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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don��t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this.

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz.

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?”

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick.

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does.

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods.

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her.

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch.

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad.

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches.

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere.

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up.

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately.

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name.

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

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#so it goes #lilas writing #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem oc #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wnba x oc #paige bueckers fanfic

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peekofhistory · 20 hours ago

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What are, in your opinion, the most iconic hanfu for men and women from each dynasty?

Hi! I'm so sorry this reply is delayed, I had to do a quick trip abroad and didn't have my laptop with me, also wanted to spend some time finding photo examples for this :D

OK! Here we go!

Qin/Han Dynasties (Pic 1, 2): Quju (wrap-around) and Zhiju (straight-edged) are what I think of for this period. Both men and women wore these robes.

Weijin/ North-South dynasty (Pic 3, 4): This is hard...xD Too many styles to pic from OTL I do LOVE the drastic long sleeves of this period, the robes get split from one long robe to the top/bottom separated Ruqun style. Men and women shared most fashions during this period too. For women, the hair styles start evolving in complexity, a lot of gold hair pieces (no flowers yet). The clothing starts looking more "flowy" compared to the heavy, serious robes of Qin/Han.

Tang Dynasty (Pic 5-8): Tang was a period of dramatic economic growth, it was also when the Silk Road flourished so there were merchants coming to trade and do business. It's difficult to pick one "iconic" style, but for women I usually think of dresses that tie around the bus with either a form-fitted, thin shirt underneath, or a larger-sleeved robe worn over top (pic 8). This bust-tie style wasn't seen before this period. OR, a form-fitted top, maybe with a little vest over top, and a waist-tie skirt (pic 7) (this is a good style to go on outings, easy movement).

There was also a particular group of ladies who wore these long, dramatic head pieces that almost formed a giant halo around their head (pic 6). I'll talk about them in a later post too.

For men, the round-collared robes became popular, with these bumpy looking "hats" (the vertical portion and the portion wrapped around the head are actually separate pieces so it's not really a hat, I'll explain more in later posts).

Song Dynastyn (Pic 9-12): In my mind, Song's style was a lot more gentle and soft compared to the lavish, bright colours of Tang. Song was a dynasty that focused on the arts, Song dynasty's emperors were all very artistic (they tended to lean away from focusing on military defense which, unfortunately, led to the dynasty's downfall).

So I think of soft colours during this dynasty, simpler hair styles. A wrap-around top with a waist-tie skirt, topped with a loose outer robe (pic 9). For men, Song dynasty is famous for men wearing flowers in their hair or adorning their hats (pic 10, 12). The work hat also developed these giant, loooooooong sticks from the side (pic 11) which is great for social distancing xDD

Ming Dynasty (Pic 13-15): The biggest change to Ming dynasty's hanfu is we go from soft, flowy silks to thicker brocades, this makes the clothing look "stiff" and allows for clear-cut shapes using pleating (if you've ever worn a Ma Main Qun (horse-face skirt...wtf are these translations O.O) you know what I mean.

The collars for the tops also develop these high-rise styles (although they can be criss-crossed styles or round-collared too). I absolutely HATE these high-rise collars because my neck is short and anything wrapped around it makes me itchy (I can't even button the buttons, my neck is too chonk). Whenever I buy one of these robes I have to move the buttons down so I can flip the collar down otherwise I can't wear them T__T

So I usually think of a short or long "Ao" (top) paired with a Ma Mian Qun for women (pic 13, 15). The Ma Mian Qun (horse-face skirt) is recognizable by the pleating, it shot into into the spotlight in China in July 2022 when a lot of Chinese Hanfu-hobbyists noticed Dior had a skirt that was constructed the same way, only the length was shorter. It was a whole big controversy with people accusing Dior of copying the style without giving credit, so now most people in China know of this skirt (I'll post a pic below of Dior's version). It's not uncommon to see people wear it paired with a cute, modern-top in China

For men, one of the most iconic clothes for men in this dynasty is the "flying fish robe" (pic 14). These were worn by imperial guards and named for the pattern of the brocade. Because the guards need easy movement, the robes cut off around the calf, and the sleeves are tightened using arm cuffs.

So, there's my "iconoic" hanfu for every dynasty. That was hard T__T I wanted to pic so many xD Oh, and here's Dior's skirt:

Left is Dior's, right is a Ma Mian Qun. Ma Mian Qun's pleating style is quite unique, I don't have one on hand to take photos but here's a video of someone twirling in one and you can kind of see the pleating. Some people speculate maybe Dior saw these skirts on Taobao or something, thought the design looked nice and took it without realizing the historical significance of the outfit. I don't know the details, I only heard about the controversy very briefly (back then I hadn't really dived into Hanfu yet).

