reader being like that? I'm especially curious about Bruce, will he buy a whole garage for his kid? Or try to steer his interest somewhere else? Also i think Jason will try to be reader's riding buddy <3

Fun fact, my mom also calls them death machines, but I find them cool. Although I would never get on one. I'm kind of scared of riding on one.

Summary: (Y/N) loved motorcycles. Bruce tried to be supportive.

Warnings: (Y/N) loves motorcycles, Jason is the biggest supporter, Bruce is trying to make his son happy.

There is a lot to say about motorcycles. A lot of people thought that they were death machines and extremely dangerous. While that much was somewhat true, it all matters that you are a responsible driver. And that you have a license of course.

And then there were people who absolutely adored and loved motorcycles. (Y/N) was one of those people and Tim has once compared (Y/N) to a golden retriever seeing his owner after 15 minutes for his love about motorcycles.

Now, Bruce couldn't really buy him motorcycles now. (Y/N) is minor and Bruce wouldn't be an irresponsible parent. And more so, he tried to shift his interests when he was younger. Bruce made (Y/N) try every type of sport there is to try. Nothing.

Then Bruce tried to arts. Drawing, painting, photographing, dancing... Anything that Bruce could think of, he did. But (Y/N) never wavered and he has never backed down from his interest in motorcycles.

Bruce now had no other choice but to support his son. He wouldn't buy him a garage full of motorcycles yet, but he would when he is older and when he has a license for driving it. Until then, there shall be no motorcycles in his garage.

Of course, the only person who had motorcycles was Jason. Jason absolutely made sure that (Y/N) rode with him. Of course with a helmet, because Bruce would have his head if he didn't make sure that (Y/N) is safe. Jason would also show (Y/N) how to take care of the motorcycle.

Dick always goes by the theory you need to be a good driver, aware of your surroundings and always careful. He agreed with Bruce about (Y/N) being too young for owning his own motorcycles, but has no issues with him driving when he gets his license, but Jason would have to mentor him first.

Damian just didn't know what to think. He wasn't always a fan, but if you need to go through a shit ton of traffic, you can. They have less space and you can put a lot of them in an average garage. He thought that (Y/N) was too young to even consider owning a motorcycle. Maybe it was just him being over protective, but he didn't like the idea of (Y/N) being hurt.

Damian is most definitely going to threaten Jason to make sure that his brother is safe. Also, (Y/N) can't drive a motorcycle until he is 21 years old at least.

In Damian's mind, that was the perfect age to start because the brain is fully developed then.

Tim just wanted his brother to be happy, even if that meant him having a garage full of bikes. But he will not drive a single one of them until he gets his drivers license and until he is an adult. Nothing before he is an adult.

Alfred thought they were cool, but he is too old to drive one. He knew that (Y/N) loved motorcycles more than anything, but he wanted him to be an adult to drive and to look into more interests rather than just focus on them. Of course, (Y/N) should be happy, but he should be safe too. Alfred would give him lectures about being safe.

Alfred was definitely going to give him a leather jacket, maybe with a bat symbol on the back.

And Jason? As mentioned before, he would fully support (Y/N) in his interest. He would be very honest about his experiences with motorcycles and how dangerous they could be. He would allow (Y/N) to tag with him on the motorcycle, but with a helmet and Jason would most definitely to a motorcycle showcases.

It was amazing how (Y/N) turned into a puppy when looking at them. Jason would just hang in the back as (Y/N) would ask questions excitedly. Jason looked into buying a motorcycle for (Y/N), but he knew that Bruce and the others would have his head for it.

So just waiting for the driver license and adulthood.

" (Y/N) can you come with me? " Bruce asked, Jason standing next to him. (Y/N) glanced up from his book, brow raised. " Did I do something? " (Y/N) asked quickly.

" No, you didn't now come on. " Bruce said and Jason walked over picking him up to put him over his shoulder.

" What the hell?! " (Y/N) screamed in shock and Jason just chuckled.

" Please, we know you don't want to walk. " Jason said, walking down. (Y/N) tried to pinpoint where he was going. Kitchen? Living room? He was shocked when they went outside.

" Jay, I don't have my shoes on! " (Y/N) whined, trying to squirm out of his grip.

" Listen, just relax. " Jason said, switching him up to hold him as a bride. (Y/N) looked around, frowning at the sun. He looked around before his eyes landed on a Harley motorcycle.

" Whose motorcycle is this one? " (Y/N) asked, completely confused, but none the less, he turned into a puppy, with his imaginary tail wagging like insane.

" Yours. " Bruce stated and (Y/N) got a whiplash from the way he turned his head.

" WHAT?! " (Y/N) screamed out, launching himself from Jason arms before running towards it, stopping to examine it. He didn't dare to touch it just yet, still worried that this was a dream.

" It this a dream? Or joke? If it is a joke, so help me God, I will kill you both. " (Y/N) threatened to the two and Bruce laughed.

" It's not a joke, I'm not that cruel. It's yours, but you can only drive here. And I have paid for you to start learning. " Bruce said and (Y/N) turned his head to fast that he must get whiplash. He ran at Bruce before jumping into his arms.

He wrapped himself onto Bruce like a koala and Bruce had to adjust his grip to not drop his son.

" How did you change your mind? " (Y/N) asked, smiling so widely that his cheeks started hurting.

" I see how you love them and I have more than enough resources to buy them for you. But you are not leaving the manor driving one until you get your license. " Bruce said sternly and (Y/N) nodded eagerly.

" I'm serious. " Bruce added and (Y/N) nodded again, still smiling widely. " Now, helmet is in the garage if you want to give it a little ride, but not out of the property lines. Don't forget shoes too. " Bruce said and let (Y/N) down.

