#mainly there for the last bit of the track though

[gnomeontape]

sleep patterns by merchant ships on elis playlist...things are NOT looking good for this guy

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Five

- Little Big Surprise

Series Masterlist

wc: 3.3k

The house felt too empty, too quiet.

Isabella has been at her father's house for the past week and you missed her dearly. So, you had to find new hobbies to pass the time. You should've been used to the days she isn't home but you still aren't.

A new addition to your routine was your newfound hobby; watching Formula One races, or more so, watching Max race.

You would've been a fan even if you didn't know him personally, purely based on his driver skills, but that little detail made every moment of the race a tad bit more special. Your eyes would always try to find him on the track with the others, which he was in front of, leading.

You even found out that you could watch an on-board camera for a specific driver while watching the main race screen as well. It was very obvious whose camera feed you chose to watch.

This was the first time you watched the race after coming back from The Netherlands, mainly because it's only been a week since.

Though it wasn't fun watching the race without Isabella, or more like without her own added commentary.

Fortunately, Isabella's father would be dropping her off today. Until then, you had to find a way to pass the time.

Picking up your phone, your finger hovered over Max's contact. The last time you spoke was yesterday, when you congratulated him for the win over text.

You caught up on your pending work, meeting clients, writing up contracts, and even began designing the floor plans. One of the perks of working as a freelance interior designer, was that you could complete it at your own pace. The downside, however, was once you were done, you didn't really have anything else to do.

You worked for a few hours today, so your little break where you contemplated to call Max was well earned.

But before you could decide whether or not you wanted to call him, your phone rang with a call from him.

You quickly answered, greeting him with, "I was just about to call you, but I thought it'd be too late for you." You remembered that even though it was daytime for you, it was nighttime for him.

Max hummed, "too late? Oh wait, you're right, it's well past midnight." You furrowed your brow as his response confused you, but you didn't comment on it.

"So, what's up?" You asked, wanting to know why he called.

"You actually left something when you came to the race, and I kept forgetting to mention it, but I was thinking of sending it back to you as a package," Max explained, and you began to wonder what you had left behind.

"Yeah, sure that's fine, I actually have no idea when I'm going to see you again either." You shut your eyes tightly as you regretted the words as soon as you spoke them. "I mean—" you tried to explain but he cut you off, "I know what you mean and you're not wrong,"

You told him your address for the package, still wondering what you left behind, but dismissed the thought once you heard some noises on the other end. Specifically, noises that would indicate a person is outside, such as traffic.

"Max, are you outside?" You asked, wondering what he'd be doing out at this hour. "What no! Hold on, can I call you back in a bit?" He didn't wait for your response, just hung up the call.

You held your phone in front of you, looking at the dark screen as if it would give you any answers, but as excepted, it didn't. Then, you dropped the thought or at least tried to since Max did say he'll call you back.

You made yourself an iced coffee before falling into the depths of online shopping. Before you could decide on buying anything, the doorbell interrupted you.

"Max" you gasped as you opened the door, seeing him standing on the other side, holding a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. "Hi," he grinned, eyes taking in your presence since it had been too long since he last saw you.

"You lied about the package," you commented though there wasn't any malice behind your words. "Consider me as the thing you forgot?"

You chuckled at his words but it quickly became quiet as you finally realized that he was truly standing in front of you. "Please tell me you have a work thing here and you're just stopping by because you were in the area?"

"I could tell you that, but it would be a lie," he shrugged. You hesitated before asking the next question, "and the truth is?"

"I just wanted to see you and Isabella again." Either he didn't realize the weight behind his words or he chose to ignore it but you stood there, holding the door, in surprise.

"And now I'm realizing it probably wasn't a good idea to drop by without asking you," Max's words lacked confidence but you quickly shook your head. "No, it's just that you keep surprising me by standing on the other side of the door," then you smiled and added, "this time it happens to be in a different country."

Again, he shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but if he was able to hear the thoughts running through your mind, he'd know that this was a big deal to you. In the best way possible.

"So, can I come in?" He asked, as he was just idly standing by the door. "Oh yes, sorry."

He passed the flowers to you once he was inside. "I didn't know which flowers you like, but this seemed fitting," he explained the reason behind the sunflowers.

You wanted to ask why, but you held back because in the few weeks you've known Max, he always manages to say something that leaves you speechless.

"It's perfect, thank you. I think I have a vase lying around somewhere." You found one in the back of a cabinet next to your kitchen, and started filling it with water.

Max stood across from you and commented, "that vase should never be left empty."

You chuckled, more at the thought of the vase being full than his words. "It has been empty more often than not."

Although it was just a simple back and forth conversation, Max made a mental note to try and never let it be empty for as long as he knows you. Which he hopes would be a long, long time.

Max looked around the house, noticing a lack of a little ball of energy. "Where's Isabella?"

"At Tyler's. He'll drop her off in about an hour." Once you set up the flowers, you paused, realizing you have to make lunch for Isabella but you didn't want Max to think that you didn't want him here.

"Everything okay?" He asked, always noticing everything. "Yeah, I have to make lunch for Isabella." You didn't know what reaction you expected but it definitely wasn't a laugh.

Max stepped closer to you, rounding the kitchen island that was in between you two. "If you think you have to entertain me as a guest, who by the way showed up unexpectedly, I'm going to think you don't consider me a friend."

You broke out into a smile, realizing that you overthought the small situation. "I do consider you a friend, otherwise I wouldn't have ranted on and on about my job."

"I will say though, if you're making lunch, I want some too," Max added with a sheepish smile. "Isabella's lunch entails a homemade pizza and fries—made with freshly cut potatoes—because that's all she wants to eat every time she comes home."

"Fair enough, let's make extras for all of us," Max began rolling up his sleeves and washed his hands in preparation.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Max, what are you doing?" He looked at you as if his actions were obvious, "I'm going to help you. Did you think I was going to let you make lunch all by yourself?"

There he goes, leaving you speechless. You shut your mouth because you couldn't find a response, and began taking out the ingredients. "Just a warning though, you're gonna have to tell me what to do because I'm not the best chef," Max stated.

"It's okay, you can be my assistant," you responded which made him raise his eyebrows, "assistant huh? I like the sound of that."

You paused, looking at him with a playful glower before both of you broke out into laughter.

You passed him the potatoes after rinsing them, tasking him to peel and cut into strips to make french fries.

Although he didn't notice, you might've stopped a few times while kneading the dough to look at him. Unbeknownst to you, he did the same when you weren't looking either.

"So does Isabella go to her dad's often?" Max asked after a moment of silence. "Sometimes it's every other week, other times it's only a weekend per month," you explained.

Max had loads of questions about Tyler, but he was content in knowing only what you were willing to tell him. This time, you didn't continue the conversation about your ex, and Max understood that you didn't want to talk about it.

The topic was forgotten as soon as you accidentally smeared pizza sauce across your face. You truly had no idea how it got there, but only realized when Max brushed his fingers against your cheek to wipe it away.

However, he only smeared it further. He couldn't control his laughter as it spread and that prompted you to wipe it from your cheek and smear it on his.

He glared at you but it only lasted a millisecond as he grabbed a handful of dry flour. "Max," you warned, stepping backwards in an attempt to get away from him.

You didn't get far as his arm found its away around your waist to pull you back and hold you still. Then, he dumped the flour on your face, adding to the remnants of the sauce.

Your hands pressed against his chest to push him away but it was a useless attempt since he had you cornered against the counter so you had nowhere to go.

You spluttered since a bit of the flour got in your mouth and Max laughed at you. Then, you did the only thing you could think of. Grabbing Max's face, you rubbed your cheek dusted with flour and sauce against his. Now it was even.

Once the laughter died down, both of you noticed how close you were standing. Max couldn't back away because of your palms on his cheek and on the nape of his neck.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization and you quickly dropped your hands so he could move. Max took a second too long to process that you weren't holding him anymore, before he created more space between you two.

Then, you noticed the time, "shit she'll be here in twenty minutes."

"You should go change, I'll take care of the rest," Max suggested and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "you're going to take care of it?"

He nodded like it wasn't a big deal. "You're the one who said you're not a good chef," you spoke with a teasing smile.

"I said I'm not the best chef, I can be a good chef," he reasoned and you couldn't argue with that logic. "Fine, as long as you don't burn my house down."

"I'll try," you heard him as you went upstairs to your room.

"He got me flowers," you muttered to yourself as you picked out a clean outfit. "He fucking got me flowers." The realization hit you hard, more so because you loved sunflowers, and he just happened to randomly guess the right bouquet. Which was something your ex could never do right even after you told him, mainly because he preferred roses and only bought you roses.

"It seemed fitting," you repeated his words, "Max, why do you have to be so nice?" You asked rhetorically as of course he wasn't there to answer.

You hurriedly went downstairs after washing up and changing to see whether Max had done anything wrong. Perhaps if he was a lousy chef, you'd have one complaint about him. So far, you have liked everything about him.

Fortunately, nothing smelt burnt, and nothing was broken. When you spotted him, he was frying the French fries.

You paused in your tracks, and took a good look at him so you could remember this moment later. Max looked very comfortable in your kitchen, in your house, as if it wasn't his first time. You hoped it wouldn't be the last.

"Looks like everything's fine here," you commented and he turned to look at you with a smile, "no burnt houses," he shrugged.

"The pizza still has a few minutes to go, and the fries are all done," he spoke as he gestured with his hands, but when he looked at you again, you had a stupid smile on your face.

"What?" That made your smile widen, "nothing, just, thank you for helping me."

"Always," he responded, already planning that he'll be around as long as you wanted him to be.

The doorbell rang, interrupting your peace but you were beyond excited to open the door and greet your daughter. Isabella definitely got the habit of being overly excited from you.

However, when you opened the door you saw Isabella standing beside Tyler with a frown on her face. "Hi angel, did you have fun?" You crouched down and ruffled her hair.

"Can I go inside, mama?" Her timid voice surprised you as she would usually answer that question happily. "Sure, sweetheart, I'll be there in a minute."

You watched her head inside before you stood up, closing the door behind you so Isabella wouldn't hear your conversation and faced your ex, "what happened?"

He scoffed, "nothing happened, I just told her that I won't be able to see her again as planned because I'm flying out of the country."

"Another business trip?" You asked and he nodded. "She usually doesn't get this upset any other time you cancel, did something else happen?"

"You know how she is, overdramatic," Tyler casually shrugged and that word ticked you off. "Don't you dare call my daughter overdramatic," you pointed at him harshly.

"Oh so now she's your daughter? Isabella gets upset easily, you know this."

"I do not want to hear you say that word again to describe her, I've heard it enough from you when we were together. Now tell me what happened."

Tyler sighed, and for a moment he thought about saying that Isabella was just like her mother, like you, but he didn't want to waste any extra time being around you.

"I introduced her to Emma," he stated as if it would explain everything but you furrowed your brows in confusion. "Who?"

"My girlfriend. Isabella noticed her around the house a few times so I thought it would be a good idea to introduce her," he explained and you were about to interrupt but he kept going. "I don't know if Isabella doesn't like her, but she's been in that mood ever since."

"Tyler, she has only seen us together, so of course if you introduce her to someone else, it'll take time for her to get used to it," you decided to explain in a calm manner.

"You don't have an issue with my girlfriend?" He asked and you raised your brows, "why would I? It's not my business unless it involves Isabella."

He shrugged, then laughed at his thought before saying it out loud, "well I hope that you don't have an issue explaining dating to her, that is, if you ever start dating again."

"My dating life is none of your business. Don't you have somewhere to be? Perhaps back to Emma?"

"Alright, I'll text you when I'm back in the country," he stated and turned around to leave but paused as he saw a new car in the driveway that he knew didn't belong to you.

"Whose car is that?" You laughed at his need to always be all up in your business, "goodbye, Tyler."

You entered the house with a sigh but the sight in front of you warmed your heart, making you forget all about the conversation with your ex.

Max was crouched down onto his knees to be at eye level with Isabella, who had two arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug.

When Max heard the door close, he opened his eyes and saw you. He removed one hand that was resting on Isabella's back and gestured for you to come closer.

Understanding his silent gesture, you crouched down right behind your daughter and wrapped her in a hug as well, so she was sandwiched between you and Max.

You placed loads of kisses on her cheeks until she started giggling. Isabella let go of Max and turned to face you, "mama, you didn't tell me that Maxy was here!" Just like that, her mood was drastically different from when she first arrived at the doorstep.

"He surprised me too, angel," you spoke as your gaze shifted to Max.

"Did you watch him race yesterday?" You asked Isabella, but her mood dropped again. "No mama, daddy was busy."

"It's okay, you can watch the next one with your mama," Max spoke, and Isabella nodded in agreement. "Okay!"

Then Max gasped, "the pizza!" He quickly rushed towards the oven to check on it, making you and Isabella laugh.

"Maxy made pizza?" She asked as she sat up on one of the barstools, which also happens to be her favourite place to eat even if you have a dining table.

"Maxy and mama made pizza," Max corrected, as he watched you cut it into slices.

"Are you ready for school?" Max asked once all of you began eating. You and Max also sat up on the barstools beside Isabella.

"No." She simply stated. Max frowned, "why not?"

"It's a big school, it's scary." Her words made you frown, "but you're a big girl too now."

"How about we go shopping tomorrow? Buy a new bag, more school supplies, and anything you want," Max suggested and this time you didn't stop him.

You already had a plan to take her shopping tomorrow, mainly because you already knew that Tyler didn't or else she would’ve been beaming about it.

"Even the glittery clips?" Isabella asks with a bright smile on her face, making Max chuckle, "yes even the glittery clips"

"Oh what about ice cream?" Isabella asked, and this time you watched Max become the victim of her pout and big round eyes. He looked at you for help, but you pressed your lips together, holding back a laugh.

"Yes, we can get ice cream too," he gave in making Isabella cheer.

"Alright, angel, finish your food." You gestured to her plate and she quickly obliged, stuffing her face with pizza and fries.

You were glad that Max was here, able to instantly uplift Isabella's mood. However you couldn't help but think about Tyler's words.

You never thought about dating again ever since you broke up with your ex, especially since Isabella was a baby and almost always with you.

But now that she was older, beginning to understand relationships, you thought about her reaction if you ever introduced her to someone you wanted to date.

Plus, you never met anyone that would make you debate the decision of whether to start dating again or not, that was until you met Max.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @hockeyboysarehot @formulaal @namgification @tallrock35 @bloodyymaryyy

[d1stalker]

Second Nature [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In the freezing cold of the wild, you are saved by a man with many secrets. He takes you in, and soon you learn that you’d follow him anywhere. Takes place during The Wolverine (2013)

Warnings: does not accurately follow the events of the movie, hairy logan (heart eyes), misunderstandings

WC: 4.2k - MASTERLIST

----

Northern Canada was just as unforgiving as it was beautiful. The chilled air bit at your skin, and the vast wilderness stretched out endlessly, it was a place where few dare to venture.

It had been days since you’ve seen another soul, your only company being the towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the brush. You weren't not entirely defenceless as a mutant, though your powers were something you keep close to your chest.

The day started like any other—cold, silent, and solitary. You were making your way through the dense forest when you heard it: the deep, guttural growls of a pack of wolves. Your senses went on high alert as you froze, but before you could react, they were upon you. 

There were too many of them. You fought as best you could, using your powers in quick, controlled bursts, but the wolves were relentless, and violent. Just as you thought you might not make it out, a figure burst through the trees. He moved with immense speed, claws extended from his hands—no, not quite claws, but something far more lethal. He tore through the wolves with an ease that spoke of years of experience, and within moments, the threat was gone.

You were left standing in the snow, gaping at the man who had just saved your life. He was wild-looking, with long, tangled hair and a thick beard, his eyes fierce and sharp. He didn’t speak at first, just looked you over, assessing mutely, before finally grunting out a rough, “You alright?”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding from the encounter. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said gruffly. “This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, though you knew full well how close you had come to an early demise. You didn’t offer any explanation for why you were out here, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply turned and started walking away, as if saving your life was just another day for him.