#hanfu #汉服 #china #中国 #chinese hanfu #culture #history #fashion #clothing #historical clothing #汉朝 #秦汉 #魏晋 #魏晋南北朝 #唐朝 #宋朝 #明朝

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deandoesthingstome · 1 day ago

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Ode to COD Writers

First of all: No, I'm probably not back. At least, not writing.

Second: No, I'm not changing my URL, icon photo, or...well, I guess I can't really say my concentration, but honestly. Who knows?

It isn't like this account has ever been exclusively one thing, and COD posts haven't been unheard of until now, but it certainly hasn't been where my attention has been. Until now.

I took a Tumblr break, but during one of my quick check ins I came across an amazing Ghost x Reader fic that had me hooked from the get go. Now, Ghost is not my type. Not really. But Soap sure as fuck is. So while I ran, ran I say, to AO3 to follow the rest of the Ghost series (tattooer!Ghost??? I bit hard), I also took the time to swing around the author's other works and then the tags to find more of what I crave.

Good. Fucking. Stories. (No, they don't have to be about fucking. But it's nice.) Stories written with passion and care. Stories that sink into you brain, swim around in your blood, and take up the breath in your body. Stories that put a new twist on an old idea, or come up with their own idea. Stories that make you want more, crave more.

So, I need to tell you about this. It may not mean anything to you. But if you know me, you know I love to tell you what I love about a story so that if it tickles your fancy in any way, maybe you'll take it for a spin and see if I lied. Check the cut for recommendations:

I haven't listed all elements of every fic, so be sure to read the tags and the warnings if there is something you don't like to read. I just needed to get this love letter out. I've added Tumblr account links where I could (and if my budding Nancy Drew skills failed me, I'm happy to remove the link.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

it happens. - jo_lapeno (soap x reader) (I THINK this is @jolapeno here, but in a round about way. Her masterlist links to AO3, where the author has a pseud, so make sure to check out the jo_lapeno link also. I'm sure her Pedro fics are just as bomb.

This wasn't my first Soap fic. It won't be my last. But it's one I wish I could crawl into and wrap myself in. The push and pull, the way the story is crafted, the build of passion, desire, need, the worry, the love. Just see if this enemies to lovers doesn't fuel your desire.

Hung Scot Can’t Hold Himself Back, Huge Oneshot (Girlfriend POV) - callmepoison (soap x reader) (@goaskpoison - https://goaskpoison.tumblr.com/ I can't tag you. But also, I think this post explains why I'm still waiting for my hunger for storm chaser to be sated. And you better believe I switched my playlist from The Roots to The National as I write this. I'm not sure this is the vibe I envisioned while treading those steel halls, caressing those big birds, sneaking into quarters, fighting in the streets, but I like it just the same. It honestly feels like it fits the fic I was actually trying to rec just now...or maybe it fits "it happens", above?)

Unrelated to the playlist garble above, you aren't in the military in this one; you're a medical resident at UCLA Health. You find Johnny in the best way. You take the right risks and come away with the best prize. He is so. fucking. charming. The consummate co-pilot. An absolute dream come true. I'd happily crawl into this universe, too.

This Chapter 8 of Kinktober 2024 - Call of Duty - 1478963255 (yes that's the account name; I cannot find them on Tumblr) (soap x reader)

Like, all of them really. But this Soap x Reader quickie in the rain outside the bar down the alley where Ghost is watching will make you wish your back was against that brick wall.

storm chaser - callmepoison (soap x reader, ghost x reader, soap x reader x ghost?)

This is not complete. This is an interesting take on A/B/O. This had my heart racing, fingers clenching, breath held. I wanted to care as much about the ships as the author did, but I was too mesmerized by the OFC (you) to spend the time. I wanted to know everything, EVERYTHING, about her. I needed to know her name, her scent, the way her skin feels under my fingers... oh shit, that was Soap. That was how Soap felt. And it's funny, 'cause I'm 99.9% sure Soap is fucking Ghost (or maybe the other way?), but you're gonna end up fucking both maybe? I don't know because we're only 5 chapters in, but, my god! do you have a fun time getting here. Johnny is my hero.

The (Scottish) Cabin in the Woods - Charlie_M (soap x reader x ghost) (EDIT: @charliemwrites - I'm Charlie, too! )

Technically speaking, not just Johnny. This may have been one of the first COD fics I found and read on AO3, but it was well before this most recent foray. It started with you and Johnny at a cabin in the highlands, through a delicious vision of Johnny chopping wood, before it sent you to a masked man's cabin - chained to the wall next to Johnny. It's a total mindfuck. But beware - it also is not complete. There purports to be one more chapter, but who knows if it will ever come. I don't care. It's gorgeous.