(Y/N) hugged Jason tightly, before running towards the bike once more.

" Good idea B. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) examined every inch of the bike. He was in his own world, ignoring everyone.

" I know. He really showed that it's not just a phase. " Bruce said, snapping a few pictures on his phone.

" Oh, we will be ride or die motorcyclists B. And I will teach him everything I know. " Jason promised to Bruce, who still didn't take his eyes off of his younger son.

" I know you will. "

#x male reader #dc x male reader #batfamily #dc comics #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #batkids #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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junebugzzz · 1 month

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emergency commissions open!!!

hey everyone! so i've recently had to go no contact with my abusive family, and it's left me in a critical situation since i was financially dependent on them. i didn't have the chance to prepare for this, and there's a whole whirlwind of visa issues before I can safely be back in my country, but i don't wanna let up on it. because of this situation i'm opening up emergency commissions to help me sustain myself throughout this. this would help feed me, keep me under a roof and help my finances as I deal with shitty visa bureaucracy. i'm not entirely safe in my situation either and any commission i take improves my situation. even if you can't support me by buying my work, please reblog! please please reblog!! it helps me get to other people who can help me. i'm also working on opening nsfw commissions soon! keep an eye out for that on any of my tumblr accounts if you'd be interested. you could also dm me to be in a tag list. in the meantime, if you'd like to tip me, here's my Ko-Fi!

examples:

(i'm on a small time frame to get this post up and get some money in so excuse the bad examples, but i promise i can what you'd be paying for)

prices:

*PLEASE NOTE: i CAN charge full cost per added character - this is unless the additional character is a background character or a character with an otherwise lower amount of required effort. in that case the added character is billed according to the effort needed. In any case, just ask! i promise i don't bite :) we could discuss it and come up with what works for both of us.

how to commission me:

just send me a message with the following info:

a description of the artwork you'd like me to create. it could be ocs, fandom characters or real people. NOTE: i may have a couple limitations with fandom characters (if i dont know them) and real people - just ask!

any (good quality) reference images or inspiration that would help me understand what you want out of this piece.

your preferred communication method (tumblr, discord or email) for revisions and other related conversation.

i'll respond with a concept drawing and a quote, and we can discuss from there! depending on the complexity you'd want me to achieve in your commission, i could increase or decrease how much I ask for. dw, i won't charge you anything without discussing it with you first.

terms:

Payment is to be made via PayPal (preferably in USD) before work has begun.

I retain ownership of the art. Credit me when you use my work. For non-commercial use only.

I reserve the right to turn down or cancel a commission (with a refund in case of a cancelation) at any point if I see it fit.

Please send me clear references so I can better gauge what you want from my work.

Let me know in advance if you don't want your commission to be displayed on my social media, I'll respect it.

The finished commission will be sent via either discord or gmail (whichever you opt)

Commissions can take anywhere from 2 to 15 days to finish, depending on both the complexity of the work and any uncontrollable circumstances from my end.

#artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #commissions open #commissions #digital art

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queermentaldisaster · 7 months

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Shifter!Au.

(this is stemming from my own need to learn more about animals plus an obsession with shifter AUs)

Okay, so Price, he's a little difficult. I wanted to give him a strong animal, one who typically leads the pack...but then I did a little research and decided he's an ✨️Emperor Penguin Shifter✨️, hence why he NEVER shifts in the field. The base has a freezer area to accommodate for arctic animal shifters, and Price literally built a slide to slide around in there. When he finds the others shifted when they didn't want to be, he'll shift and kinda corral them into a safe and comfortable space? If that makes sense.

Gaz. Wild Water Buffalo shifter. Just like the actual Wild Water Buffalo, these types are RARE. They're also endangered. They have a 'pack' mentality, although these are called clans among both shifters and the actual Buffalos themselves. Him and his family are all Wild Water Buffalo shifters as well. They're all scattered across the world, so it's rare to see them. He's got the largest bloodline of Wild Water Buffalo shifters. He often wrestles with Price when he's shifted and Price isn't. Also he gives Price bull-back rides. He tends to shift when mass destruction is needed in battle, because Wild Water Buffalos are like fuckin tanks. They're fast, tough, and can deal mass amounts of damage.

Soap. He's a Red Fox shifter! They're playful, quick, stealthy, territorial, but also really friendly! A perfect match for our silly Scot! He's also the one who shifts the most, because he's the most comfortable in his animal form. He's got two packs. His family and the Force. He doesn't shift in the field unless he's needed to complete stealth missions or get out of a situation really fast. When shifted on base, he'll often tear up the spare punching bags, leading Price to have ordered more than the usual amount, just in case. He also likes using the other three as a jungle gym.

Ghost. He's a Black Panther shifter, originating from the Jaguar shifter line. His mother was a shifter, his father was not. Tommy was also a shifter, as children of shifters tend to take after their mother. The whole shifter thing contributed to both his abuse from his dad and the torture from Roba. He really doesn't shift unless absolutely necessary, so most people think he's not even a shifter. When he does shift in battle, it's often for the increased agility and claws. Ghost suppresses his shifting which is damaging and dangerous. This leads to increased irritability. Soap is the one who eventually gets Ghost to start shifting more.

Tags: @bringinsexybackk69 (if you wanna be added to the Shifter!Taglist, lemme know!)

I'm still figuring out what everyone else is, but I figured I'd bring out the main four first!

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #ghostsoap #ghoap #soapghost #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #price mw2 #captain john price #shifter!au #black panther!ghost #red fox!soap #emperor penguin!price #wild water buffalo!gaz

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vodika-vibes · 2 months

Note

I don’t know if your AU requests are still open so please ignore if not. But I had a thought.