You hesitated for a moment before following him. He didn’t seem to mind, and you were curious about the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He led you back to a small, rough cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was clear he had been living here for a while—there was a worn, lived-in look to the place.

Over the next few days, you found yourself staying in that cabin. The man, who you learned was named Logan, didn’t talk much, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence either. You kept your powers hidden, mainly out of habit, but a part of you was unsure of how he would react if he knew the truth. You knew he was some sort of mutant too, but he had an air of someone who had seen too much, who carried a heavy burden, and you weren’t ready to add to that.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a quiet companionship developed between you. Logan was still rough around the edges, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. He was a man who had been through hell and survived, but the scars were still there, etched into his soul.

You weren’t sure when you started to think of him as a friend, but it happened slowly, in the small, unspoken ways you helped each other. He taught you things about the wilderness, how to track and hunt, while you offered a quiet presence that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Then, one day, everything changed. A woman appeared at the cabin, her hair bright red and her demeanour as sharp as a blade. Yukio, she called herself. She had come to find Logan, to tell him that his old friend Yashida was dying and wanted to see him one last time in Japan. Logan was reluctant at first, but Yukio was persistent, and eventually, he agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to invite you along, but when he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “Come with me,” you found yourself nodding before you could think about it.

----

When you arrived at the estate in Japan, Yukio immediately declared that a cleanup was in order. Logan resisted, of course, but she insisted. You were too tired to argue and knew she was right. You hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks if not months. The little tub in the cabin did barely enough to make you feel freshened up, and the idea of finally being clean was too tempting to pass up.

She led you to your separate rooms, where hot baths and fresh clothes awaited. The water was blissfully warm, and as you soaked, you felt the tension slowly ebb away. You scrubbed your skin clean, washed your hair until it felt soft and light again, and when you finally stepped out of the bath, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The fresh clothes Yukio provided were simple yet elegant, a far cry from the rough, dirty outfit you’d been wearing for days.

After dressing, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, you felt... pretty. It was a strange sensation after everything that had happened, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Logan already waiting for you when you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat. His long beard was nowhere to be seen, a uniquely styled facial hair left in it’s wake. His hair was trimmed as well. His usual gruff demeanor was still there, but he looked... different. Handsome, in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He was staring at you too, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he quickly masked it. "You clean up nice," he said lowly.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to sound casual, though you were acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on you.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking in the sight of each other. You had always thought Logan was attractive in a natural, untamed way, but seeing him like this, it made your heart stir in your chest.

Yukio interrupted your thoughts, her voice cutting through the silence. “Good. Now that you two don’t look like wild animals, we can get to work.”

----

Yukio led you and Logan through the estate’s winding paths, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft ground. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire the beauty of the place.

Finally, you reached a large, open room where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair, his frail form dwarfed by the spaciousness of the room. Yashida’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and labored, but there was a sense of peace about him, as if he had come to terms with his impending death.

“Logan,” Yukio said softly, her tone respectful as she gestured for him to approach.

Logan stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered by something more subdued. He stopped a few feet from Yashida, his hands clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

“Yashida,” he eventually said, addressing the man before him. “It’s been a long time.”

Yashida’s eyes slowly opened, and when they focused on Logan, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Logan,” he rasped, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone softening. “I came.”

Yashida’s gaze shifted to you, and you felt a strange mix of emotions as his eyes, still sharp despite his age, studied you intently. “And who is this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I’m just a friend,” you said, offering him a small, respectful bow. “I’m here to support Logan.”

Yashida’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone sincere. “It means a great deal to me.”

Then, another figure entered the room, a young woman with delicate features and a quiet grace that immediately drew your attention. She moved with the fluidity of someone who was used to being in control, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored Yashida’s.

“Mariko,” Yashida said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. “Come, meet Logan.”

Mariko stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Logan with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Logan,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves outside. “It’s an honour.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “Likewise.”

There was an awkward silence as you stood there, feeling like an outsider in this reunion. You watched the way Mariko looked at Logan, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—respect, maybe, or perhaps a cautious admiration. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten with an emotion you weren’t ready to examine.

“Please, sit,” Yashida said, gesturing to the cushions on the floor. “We have much to discuss.”

You sat down beside Logan, feeling the tension in the room build as Yashida began to speak, his words measured and deliberate. He spoke of his time with Logan, of the bond they had shared during the war, and of the gratitude he felt for the life Logan had given him. But there was something else in the way Yashida spoke—an underlying desperation that made you uneasy.

“I have a gift for you, Logan,” Yashida said, his eyes locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that belied his frail appearance. “A gift that will free you from your suffering.”

Logan stiffened beside you, his expression darkening. “I don’t need anything from you, Yashida,” he announced.

“But you do,” Yashida insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “You’ve lived long enough to see the world change, to see those you care about die. I can give you what you’ve always wanted—mortality.”

The room fell silent as Yashida’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you like a physical force. You glanced at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Logan said after a long pause. “I came because you asked.”

Yashida’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “But the offer stands. Should you change your mind...”

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch his arm, to offer some kind of comfort.

----

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of prayers as you stood at Yashida’s funeral, surrounded by mourners dressed in black. The solemnity of the occasion hung heavy, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t ignore. Logan was beside you, his expression unreadable, though you knew him well enough by now to sense the unease in his posture.

In that moment, your mind wandered to the days you’d spent in the Yukon, the solitude that had once been your only companion. You hadn’t ended up there by choice. No, you had been running—from a world that feared what it didn’t understand, from people who saw you as a threat. The fact that you were a mutant had always set you apart, but it was also the reason you had been hunted, feared, and ultimately driven into the wild. 

You still hadn’t told Logan about your powers, not out of a lack of trust—hiding them had simply become second nature to you. But as you stood at the funeral, watching the proceedings with a growing sense of dread, you realized that your secret was about to come crashing down around you.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. One moment, the funeral was proceeding as expected, and the next, the mourners were scattering in panic as a group of Yakuza thugs stormed the ceremony, their eyes locked on Mariko, Yashida’s granddaughter.

“Mariko!” Logan’s voice was a deep growl as he pushed through the crowd, his adamantium claws shooting out. You sprang into action right behind him, your heart pounding as you watched the Yakuza close in on Mariko. You knew that even though he was fast, Logan wouldn’t make it in to her in time. 

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, and your instincts took over. Thrusting your hands out, you called for your powers and the air around you responded, swirling with a sudden, powerful gust that sent the Yakuza stumbling back. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyes widening in shock, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Fire erupted from your fingertips, a controlled burst that seared the ground between Mariko and the attackers, creating a barrier they couldn’t cross. But the attackers didn’t yield, and they regrouped quickly, readying themselves for another assault.

Logan was at your side in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” you faltered, the words catching in your throat as you continued to fend off the enemy. The earth beneath you trembled as you called on your powers again, sending a wave of stone and dirt crashing into the Yakuza, knocking them off their feet.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admitted tightly, from the strain of maintaining control over the elements. 

Logan’s expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. But he didn’t have time to respond before the Yakuza pressed their attack, forcing both of you to focus on the immediate threat.

Together, you and Logan fought them off, your powers weaving through the chaos as Logan’s claws tore through the ranks of the attackers. It was over in minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When the last of the Yakuza fell, you stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Mariko was safe, but the damage was done. Logan turned to you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t trust me,” he said, the hurt clear in his voice.

“It wasn’t about trust,” you said quietly, lowering your hands as the last remnants of your power faded into the air. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am, Logan. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I get that,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But you knew about me––my mutation. I thought—”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bring attention to it. I wanted to leave it in the past.”

Logan’s expression softened, the anger fading as he listened to your words. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said after a moment, surprising you. “But I want you to know… I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how this man who had saved you, who had become your friend, could look at you with such understanding, after you had hid something so important from him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said before.

He didn’t say much after, just turning and heading toward Mariko, going to check on her. 

----

In the days following the incident at Yashida’s funeral, something between you and Logan shifted. It was subtle at first—an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before, a hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, and not for the better.

Logan had started pulling away from you. At first, you thought it was because of Mariko, and his new mission—that he had simply found something else to focus on. But as the days went by, you realized that it was more than that. Logan wasn’t just distant—he was hurt. And it wouldn't take a genius to know why.

He had been wounded by your secret, by the fact that he thought you hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal your powers. You had tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t about him, but the damage was done.

The distance between you pained you. You had grown to care for him deeply. It had started as friendship, a bond forged in Canada, but somewhere along the way, you knew your feelings had begun to change. You hadn’t meant to fall for him, but it happened all the same, creeping up on you like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night.

But as you watched him pull away from you, and towards Mariko, those feelings felt like a mistake.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Logan to be happy—far from it. You cared about him too much to wish anything but the best for him. Still, seeing the way he looked at her, the way he seemed drawn to her despite the mayhem surrounding them, made something inside you ache. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Logan, but it was clear now that whatever you had shared was truly just a friendship. Nothing more.

And that realization hurt more than you cared to admit.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to focus on the task at hand. There was still so much to do, and Japan was far from safe. The Yakuza were remained a threat, and Yashida’s legacy was more tangled than you had ever imagined. But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the helping, your mind kept drifting back to Logan and Mariko.

So, you did the only thing you could—you pulled away. You gave Logan and Mariko space, leaving them to each other whenever possible. It hurt to do it, to step back when all you wanted was to be by Logan’s side, like you’d for months, but you convinced yourself it was for the best. If this was what Logan wanted, if she was who he needed, then who were you to stand in the way?

Even as you distanced yourself, you continued to help them in whatever ways you could. You were still in Japan, still part of the mission Logan got roped into, but you became a shadow, always there but never too close. You helped Mariko when she needed it, fought alongside Logan when necessary, but you never lingered, never gave him a reason to think you wanted anything more.

----

When the trip was over, and the two of you returned back to Canada, things were different. The easy companionship you had shared was strained, the unspoken tension between you making every moment feel heavy with uncertainty. You weren’t sure where you stood with Logan anymore, and it was driving you mad.

He had been quiet since your return, keeping to himself, and you had done the same, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between you. It hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You had spent the day wandering the snowy landscape, trying to clear your head, but no amount of fresh air could chase away the doubts that had settled in your mind. By the time you returned to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle as you debated whether to go inside or keep walking.

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been gone a while,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Just needed some air,” you replied quietly as you stepped inside.

Logan closed the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. Then, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with anxiety as you followed him to the small living area. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to start.

Logan remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve been thinking… about everything that happened in Japan.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “So have I.”

He looked up at you then, “I don’t know how to do this,” is all he could get out.

“I know."

“I’ve been thinking about why things got so messed up between us,” Logan continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I think… I think it’s because I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your powers, that you’re a mutant too. I took it personally, and that was wrong.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Logan. I just… I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at you. “You didn’t lose me,” he said quietly. “But I think I almost lost you because I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why I pulled away. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I put up walls.”

“And Mariko? I mean, it's not like you need to justify anything to me, but--fuck--I...” You started, letting your words drift off. You didn't know where you were going with this, but Logan would have to be a real idiot to not catch on.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and it scared you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“When we were in Japan… I was hurt. Not just by everything that was happening, but by what I thought was going on between us. I felt like you didn’t trust me, like you were keeping me at arm’s length, and I didn’t know how to handle that. And then there was Mariko… she was there, and I turned to her because… I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from what I was feeling.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he affirmed. “It wasn’t about feelings, or love, or anything like that. Mariko was just… there. I was in a bad place, and she was someone who didn’t expect anything from me, who didn’t know me the way you do. We got physical, but it wasn’t real."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

Logan shook his head. “Not the way you’re thinking. I won’t lie to you—it happened, and I’m sorry for that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “It was because I did, and I didn’t know how to deal with my own emotions. I made a mistake, and it hurt you, and I hate that.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he was struggling to find the right words. “I thought you wanted to be with her,” you admitted, “That I was just… in the way.”

He swallowed, “You were never in the way. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked up at him. “Where does that leave us then, Logan? Should I… should I stay here? With you?”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hand. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as a wave of relief washed over you. “I want to stay,” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need to know that we’re on the same page though, that this is more than just… friendship.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek. “It is,” he confirmed, “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I want to figure this out, whatever it is between us.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a small, trembling smile. “I want that too.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose with yours as he spoke, an action that nearly had your heart bursting in your chest. “Then let’s do this. No more hiding, no more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, happy.

------

[formula-nyoom]

Grid Dads

Summary: The Grid Dads, their Grid Kids, and their first F1 win

Sequel to Grid Kids

A/N: So originally the plan was for this fic to be told in the perspectives of the Grid Dads, but then I mainly focused on the section of Logan winning his first race and this just ended up turning into the Grid Kids winning their first F1 races and their Grid Dads being there to support them. Tried to keep the reader gender neutral for this one, though I apologize if a “she” or “her” slipped in. Logan’s is the longest because it’s the first one I wrote and I wanted to avoid repetition so Oscar’s and (Y/N)’s sections are a bit shorter. If you want to read just (Y/N)'s section, it's the last one.

Oscar

Triple header race weekends were never easy. The constant back to back of race weekends where there never seemed to be a time to breathe always hit heavy on the drivers.

And yet in the middle of it, Oscar was driving like it was the best race weekend of his life. Topping all three Free Practice Sessions, Oscar felt like Austria was going to be the best race this season.

And then he gets pole in qualifying for the first time.

Now, getting pole should be another good thing to add to Oscar’s already phenomenal weekend. But as the race drew closer and closer, Oscar felt like expectations were getting higher and higher. Everyone is expecting him to win, and while that is always Oscar’s goal during races, the high expectations were not helping his nerves.

“Are you nervous?” Mark asked him as Oscar was getting ready in his driver’s room.

 “Yea…I’m starting on pole for the first time, why wouldn’t I be nervous?” Oscar said as he tied his shoes.

“I didn’t say you had to be. It’s ok to be nervous.” Mark said. “You’ve got a real shot at winning this race.”

 “Unless someone passes me. Which is inevitable.” Oscar said. Mark stood up and placed his hand on Oscar’s shoulder, getting the younger driver to look at him. 

“Then don’t let them pass you.” Mark said. Oscar scoffed.

 “Is that the only advice you have for me?”

“It’s the only advice you need.” Mark said, patting Oscar’s shoulder before leaving the driver’s room. Oscar watched him go with confusion. He did expect Mark to give him a bit more advice, but then again Mark was always confident in Oscar’s abilities when he was on track. 

Rolling into the P1 spot after the formation lap, Oscar took a breath and glanced to his right to see the scarlet Ferrari of Charles in P2. While McLaren have been able to keep pace with Ferrari throughout the season, it was unsure of who could be quickest on the start. Oscar didn’t need to be told that it had to be him, Oscar knew that. He also knew that if Charles passed him at the beginning, he had the potential of overtaking him later in the race as long as he kept pace.

“Don’t let them pass you.”

Oscar wasn’t going to let Charles get the upper hand. 

Lights out and Oscar’s foot was on the pedal at lighting speed. He was able to pull ahead of Charles, but the Monagas driver stayed close to Oscar all the way into the first turn.  Charles almost pulled ahead of him in turn 4 and 5, but Oscar was able to defend against him and when the first lap was finally over, Oscar managed to build a one second gap between him and Charles.  

Oscar stayed in first for about 20 laps but his tires were starting to wear down and Oscar knew that if he pitted now with only a 6 second gap between him and Charles, he would lose the lead. Oscar would either need to build up a big enough gap on his wearing tires for him to be able to pitstop without losing P1…or a red flag needed to happen so his tires could get changed with no consequence of a time loss. But a red flag seemed almost impossible. Oscar started discussing with his engineer the possibilities of even a yellow flag happening so the time loss wouldn’t be significant, when his engineer’s voice came over the radio with exactly what Oscar needed to hear.

“Red Flag! Red Flag!” His engineer said. “Come to the pits. There is a car turned over in the middle of the track.”

“Are they ok?” Oscar asked. While the red flag was exactly what Oscar needed to keep his P1, it wasn’t something Oscar was wishing or hoping for, as red flagged crashes are serious matters. All Oscar was grateful for was that he was able to pit and change tires without losing his position, and he hoped that whoever was involved with the crash was ok. 