Everything in Kinkmas 2024 - GloomWitch @gloomwitchwrites

Yes, the author of Ink & Needle, that tattooer!ghost x reader fic I mentioned above, is back with a quintet of cute little vignettes with Soap, Ghost, even Gaz. They are all special, but For Long Distance Fun is a beautiful homage to your favorite Scot.

Kinktober 2024 also gave us Monster (S)mash, the absolute best porn set you've ever been on. Soap, Chost, Gaz AND Price! Get 'em all in one! Just love everything about the detail, the world building, the admiration and love.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I know I said he wasn't really my type. But good stories are and if they put me in his way, who am I to question it? Expand your horizons.

A Brute, Brute Heart - GloomWitch

Is also sending me to my knees for this man. It's only just begun, but if it does what it says, you are about to get dommed by Ghost. like. yes. please. This first chapter will set the mood. Enjoy.

ever yours....

#cod fanfic #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #fandom is community #toss la petite mort to your fanfic writer #fanfic rec #fic rec #not mine #just an ode to who you give us so much #you deserve everything #thank you

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enthusiasticharry · 2 days ago

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 10k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I'm so sorry!! I know it's been forever since i've posted and i truly did start writing this to have it out in august but then life got a head of me! I had to move, start a new job it's all be crazy. Now, I can officially say that I'll try and post more regularly (but i can't guarantee anything!) thank you for all the support over the last two and a bit years on this fic, i couldn't ever leave it unfinished for you guys!! enjoy the last chapter of regret me and if you need me, i'll be sobbing in a corner somewhere!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, talks of drug/ alcohol use, mentions of addiction recovery, angst (i'm sorry), and a stupid little boy who finally realises how amazing he has it.

𝐩𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟓 here

Los Angeles, Spring 1985

The Rise and Fall (and Rise Again) of a Rock n’ Roll Star by Christopher Thomas

Standing in front of YN YLN’s home, I was nervous. The house itself wasn’t exactly what one may expect of one of the biggest stars to come out of the 70s – it was homely, comforting and not necessarily a ‘rock star mansion’. My nerves stemmed more consequently from the woman I was meeting; one I hadn’t seen in over 10 years and hadn’t necessarily left the best impression at that time either.

However, the second I rang the bell and the door swung open – the past didn’t seem to matter. YLN was wearing a denim skirt, one that landed just above her knee and a light floral blouse with long sleeves that the singer had definitely worn before, or if not something very similar. We chuckled when I pointed out her footwear (her beloved cowboy boots) – something that wasn’t surprising to me and shouldn’t be to any of you. She invited me in and offered me a coffee – something that I was not going to say no to.

After a little small talk, asking how we’d been and so forth, it became time to get to the nitty gritty of my visit, and what everyone reading had been waiting for. After being a household name for the better part of ten years – YN YLN was finally a Grammy nominee. For someone who had been in the spotlight for so long, many may have thought that she was past her prime and that her eighth studio album wasn’t going to be anything special – and yet it was her best one.

“I think it’s raw,” YLN spoke when asked about what was different with this record from her others, “I stopped hiding. It’s the truth – I think people are appreciating the truth from me.”

There was a part of me which was scared to go forward with questioning from here, but with a quick reassurance from YN that it was okay – I continued. In the last four months since her album had been released, YN had started to open conversations about her addiction, something that I had asked her about years prior, at a time when she was in the wrath of her addiction and refused to comment. Looking back, it wasn’t my best moment as a journalist.

“I had freedom that I hadn’t even experienced before,” The air felt thicker as YLN spoke upon this subject, “I went from 0 to 100, and if it wasn’t for the people around me that loved me at that time, I wouldn’t be here today, talking to you.”

The house YLN lives in sits right on the Californian coast, a quiet and calm place away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Once we had finished our coffees, YN suggested a walk down to the beach. She explains that her best friend, Vivienne (“She’s my sister,”), lives in the next house and that she hasn’t gone a day without speaking to her since the day they met, and she wasn’t going to start now.

“Vivienne is my family. I lost interest in my actual family when I realised they didn’t love me, but Viv never made me miss them – she became everything I needed and more. She saw me as a naïve young girl on the strip without a single clue and helped me when she didn’t need to. I’ll never be able to thank her enough.”

YLN mentions her family, more so her parents Mr and Mrs YLN. Her father, a senator seemingly didn’t agree with her new lifestyle and her music even more so, and it seemed as though whatever her father said her mother agreed with. When I asked if the way they had treated her had anything to do with her addiction, and her subsequent overdose YN went silent, choosing not to comment verbally but physically shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t regret anything in my life,” YN takes out a cigarette, offering me one which I accept, “I have come to realise that everything happens for a reason, and I’ve loved and lost for a reason. It’s made me the person I am today.”