Regency AU with Wolffe. Him and the reader are seen together in a compromising position. Wolffe is going to do the honourable thing and marry her. But she doesn’t know that he actually loves her, so she just feels guilty and like it’s her fault that he’s stuck having to marry her and he has to reassure her That that’s not the case at all

The Next Right Thing

Summary: When you and Wolffe are caught in a compromising position, Wolffe lies to protect your virtue. Only now he’s honor-bound to marry you, and you’re pretty sure you’re ruining his life.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 1034

Prompt: Regency AU

Warnings: Misunderstandings

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, technically, I'm not accepting anymore AU requests for my event, but this idea was so good that I had to write it anyway. So I'm just not going to label it as an Event fic. Because it's Wolffe and I'm so soft for Wolffe. Anyway, I hope you like it!

“Well, that could have gone worse.”

Wolffe sounds positively cheerful about the situation he’s found himself in, and you kind of envy him for it, because you feel like there’s a lead weight in your stomach and it just won’t go away.

“It could have gone better too,” You point out, sounding numb to your own ears. However, you must sound normal enough, because Wolffe doesn’t look worried about you, just amused.

“I mean, dinner ended without anyone punching me or insulting you. I’ll take it as a win.” There’s laughter in his voice, “I guess the marriage proposal really did fix their opinions on me and the situation.”

You think you’re going to be sick.

You love Wolffe. You love his messy curls, his lop-sided smile, his mismatched eyes.

You love how you feel safe when you’re with him, even in scary situations.

You love how he kisses you, his hands pressed against your cheeks to tilt your head back, his lips pressing against yours over and over and over. Until your lips are swollen and your legs are shaking and he’s replaced all of the air in your lungs with himself.

And you know, in the same way that you know that the sun will rise in the morning, that he doesn’t love you the same way. That he will never love you in the same way that you love him.

But he’s going to marry you. Because you were stupid enough to get caught pressed against him in his family’s garden.

You’re going to ruin his life. And you know that he knows it too.

You watch him move around his home as you sink into a chair. Wolffe is a genuinely good man. His whole family is made up of good men who do the right thing because it’s the right thing to do.

And you realize, with startling clarity, that he deserves better than you.

You’re…petty and temperamental and inclined to be selfish. Blade to your throat, you’d be hard-pressed to come up with a single good trait about yourself.

And, suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat and tears pricking your eyes.

You can’t do this to him.

It’s not fair.

“Wolffe—” Your voice cracks with emotion, and his head snaps around to look at you. He looks at you, takes in your shaking hands, tear-filled eyes, and wobbling lower lip…and comes to the wrong conclusion.

He walks over to you and drops to his knee at your side, taking your shaking hands in his steady ones, “I know you’re not sure about marriage,” Wolffe says, in a tone that should be soothing, but just makes you want to sob, “But we’ll have a long engagement, I’ll insist on it—”

“You don’t have to marry me!” You blurt, your voice shaking. And, despite your best efforts, tears leak out of the corner of your eyes. And you know it’s only a matter of time before you collapse into tears.

Hopefully, he won’t think poorly of you when it happens.

Wolffe pulls back slightly and scans your face. And then he reaches up with one hand and gently wipes a tear from your cheek.

It only makes you cry harder, and you slam your hand over your mouth to silence your sob.

Something soft crosses Wolffe’s face and he shifts so that he’s sitting in the chair next to yours. His hands are so gentle as he coaxes you out of your chair and onto his lap, lightly pulling your face to his shoulder. You shudder as he slowly rubs your back and murmurs something softly into your ear.

It’s not really words, so much as soothing noises.

It is, surprisingly, comforting and you find yourself calming down a lot faster than you thought possible.

“There we go,” He murmurs against your hair as your sobs settle into hiccups, and he lightly pushes you back so he’s able to see your face, “Oh, my cyare, what has upset you so much?” Wolffe’s hand is pressed against your cheek again, wiping away the tears with a gentle touch.

“You don’t have to marry me,” You repeat, sounding miserable.

Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “So you said, I’m not sure why you said it though. No one is forcing me to marry you, cyare.”

“You deserve better than me. You can do better than me.”

“According to who?”

“Me. Everyone. I’m…I’m not a good person, I—”

“Hey, no. I’m going to stop you there,” He presses a finger against your lips, “You are a good person. Maybe not the nicest, but you are good.” Wolffe’s smile is small but genuine, “And that’s okay because I’m not that nice either.”

“But marrying me will probably ruin your life and—”

“How could it?” Wolffe asks, “I love you.”

You stop and blink at him, your arguments completely derailed due to those three simple words. “What.”

His smile grows, “I love you. Surely you knew?”

“You never said.” You admit after a moment, “I thought—” You trail off, not sure you want to admit what you thought.

Wolffe tilts his head, “You thought that I was kissing you like that, holding you like that, because…what? You were convenient?”

You won’t meet his gaze, and instead trace a golden leaf on his sleeve with a single finger, “I love you enough to take what you’ll give me.” You finally whisper, shame making your face burn.

Wolffe tilts your head so that your gaze meets his own, “Then let me reassure you. I love you. I want to marry you. I’ve been wanting to marry you for months now. I have no intention of ending this engagement, and if I had it my way this engagement would only be a couple of weeks.”

You stare at him, your lips slightly parted.

“Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t let these negative thoughts upset you to the point of tears anymore?” Wolffe asks.

“I won’t.”