But the race was going to have to be restarted. Which means it would give others the chance to pass Oscar going into the restart. 

 “You’re driving great out there.” Mark told him while everyone was waiting for the track to be cleared.

 “Yea, but now I have to do it all over again.” Oscar said.

“You know what to do.” Mark said, patting Oscar’s shoulder.

 ‘Don’t let them pass.’

Oscar could do that.

A sense of deja vu hit Oscar as he watched Charles pull into the P2 spot next to him. The Ferrari driver somehow was able to maintain his position like Oscar had, and Oscar was going to have to do everything to make sure Charles stayed in P2.

The lights went on again

And then they were off. And so was Oscar and Charles. 

Charles managed to get a bit of a jump on Oscar at the restart, with the two going side by side into turn one. But Charles ended up breaking late and Oscar was able to pull ahead, still in the lead.

Still in P1.

‘Don’t let them pass.’

And that’s what Oscar did. Everytime Charles tried to overtake, Oscar defended like his life depended on it while maintaining his speed. How he was able to stay calm and keep the Ferrari at bay, Oscar may not fully know. But Oscar was eventually able to see the checkered flag waving. And as he blocked Charles from overtaking him as they made it to the last corner, Oscar’s foot didn’t leave the pedal till he crossed that finish line.

“FROM POLE TO P1! OSCAR PIASTRI HAS WON THE AUSTRIAN GRAND PRIX!”

“You, Oscar Piastri, are a race winner! Congratulations!” Oscar’s race engineer said to him over the radio. 

 “Woooooo! What a race. That was a tough one, keeping pole the whole race. Wow.” Oscar said as he did his cool down lap and waved to the crowds as he passed by. 

He pulled into the P1 spot and took his time undoing his steering wheel before he stood up and climbed on to the nose of his car. The McLaren crew at the barriers cheered as Oscar raised his fist in the air. Oscar jumped down from the car and was met with the sight of Charles who raised his hand up for a high five.

“Another Leclerc 1-2! You fought me hard for that win.” Charles said, bringing Oscar in for a brief hug.

 “I was so worried about messing up. I couldn’t let you get by.” Oscar said. Charles laughed.

Oscar then turned his attention to the McLaren team at the barriers. Oscar ran over and jumped into their arms, receiving various pats and high fives. As Oscar pulled away, he saw Mark there, standing at the barriers with the McLaren team. Oscar went over and Mark pulled him in for a hug.

 “What did I tell you?” Mark said as he hugged Oscar.

“Don’t let them pass.”

 “And what did you do?”

 “I didn’t let them pass.” Oscar said as he smiled.

“It was good advice if I do say so myself.” Mark said. Oscar rolled his eyes.

 “I’ll make sure to come to you for more advice the next time I’m on pole.”

Logan

“Welcome back to Sky Sports. I’m Jenson Button, joined by one of my co-hosts Bernie Collins, and a welcome surprise: Nico Rosberg, who I usually don’t get to do this with.”

 “Yes, it's very rare that Jenson and I get to host together.” Nico said. “But since I’m commentating the race this Sunday, I thought I’d fill in for one of your other co-hosts and spice things up.”

 “I’m sure things will get spiced up this weekend as it is the United States Grand Prix!” Bernie said. 

“Now there’s been an interesting development in the standings from the last couple races.” Nico said.

“Yea. There’s still a championship fight between Redbull, Ferrari, and McLaren. But the bottom field has had a sudden shift with Williams seeming to be closer points wise to Aston Martin and RB than they are to Alpine and KickSauber.” Bernie said.

“It will be interesting to see what the teams…” Jenson’s sentence trailed off as his attention was drawn to what was going on behind him. 10 feet away and in view of the cameras, the young F1 drivers, Logan and (Y/N) were making funny faces or giving Jenson bunny ears. Jenson chuckled.

 “Well it seems we’ve got a couple of trouble makers standing behind us. Sargent and (L/N) are photo bombing us.” Jenson said. Logan and (Y/N) burst out laughing at the act of them being caught. Jenson smiled, seeing the two young drivers finding amusement. He waved them over and their expressions morphed into partial guilt.

 “Since the two of you are so keen to be on camera, do you two have any thoughts about the upcoming race? It’s a home race for you, Logan. Are you feeling confident?” Jenson asked, leaning his microphone towards Logan.

 “Yea I’m feeling confident. I got my first point in Formula One here last year, though it was due to the disqualification of other drivers. I’m hoping that I can earn points properly this time and doing so at a home race would make it even better.” Logan said. 

 “I think he actually has a chance of getting a podium this weekend but he doesn’t believe me.” (Y/N) said. Nico scoffed

 “You discount yourself too early, Logan.” Nico said. “Before we went on air, Jenson informed me of all the progress you’ve made throughout the season.”

 “Really?” Logan asked, looking at Jenson with a bit of disbelief.

“I told him nothing but the truth.” Jenson said. “You’ve been making steady progress throughout the season, You scored your first points this season in Silverstone, and have been matching Alex’s pace with both of you scoring points for Williams in the last couple races. You’ve really been growing as a driver.”

Logan smiled. Sure, the Williams team has told him stuff like this, but it coming from Jenson felt sincere and genuine.

 “Well, I’m glad to hear that you guys have confidence in me. I’m gonna try my best this weekend. Maybe keep my elbows out, sorry (Y/N).” Logan said. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

 “Keep your elbows away from me, I’m gonna have to fight you for that podium.” (Y/N) said.

“Well we look forward to hopefully seeing that podium fight.” Bernie said. “We won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure your teams are waiting for you.”

 “Sorry for interrupting your very important business of photo bombing us.” Jenson said.

“It was Logan’s idea.” (Y/N) said before she and Logan waved goodbye to Jenson, Nico, and Bernie before heading off.

 “I’d like to see Logan on a podium. I think he could do it.” Jenson said.

“We’ve seen that when given the right car, he can really bring the points home. Everytime he gets an upgrade, his pace improves and luckily for him, Williams has brought the upgrades for this weekend.” Nico said.

 “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see when the cars get going on the track.” Bernie said.

~~~

Logan took a deep breath as he slotted his car into the P9 spot and waited for the lights to go out. To say he was nervous was an understatement. This had been his best weekend overall this season with Logan being in the top ten for all three practice sessions and making it to Q3. But Logan’s done this dance before and he expects the other shoe to drop at any moment to ruin his so far amazing weekend. 

 “Radio check, Logan.” The voice of Gaten, his race engineer, resonates through his ear and brings him back into focus.

“Do you think Nico or Jenson are going to conduct the post race interviews?” Logan asked.

 “Let’s get you on the podium to find out. I believe you can make it Logan.” Gaten told him. Logan didn’t smile but he felt his nerves lessen a bit knowing at least someone believed in him. 

*Blink* *Blink* *Blink* *Blink* *Blink*

Logan breathed.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

He wasn’t quick enough on the pedal and fell down to 11th in the first corner. Logan went into defensive mode to try and keep that position but on lap 12, his team gave him a crucial call.

“Box Box.” 

“Sargent is the first to pit. Is there an issue with the car or is this Williams trying to strategize with their tires?” Crofty said from the commentary box.

 “Pitting now puts Logan at the back of the grid. Seems Williams may be favoring Albon in this race.”

“Actually, if Logan is putting on the hard tires then Williams must think that he can go to the end because pitting now would give Sargent a massive advantage for when the other teams pit.” Nico said.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see if this gamble will work in the American’s favor.”

The pitstop did put Logan into last place. There was no time to doubt or think about how many overtakes he needed to make to get back into point scoring position as Logan focused on going forward and keeping the car on track. 

He managed two overtakes before a collision happened.

“MAGNUSSEN AND ALBON MAKE CONTACT! BOTH OF THEM SPIN OUT AND INTO THE BARRIERS! ”

 “His tyres locked up and he just couldn’t keep it together. That’s gonna be a safety car for sure.”

“Here we can see William’s strategy of pitting Sargent first and putting him on the hard was a good move. We can see that most of the other drivers are heading into the pit under the safety car, and this shoots Logan up from P18 to P10.” Nico commentated

  “Safety Car. Magnussen and Alex made contact. Alex is out of the race. You are currently P10 with other drivers making pit stops now.” Gaten said over the radio.

“Is Alex ok?” Logan asked as he slowed his speed for the safety car.

“Alex is ok. We need to focus on the race. You are in the points now with some of the drivers in front having yet to pit and are on old tires.” Gaten told him. 

The drivers who had yet to pit, did move into the pitlane, moving Logan up to P6. After a couple more laps, the safety car was called in and the flags switched from yellow to green.

“Let’s do some overtaking.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice as he started gaining on the car in front of him.

“Stroll .05 seconds in front. You have DRS. Go push.” Gaten told him.

“As we follow the Williams of Logan Sargent into Sector 2, he’s gaining on Lance Stroll. He goes for the outside AND OVERTAKES HIM AS SARGENT MOVES UP INTO P5!” Crofty exclaimed.

 “That was a clean overtake. Lance didn’t even have the time to fight him.” Nico said.

“Good job. Let’s do that again at least two more times.” Gaten told Logan.

 “Understood.” Logan knew that Gaten was intentionally not telling him what position he was in to not stress him out. But Logan could guess where he was in terms of current placement.

A couple laps later he was able to overtake Hamilton going into Turn 1, something Logan couldn’t help but smile at. He had just overtaken a 7 Time World Champion. That alone could have made Logan’s whole race. But now the question was, could he overtake another World Champion?

“Verstappen .08 seconds ahead. Push.”

Logan had never found himself in this position. The only time he saw Max’s rear wing was when he was letting him by to lap him. 

But now…now he had an attempt at a genuine overtake on the man everyone always says wins.

“Sargent’s behind Verstappen! He’s within DRS range! Is he going to overtake the championship leader? Sargent goes to the outside, Verstappen follows and as they get into turn six, is the Williams going to make it past?”

Logan tried to go from the outside to the inside of the turn but he wasn’t quick enough as he pulled behind Max again. But as both of them turned into Sector 2, Logan knew he would have another chance.

“They’re going down the straight! Sargent’s again within DRS range! Is he going to be successful this time? He dives to the outside!”

Logan’s foot felt like it was glued to the gas pedal as his car drove right next to the Red Bull. engaging the DRS, Logan used that extra boost as his car sped past Max.

“SARGENT OVERTAKES VERSTAPPEN! I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Crofty exclaimed.

 “Logan really treated Max like he was just another car to overtake, but I’m sure that boy is celebrating at the fact he just overtook both Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton.” Nico said, a smile on his face.

“Excellent job Logan. You are currently P3 with (L/N) in front of you. The margin between you two is 1.5 seconds. Let’s close that gap.” Gaten said.

 “Copy. I did tell them I would keep my elbows out.” Logan said, a smile ghosting over his face for a brief moment.

“I’m glad to hear that Logan is enjoying this race. This really has been one of his best races.” Nico said.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Nico.”

Logan was soon able to close the gap and got within DRS range of (Y/N). (Y/N) seemed more focused on making it past the corner, they didn’t see Logan until he was already past and speeding away. 

 “You’re doing amazing Logan. Piastri’s ahead with a 5 second gap. Let’s start trying to gain on him. 15 laps to go.” Gaten told him.

Though Logan didn’t need to wait long to try and catch up to Oscar. 

“There’s a yellow flag in Turn 12 and we can see that Ocon has hit the wall. He’s not in a good spot and that will surely bring out another safety car.” 

Logan had never been more thankful for a Safety Car as his and Oscar’s cars slowed down and Logan could see his best friend's rear wing clearly. He knew that a restart was imminent, this race wasn’t going to be finished under a safety car. 

Logan actually had a chance at winning this race.

“Safety Car is coming in this lap. You will have the chance to attempt an overtake on Piastri, with (L/N) behind you.”

“Copy.” Was all Logan said. He couldn’t tell if his hands were shaking from nerves or the vibrations from the car. This was the highest he had ever gone during a Formula One race. Throughout the season, Logan was starting to believe that a win for him wasn’t possible. Yet as he stared at the rear wing of the Mclaren in front of him, Logan could almost feel the glory of a first place finish in his hands.

“The Safety Car comes in as the cars on track make their way to the start line…” 

Oscar hits the gas.

Logan hits it faster.

Suddenly the Williams and the Mclaren are right next to each other–two best friends fighting for first place. Logan dives to the outside of Oscar’s car as they approach the turn…

“SARGENT OVERTAKES PIASTRI AND IS NOW IN THE LEAD!” Crofty exclaimed. A smile formed on Nico’s face as he watched the Williams car driven by Logan speed away from the Mclaren. The cheers from the crowd even reach the commentary box.

 “What a brilliant overtake from Sargent. He made sure to really hit the gas on the restart so that he could bring himself close enough to Piastri for that overtake.” Nico said.

“With ten laps to go, let’s see if he can keep that lead.”

Logan tries his hardest to keep it together and keep the car on track. Anything can happen in a Formula One race. Knowing his luck, Logan is constantly expecting his tires to lock up, or for him to lose control of the steering and spin out as the laps tick down. 

 “Last Lap. Bring it home Logan.”

But reality sets in.

He just needs to make it past the finish line.

“If you don’t mind Crofty, I'd like to do the victory narration.” Nico said, his eyes glued to the Williams car he had been following throughout the whole race. The whole reason his smile has stayed on his face.

“Go right ahead Nico.” Crofty said. Nico took a breath.

“As he starts his final lap, we see the Williams car of Logan Sargent speeding by. After his car was taken away in Australia, he has been trying to prove himself to the team, to everyone, who said he had no place in Formula One. And I can say for certain that throughout this race, Logan has proven himself. He has shown Williams and everyone that he has gotten what it takes to be in Formula One, as he comes around the last corner. He got one point at this track last year and now he’s going for the win. The young man from Florida, the first American in Formula One in 8 years, has fought his way from the bottom, all the way to the top as LOGAN SARGENT WINS THE UNITED STATES GRAND PRIX!”

Nico’s smile grows as wide as it can go, as he watches the blue number 2 car cross the finish line. He sees Logan wave his fist in the air, celebrating his victory and Nico can practically hear the scream that the American driver must be letting out right now. He puts his microphone down, not caring that there’s still commentary that he needs to do as he leaves the commentary box. Nico wants to be there for Logan and see him stand on the top step of the podium. 

“You did it mate! You won!” Gaten says over the radio. Logan can barely hear it over the sound of him screaming and the cheers from the audience.

 “YESSSSSSS! COME ON! OH MY GOD!” Logan yells. He can feel tears start to well up in his eyes but blinks them away as he makes his way to Parc Ferme so he can park his car in the #1 spot.

Getting there, Logan sat in the car for a moment, taking in the moment that he had just won his first Formula 1 race. He closes his eyes and breathes.

 “I did it.” He says to himself, before standing up.

He stands on the nose of his car, tucking his arms into him before spreading them out, like an eagle spreading his wings. He hadn’t been able to do this since F2. God did he miss this feeling. 

As soon as he steps down from the car, he’s getting tackled from both sides. Oscar to his right, and (Y/N) to his left. This winning feeling felt even better at the fact that he got to share the podium with his two best friends. 

 “Congrats mate! That was a hard earned win.” Oscar says, patting his back.

“I told you you’d get a podium.” (Y/N) says, putting both hands on the side of Logan’s helmet and shaking him a bit. Logan laughs before batting his friend’s arms away. 

He dives into the waiting arms of the William’s team, who hold him and pat his helmet like he just won the World Championship. In a way, Logan feels like he has. 

There’s a couple more pats and shakes before a steward is directing him to a spot for the post interview and Logan’s smile grows wider as he sees Jenson’s the one to do it. Jenson wraps Logan in a big hug, one hand cradling his head close to his own and Logan can’t help but let a tear roll down his face.

 “You were flying out their champ.” Jenson whispers into his ear before he has to pull away and Logan is handed a microphone. 

“Logan…take it all in. You’ve just won your first Formula One race. How are you feeling?”

 “It’s unreal, Jenson. That was a very nerve wracking race with the amount of overtakes I had to do. Throughout the week, I honestly didn’t expect that I would be winning this one.”

“I was on the edge of my seat the whole race. I felt like a proud dad watching you overtake both Hamilton and Verstappen.”

 “You did say that you had hoped to see me on the podium. Glad I could live up to your expectations.” Logan said.

 “You’ve done more than that, Logan. You’ve truly proven yourself as a Formula One driver. Soak it in, champ. You’re a Formula One race winner.” Jenson said. Logan can only nod and laugh as he takes it all in.

Yea, he’s a Formula One race winner. 

Jenson knows that he shouldn’t, considering they’re on live television, but he can’t help but pull Logan in for one more hug before the next interview starts. Logan seems to hold on for a bit longer and Jenson would have given him all the time in the world to stay in this hug. But they have to pull away as Logan heads to the cool down room and Oscar takes Logan’s place to be interviewed.

Logan can still feel the adrenaline and he doesn’t think it’s going to calm down anytime soon. He jumps as someone’s hands land on his shoulders and Alex is suddenly behind him, shaking his shoulders before coming around to the front and giving him a big hug.

 “You just needed to prove yourself and you did! That’s my teammate!” Alex said. Logan laughs. As soon as Alex breaks the hug and steps away, George is right in front of him, pulling him into his own hug before lifting him up into the air. Logan can’t help but hold on tighter as his feet leave the ground.

 “I knew you could do it, Logs.” He says. Logan lets out a laugh as he’s placed back down on the ground. 

 “Thanks guys. I truly don’t know how I made it to the end.” Logan said.

“Rubbish. You made it to the end because you are a phenomenal driver.” George said, pointing a finger at Logan before patting his shoulder.

Before he walks out to the podium, someone hands him an American flag that he drapes across his shoulders. When he first joined Formula One, to Logan the American flag felt heavy, like he was carrying the country on his shoulders.

Now, Logan felt like he was flying.

“In 1st Place…Williams Driver: Logan Sargent!”

He takes his place on the top step of the podium and looks out into the crowd. Amongst the sea of Blue, White, and Orange, Logan’s eyes land on Jenson with Nico standing right next to him. They’re smiling at him with nothing but proudness in their eyes at the fact that their grid kid won his first race. 

And to Logan, their smiles are the only ones that matter.

(Y/N)

It was the weekend of the Belgium Grand Prix and instead of being in the team garage, (Y/N) was standing at the VIP entrance, watching everyone that entered. Were there countless rumors going around that Sebastian Vettel would attend this race? Yes. Were they confirmed? Not really. Did (Y/N) believe them? If it meant the young driver could see their grid dad, then yes. That was the whole reason (Y/N) was at the VIP entrance, looking for any sight of the German World Champion. But it was getting too close to Free Practice for (Y/N) to stay, and thinking the rumors were false, (Y/N) turned around to head to their team’s garage.

 “Off to go racing, honey bee?”

(Y/N) turned back around so quickly, they almost got whiplash. Standing there was Sebastian with a VIP badge around his neck. 

 “Seb!” (Y/N) exclaimed as they ran to the retired German driver and engulfed him in a hug. Seb chuckled as he returned the hug. 

 “I was starting to think that you weren’t coming.” (Y/N) said as they broke away from the hug.

“And miss you racing? That’s ridiculous.” Seb said. Someone next to Seb cleared their throat and (Y/N)’s eyes widened.

 “Kimi!” (Y/N) immediately wrapped the Finnish driver in a hug, like they did with Seb. Kimi stumbled a bit but did return the hug.

To others, having two former world champions at a Formula One race is a welcoming sight with not much meaning. But to (Y/N), having their former mentor and grid dad here to watch them race meant the whole world.

“You came…” (Y/N) said to the two, voice wavering a bit still in disbelief.

 “You called.” Kimi said. (Y/N) smiled.

“Why don’t you show us around the paddock. I’m sure it’s changed since we’ve last been here.” Seb said. (Y/N)’s face lit up as they eagerly grabbed both Seb and Kimi’s hand to start showing them around the paddock

~~~

Seb enjoyed being back at a Formula One race. Being surrounded by the same chaos he once knew gave him a sort of comforting feeling that stayed all the way to race day. And while Kimi wanted to stay in the VIP room to avoid all the crowds and cameras, Seb was down on the grid with all the other celebrities and reporters, walking along the starting grid before the race officially started. He was only able to speak with (Y/N) briefly before their engineer pulled them into a last minute strategy talk. So Seb walked the grid, saying hello to other drivers and previous colleagues as he walked past.

“Look it’s It's former World Champion, Sebastian Vettel.” Sky Sports Reporter Martin Brundle approached Seb during his pre-race grid walk. “How are you Sebastian?”

 “I'm doing great Martin. How are you?” Seb asked.

“I’m doing well. It’s good to see you back at a race.” Martin said. “Are you rooting for any team in particular?”

“I'm here to support my grid kid.” Seb said with a smile.

 “I’m sure the Ferrari garage is happy to have you back.” Martin said. Seb let out a chuckle and shook his head.

 “I’m here to support my other grid kid, (Y/N).”

“Do you think they’ll do well today?” Martin asked. Seb smiled.

 “I don’t doubt it. No matter what happens I’ll be rooting for them all the way.” Seb said.

After the national anthem was played, Seb was able to pull (Y/N) aside for a brief moment.

“Good luck. Be safe. Kimi and I will be watching from the VIP room.” Seb said before (Y/N) had to get in the car. He clipped the straps of their helmet, “Remember: Fight like a bull.” 

 “And sting like a bee!” (Y/N) said with a smile Seb could see peak out from the visor. 

“That’s right!” The two high fived and Seb ruffled (Y/N)’s helmet as if ruffling the driver’s hair, before leaving to join Kimi in the VIP room. 

Watching the race seemed more stressful to Seb than if he was the one driving it. He tenses anytime (Y/N) gets close to making contact with other cars or anytime they experience oversteering. But he cheers alongside Kimi after every successful overtake.

 “(L/N) goes to the outside of Alonso into turn six! Are they going to make it past the Aston Martin? Going into the straight, (L/N)’s within DRS, they pull ahead and (L/N) speeds past as the younger generation leaves the older one in the dust!” Crofty narrates and Seb and Kimi cheer. 

 “(Y/N)’s got the pace to make it to first.” Seb said. Kimi only nodded as two mens’ eyes stayed glued to the screen. And Seb was right. Soon enough (Y/N)’s car was in P2 with only a 1 second gap between her and Carlos, who was P1. Seb and Kimi watched as the gap got smaller and smaller till (Y/N) was right behind the Ferrari. 

 “Come on (Y/N)...” Kimi mumbled. The sound in the VIP room seemed to deafen as (Y/N) attempted an overtake on Carlos. The two cars go into the turn right next to each other, wheels centimeters from touching. 

(Y/N) pulls out of the turn ahead of Carlos and speeds off to take the lead.

“(Y/N) (L/N) is the new race leader!” Seb and Kimi erupted into applause as their grid kid took the P1 spot. But that didn’t make the stress go away, as there were still a couple more laps to go. 

 “Come on honey bee, bring it home.” Seb said, rubbing his hands in anticipation. And that’s what (Y/N) did. The gap they had built was enough that no car could catch up to them in the final lap. And as they crossed the finish line, Seb and Kimi cheered and applauded so loud, they were sure (Y/N) would be able to hear it from the track.

“(Y/N) (L/N) WINS THE BELGIUM GRAND PRIX!”

“P1! You are P1, (Y/N)! Congratulations.” (Y/N)’s race engineer said in their ear as (Y/N) almost burst into tears.

 “YEEEEESSSSS! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!” They yelled. They waved to the fans in the grandstands as they slowly did their cool down lap while trying to wipe tears from their eyes.

 They eventually pulled their car into parc ferme and parked their car in front of the #1 board. Getting out of the car, (Y/N) beat their chest twice in celebration as they stood on the nose of the car before jumping down and running to their team, who gave congratulatory pats on the head and shoulders. 

After the post race interview, (Y/N) started to make her way to the cool down room, passing other drivers along the way who gave their own congratulations to the driver.

“Congratulations, niño/a.” Fernando said as he pulled (Y/N) into a side hug. “I almost had you on that overtake.”

 “Sorry that I had to pass you to be able to win.”

“Don’t apologize. Though if you keep winning, I may have to retire.” Fernando said. (Y/N) laughed and shook their head.

 “Everyone knows that you’re going to be racing well into 2046 ‘Nando’.” (Y/N) said. Fernando chuckled and patted their shoulder one more time before leaving to meet with his team. 

The race winning high was something (Y/N) didn’t want to come down from. As they kept making their way to the cool down room, (Y/N)’s smile continued to grow as their win felt more and more real.

And then there’s Seb and Kimi, waiting for them at the end. (Y/N) didn’t waste any time as they threw themselves into Seb’s arms and gave him a big hug.

“Congratulations, honeybee.” Seb whispered into their ear. “You’re a Formula One race winner.”

 “I feel like I’m dreaming.” (Y/N) said as they pulled away from Seb and turned to Kimi. 

Kimi didn’t say anything as he patted (Y/N)’s shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. That was ok. (Y/N) didn’t need him to say anything as she turned the side hug into a full one. 

 “Does this prove that you have to come to more than one race every season? I’m always close to winning when you’re here, Seb.” (Y/N) said.

“Actually, I think this proves that Kimi has to come to your races more often, as you always win when Kimi’s here.” Seb said, patting his friend on the shoulder. Kimi only smiled.

[babydollitzel]

can you do ponyboy x reader headcanons!

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐜’𝐬

𝐏𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings/extra; nothing bad really just metions of making out and ‘the talk’

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ I tried making this long since my last couple of posts have been pretty short so yeah I’ll try to make my next posts longer!

𐙚 he’s lowkey so sassy

𐙚 but other than that he always walks you home just in case some socs try to mess with you, even though he’s worried himself that they’ll come for him

𐙚 but besides his worries, when you guys walk you hold hands and swing them back and forth

𐙚 I feel like he gets jealous sometimes so if someone’s checking you out he’ll just hold your hand or have an arm around your shoulder to show that you’re dating

𐙚 writes you little poems and notes about how much he loves and appreciates you

𐙚 you guys going to the drive in, but hardly watch the movie. You mainly spend the time eating popcorn, drinking cokes, and just talking

𐙚 you guys hang out at your house a lot since Pony shares a room with Soda

𐙚 like you guys are just laying on your bed, your head in Pony’s lap while he reads some book to you

𐙚 you guys study together sometimes, but sometimes they end up in small make outs, I mean, it’s what most teenagers do after all

𐙚 but you guys don’t do anything further than making out, after Darry had given you both a very uncomfortable ‘talk’

𐙚 as for cuddling I feel like sometimes he likes being the one being held

𐙚 like he’d be laying on your chest while you run your fingers through his hair because when his hair’s not greased, it’s so very soft

𐙚 if you guys argue they’re just over petty things because Pony’s lowkey stubborn, never wants to admit he’s wrong

𐙚 but fortunately in the end you guys always make up

𐙚 when you guys hang out Johnny’s there 70% of the time, sometimes you wonder if Johnny’s the third wheel or if you are

𐙚 but you don’t mind because Johnny’s your friend too

𐙚 whenever he has a track meet you always make sure to sit at the bleachers, sitting at the row that’d be closest to Pony, that way he can hear you cheer for him extra loudly to embarrass him

𐙚 One part of him is appreciative that you’re cheering for him but the other part is just feeling embarrassed as heck.

𐙚 Like he’ll just side eyes you and motion for you to stop but that’s how you know it’s working!

𐙚 but anyway your parents think he’s a pretty good kid too, he’s pretty normal besides being named ‘Ponyboy🤓��� but that’s alright

𐙚 As for Pony’s brothers, Darry knew you were a nice girl, but wasn’t sure about you guys dating. He’d rather have Pony focus on his studies.

𐙚 Once he saw you and Pony studying together, he knew that you were good for him and his schoolwork

𐙚 Soda thinks you’re a nice girl too, but do expect him, Steve, and Two-bit to tease you and Pony

𐙚 Overall he’s a real good boyfriend ♡

[lurochar]

A Snow Day in Hell

Heeey, anyone else remember that ‘special feeling’ meme from years ago? No? Me either

–----------------------------------------------

Hell had frozen over.

Literally.

It was an extraordinarily and incredibly rare occurrence, according to Charlie, who, a literal native demon born of Hell, had only seen it snow once before in her lifetime.

It generally occurred once every few hundred years, perhaps add or minus a century here or there, Lucifer could not be bothered to keep track when Charlie had asked him how often it actually happened since the snow only stuck around for a day at the very most and was just a minor inconvenience.

You were honestly excited to witness such a unique experience and were dismayed to find that Alastor could care less about such a thing.

And so, you had to pester him and even promised him a favour (his proceeding and chilling smile sent immediate shivers down your spine) just to take a stroll with you around town (and would probably regret when he came to collect that favour).

“Of course, Darling! I have no important tasks to complete today. Why, I would be ever so honoured to escort you to town on such a… lovely day.”

You gave Alastor a skeptical look when he glanced outside with an expression that screamed the opposite of what he was saying.

He clearly hated snow.

“But, seeing my partner beg me in such a pitiful manner – well, how can I possibly say no to that?”

Maybe you should have just asked Charlie? She seemed just as excited as you to see the snowfall.

It took quite a bit of self control for Alastor to not let out a dark chuckle at your varying expressions. You may be his companion, but he was still a sadist through and through. 

Maybe it was a bit soft when it came to you though. Just a little bit.

Besides, as irritating and cold as it was, a little snow, that would literally only last for a day, would never hurt anyone, right?

~00~

“It’ll be on any minute now!”

You covered your face with a pillow in pure embarrassment, unable to look at the screen of the TV as Charlie bounced in excitement. 

How did she find out? 

Ah damn, she already gathered the others to watch.

“W-why are you here?” You barely lifted your face enough to eye Alastor, seeing him sitting smugly in his usual chair. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You told Charlie, didn’t you!?”

“Well, of course I did!” Alastor’s grin was utterly demonic and he was obviously taking pleasure in your mortification. “Normally, I am completely against these awful picture box shows and was utterly baffled when you agreed to a… television interview, Darling, with me when you are completely aware of my distaste.”

“Uh, wait,” Angel Dust raised his arm, “you’re on TV, Smiles? How did they capture you on camera? How’d you not, ya know, blow up the whole network with that whole staticky thing you do? Why is Vox even letting this air?”

Everyone glanced over to Alastor, but he answered nothing.

You had no idea either.

“Oh, it’s on!” Charlie pointed with a wide grin and you slumped over, ready to just pack your bags and leave to save yourself the embarrassment.

On the TV, the scene was that of you and a tall figure that was distorted, blurry, and pixelated, yet was clearly Alastor from shape and colour alone. Honestly, you were surprised he was showing up even this much and not blowing out the camera like Angel Dust had pointed out.

It was a simple question, you were only stopped by the news reporter to ask what you thought of the unprecedented snowfall.

You had just been caught up in the moment, the idea of experiencing the whole once-in-a-lifetime thing with your partner.

So you had replied with something straight out of a Christmas romcom movie or something equally as cheesy. You really had no idea where it came from. Maybe the fact that Alastor had summoned an umbrella and was holding it over both of your heads?

It was mainly so he wouldn’t get snow in his ears, you would find out later.

“Isn’t this just amazing? Snow that falls only every few hundred years? It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Your face was beginning to turn red as you continued on without waiting for another question from the reporter. “Being in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a special feeling. I love it.”

Oh fuck.

How the fuck could you say that with a straight face!?

It was clear that Alastor felt the shame for you, even through his blurry distorted figure, you could see his ears flatten against his head and his head completely turn away from the reporter like he wasn’t there to hear your cringey words.

“Oh my Satan, are you fucking serious?” The news reporter sneered at you. “I just asked you about some fucking frozen water. Not your version of a romantic date you’ll have in your shitty wet dreams.”