“Good.” And then his lips are pressed against yours and his tongue is easing between your lips, and all of your worries and fears and concerns vanish as if they never existed in the first place.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #regency au

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

Text

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter

a/n Welcome to the tenth and final part. Do tell me if you think this should go on. I'm at the crossroads. Not too fully sure where to go on with this from here. These two have had a journey so had I. Thank you for everyone who tagged along. 🤍✨

warnings: nightmares, overwhelming feelings, past trauma, miscommunication (should have been a warning from the start lol).

Parts in cursive are flashbacks.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

How surreal is the concept of meeting someone and having them change your life forever? Finding a soul that radiates the same energy, or at least the energy that attracts you. Feeling drawn to them. Craving to bask in the warmth of their presence because it just feels right. Because it feels true. Because it feels safe. And you can't help it. No matter what. No matter the obstacles. No matter the fears. That person's soul is there, and all you want to do and think about is how you can't let them go. It was weird. Everything still felt so confusing. It was surreal at times when you would wake up in your old bed, cuddled up between the sheets that you both used to lay under. All the what-ifs and why-not, questioning the choice of staying. Choosing to grow and forgive to allow someone to stay.

Carmen walked through the door. A neatly wrapped package of food was in his hands. He started doing that a lot—bringing food home from family. And not just leftovers, not just something that someone didn't eat. A whole, fully intentional meal. The apartment seemed too silent, and at first, anxiety kicked in—that same anxiety of losing. But the dull light from the living room soon chased those thoughts away. And that's when he saw you. A knitted blanket over your body. Book in your hands, the smell of the scented candles filling the room. And then there were your eyes. The gaze that found him. And Carmen was smiling, soaking up the sight in front of him.

"You're home early", you said as Carmen quickly shrugged off his jacket. "Yeah, not much we could do today. Plus, I had a meeting with the doctor". You close the book, sit up, and allow Carmen some space on the sofa. "How did it go?", the past couple of weeks have felt pretty much like a daze. After an endless amount of tears and conversations, you agreed to move back in with Carmen. Marcus had flown back to Copenhagen alongside Luca. Meaning that you would have to pay for the place you had been renting on your own. And that wasn't an option because you were already tight on money. Was Luca excited to leave you alone in Chicago? No, he was not, but he chose to not fight your choice too much.

"Just be sensible", he said, "Both with your choice and yourself", you hugged him tightly. Letting go of your lifeline felt weird. It left you vulnerable. Fully exposed to the cold world around you. But you knew that you couldn't hide behind Luca forever. "You know that I love you, right?", he muttered, pulling away slightly. "Us against the world forever", you looked at him. Truly look at the man in front of you. The person who jumped in to save you so many times. Who took the hit meant for you. Who drove for hours to get to you. Who sat in the doctor's office with you. "Do you think this is a mistake?", you asked him, but there was no suggestive reaction on Luca's face as he said, "Listen to your heart and then consult with your brain just in case", you had chuckled at his words before you pulled away.

And now you are here with Carmen. Unsure of what status you two held. Partners? Lovers? Exes? Strangers? Sitting in the apartment, which had been clear evidence of Carmen's pain. The distraction painted the apartment in a heap of mess. "I didn't like it. I mean, I never do", Carmen ran his hands through his hair. "It still feels strange. But people... like, I don't know, do they eventually stop finding it weird?", he asked you. Considering that you both were in therapy now, recapping and running through your conversations with doctors was something you did a lot. Strangely, you found comfort in it.

"I don't think you do", you whispered after a moment. "Picture it like this. Does it ever get easier to tell strangers that something in your life fucked you over so much that now you need to see a doctor?", you both snickered, and Carmen moved to open up the boxed food. It felt almost as if you were roommates once again. Just differently from that time in New York, you didn't want one to move out. You were fighting to make this work. To keep one another. To grow the roots that would hold you together.

"How was the art gallery?", you looked up at him in a way surprised that he even remembered. "Exciting. They want me to work on a project with them", you said as if it was nothing. But Carmen's eyes were big, and you could feel true joy in them. "Wait! That's awesome. That's... I'm proud of you", he muttered. You watched him. His sparkly eyes now reminded you of the time he sneaked into an art tour you were doing back in New York. Asking just the right questions. Making the lazy tourists roll their eyes. But your heart had been so full. "I'm meeting with them this Friday for dinner", you said. "Maybe they'll change their minds till then", you shrugged, reaching for the pasta in front of you. "They won't", Carmen said, making you chuckle, "You don't know that", "I know that you're awesome", you sucked in a breath as you watched him for a moment. Letting his words truly sink in.

Carmen's been watching you for a while now. Not in a creepy way, though. He was just mesmerized by how someone was capable of looking so beautiful even while fast asleep. You two had decided to watch a show after dinner. He knew you wouldn't last long. You never did. Getting sleepy almost immediately. The distance between you two seemed astronomical, yet you were only a couple of feet away. Sat at the other end of the sofa. Carmen wished he could hug you. No, he would have settled for anything. But then he at least wanted to feel your body heat. Anything to let him know that this wasn't just all in his head. That you weren't just a cruel joke of his imagination. Carmen watched your eyebrows crinkling up—another bad dream, he thought. And within moments, even while still asleep, you looked so much smaller. So much more powerless as the demons lurking in the shadows took over. Carmen wasted no time scooting closer to you, his fingers brushing the hair away from your face. A scared cry left your lips, and it was as if Carmen's body was working on autopilot. His arms sneaked around your middle as he pressed his chest against your back, bringing you closer to him. Your fingers reach out to grasp his arms. "I've got you", he muttered, "You're safe here. I'll keep you safe". His face was nuzzled in your hair as he spoke. A loud gasp filled the room as your body jerked up, only to fall against Carmen's chest. You let out a shaky breath as you tightened Carmen's hold around you. Afraid you might fall. Afraid you might crumble if he lets go. "Stay", you whispered, holding onto him even tighter. "I was not planning on going anywhere", Carmen muttered, kissing your shoulder.