You blinked and the distorted Alastor slowly turned his head back towards the reporter.

“This is fucking Hell, not some Barbieland bulls–”

You couldn’t help it and a few of your more demonic features were showing before you could stop them and you grabbed the umbrella Alastor was still holding. “You asked me a question about snow and I answered and then you make fun of me for that!? So what if I want a romantic outing with my lover!?” You shoved the umbrella’s pole into the gut of the reporter and growl into the camera, hearing the cameraman cry out before it cuts out and the interview is over.

.

.

.

There was complete silence.

“W-well, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.” You scratch your cheek, “J-just forget what I sa–”

“Oh, that was so romantic!” Charlie’s eyes were wide and sparkly, “I never knew snow could make you feel that way.” She gasped loudly, looking at Vaggie. “There’s still time! Come on, Vaggie! We need to go out in the snow to ‘immerse ourselves’ in that special feeling!”

Vaggie just throws you a grumpy look before sighing and following after Charlie.

Angel Dust is laughing his ass off, “Special feeling? Seriously, Dollface? Did that cold freeze your brain cells or somethin’? Well, at least ya showed that dick reporter who’s boss. Smiles, over there, did nothin’.”

“I don’t need him to do everything for me.” You muttered, glancing over at Husk and, for once, glad to see he’s too drunk to care and Niffty had lost interest as soon as she saw a cockroach. 

You looked over to Alastor.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked with a sigh, “Watching me embarrass myself and then lose control on the news that’s aired all around Hell?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Very much so, Darling. Not only have you provided me with great entertainment, but now you have also given me an excuse to go after the one who aired your follies. I do believe I should give my ‘old pal’ a visit quite soon.”

Yeah.

You really should have just asked Charlie earlier.

[pupkashi]

gojo’s favorite hobby is being your personal nurse

a/n: hi friends ! this is incredibly self indulgent seeing as though i am currently sick and need comfort as i fight this tough battle (studying for exams) i have no idea if this good or not because my brain isn’t really working ,,, sorry if it sucks </3

wordcount: 2,036

masterlist

it started off with the itch in your nose, just the slightest sensation that you brushed off. the pollen count wasn’t too high anyway, the short walks between lectures should be fine.

you ignored the scratchy and sore feeling in your throat, maybe it was just because you had too much of a fun time at the football game? but you were not sick.

“sweetheart you look like death” satoru pouted, closing the apartment door behind him as he walked in. he easily slipped his uniform jacket off, holding it loosely in his hand, leaning over you and gently pressing his lips to your forehead.

“are you sick? why didn’t you tell me this morning before i left?” he frowned, tossing his jacket to the side and immediately b-lining for the kitchen.

“‘toru what are you doing? I’m fine!” you mumble, the scratchy feeling in your throat making it harder for you to argue back.

“what is it? your allergies? were any of your friends sick? they said the cold was going around again…” he’s mainly mumbling the last part to himself as he trails off.

you can only hear the light clatter of mugs and pots as you peer over the kitchen bar from your spot on the couch. your laptop was open, still untouched as you pulled the blanket closer to your body.

“what are you even doing? i can take care of myself” you sigh, already standing up, heading to the kitchen before satoru’s deep voice has you stopping in your tracks.

“sit down sweets” his voice is firm, leaving no room for argument as you settle yourself back into the couch. only moments later he’s walking over to you slowly, a mug in his hands.

“drink this while it’s still hot, i added some honey in so it tastes a bit less bitter” he smiles, setting it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit, i want that tea finished by the time I’m back, ‘kay?”

“where are you going?” you ask, eyes peeking from behind the hot mug, the hot liquid soothing your throat.

“gonna get us some pho” he smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he’s vanishing in front of your eyes, the slight gust of wind hitting you softly.

you let out a small sigh, sipping on the tea in front of you, thankful for the brief relief of pain it brought you. your eyes fell on your laptop, a pout on your lips as you realized it was already 6pm and you had yet to do a single thing on your to do list.

before you could even think of grabbing your laptop and doing some work satoru was unlocking the front door, bounding in with two bags of food, setting them on the table and heading over to you.

he didn’t hesitate in closing your laptop, stopping your protests as he sweeps you off your feet and places you softly in the dining chair.

“here take this medicine once you’ve finished all the food” satoru hums gently, sitting down next to you and handing you the gel capsules. “wouldve made you chicken noodle soup but all the chickens frozen” he smiled sheepishly.

“it’s okay angel boy” you hum, sipping on the hot broth, “this is great too” satoru can’t help but smile, glad that you hadn’t lost your appetite.

he’s carrying the dishes to the sink, making sure to wash them and put them to dry before you can even mutter a word argument. ‘you’re sick you should be resting not washing dishes’ you had reprimanded him, a soapy finger pointing to the bedroom, ‘now go get ready for bed.’ your own words biting you in the ass as he repeated them back to you months later.

it wasn’t long after you’d brushed your teeth and changed clothes that satoru joined you in bed, frowning at how badly you were shivering.

“c’mere sweets” he murmurs, already pulling you into his chest.

“what if-” satoru doesn’t let you finish, brushing your hair out of your face a bit before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“stop worrying your pretty little head about me, I’m not gonna get sick” he smiles, pulling you even closer to him. you relish in the radiating heat of his body, more grateful than ever that he had always ran much warmer than you did. “I’m the strongest remember?”

the words have you rolling your eyes at him, not having enough energy to argue back. you’re only mustering a light smack on his chest, fighting back a smile when satoru whines out a soft ‘ouch!’ before squeezing you a bit tighter.

the nighttime medicine kicks in quickly, and between your body aches and runny nose, there isn’t much protest on your end when giving in to the drowsiness.

“gnight angel boy” you mumble, already half asleep as the words tumble from your mouth. satoru peeks his eyes open a bit, taking in your flushed skin, parted lips and messy hair.

“goodnight sweetheart” he smiles, heart pounding against his rib cage. how do you manage to look like the epitome of love and perfection even when you’re sick?

the next morning satoru’s side of the bed is empty, and there’s a hot cup of tea sitting on the nightstand. it’s as you’re taking the first sip of the steaming liquid that satoru walks in with oatmeal and fruits for you.

“how’s my sweetheart doin’?” he asks, his lips pressing to your forehead, the gesture doubling as affection and assurance that your fever didn’t come back.

“‘m okay” you mumble, blowing a bit at the food infront of you to cool it down. “i have lab at 8 though i need to get ready” you sigh, muscles screaming at you to stop moving.

“you feeling better?” he asks, sitting at the foot of the bed, making sure you took your medicine and ate your fill.

“worse actually” you sigh, setting aside the now empty plate and swallowing the gel capsules along with the warm tea.

satoru frowns at your words, your skin still flushed and goosebumps trailing along your arms despite being swaddled in the fuzzy blanket. he’s holding out the thermometer infront of you, hoping for his initial guess to be wrong, but as he reads the thermometer his frown only deepens.

“you’re burning up” he sighs, already pulling his phone out and dialing shoko, walking out the bedroom before you can say anything. “yeah can you make a doctors note for y/n? they’ve got a fever and i don’t want them leaving the house for another couple days.”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he thanks his friend, walking in with a wide grin on his face as he takes the plates from your lap.

“shokos making you a doctors note so you don’t have to worry about working or class or anything until next week” he grins, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“i still have some homework i have to finish up tonight” you frown, falling back on the plush pillows behind you. satoru’s footsteps are quiet as he leaves the room, and you can vaguely hear the sound of the kitchen sink running as he washes the dishes.

you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up hours later, the sun shining through the still closed blinds and your just a tad bit sweaty, most likely from the fever your body was still fighting off.

your muscles are still aching as you throw the blanket off your body, suddenly feeling much too hot for the layers of clothes you have on.

you’re peeking your head out from the hallway, the tv playing softly and satoru has your laptop in his lap, fingers typing away as his eyes land on you after a minute.

“what are you doing?” you ask, slowly making your way towards him, fatigue hitting you the second you sit down.

“i wrote your paper already so you didn’t have to worry about it, you can check it over before you turn it in, also emailed your lab instructor so you can get a makeup assignment for todays stuff” he smiles, turning the screen to you.

“toru you didn’t have to” you pout, warmth blooming in your chest, this time not related to your illness. satoru is smiling at you, pressing his glossy lips to your nose, taking a second to smooth your hair down before shaking his head.

“it’s the least you deserve,” he replies, “don’t want you stressed while you’re sick, focus on getting healthy for me again.” the slight twinkle in his blue eyes is enough to make you cave, knowing there was no way to talk him out of this one.

your body wiggling it’s way under one of his arms is enough of an answer for him. he can feel how hot your skin feels against his, but he doesn’t mention it as you doze off against him, only waking you when his timer goes off.

“what’re you timing?” you ask, still slightly asleep as you watch him head to the kitchen.

“your soup is done! it’s time for you to take medicine again.”

your lover is attentive and doting if nothing else, serving you a generous bowl of his home made chicken noodle soup. he’s explaining the benefits of each vegetable as he plates the food, telling you how he made megumi some when he used to get sick and how the boy always seemed to get better soon after.

“it has everything to do with the secret ingredients and not with the medicine i was making him take” he grins, placing the bowl on the dining table and ushering you over.

you bring the first spoonful to your lips, fully expecting to have to lie through your teeth and tell your lover how amazing the soup was. but you didn’t have to lie, and the evident shock on your face was enough to boost satoru’s ego through the roof.

“oh wow” you mumble, bringing a second spoonful to your mouth, “this is actually really good.” your brows are slightly furrowed as you finish the soup, sniffling a bit as you set your spoon down.

“not bad huh?” there’s a giant grin on his glossy lips as he smiled at you, and even sick and feverish you’re rolling your eyes at him and crossing your arms over your chest.

“what’s the secret ingredient?” satoru is quick to light up at your question, pressing his lips to your cheek before replying.

“love!”

you can’t help the smile that plays on your lips, giggling a bit at his one word reply. “no wonder it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you reply, the words making his smile grow wider as he follows you back to bed.

satoru doesn’t say anything as you burrow yourself under the blankets again, instead he helps tuck you in, kissing your forehead the moment you’re finally comfortable.

it’s like that for the next few days.

breakfast in bed, satoru waking you to make sure you take your medicine every six hours. he’s taking your temperature avidly, holding you tightly when you’re sleeping, pressing feathery kisses to your flushed skin.

he’s cooking you home made meals and buying you anything you want, keeping an eye on you at all times when he’s home. he’s waving yaga off when he calls, telling him there’s a much more pressing issue at hand and leaving nanami in charge of his students until further notice.

“angel you know i can take care of myself right?” you mumble, your fingers are tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m not even that sick anymore actually.”

satoru furrows his brows at your words, shaking his head softly at you, “don’t be silly sweets, I’ll always take care of you.” he doesn’t bother giving you time to respond, instead he’s squeezing you a bit tighter, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before letting out a soft sigh.

“now get some rest, you need all the sleep you can get.”

“whatever you say dr. gojo” you tease, smiling as he grins down at you.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @orihimeii

[awkward-halfhug]

saving grace | warren peace x reader

summary: you have some bullying problems. Warren helps out

contents: Ron Wilson Bus Driver's daughter!reader x warren peace (because my sister said she wanted to see Ron Wilson mentioned and I said I can do u one better), cw bullying, chocolates, birdsong

2.4k

Bang. Bang bang. Your fists are softer than they should be against the thin metal. The knocking half hearted at this point.

This is the second month into the school year, and you've found yourelf in this exact scenario nearly every day. It's always right as you're heading to lunch. No matter where you happen to be, you're grabbed in broad daylight, hauled to your locker, and trapped there by one means or another, until you can figure your way out.

It's not the same people every time. They seem to rotate out. You think maybe they're on a schedule. Wonder if they coordinate with eachother and see what day is good for each of them. The idea makes you smile a bit, though it really shouldn't. Organized crime.

You don't always see who it is, but even if you do, it doesn't matter. Sky high doesn't have the best track record with this kind of thing. So, you mainly keep your predicament to yourself. Your teachers have enough to worry about, molding young superminds and all that. And your dad...you just really don't want your dad to worry.

It's not all bad though! Sometimes the cafeteria gets a bit too loud for you anyways. It can get pretty rowdy, especially when the students use their powers to show off to eachother (even though they're not supposed to outside of gym). So, really, a nice enclosed space isn't the worst place you could be, all things considered.

You sigh. It would be better if you had tater tots, though.

You hear footsteps down the hallway and perk up. Start banging your fist against your locker door in earnest.

"Excuse me? Hello?" You wait a moment and frown when there's no response. Try again.

"Would you mind opening my locker please? I'm inside of it!" Because that wasn't clear, surely.

"Whats the combination?" You hear, muffled. You grin in relief.

"It's 123"

Silence.

"Your locker combination is 123?" The voice is incredulous, maybe a little bit judgy.

"They find a way in anyway, it's easier for the janitor if I keep it simple so he can remember." You defend to the stranger through the metal.

You hear a sigh, and then the clicking of your lock, and then finally, the door opens.

The sight that greets you is not the last thing you expect to see, as it's not one of your bullies. But it's pretty close. Warren Peace is standing in front of you. The perpetually glaring, incredibly intimidating Warren Peace is your savior. Who would've thought?

You almost forget to climb out of your locker except he starts to look at you like you're stupid, and that's usually your cue to jump into action.

"Hi!" You say and he flinches. Too loud, woops.

Warren puts his hands in his pockets and turns to leave, this interaction apparently over for him.

You close your locker and hurry to catch up to him. "Thank you so much. I was getting hungry."

Warren nods. "Yeah, well..." He scratches the back of his neck.

It takes you a minute to realize you're headed outside.

"Did you already eat?" You ask.

"Lunch is almost over, so yeah."

You frown. There's probably not enough time for you to go get something and eat before fifth period. You brighten when you remember the chocolate your dad keeps in his mini lunch cooler. And you happen to be heading out that way.

"Do you like chocolate?"

"Why are you following me?" Warren looks put-out, but not for much longer, you decide.

"I'm thanking you."

"You already thanked me." He sighs.

"You didn't answer me. Do you like chocolate?" You persist. It's an important question, after all.

Warren pinches his lips together, looks like he's internally debating answering, and then reluctantly says "Yes." Before picking his pace up a bit so he's walking ahead of you out the school doors into the courtyard.

You speed up to match him, almost. "Good! Awesome. Follow me." You smile into his confused face and lock your arm around his before pulling him toward the school bus. He could get out of your hold easily, you're sure, but he doesn't, so he must be at least a little curious where you're going.

Your dad is on the other side of the bus when you arrive. You can see him practicing what might be karate moves under the shade of a big tree.

Warren looks less curious and more wary now as you tug his arm forward.

"What are you–?"

"Hey dad!"

You feel Warren startle beside you at the same time as you watch your dad startle in front of you. You watch him fall onto his butt after a particularly enthusiastic kick.

"Oww" your dad moans, and you grimace.

"Sorry."

He waves you off as he stands, giving you a smile through the pain. "It's okay, kiddo." You watch his eyes widen when he notices Warren beside you and he straightens his posture.

"Oh! Hi there, I'm Ron Wilson, bus driver", your dad whips out a business card and hands it to a bemused Warren. "And this little ray of sunshine's dad."

Your dad smiles at you proudly and you smile back. His eyes then flicker down to where your arm is locked around Warren's and a a weird expression crosses his face.

You flush and drops Warren's arm. Warren rolls his shoulders back like he'd been held captive against his will, which is just silly, and could finally stretch his muscles.

Warren glares at you a little as he makes eye contact with you before nodding at your dad. "Warren."

"You guys new friends?" Your dad asks, less excited than he usually is to meet new people. His eyes were still staring at where your arm was around Warren's.

Are you friends now? You're not sure. You don't remember the last time you made a friend, but a friendly gesture seems like the start of a friendship, right? That's how it was in kindergarten, you think.

"Warren helped me out with something at school today" you feel Warren give you a look and ignore it, "and I wanted to give him some chocolate to thank him. Do you have more in your lunch? I'll pay you back."

Your dad's features seem to clear up a little. He looks at Warren's eyes instead of his arm. "Oh, well that was nice of you! Sure, sure. What do you like, Hershey? Nestlé?" He goes to his cooler in the bus and starts rummaging around to find the goods.

You look up at Warren with an excited smile, and you watch as his glare loses heat almost reluctantly.

He rolls his eyes and leans toward you slightly. Murmurs as your dad is still in the bus. "I had stuff to do, y'know. Why am I out here meeting your dad?"

You frown. "It's not a proper thank you without sugar." You tell him. You want to add duh but think that'd probably be rude.

He snorts. "Ah. Well then, of course. Proceed." He says it sarcastically, but he's still standing there so you know he wants the chocolate just as much as any sane person would.

Your dad backs out of the bus with his arms full of mini chocolates. Smiling, he gestures Warren closer with his head.

"Well, don't be shy!" Your dad jostles his armfull until Warren slowly walks over and takes some chocolate, looking pained. The effect is lost though, when he takes his time sorting through the chocolates until he finds one he wants.

Warren starts to back away but when your dad says "take two!" Warren doesn't hesitate.

"Uh, thanks. Sir." The words are clumsy in Warren's mouth and it makes you smile.

"Thank you dad!" You say as you take two for yourself. "See you later." You give him a kiss on the cheek and lead Warren back to the school where fifth period is probably starting.

You walk in silence through the doors and hide your chocolates in sync when you see Mr. Boy in the hallway.

The bell rings and when you turn to say goodbye to Warren, he's already gone.

———

It's a week later before you really see eachother again. You have gym together but nothing else, what with your ability to perfectly imitate birdcalls deeming you hero support, and him being a hero and all. Your hero, you giggle to yourself.

Distracted, you don't see the boys until it's too late. Two sets of arms are around you from the sides before you know it, hauling you up and, predictably, to your locker.

You think maybe by this point you should just resign yourself to the routine completely, but you can't help yourself from struggling against the hold. No one helps you as you look from face to face of your peers. Some look on with pity, some pretend not to see, and others don't care. A couple even laugh.

You feel stupid tears prickle at the backs of your eyes in frustration and struggle a little harder. Your attackers gasp and you think you've done something right, but when you twist around, you see the source of the change isn't you, it's Warren. He's got a hand on each of the boys' shoulders, and as you watch, smoke rises from his hands. He squeezes, and the boys' faces screw up and their bodies try to cringe away from him.

They drop you. You're too amazed to worry about your stinging tailbone. Although, no, actually that does sting really bad.

Warren's expression is barely any different than his usual one. Which is to say, it's intimidating. But now his brows are furrowed in disgust as he glares at them.

The kids manage to wrestle out of his hold and run off before he can grab either of them again. Warren turns back to you. He sighs heavily.

"So. That keep happening?" He asks, with an almost uninterested tone. Almost.

You nod. He nods back, thinking, as he looks around them. Glares at the people who make eye contact.

He takes a deep breath. "Well, are you hungry or are you just going to sit there all day?"

"Oh!" You must look silly sitting on the floor like that. Probably an improvement to how you look being shoved into your locker, though. You wipe the tears from your cheeks discreetly and start to get up, when Warren grabs your arm and gently pulls you up.

He still looks bored when you're up and closer to eye level with him. But he can't fake nonchalance when he just stepped in to help you.

Your earlier thoughts come to mind. Your hero indeed. You're staring at him in awe when he clears his throat.

You're still both standing in the hall as bystanders walk past, uncaring, into the cafeteria.

"Sorry, yeah. Thank you. Again. Thank you so much." You smile your most grateful smile at him and he actually starts to look uncomfortable.

"I meant, are you going to lunch? They're gone." Warren stays standing in the hallway, waiting for your answer.

You can, now, you realize. You can actually go to lunch, and eat food, and not have your stomach complain at you the rest of the schoolday. You almost can't believe it.

"That would be nice." You say, in awe once again.

"'Kay. Go in then." Warren lifts his eyebrows and gestures for you to enter the cafeteria. You walk to the line and Warren follows behind.

After loading up your tray, you stand a few feet out of the line and stare out at the tables of kids eating and talking and laughing together. You don't know where to go now. There's only one empty table, and you watch Warren walk past you and sit down at it.

You look around for another few seconds before making a decision.

Warren looks up mid-bite as you put your tray down at his table. Place the pudding cup from your tray onto his. You look at him in silent question. He just stares at you for a moment, before returning to his food. He pulls the pudding a little closer to him. You take that as permission and settle down to eat.

Lunch is a quiet affair, but peaceful, and you find yourself smiling into your broccoli.

———

At first you think it might be a coincidence, when you start running into Warren right after the lunch bell rings. It could be a coincidence still, you think. But it's a coincidence that's happened every single day since he chased off those kids harassing you.

It could be a coincidence, but he sure does look like he's waiting for you, as he stands leaned against the hallway directly outside your classroom, and straightens up when you exit.

It could be a coincidence, you admit. Maybe. But you hope it isn't.

Each day you walk side by side to the cafeteria, as if you'd agreed to it. As if this was something you'd always done. You didn't, and you hadn't. You love it.

He's quiet, and brooding, and intimidating and lovely. These days you can't tamp down the fluttering in your stomach in fourth period as you anticipate the bell. A different sort of anticipation than you're used to. A good kind.

You try to dial down the smile as he looks over at you.

"What?" Warren frowns suspiciously.

"Nothing! Nothing. Just happy." You fold your hands together in front of you and hum as you head toward the food.

Warren lets you step in front of him in line and you each load up your trays before heading to a table.

Your table. Both or yours. You sigh happily.

It's technically, perhaps, just Warren's table. But since you sat with him that first time, you've continued every day since, and he hasn't shoo'd you off yet! It feels like a definite win.

"Hey Warren..."

Warren grunts in acknowledgement, shoving a fry in his mouth.

"Would you call us friends?"

He pauses in his fry-eating. Looks at you. Looks back down. Steals your jello.

"I mean. If that's what you wanna be."

You frown. Not as enthusiastic of a reply as would be optimal, but this is Warren you're talking to.

"Do you not want to be friends?" You can't help but ask. The evidence makes it seem ridiculous but you have to know.

He steals your plastic spoon and opens his pilferred jello. Speaks quietly. "If you want to be friends, we're friends, okay?"

It sounds like an admission to you.

"Are you sure you don't just like me for my food?"

Warren cracks a tiny smile, obviously relieved. "Who says I like you?"

"Little birdie" you grin coyly.

"Oh, and which bird would that be?"

You imitate a Blue Jay and Warren laughs.

thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging/commenting, it means a lot ♡

[majoryeager104]

i have another request :33333333333333333

How would Dabi or Hawks react to coming to their artist s/o room and seeing her face, hands and clothes covered in paint? :33

omg I love ur requestssss these are so cute 🙌

Hawks

Keigo wandered into your apartment as usual, some snacks in a crinkly plastic bag as he sauntered through the balcony door. He always entered like this- unannounced, with snacks, from the windows or the balcony, like a bird into its nest, because that’s what your place was to him. “hey babe I’m-“ he peeked into your bedroom, where you sat, cross legged on a big flat piece of cardboard, absolutely covered in paint. Hair, face, clothes, even the backs of your legs were smeared in colors where you’d lazily wiped it away. “Oh hey Keigo!” You grinned, waving a painted hand at him. He let out a snort, walking in and crossing his arms, a wide grin on his face. “You sure made a mess” he chuckled, sitting on the corner of your bed. You pouted a bit, hiding a small smile “I mean I put down cardboard,” you shrugged, gesturing to the large flat piece of cardboard beneath you.

It too was a total mess of blues, yellows, pinks, an array of colors that mixed and contrasted against the sad beige. He glanced down at the canvas in front of you. It was large, and it looked like you were making a landscape. It was pretty. Really pretty. Meow all the colors made sense, the way they blended and shaped the painting, providing their own shades and highlights to advance the setting you’d so meticulously crafted. he grinned, running a hand through your hair, little specks of paint dappling the ends of it. “It looks lovely. Have you eaten?” “Uhhhhh-“ “don’t tell me you skipped lunch too” he sighed at your silence as you closed your mouth, not wanting to dig yourself a bigger hole. He rolled his eyes, placing a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, I brought snacks, and I can heat up some leftover pizza…you’d be so hopeless without me” he said the last part ever so dramatically, leading you to giggle and shake your head, flustered by how much you didn’t want to admit he might be right. He stood, walking back towards the door, still glancing back a few times to see the array of colors surrounding you, admiring how- of course you looked beautiful like this. He grinned, leaning back on the door frame “oh and babe?” He chirped, watching your bright eyes glance back at him. “It really does look nice… not as nice as its artist though” he winked dramatically once more before sweeping out, leaving you to shake your head and smile at his antics.

Dabi

It was an average day for Touya, doing his usual rounds with the league, looking for new recruits, burning said recruits alive because they annoyed him, and then walking home, and by home, he means to your place. He kicked off his boots once he was inside, knowing you wouldn’t be too appreciative of him tracking dirt in. “Hey doll where’re ya at” he said with a stretch, finally relaxing within the confines of your flat. “I’m in the living room!” He sighed, smiling to himself as he heard your soft voice from the other room. He turned the corner, and-

“Did you get jumped by crayons or somethin”

you snorted at his comment, turning to look at him. His brow was furrowed, and he scoffed at the sight of your face. Mainly because nearly every inch of you was smeared in paint. “No, I’m painting” you replied, turning back to your project. he scoffed once more, coming closer to peer over your shoulder. The painting was focused on a cherry blossom tree, the bright pinks and faint reds shading them contrasting the light blue of the pond behind it. “Nice.” He said gruffly, plopping down comfortably next to you. “Don’t know why it required you to be so…messy, though” he eyed you up and down, smirking, his amused expression outweighing his snarky remarks- it was clear he found this to be absolutely adorable.

“I didn’t mean to… it kinda just happens, you know?” You shrugged, giggling softly as you glanced back at your artwork. He eyed you for a moment, his smirk widening into a smile. “So this happens often then?” He teased, gently nudging your shoulder. “You mean if I get here early enough I’ll get to catch you being messy? i mean, I have to leave my boots at the door, but you can practically eat paint and it’s fine?” He laughed, kissing your painted cheek with a Cheshire Cat grin. You rolled your eyes, gesturing towards the cardboard beneath you. “I laid down cardboard” you offered, and he scoffed once more, grinning impossibly wider. “Doesn’t seem like it helped. You’re really something, you know that? Don’t worry, it‘s why I love ya so much… I’ll go make some tea, cos it looks like you won’t be done for a while” he dragged out his last word, ruffling your already messy hair as he stood, looking down at you and your little project. He couldn’t help but find your current circumstances to be adorable, but he’d much rather tease you than admit that to your face. Much more fun that way.

Onggg @yippe3allthedamnnamesrtaken you have the best requests EVER 🙏😭🫶

also I’m fully aware that at some point now autocorrected to meow, but I honestly found it to fun to fix it hehe

[slasher-dasher]

RZ!Michael Myers Headcanons

︶꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Sfw:

He pats your head when he wants to show that you did something he liked. He pats your head a lot.

He wants you to be somewhere? You're getting picked up and moved there, usually with very little warning.

Not the biggest fan of affection, but will never turn it away.

Often tracks mud or blood (or both) through the house. He doesn't take off his boots unless he has to.

Doesn't like to be alone unless he's making masks. If you close a door on him he'll make sad noises from the other side of it (mainly sighs and knocks).

If anyone looks at you the wrong way it will be the last thing they ever do. He plays dumb when you ask about it.

PLAY WITH HIS HAIR!! BRAID IT!! PUT IT IN A BUN!! He loves when you style his hair!!!

He likes to play with your hair too, but it's mostly just him running his fingers through it.

Has two different head tilts. If you ask him a question it tilts to the left, if you call him or he's idle it tilts to the right.

He nests! Comfy pillows and blankets are a new thing for him and he must have as many as possible.

If he catches you admiring his masks, he'll make you one in your favorite color(s) so you two can match.

Won't grab anything from the top shelves, but he will lift you up to grab what you need (unless it's heavy, he doesn't want you to drop it).

Not a fan of animals. He might tolerate a cat, but it wouldn't be allowed around his masks. Or in the bed. Maybe in the bed but it's on thin ice.

Nsfw:

He isn't quiet, but he isn't very loud either. A lot of grunts and sighs with some moans sprinkled in.

He's still not much of a talker, so short praises and some degrading muttered between his grunts are as much as you're gonna get. He will lean down to make sure you hear them though.

Pull his hair. He loves when you style it, but he loves when you mess it up more.

Good stamina, he can go for at least 3 rounds on a normal day, and even more if he was frustrated with a kill. Both of you get overstimulated often.

Speaking of being frustrated, if someone gets away you can tell immediately. He's rougher than usual (he's rough in general too), and will find a way to mark you with his knife if he can (his initials are in three different places on you already).

Do not tie him up in any way it reminds him of Smith's Grove.

Dig👏 your👏 fingers👏 into👏 his👏 back! He likes marking you so you may as well mark him up too!

He's a biter. Loves seeing the hickeys and bite-marks all over you.

He leaves bruises too, but usually doesn't mean to. But he doesn't mind the way they look on your hips and thighs. Expect kisses as aftercare when he does leave them.

Speaking of aftercare: you have to teach him what that is. After a bit, you both get a sense of what the other likes. (He likes getting you snacks the most. He wants to be useful :) )

[verboselocket38]

Before any Stolas/itz stans come to me saying I am a Blitzø stan, I'm not. I dont like Blitzø but this thought has been in my head for awhile and I gotta bring it out here.

Imagine this...

A society where Imps are seen as the second lowest class next to hell hounds where not many are able to start their own buisness.

Now Blitzø wanted to start his own killing buisness where he needs to get to the human realm. Currently its successful, but its only sucessful when he sleeps with Stolas every month for his grimore which access people in hell to the human realm.

A lot of people have already talked about the power dynamics and coercive relationship the two have so this post is mainly me talking about how Stolas was the one to force Blitzø into the relationship, whether he knew or not.

1. The reason for Blitzø to live

Lets just get this out of the way, the Grimore is the reason why Blitzø needs to run his buisness. The buisness that helps pay for his daughter and him to have a roof over their head, and their employees. Money that helps them pay for food, bills, other necessities for them to LIVE. Imps are one of the lowest classes in society, we see in previous episodes they may work as butlers for the Goetia and a not treated well.

In Full Moon Blitzø was begging for Stolas for him to do better all because he missed a bit for their arrangment. Alot of people think hes pleading because he "actually loves Stolas and wants to do better" when.... No it was more of Blitzø begging to keep the one thing that kept his buissness that he worked so hard to maintain afloat - and this was before Stolas showed him the crystal. Even if thats not what the writers intended thats not how it comes off in the show.

2. "But Blitzø started the arrangement!"

No he didnt. When Stolas took Blitzø to the bedroom when he was caught trying to steal the grimore, he thought Blitzø was going to "ravish him." HE made it sexual in the first place.

Now its been 25 years since these two last saw eachother. In that time things change and these two only interacted once as KIDS. When you are a child your personality and perspective usually changes as you grow older. What I mean by this is that Stolas being a royal, in Blitzø's mind he believes that if Stolas figured out WHY he was here sneaking around his house, there is a good chance Stolas could just kill him.

And before any of you say "But Stolas would NEVER do that 🥺"

How exactly is Blitzø suppose to know???

It's been 25 years since they lady saw each other. Stuff changes. If Blitzø thought Stolas wouldn't kill him if caught, then why didn't he just ask Stolas for the book? I mean if he knew that Stolas would willingly give him the book for the business, then wouldn't this whole arrangement like- never happen in the first place???

In his mind in this situation, Blitzø was panicking. In this situation him being sexual with Stolas was his only priority in his mind to keep himself alive.... And then later he gave Stolas pity sex.