"I like the black plates. He, of course, has zero opinion until he suddenly has so many opinions that I feel like I will have a whiplash", Sydney said in frustration over the phone. You giggled slightly at how she never failed to call you every time Carmen got on her nerves. "Do the gray one and meet him in the middle", you suggest, dunking your brush into the paint before adding new strokes to the canvas. "Grey, they only have grey with blue", Sydney growls, "I give up". You drop the brush into the water jug. "You want me to come down? Look through it?", you ask her softly. You've been away from the restaurant ever since the fire. Well, not fully away considering that Sydney had turned to your daily reporter, but still. You hadn't put your foot down on that property. "I... You're busy. I don't want to bother you", she dragged out. "I'll be down in a bit. Hold the front line till then, Syd", you told her before hanging up.

It felt almost like a flashback as you made your way down to the restaurant. Flashbacks of your heading there with Carmy right after the funeral. The times you ran up and down the street for nearby deliveries. The times you stood outside with him, just holding his hands and breathing. The times you smoked outside trying to fight your own overwhelming emotions. You never hated the concept of the restaurant. Quite the opposite; it was an interesting little bubble. You valued Carmy's love for food, even if it wasn't your own. Well, a lie. You learned to love food from him.

"Okay, hold it like this", he said, standing right behind you and guiding your hands. Showing you how to cut properly. "Don't use the tips of your fingers to hold", he said, carefully moving your fingers to a proper position. "And then you do that fast shit? Chop, chop, chop", Carmy lets out a low laugh at your impression. Turning to kiss the side of your head, "Maybe no chop, chop just yet. Get used to cutting veggies like this first. The speed of it will come with practice". You made a sad face before saying, "You do it then; it's captivating", you handed Carmen the knife, resting your face in your hands as you watched him do his thing with a light smirk on his face.

Carmen was feeling his anxiety beating right into his ribcage. The people around him were too loud. Too demanding. He felt like the sounds around him were slowly suffocating him. Ruthlessly dunking his head under the water. Keeping him under even as his lungs ran out of oxygen. All he heard was Carmy this and Carmy that. It felt like one of those torture techniques where your libs were tight to different horses, each pulling you to all four different sides. Carmen didn't have answers to the questions people were demanding. He simply didn't know, and now...

"What's all the shouting for?", and that's all it takes. It feels as if everything around him dies down. His lungs now easily welcomed the air around him. Mind slowing down. He lets out a deep sigh as his eyes fall over your frame. Hair up in a messy bun, the one that he loved so much, with loose pieces framing your face. You have one of Carmy's old shirts on. There's a paint stain on it, and for some reason, that makes him smile a little. His salvation. His love. His home.

"My girl", Tina rushes forward, wrapping you up in a tight embrace. "It's been weeks; let me look at you", she cups your face, looking you all over. You can't help but smile at her. Without a doubt, you missed her presence during your weeks away. "You look pale as paper", she says, shaking her head. "I'll make you my mama's soup. I will get you back on your feet", At this point, you're almost convinced that her eyes will not leave you, no matter where you go. "It's not necessarily, Ti", you move to squeeze her hands, but she only huffs, "It's a must, Mi Nino. With a man like that you have to run around", she scoffed Carmy's way, but he only clenched his jaw. Choosing to stay silent. "I'll steal Carmen for a moment and then be out to help", you glance at Sydney reassuringly, watching as her hands full of plates sag at her sides, but you don't let yourself think about it much as you step forward, brushing your fingers against Carmen's wrist before dragging him towards the office.

"You're okay?", you breathed out once the door closed behind you two. It was silent for a moment. Just Carmen's irregular breathing. Your fingers were still intertwined with his, and from the grip Carmy had on them, you knew he had no intention of letting go. "It's just... I just... don't know shit", his voice was barely a whisper. You nod. "Talk to me about it", you mutter. His eyes find you. Talk. Such an easy thing, right? Not to your two lately. But you've both been trying. Trying to not only listen but also hear. See without being asked to. "Yeah, I think I can do that", he says, nodding his head. You brush your fingers through his messy hair, nodding alongside him.

When you emerge from the office, it's a solid hour later. You have sketches in your hands. The idea of the restaurant. Visuals for plating and a whole Pinterest board just for the restaurant vibe itself. Sydney is sitting by the table, her head resting on the surface. A lot had changed while you were away. The place had been closed. At least three walls were missing. There was a mold issue. But mole issues no more... You'll get to that eventually.

"Right, so he wants a classy, sophisticated look. Something that would be good for plating different dishes in", you plop your sketchbook to the table. Reaching for the plate closest to you. "And he couldn't just tell me that?", Sydney huffed, "How do you meet his brain waves?" You let out a chuckle. Oddly enough, you had learned to read Carmy's mind as if it was a book. "So what did he say no to?", you asked her once more. "Amm, let me see. Fucking everything", Sydney gives you a fake smile, and you bit your lip, suppressing a laugh.

With your phone on the side, the mood board opened, you glance from the plaits to the visuals. Quickly making a yes and no line. Sorting everything into different plating arrangements. Mixing pricier pieces with more affordable ones. Pulling up a color palette for different napkin options. Once you were satisfied, you drew your eyes back to Sydney, who stood there with her mouth slightly open. "That's some dark magic shit", she breathed out. "Be careful; it might turn you into a frog", you shimmy your fingers in front of her face before pulling her closer. "This is... This is perfect", her eyes scanned the table in front of her. "Get everyone to vote for what they like best", you suggest; "Carmy will like this", you point to the third option. The contrasting plate colors and clean-edged dishes were something that no doubt would bring him back to Michelin-class places.

You slipped outside for a quick smoke. Enjoying the little breeze of the evening. Needing a little moment to yourself. You breathed out the smoke carelessly before realizing that you were not alone. "Oh, sorry", you quickly chase the cloud away, adding, "You're okay?". The greenish-pale face was clear evidence of nausea. "Just... It's really warm inside", you only nodded in agreement. And then the silence falls, but the insane kind. The one that you know holds a lot of unsaid feelings. You try to ignore it but fail miserably, "Just say what's on your mind, Natalie".

The woman shakes her head. "I feel guilty", she admits, about the whole Claire situation". That name itself sends a shiver down your back. "Don't waste your breath on it; Richie already told me everything", you take another drag from your cigarette but blow out a smoke away from Nat, not wanting to make her feel any sicker. "I never had a girl friend in the family. Boys had been shit with ladies", she breathed out. "But then you came, and there were so many emotions, and I didn't know you, and maybe I got jealous", you turned to look at her once her words died down. "So... you decided to break me and Carmy apart because you were jealous?", you ask her. "Wow, this family is truly insane", you breathed out, shaking your head.

"I just needed someone familiar; we all needed someone familiar,", Natalie said, but you only shook your head. "That's very hypocritical of you. Carmy already knew me very well, may I add. You could have gotten to know me too". She falls silent for a moment. "Did Richie tell you about the letter?", she asked, not meeting your eyes. "What letter?", you breathed out. Nat nods her head as if reassuring herself before saying, "Michael wrote a letter. It didn't say anything about me and Richie besides the general love you all", she said, "But he mentioned Carmy so many times, and...", her voice died down. She looked like a frozen statue for a moment. "Your name was there too. Mikey felt like an ass that he won't get to meet Carmen's future wife. Won't get to tell you embarrassing stories. Won't hold your kids", those words make your own eyes sting. Breath hitching in your throat. You were not sure of what to say.

"I'm pregnant, you know, and he didn't say anything about my kids", she said through gritted teeth. She moved to wipe her tears away quickly. "Oh, Natalie", you said, dropping the cigarette to the side before stepping closer to her. "It was so fucking petty, and I've been feeling so guilty, but I just wanted something to finally be about me", she crocked out as more tears came rushing down her cheeks. You quickly embraced her, bringing her hiccuping body closer to your chest.

"I've never wanted to...", she cried, but you shook your head. "I was never here to take your space and take your brothers away from you. They both love you a lot, believe me", you reassured her. "You stood up for Carmy at the funeral. No one had been so direct with our mother... I just wanted", she whispered, and all you could do was nod because you knew very well what she wanted. Something that you too had been wanting for so long. Someone who could protect her. To always have her back. To turn into a shield against the harsh world around her. That's what Luca was to you. That's what you were to Carmen. "I'm so sorry", she pulled away slightly, looking into your eyes. "I know, Nat, and I forgive you", you muttered, brushing your sleeve over her damp cheeks, "Now come on, you'll get a cold here, and we need to get you something to drink".

Everyone had eventually gone home. But not before eating the soup that Tina had made while sitting on cardboard boxes together. Only now did you realize how much you had missed this in some way. The little gathering after the day. Something warming to look forward to. Sydney put Marcus on the phone, and to see his beaming face was one of the most rewarding things. You knew you had Luca to thank for that. For bringing back the passion and excitement that used to bubble in Marcus. Richie had pulled into a little side hug before he too stepped out of the place. "I'm glad to see you back", he muttered. You didn't say anything; you just squeezed his hand in return.

"What are you doing here?", Carmy's voice brought you back to the room. You had slipped away to look at the wall facing the entrance. A big white wall that was staring right at you. "Just looking", you muttered. Carmen sat down beside you, following your gaze. He didn't say anything for a while. The silence felt like a warm blanket. "You should paint this wall, or we could hand one of your paintings", Carmy said, and you quickly turned to face him. "That's the main wall", you breathed out. "Exactly why it should be painted by you. If you want to, of course", Carmen stated firmly.

He gazed at you, catching your eyes already on him. "You were thinking about it yourself, weren't you?", Carmen asked, knowing the answer right away when your checks went pink. "I was...but with everything", you breathed out, "It's weird because I love you so much, but I still feel like there are so many things that we need to rebuild".

Carmen reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips before kissing your delicate skin a couple of times. "There's no rush", he breathed out, turning the ring on your finger, "I know where I want to get to. I know what the final destination looks like". You crook your head to the side. Reaching up to brush your fingers through his hair. "Do you want to share?", you ask shyly. Carmy pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. "It's nothing complicated. You and me. That's all I need", he breathes out, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. You reached up, brushing your fingers across Carmy's cheek, and he instantly leaned into your touch. "I think I like that kind of future", you breathed out. His big blue eyes seize you once more. And there's a shy smile on his face. "You do?", he asks, and you nod your head. You run your thumb over his lips a couple of times, and then he's brushing his lips against your own, and it feels like the first time all over again. The same heat rushes to your cheeks. And it's nothing but slow love that you can promise each other now. Patient love that grows alongside you both. One that doesn't put labels. Just promises to keep you both warm. All you need to do is to promise to hold onto one another.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child @arieltwvdtohamflash @simsiddy @yezzyyae @hidingfromtex @toptierbunny @rooster-bradshaws @simonsaysyasss @hannahmmarie2016 @ladygrey03 @kyushii @smoooore @domaniquessidehoe @eternallyvenus @your-favorite-god @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @blueberrystigma

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear tv show #the bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Hidden Treasure 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I'm currently in the denial and procrastination stages of schoolwork. I'm doing the readings but damn this shit is kinda complex and my brain can't function.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

There's that jeep again.