(Which let me just say since this part is what I believe defiently what wasnt going through Blitzø's mind... But if he left with the book not giving Stolas sex, I wouldn't be suprised that Stolas would feel betrayed and then track Blitzø down to take the book back. We know he can track him down in Murder Family and Truth Seekers, so I wouldn't be suprised but yeah I just wanted to point this out.)

3. "But What about Blitzø's Exes?"

People like to bring Up Blitzø's exes to point out how he somehow screwed up in his relationship with Stolas even though it is a separate issue. And something to point out is that Dennis, a character from the Queen Bee episode, was there. He wasn't an ex, he was a fling. I wouldnt be suprised that the amount of people there are just flings. As for Verosika she has every right to hate him after he maxed her credit card, but like.... girl making a party every year about hating Blitzø isnt going to let these people get over him.

In all honesty I think Blitzø having a lot of "Exes" was just meant to make Blitzø look worse than Stolas. This is just something I wanted to get out of the way.

4. If you still think that its Blitzø's fault cuz the relationship started, let me put it in perspective like this...

(This isnt suppose to be a 100% accurate comparison to Stolas and Blitzø but this is just to set an example)

There was this couple named John and Leslie. Now John has been intrested in Leslie in a romantic way and asks her to be in a relationship. She says yes and they date for awhile. Things may or may not start out ok but later down the line Leslie starts being not a good partner. By that I mean she might be emotionally manipulative towards him or making him think that anything Leslie herself doesn't like is immediately JOHN'S fault. Apparently if we go by the HH/HB fandom's logic, John would be at fault for being abused because HE was the one who started the relationship. The fact that he had feelings for her at one point automatically means that he has to be in the relationship forever now.

Now if we go to Blitzø and Stolas, Blitzø is at fault for being in sexual coercion because he tried to not get himself (In his mind) killed by Stolas when he tried taking his book. Its his fault for not loving him when what they had was a transactional agreement that was purely business. Its Blitzø's fault for not realizing Stolas was having a serious conversation with him in Full Moon, when Stolas has never treated Blitzø like an equal in the past.

Conclusion

When going through this whole rant I wanted to put this somewhere but didnt know where:

I don't condemn thievery... but I also dont condemn coercive rape.

Just because Stolas feels bad about it does not make anything any better. Even if he didn't mean to put Blitzø in this situation, whatever way you look at it, its unhealthy. Blitzø needed the book to run his buisness that he worked hard for to LIVE. Stolas was the one who decided this whole agreement. HE was the one who put these two in this predicament. And yet this show still decides to make Stolas look like a victim.

[sadbastard-bug]

Your protector (yandere simon x reader)

Simon first meets you waiting for the train, he's on his way home from a walk and notices you a couple benches away. it's creepy to stare but he can't help it. Your the first person he's ever seen at the station this late, a while into the wait you start shifting around almost nervous. He tries to look away the second you turn your head but it's no use. You make eye contact. A panicked feeling rises in him once you start walking towards him. You smile looking a bit unsure. He just looks back.

"Not to be a bother but do you know how long till the train gets here?" Your voice is apologetic like your actually worried about annoying him. It clicks in his head why he's never seen you, you must be a newer resident. he's able to make about more of you now that the distance is shorter. Your wearing a uniform, he tries to recall the place it's for but the name never comes to him.

You appear tired and your hairs out of place like you were rushing around all day.

Your actually kind of cute?

You tilt your head, even more nervous. Oh shit! He's been silent this whole time just staring hasn't he. He forces something out, cringing at his own voice as it cracks. "It uh..it shouldn't take much longer.." you smile and let out a relieved breath. "Good! Good" you adjust your bag strap and turn to face the tracks. You don't move though, you stay there standing next to him. He feels himself sweating. Is that all? Should he make small talk? Do you even want to talk to him anymore? He tries to convince himself your visible skittishness is from being new and not him but he still feels a bit like a creep.

You stand by the wall together for a good time. He glances over multiple times milling over things to say. This is the first time in a long time he's been near someone who doesn't seem hostile. He wants to reach out and talk to you but no matter what he tries his voice just won't come out. Then the train shows up.

The noise pulls him forward as you both enter the car. He turns to you to say something, anything but your not there. No, instead you've already moved to the back and taken a seat. Realistically he knows he can still try and socialize but something in his gut tells him he's missed his chance, he gives up. Sitting in his normal seat, he puts on music, and leans his head against the window desperately trying to forget he's not alone in the train.

This isn't the last time you ride though. He sees you several times but he stops short of striking up conversation. The most that happens each time is you smile or wave at him before going back to your waiting. He never stops watching you. Time after time he stares. You arrive and take a seat at the same bench. Sometimes you have a book, sometimes it's your phone, and sometimes you simply sit there, hands in your lap. He never approaches you but that doesn't stop his mind from racing. He thinks about you a lot, mainly questions he wishes he could ask.

Do you live in the same town as him? Why do you get here so late? Do you work night shift? Do you go to school? Do you go to his school? Does he live near you? Do you have any friends? Are you seeing someone?

Slowly he learns more about you from a distance, simple stuff at first. He figures out where your uniforms from. He goes there not to talk but just observe. You do work late, you close actually. You always close with the same guy, you two seem freindly. Too freindly simon thinks. You both chat while locking the doors and then split up, Simon moves after you.

As days pass simon gets braver..he waits outside your work and fallows you to the station each night. Then suddenly he's following you out the station. You live pretty far from him but he doesn't mind the walk. Your home is cute and always has its lights on when you arrive. Simon never sees anyone else but he knows you can't live alone. Parent's? Siblings? Roommates? He tries to find out but the lights never stay on long enough after you get home for him to catch anyone else.

The pits of you he learns join together in his mind. Your around his age. You do attend the same college but you have zero similar classes. Simon considers switching a class or two to match. After school you head to work, you wear the uniform to class but cover the shirt with a hoodie or sweater. He stands outside never able to muster enough courage to go in. He learns the coworker is just a freind and has a girl, who you seem to be friends with too. You go home real late and go to be sleep almost right after. It's almost like he's walking you home he thinks one night. Sure your completely unaware of his presence but you probably wouldn't mind even if you did know, your freindly like that. A sweet and blissfully aware person he has his eye on. He's protecting you really! What if something happened to you in these moments where you think your alone? Normally no one's around but now you've got him! Your ever present protecter!

Maybe one day he'll be able to step from the shadows. To speak with you, hear your voice, your laughter. Hell, maybe you'll smile at him. Yeah one day he'll be close with you. You'll be his. His little darling. You won't mind his awkwardness, or how harsh he can be. You'll understand him, he just knows it! But until then he's here to protect you from a distance

____________________________________________

Okay! Uh jeez I apologize if this was short and uh kind rough but I've just gotten back into writing so bare with me. •_•

(criticism and feedback is hella appreciated though)

Also! Allow me to be honest here, I don't write yanderes. I just don't really uh jive with them ya know? But! I did forget to mention that in my request post so here for the one who wanted it! My first and last yandere x reader post! Please don't expect any more yandere stuff from me Haha! :)

I'll edit the first post.

[vintagerpg]

I’m all out of solos, so here’s one of the last of the X-series modules, X12: Skarda’s Mirror (1987). This is by Aaron Allston, who did N4: Treasure Hunt, a module I adore. This is a pretty solid follow up, though it skirts most of the expectations set by the previous X-modules — it neither involves the exploration of wilderness, nor does it hew to the epic scale of the past few installments. Its a much smaller scenario, thick with plot and investigation. And there’s a pocket dimension! I love pocket dimensions.

The first part is a bit of a red herring, searching a tower full of beasties for a mirror that’s supposed to be there but isn’t. The second part is mainly inside the pocket dimension of the mirror — getting the party there requires their defeat and capture, but thankfully the module doesn’t force it. Skarda’s minions are tough enough to make capture likely, but there are work-arounds for if some or all party-members escape (two pages in the back describes all the ways Allston saw the adventure potentially going wrong and runs through ways to keep it relatively on-track. More adventures should do this. After that, the players need to escape the prison, and the mirror the prison is within, and foil Skarda’s attempted military coup of Karameikos. All in a day’s work!

Cover by Tim Hildebrandt. It’s very good and pretty funny and sells one of the module’s key things very well. Interiors by Al Williamson and Jeff Easley. Really love Williamson’s delicate line work and his cartoony style.

[in1-nutshell]

I’ve been reading all these and love them! The main one I saw that caught my eye was the one with Death from Puss and Boots. I would love to see more interactions with bots and them. Mainly the Autobots and more Cons.

Really love your work though, it makes my day every single day.

More of this Death Bot Buddy!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy who is like Death from "Puss in Boots The Last Wish" with Optimus Prime, Arcee, Shockwave, and Soundwave

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Optimus Prime

Optimus does not like this Con.

Actually, thinks this Con is an even bigger threat than Megatron if they are left unchecked. Considers it lucky that this Con is loyal to the Decepticons.

For now…

He absolutely has chills run down his spinal struts hearing the Con’s whistle, but he hides it well for the sake of his team.

Optimus has and will put himself in front of his teammates if he sees the Con on the offense. The Con has offlined many of his fellow Autobots, he is not letting that mistake happen again. If he needs to call for a tactical retreat, he is going to do it when he deems it necessary.

Optimus hearing the Whistle.

“Autobots! Fall back!”--Optimus

“Beep—(But Prime--)”--Bumblebee

“Especially you Bumblebee! Fall back now!”--Optimus

Whistling intensifies.

Optimus throwing Bumblebee over his shoulder and sprinting towards the groundbridge.

Arcee

Besides Arachnid, this Con is also on her ‘on sight’ list.

At least that’s what Arcee says and tries to do.

This works 50% of the time.

That percentage goes to the times she has absolutely gone berserk and starts throwing everything she has against at the Con.

Do any of the attacks have any effect on the Con? No, and the Con themselves finds it entertaining to watch.

This happens when she doesn’t hear the whistle.

However, the other 50% happens when she hears the whistling.

Arcee doesn’t normally freeze, but this Con has every bolt in her frame freezing. Has had multiple near death experiences with this Con, but always manages to get out of the fight. Whether it be through trickery or sheer luck, Arcee is just glad to get out of there with her spark intact.

Would rather go up against Breakdown and Archnid before she has to go through that Con again.

Arcee and Bumblebee on patrol.

Arcee hears some whistling and freezes for a split second before getting the commlink.

“Ratchet. Groundbrigde. Now.”--Arcee

“Now? You two just got there?”--Ratchet

Whistling gets louder.

“Ratchet. They are here. The whistling’s getting louder!”--Arcee

Groundbrigde opens behind them.

Arcee kicking Bumblebee through first before jumping in.

Shockwave

Shockwave almost forgets the Con exists.

The Con never comes into the lab, and he almost never leaves the lab.

The times that he remembers that the Con is still on the ship is whenever they start whistling.

The whistling makes him a bit uneasy, but it doesn’t last long.

Shockwave is not letting some petty emotion like Fear get in the way of science.

It’s illogical.

But he has a copy of their track record in a file cabinet in his lab.

Imagine an army of that Con running around? The Decepticon’s would win the war in a short number of days, week at most. All Shockwave needs to do is get it approved by Megatron and he’ll get to phase 2 of his plans.

Buddy whistling by the lab thinking about last mission.

Shockwave looking up hearing it before going back to making Science.

Soundwave

Soundwave has had tabs on this Con since the beginning.

Granted, not even he remembers when the Con joined their ranks, just appearing one day and swiftly rising through them.

Soundwave does not trust this Con near Megatron for too long.

He does not send Lazerbeak to spy on the Con alone, not even in a life-or-death situation, he refuses to do it. He’ll make up some sort of accident to give a reason for not deploying Lazerbeak.

That being said, Soundwave has worked with the Con before and has seen their impressive track record. It’s almost as impressive as his.

He does not like the whistling and knows full well that the whistling has produce certain effects on Bot and Cons alike. Naturally, he has a recording of the whistling.

Any Autobot or Decepticon he deems necessary, or had it coming, Soundwave is going to put that whistle at full blast and watch everyone go into a panic.

Soundwave walking through the halls of the Nemesis with Lazerbeak floating next to him.

Starscream starting to ramble about overthrowing Megatron for the 50th time that day.

Soundwave unleashing The Whistle.

Starscream starts shrieking.

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Knights honour

Knight Natasha X fem peasant reader

Warnings: swearing. There is a make out scene that I would consider heavy but knowing you smut readers it may be on the lower level. Idk. Natasha pining for a woman she can't have. Natasha pining for a different woman than y/n. Y/n is a bit neive. Shitty Princess

A/n: sorry this has such a late release I originally wrote it at 3 am and then came back realised it was shit and rewrote it. Chapter five of arranged marriage is nearly done just editing it. Now buckle up cos we got some Cinderella shit to get through.

Natasha thoughts

Y/n thoughts

Natasha speech

Y/n speech

Princess speech (not that she matters)

Natasha had been a knight for five years. She'd been training to be a knight for as long as she could remember. Natasha was brought up around the princess. Mainly so Natasha wouldn't hate the princess when she inevitably received the throne. But it was clear that Natasha was born to be a knight. Not because of the training or because that's all she knew. But because she was a natural even as a child.

Natasha's reputation exceeded her. Kingdoms knew of her loyalty and dedication to the now Queen. And none of it was false either. Natasha was a natural with a sword. To the point she trained with both hands just to give herself a challenge. Not that that lasted long. But nevertheless it worked out. No assassin had made it to the queen when Natasha was in the job. To the point where Natasha was assigned to be the princesses personal knight. Though Natasha had suspicions that was always the goal due to the whole childhood spent together bit.

And Natasha loved her job. She loved the sword fights and training. She loved walking the cobbled streets of the palace gardens when the princess went for walks. Though not for the garden. Natasha's feelings for the princess weren't obvious but they were there. They were there when Natasha went out of her way to give the princess flowers every morning. They were there when Natasha used up all her spare time with the princess. Even when she didn't have to.

But when the princess finally introduced her boyfriend Natasha was... Devastated to say the least. She had thought it was obvious that she was interested in the princess. But then again Natasha knew the princess would always have to marry a man. She had hoped... Natasha didn't know what she had hoped. She wasn't in the mood to hope anymore. All Natasha knew was the princess. So when she was out of reach Natasha was.. lost.

Natasha pov

"damn it. I let my emotions get the better of me again. Get a grip Natasha. You knew this was coming. She's a princess. She wouldn't love you."

I silently cursed myself out as i walk along the streets of the town square. Bards played by the fountain. People seeking wares and goods were surrounding me. Just my luck to go for a walk on market day.

"damn it Natasha. You can't even get the dates right. This is why she doesn't love you."

I keep up the self deprecating thoughts. They didn't help but I need to yell at someone and I didn't know anyone other than the princess. And I was not going to yell at royalty. I hold my head up as I glance around the market. It is busy today. Not unusual but not normal either. That's until I spot a crowd around a voice selling breads and pastries.

"what's up over here. There's nothing that exciting about bread. It's literally just wheat."

I think to myself as I walk over. Pushing through the crowd only to stop dead in my tracks. I nearly choke as I see her. She's absolutely gorgeous. A woman in an apron with a messy bun and y/h/c and clear bright y/e/c. I never thought I'd see a woman more beautiful than the princess. But apparently I'm very very wrong. I catch the woman's eyes for a moment and she smiles at me. And gods that smile. If I could I would capture it and put it in a painting for me to see every day. I understand the crowd now.

"get a grip Natasha you can't drool all over the first pretty woman you see just because you got heartbroken."

I snap out of my trance and swiftly move away. Going as far as I can. Eventually I find a hidden alley where I shouldn't be disturbed and I lean against it to catch my breath and comprehend what I saw. She was magnificent. A masterpiece. No painter in the world could capture her beauty in its proper form. Why am I so frazzled by this woman. I don't even know her. I bury my hands in my face. I need a better grip on my emotions if that's how I react to every woman I see now.

Y/n pov

"I wonder why she's in such a hurry? Perhaps she forgot something or is sick.. should I check on her?"