You've never been the most observant. You tend to stick in your lane, keep your head straight, and just rush by the world around you. If you don't bother anyone, you're safe. If you don't draw attention, you can't be a problem.

But that jeep is there again. Parked by the curb across from your building. There's a million logical explanations; a new neighbour or someone visiting family, yet it sticks out sorely in the neighbourhood. Too nice, too new.

You let the black curtain hang straight and back up to sit at the table. You bend the lamp closer to shine on your work, fussing with the gears of an old cuckoo clock. The darn thing ticks backwards. You squint and hunch over, carefully realigning the replacement gear.

The tiny screwdriver jams down as you jump and let out a tiny yelp. Thunder rolls around the building and a torrent of rain whips against the window pane. The storm is so sudden and unexpected that you wonder if maybe you lost track of the time.

You refocus and redo the work, checking that you didn't do too much damage. You can't focus for the way the windows rattle and the rain pelts harder and harder. Another peel of thunder shakes you and lightning flashes around the curtain. You haven't seen a storm like this in years. Or ever.

You get up and leave the clock unfinished. You peek around the curtain. The sky is so grey, the streetlights are on. You can hardly see more than the rain speckled abstraction of the streets below.

Another blindly strike of lightning illuminates the world and you back away, the hair on your arms standing on edge. Loud noises always make you nervous. You retreat to the couch and pull the knitted throw from over the back.

The shelves against the walls tremble as the storm seems to center on your building. You look around, terrified, and watch the figurines and books as they shift on the wood. Oh no.

You get up and let the blanket fall to your feet. You grab an armful of cushions and frantically set them around the shelves to catch anything that might tumble. This can't be real! The way the whole building quakes is like a movie.

Once you have pillows scattered all around, the air grows stagnant and silence shrouds the world. You look around, feeling rather foolish as you see your manic safeguards littered on the floor. All these things you worry so much about and why? There's always more to be found. Never enough.

You return to the window and once more look out. You cling to the curtain as you pull it back. The sun is out again and the street is slick and shining with the aftermath of the storm. Your eyes narrow along the curb; the grey jeep is gone. You don't know if it matters but you notice it. It's just a strange coincidence.

🕰️

The next day, you descend with a new box of good for sale. You leave most of your things in the car, covering them with a blanket against greedy eyes, but there’s no use in the up and down, back and forth. You rarely have the energy after a long day amidst the market crowds.

You nearly drop your armful as you come in sight of your car. You blink. It can’t be real. Your mouth falls open as you slow and near the ruins of the old auto. The metal of the hood is crumpled and singed, as if it was burnt by some unearthly force. You recall the storm.

What rotten luck that it should land on your car, of all things. It had seemed quite close and yet, you didn’t even think something like this could happen. You walk around the car and take in the breadth of the damage. What do you do?

The windshield is cracked, a spider web in the glass, ready to shadow at the merest touch, and the left tire if flat. Even if the engine isn’t cooked, you don’t think it’s safe to drive. You hug the box in your arms and stare.

Crying can’t help you. It never does. You don’t do that. Not since you were a child. You’ve dealt with worse anyhow. You still have a roof over your head. There’s that at least.

Still ,you can’t hold onto that one bright side without an income. You can’t afford a rental and you don’t know anyone who would lend you a car, let alone spare a ride. You look down at the box, ready to accept defeat.

You have to try... it’s not about being easy, it’s about getting it done. You don’t have a choice. You need what little you can make from selling your antiques. Come rain or shine, rather literally, you have to find a way.

Your body reacts without a clear plan. You put the box down next to the rear tire. You open the back door and fling back the blanket. You sift through your crates and find what you need; the sign. You take that and your hand-written stack of cards, and put them in next to the lockbox in the box on the ground. You grab a few extra trinkets and the bag of embroidered coin purses and a few other light items. As much as you can do alone.

You should be able to make back the bus fare, even if the journey might be a bit awkward.

🕰️

You get to the market and realise another pitfall. You have your things and your sign and just about nothing else. As you wander to the empty space meant to be yours, the one you pay a fee for, you have only a box and yourself. You don’t know that it will attract many people. It’s hardly professional.

As you stand on the empty patch of grass, watching other sellers set up, you contemplate the transition to an online marketplace. You tried once but never really moved any pieces. The shipping costs were enough to deter you and prospective buyers.

You sigh and think of the wasted three bucks. Why did you come all the way down here to stand around like some weirdo? You are a bit off but this is a bit much.

“Hey,” a voice startles you and you turn to face the plant seller. You recognise him as he’s come to buy a gift or two for his mother from time to time. He’s always talkative, always smiling. He’s a bit much. “Uh, we going minimalist?”

You peer around and shrug, “car troubles.”

“Hm, that’s too bad. Um, I was just making my rounds and saw you looking a bit lost. You remember me, right? Cole.”

“Yes,” you answer sheepishly.

“Well, we stick around. Us vendors. If you need some table space for the day, I can move the cacti over--”

You can’t help your surprise from showing in the creases of your forehead, “really?”

“Yeah, of course. Did I ever mention my mom loved that new lampshade? They discontinued the style ages ago and she was ecstatic. I mean come on, I sell flowers, you think she’s beaming with pride.”