I wonder to myself as I watch the red head flee my stall. She went red in the face and suddenly bolted. Perhaps she is ill. I frown slightly as I watch her go. Was it me? All I did was smile. I turn my attention back to my current customers. I can't linger on a fleeing sick woman. But I feel bad nevertheless.

It's cleared up by my stall. My sister has come to take over.

"I should check in on that woman from before. If she is sick she may need help."

I think to myself as I walk through the crowded market. Things have been busy this year. A good thing but it means we are running out of supplies. Mama will have to find more suppliers. I wander the cobbled streets for a bit. Looking at stalls and sellers. A lot of fake jewellery being sold this year. A ball is coming I'm pretty sure. Open to all.

"how nice of the royal family. It's been a while since I've dressed up."

I think as I pass by another jewellery stall. Eventually I see her. The woman who ran red in the face. She seems ok now. Was it me? I hope not. I walk over and gently tap the woman's shoulder. Waiting for her to turn and face me before speaking.

"hey are you ok? You ran from my stall rather red in the face. I just wanted to check you aren't sick."

I ask the woman calmly. I smile gently at her just in case she gets frightened that I sought her out. I hope I don't come across as a creep.

Natasha pov

I feel a tap on my shoulder suddenly. Not something I'm used to. I turn around and there stands the woman from before. A light smile on her lips and a gentle expression. I think I may die. Especially as she speaks. Her voice is as sweet as honey and as smooth as the finest silks.

"oh you've gone red again. Are you ok!?"

The woman asks yet again as she steps back. Grabbing a handkerchief and handing it to me. I pause realising I must have blushed. Then again who wouldn't. I can see men staring at her. Yet the woman either doesn't notice or doesn't care. I pause before hesitantly responding.

"it's ok. I go red in the face sometimes. It's... A medical condition. Nothing is wrong."

I respond carefully. The woman doesn't seem to know what blush is. Then again she doesn't seem to know a lot of things. Or she's just concerned. I can see a bit of relief on the woman's face as I reassure her. I feel a bit bad for lying but seeing the woman less worried makes me feel better.

"well that's a relief. I thought it was me or something."

The woman chuckles. And once again I'm gobsmacked. If I thought her smile was beautiful her laugh is heavenly. If I could I would bottle up the sound and get drunk on it every damn night. Then the woman smiles again and turns to leave. I don't want her to. I want her to stay and talk to me. But I have no reason to want this.

"wait. There's a ball upcoming for everyone. Go with me?"

Perhaps it was pure determination to see her again or pure stupidity that made me ask the woman this question. Fuck I don't even know her name. I don't care. I have - no need to see this woman again. She turns to me and tilts her head in a curious manner. I may swoon right here and now. She then smiles with a glint in her eyes and now I am swooning.

"sure. I'm y/n. I'll be near the food court."

The woman responds. Not even asking my name before she leaves. Vanishing into the crowd. Y/m was her name.

"I will hold the name close and dear to me. Even if this goes nowhere."

I think to myself. I turn and return to the castle. I have plans to make and a princess to guard. Realising this now I have come to the conclusion that for the first time in my life I wasn't thinking about the princess. But instead this mystery woman.

The night of the ball

Y/n pov

I stand near the food court eating whatever I can. None of it tastes as good as the stuff mama makes. But then again I have an acquired taste for her food.

"this is good. People everywhere, rich and poor. The royals are up in their pedestals as per normal. An enjoyable evening indeed."

I think to myself as I survey my surroundings. Though I am missing my partner. That woman from the market. Who I now know is Natasha romanoff. The princesses personal guard. Who knew she of all people would ask me out. Not that I'm not pretty. I am. I can tell by all the heads I turn as I walk through the streets. And then I see her. She's in a tux. A good one too. I can see her glancing around for me. And our eyes meet.

"hmm she finally spotted me. Took her a minute. I said I'd be by the food court."

I muse to myself as Natasha approaches. I smile as Natasha comes over. Her own smile is small but present. I never knew she could smile. It's... Nice. Suddenly I feel my own face pull Natasha's condition.

"you found me."

I tease gently. Munching on a quiche. These are brilliant. Still not as good as Mama's though. I'm still biased.

"the food court's placing was moved last minute."

Natasha responds. Gently leaning over me to grab an apple tart. But I don't focus on that. I'm focused on how this is a clear ploy to make me attracted to her. And be damned if it isn't working.

"oh? You work here to know?"

I ask. Still playing the innocent woman from the street. But Natasha just grins. If I wasn't attracted to her before I am now. Fuck is she hot.

"don't play dumb miss y/n. I know you're faking. I asked about you around the streets. Caught a few of your friends."

Natasha responds. Standing beside me. She's so close. I can feel her body heat. It's nice. Especially since I wore this stupidly cold dress. It looks thick but it's not.

"stalker."

I tease back rolling my eyes. I lean against Natasha. I can feel her stiffen before she relaxes and slips a hand around my waist. This feels nice.

"it's not stalking. It's.. doing a background check. I'm a knight. It's mandatory to know if who I'm seeing is trustworthy."

Natasha responds. I roll my eyes. Smiling as I look up at Natasha. She's about a foot taller than me. Yet she's the same age as me. Curious. Not that I care or it matters.

"don't be defensive I'm kidding."

I respond with a laugh. I glance at the dancers on the ball room floor. I am always jealous of how people can move like water. As if they don't truly belong on this plane and simply walk through it like mist.

Natasha pov

I can see y/n eyeing the dance floor. I pause before taking her hand and stepping out before her. Smiling sincerely this time. I bow before her and kiss y/n's knuckles.

"may I have this dance?"

I ask raising an eyebrow. I can see y/n mirroring the look and then huffing as she realises what I did. She chuckles and nods. I stand up and grasp her waist. Taking y/n out into the ball room floor to dance with the others.

As if I couldn't get more attracted to this woman she does this. Y/n is like a damn natural dancer. Moving smoother than some professionals I've seen at plays. I smile as I hold y/n. How on earth I managed to snag her I don't know. But I'm grateful. I am certainly spending more time with y/n.

I eventually glance up at the princess as the royal dance begins and the woman I crushed over for years steps into her boyfriend's arms. Yet I'm not mad or upset. My heart isn't aching. And as I glance back at y/n who is also watching the princess I realise I don't need the princess. Not when I already have one in my arms. I turn back to the royal dance. But as it goes on I realise the princess is staring at me. Me and y/n. She looks mad almost. Y/n frowns slightly.

"is she watching us?"

Y/n asks gently. Pulling herself into me. I frown slightly but nod slowly. This isn't normal. The princess never spared me a second glance like I did. Why is she upset about me with another woman.

"it seems like she is."

I respond under my breath. I hold y/n just a bit tighter until the dance finishes and me and y/n can continue our own dance

It's only a few moments later that I feel a tug on my arm and y/n tense up. I balance behind me and there is a furious princess. I frown and step away.

"I'll be back in a second y/n"

I speak to the woman I was just dancing with gently. The princess then silently grabs me and yanks me to the edge of the ball. She seems so angry.

"why is she so pissed. I did nothing wrong. Doesn't she have her own boyfriend to deal with?"

I think to myself as we both finally stop walking. I glance down at the princess about to speak before she interrupts me

"what are you doing dancing with some peasant!"

The princess snaps at me. I'm taken aback. Why would the princess be upset by that. She's never looked down on her subjects before. I step away from her.

"hey calm down. She's just my partner to the ball. There's nothing else."

I respond. Lying through my teeth. I definitely feel more. But I won't tell the princess that considering how much she seems to be upset at the prospect of me knowing any one other than her.

"does that matter! You shouldn't be with her at all! You're meant to love me!"

The princess snaps back again. I freeze. I'm... Meant to love her!? What cruel trick is this. Did the princess just want me to love her so she could have someone longing for her endlessly!?

"I'm sorry what!?"

I scowl stepping forward. I can't harm the princess. But gods do I want to. She can't make me love her. And right now I don't feel any love for the princess. And she knows it by the way her face has dropped and she's sputtering.

"forget it. Leave me alone."

I speak coldly as I return to y/n. Ignoring the small wait I hear the princess call out after me. I won't wait for someone who toyed with my emotions for years. Y/n seems concerned when I return but she doesn't ask questions which I'm grateful for. We continue our dance. The princess returns bitterly to her boyfriend and the night continues.

Y/n pov

It's been an hour since the dance. Natasha hasn't been in the best mood since the whole deal with the princess. And I honestly don't blame her. I don't know what happened but Natasha seems hurt.

"do you wanna talk about it?"

I ask gently as me and Natasha walk through the woods out the back of the castle. Natasha tenses but sighs and runs a hand through her fiery red locks. I want to do the same but now is not the time.

"she was toying with me for years. I crushed on her and she knew.. but just let me. Didn't tell me she was straight. Just let me believe I had a chance. Then she got a boyfriend and I was upset but still in love.. but now I found you and I'm moving in she's upset. She wanted me to keep longing for her so she could feel wanted."

Natasha speaks bitterly. I can understand why she's upset. No woman deserves to have her emotions played. And the princess did Natasha dirty. Trying to deny her happiness.

"she sounds entitled and a bit like an ass."

I respond smiling gently. Natasha cracks a small smile at that. A small one but it falls quickly. She sighs again. I should start counting how many times she does that.

"two sighs thus far."

"she is an entitled ass. I just didn't see it because I was blind."

Natasha responds. She looks away and I take her chin and make Natasha look at me. We have only known each other for a fleeting moment at the market. A small conversation after the market and this ball. I feel like Cinderella all of a sudden. But I get on my tip toes and I kiss Natasha.

Natasha is shocked at first. But she melts quickly and gods this is the best kiss I've ever had. Natasha bites my bottom lip demanding entrance and I give it immediately. Her tongue invades my mouth and before I know it I'm against a tree as Natasha fights against my corset. Her mouth attached to mine.

Natasha pov

I help y/n redress gently. Her hair is a mess. I love it. Her hand is in my own hair. I don't understand her fascination with it but I don't mind. I gently begin helping y/n out the woods and back towards the castle so we can catch a carriage back to the village. I'll take y/n home before going back to the palace.

"you signed sixteen times."

Y/n says softly. She's drowsy. So am I to be fair. We both need to bathe and be proper but the woods aren't a good place to do that.

"what?"

I respond chuckling slightly. Raising an eyebrow as I watch y/n lean against me. My arm around her waist. Her hand in my other.

"I decided to count how many times you sighed. And you sighed sixteen times."

Y/n responds smiling at me. I think I may like y/ns tired smile more than her normal one. She's too perfect It's insane.

"I would ask why but I think we are both too tired to question things."

I shoot back. Helping y/n into a carriage. I follow. Letting y/n pretty much fall asleep on-top of me. I smile as I watch her. Y/n drowsily gives the driver directions before promptly falling asleep. I smile and thread my fingers through her hair.

The ride is swift. Y/n lives almost in the heart of the town. Her home is attached to a bakery. I carry y/n inside since she's still mostly asleep. Her sister is dead asleep on the couch. I assume she tried to stay awake to greet y/n but oh well. We had fun at least. I take y/n down to the bathroom and run a warm bath. Undressing y/n as she groggily wakes and tries to help. I stop her and finish the job myself. Slipping y/n's body into the water. I undressing myself and slipping in with her.

After the bath I get us both out and dressed in fresh clothes. Best hope y/n's sister isn't too attached to her cotton button up and pants. I lay y/n on what I assume is her bed. Its the only vacant one and it had her clothes in the basket nearby. I'm about to leave myself before y/n grabs my arm.

"stay... Please.."

She mumbles. I crumble immediately and slip into bed with her. Y/n crawls over and into my arms. I wrap my arms around her and just hold y/n. Tonight has been the best I could've imagined. Other than the hiccup with the princess but y/n made up even more for that.

After that Natasha went to the queen and got herself reassigned to the army. Rising swiftly to general. Much to the princesses dismay. Not that Natasha cared. It wasn't her concern for the princess anymore. Natasha was fine with that. And her new position led to many benefits. Including a better horse. And a better more free schedule. One Natasha enjoyed greatly. For more reasons than one.

Natasha began properly courting y/n aswell. Causing the bakery to blow up because the general was often behind the counter watching her girlfriend covered in flour do her job. And she got free pastries and bread so a win win for Natasha. She got to watch her hot gf and got free food.

The end

[taelonsamada]

I practically went into a fugue state when writing this 🤣 it is fully unedited, all but vomited up, but @dawnofiight got this into my head and I had to get it onto paper as soon as I could 🤣 (paper being figurative in this case) I’m sorry if it feels a bit rushed or out of character, I just had to get it out!! So have livestreamer/blogger Sam on his homestead he lovingly tends with horror gamer Darlin 😁

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m particularly excited about this one, we just finished renovating the chicken coop, so now—Ah! George! Knock it off! Hey!”

Sam did a quick side step to dodge the goat head that had snaked out at his ankles, stopping in his tracks to point a warning finger at the brown and white beast that barely came past his knees. The two of them locked in a standoff with Sam’s work boots as the prize for the victor. Never mind that they were still on Sam’s damned feet, or that the entire thing was being captured by the phone currently in Sam’s hand, which was of course being livestreamed to the twenty thousand followers he’d managed to amass the last couple months.

Because that was absolutely Sam’s luck.

The stare down lasted a moment longer before ‘George’ decided the boots weren’t quite worth what the glint in Sam’s eyes meant, plodding off to likely find something else to chew on. Sam shook his head with a heavy sigh and a crooked grin, raking his fingers through his hair before resuming his walk. “I swear, I’d have made that bastard into a stew ages ago if he didn’t give his some of the best damned babies I’ve ever seen in my life. Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, this is the chicken coop we just finished redoing.”

Flipping the livestream to the front camera, Sam began panning the phone across the large chicken run he and Darlin’ had just finished yesterday, pride heavy in his voice. “It’s got twice the floorspace now, so they got a proper run they can explore while still havin’ a roof over their head, which’ll keep ‘em safe from the hawks and eagles. And we got this thick wood along the base to keep the coyotes from gettin’ too nosy as well. Still gotta watch for ‘em cause they’re tricky bastards, but at least we’re making their job harder on em.”

The phone turned a bit more, revealing Darlin’ crouched down inside the actual coop itself, cooing at some freshly hatched chicks as they changed out their feed and water. Their head popped up to smile and wave at Sam, who immediately waved back, a fond, warm look in his eyes. His chest aching with happiness at seeing how well they’d taken to the ‘homesteading’ life.

Knowing how drastic a change it was from the city life they were used to, the fact that they seemed to be thriving in the countryside with him only had him even more convinced he must have done something damned impressive in a previous life to be rewarded like this.

Of course, one could also argue he was equally punished for whatever he did whenever they asked him to join him on on of those horror games they would play on their own stream. Darlin’s fans loved it when he showed up, mainly because of all the cursing and yelling he’d let out during said games. He wasn’t sure what it was; horror movies were a delight for him, but there was just something about the games that had him sweating up a storm. His own subscribers also loved it when he joined in, though it was moreso to see a different side of him, since he was usually more reserved on his own channel.

That thought had him glancing to his phone to check on his livesteam, and he cursed as he saw his thumb had hit the camera flip button at some point while he was staring at Darlin’. The entire chat was losing its mind over the look he’d had on his face while he was watching Darlin’. Countless messages about being ‘moony-eyed’, ‘starstruck’, ‘down bad’ and ‘the ultimate simp’.

Instantly his face took on his usual stern, furrowed huff, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. “Y’all are bigger fuckin’ animals than the ones I feed, I swear. Keep that up and I won’t show you Moonpie,” he warned, referring to the newly born calf that the chat demanded daily updates on. He smirked crookedly at seeing all the panicked gif reactions, pleas for forgiveness and accusations of being a bully. “Mm… lucky for y’all, Moonpie is a huge diva and loves the attention, so—Dammit, George!”

The camera swung wildly, dropping to show an angled view of the brown and white goat with his teeth locked around the tongue of Sam’s boot, tugging and yanking in an attempt to tear a hunk of the expensive leather free. “I swear, I’m cookin’ you tonight!”