“Erm, I don’t know,” you try not to show your discomfort. He does talk so much. Beggars can’t be choosers and you’ve settled for far worse than a chatty companion. “If you don’t mind, I would be so grateful.” You rub your neck, “I... I can’t offer much but if you want a few items. Maybe for you mom—oh, I could bring you this vase I found. I can show you a picture.”

“It’s no problem,” he steps forward and you shy away at his suddenness. He slows down and shows his palms, “woah, sorry, I was just going to grab your stuff.”

“Oh, you don’t have to--”

“Please, I make a habit of helping out pretty women. My pleasure,” he assures and scoops up the box of goods.

“Mm, thanks,” you roll your tongue against the roof of your mouth, chewing on that comment. Charming but a bit unnerving. He tries just a little bit too much.

You follow him across the row of booths and stands and around the corner to his own. He has a much better location than your own but it makes sense. Flowers sell better than used doilies.

He puts the box down behind his table and starts to rearrange his goods. You wait until there’s a clear space and start setting out your own things. You pick out only the stuff you know will sell and prop up your sign. You leave the lock box underneath with the leftovers.

“You mind if I go use the bathroom?” You ask Cole as he folds up his jacket and lays it over his chair.

“Sure, I’ll keep an eye on things,” he says. “Need anything?”

“No, no, I’m good,” you assure him and flit off.

You head down to the brick building that houses the public restrooms. You use the solitary to collect yourself after the disaster-stricken morning. As you emerge, you wander along and pause just outside the booth selling iced drinks and hand-made tumblers. They’re all very cute but you can’t afford a cup, yet you can splurge for some of the tea.

You chew your cheek as you consider the menu. You’re not sure what to pick. Hm, he likes flowers.

You order two lavender lemonades and wait patiently as you count out the money. A little treat is much needed after the morning you’ve had. You claim your drinks and turn, nearly colliding with someone else. You back up and look up at the towering man. You recognise him.

“Ah, there she is,” the man booms, “I feared you were not attending today.”

“Oh, uh,” you furrow your brow. He’s that man who left you waiting then came back with his mother. He seems to be a regular though you’d never seen him before a few weeks back. “Hi?”

“Thor,” he supplies, “I don’t think I introduced myself yet. And you, little treasure?”

You hesitate before you muster an answer. Little treasure? How strange.

“So, have you relocated?” He wonders.

“Um, for today,” you say, his curiosity tweaking your nerves. “My car... well, I’ll figure it out.”

“Oh, how unfortunate,” he frowns, “well, where can I find you? My mother is due soon, I believe my brother will be with her. A family day, you see?”

“Mm, oh, I’m... down there,” you motion with the drinks, “at the flower booth.”

“Flowers? Wonderful, mother will like those,” he grins brightly, “well, don’t let me keep you. You must have many customers waiting and those do you look delicious. Enjoy.”

You look down at the drinks and nod. As you look back up, he’s already heading off. It isn’t very often you remember a face and his is becoming familiar. He must not have very much to do if he’s here every weekend. Who are you to speak?

You go back to the stall as Cole speaks to some customers and wraps up two tall irises for sale. You wait to the side, hoping they might have some interest but they shuffle by with polite smiles. You do your best to smile back then turn to Cole.

“Hey, um, I know it’s not much,” you take one of the cups and offer it, “I didn’t know if you’d like it but, lavender lemonade?”

“Oo, is this from the Tea Time place? I’ve been dying to try it,” he perks up, “thank you so much. That’s too nice.”

“Mm, well, you’ve done so much and you don’t have to.”

“We all have bad days, huh?”

“I guess,” you take your own drink and taste it. Different, but not bad. You’ll stick to your regular stuff at home though.

You put the cup under the booth as more people approach. You have a few asking about the purses and browsing the sleepers. You sell some of the baby clothes but the purses are left unpurchased. Better than nothing. You’re all breaking even. That’s a weight off.

Further down, you hear a deep roll like thunder. It’s that big burly blond. Thor? He’s there with the same blonde woman and a slimmer man nearly the same height but much thinner. His hair is dark where the other two are fair.

Thor meets your eye, frightening you, and you quickly look down at your wares and arranges them. You sense his shadow coming closer as his mother continues her conversation with Cole about the amaryllis. The other man looks disinterested as he glares at Cole.

“Mother,” the slender man sighs, “you could have a better bargain with the florist in town.”

“Oh, hush,” she jabs him and returns to her barter.

“Ah, yes,” Thor cuts into your intrusion, “I see you’ve got yourself set up. Oh, and you’ve made friends.”

He glances over at Cole and you follow his gaze. You back up and fold your hands over your stomach. He turns back to you and narrows his eyes.

“Friendly fellow, isn’t he?”

“Mm, sure, he... he’s helpful,” you move your hand to grip your other wrist. “I don’t have too much today.”

“Yes, I see. No jewelry? I was hoping to find some pendant for mother.”

“Uh, no, sorry, like I said--”

“Or a ring,” he insists. “She is a fan of jewelry. Back home... well, where we resided prior, she had so many pieces...” he smiles and exhales, his chest rising and fall, “ah, it isn’t any matter. I do like this.” He picks up the figurine of squirrel with an acorn, “it’s adorable.” He meets your eye and smiles broadly, “I like cute things.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. You give him the price and he reaches for his wallet without pause. He pays and you stop yourself from offering to wrap it up. You don’t have your newspaper or little paper bags.

“Thanks,” you cheep, “hope you have a good day.”

“It’s already been lovely,” he purrs and wobbles the squirrel with a grin, “I do hope yours gets better as well.”

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #fic #hidden treasures #series #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #avengers #au

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