The last time I spoke with YLN, she was in a relationship with fellow Rock n’ Roll star Harry Styles, who I have also written for in the past. YLN and Styles have never publicly spoken about the reason behind their split, but rumours surfaced soon after that Styles had been the one to cheat on YLN just before her first world tour.

“I would say that for any songwriter, heartbreak can be a big influence,” YLN chuckles, shaking her head slightly, “I won’t say what happened, I think if anyone has listened to any of my records, especially my latest one – you’ll already know what happened. It was one part of my life, and I don’t hold anything that happened against anyone.”

YN asks for a break after this and asks if we can reconvene later in the day. She recommended that we meet at a café for some late lunch that is a mile or so away from her house. I thought, like probably many of you, YLN would return from the beach to her house. Instead, she made her way up the sand and towards Vivienne’s house, obviously needing some time with her best friend.

“I hope that whoever listens to the album finds something for themselves within it,” YN speaks, sipping on her Iced Tea as we sat across from each other in the café, “It’s my gift for everyone. I hope that everyone who has ever had something to say about me or my life listens to it, and it answers whatever questions they may have.”

YLN lists her relationship, her addiction and everything in between as things that people may have questions about. Since the 70s, the amount of information that the public has known about her has dwindled and she says that is for a reason.

“I had to separate my life from the life that people saw,” YLN nods, “To protect myself, I needed that. All I hope is that people weren’t too angry with me.”

Once we’ve eaten (both having burgers since YLN said that it was the best thing on the menu, and both the waitress and the owner knew her by name), we go outside to have another cigarette. We both joked that we would quit smoking one day, but today was not going to be that day.

“I’ll be there… at the awards,” YN responds when I ask her about whether or not she will be attending the Grammy’s, “I don’t necessarily care about winning – it would be lovely, of course, but it’s not going to make or break me. I’ve lasted this long without; I am damn sure I can last for a lot longer.”

As our time together drew to a close, I asked what I suppose myself and many others are wondering – does YN see an end to her career anytime in the future?

YLN chuckled at the question, “I’ll do this as long as I can if the people will have me.”

If it was up to me, I’d say that YLN will be a name that sticks around for years to come. But, I suppose that’s down to you.

“I know your cowboy boots are like you’re thing or whatever, YN, but I highly doubt that it’s the best look for the Grammys,” Vivienne speaks from where she’s laid upon the bed in YN’s hotel room.

“I don’t feel right without them, Viv, I have to wear them,” YN stresses from where she’s sat, having her makeup done.

Pamela snorts from where she’s lying next to Vivienne. Since they met, Vivienne and Pamela have been inseparable. Therefore, that means that Vivienne, Pamela, and YN have been inseparable. It was a package deal, unfortunately for Pamela, but she didn’t mind too much. The things that Pamela did mind though, however that YN not only had a key to their house but would invite herself in pretty much all of the time. It had become the case that waking up in the morning without three people in their bed instead of two was the norm. At first, Pamela would be confused and disorientated, and then she soon realised that was just what the two girls were like. Where there was one, there was the other not too far behind.

“Pam, I’m nearly done and then it’s your turn,” YN stresses, allowing her make-up artist, Claude, to finish the final touches on her makeup.

Pamela groans, dropping back on the bed and pushing herself into Vivienne’s body. The other girl groans but accepts her fate as her girlfriend’s body rests against her. It wasn’t that anyone was forcing Pamela to wear makeup – she knew it was for the best, considering they were about to be on live television, it just wasn’t something that she normally did. But, as much as this was YN’s moment and her first Grammy nomination, it was Pamela’s too – and that meant, in YN’s eyes, she deserved to be spoilt, too. Pamela hadn’t necessarily ever expected her first band to split up, but it was always a possibility. It was a huge life change, and she hadn’t a single clue of what she was going to do once it happened. Then, when YN invited her to the studio and they started to work on some songs together, they both knew that it made sense for all parties involved that Pamela join YN’s band. That has also meant that Vivienne has been the band’s photographer since that moment as well. As mentioned before, the trio are often never seen without each other.

Apart from being the band’s photographer whenever they needed, Vivienne had also opened her gallery – something that she had always wanted to do but never had the opportunity to do. Seeing her best friend and her favourite person excel in the way that she had done warmed YN in ways that she couldn’t explain.

“Do I have to?” Pamela groaned, pressing her face deeper into Vivienne’s chest.

“Yes,” YN stood up once she had finished, lifting one of the pillows that had been absentmindedly thrown to the bottom of the bed up and hitting the girl with it. It took a few attempts, but soon Pamela had pushed herself up from Vivienne and, with a sulk on her face, sat in the chair, “Thank you. I know you don’t think so, but I’m doing this with your best interest at heart.”

Pamela just groans and crosses her arms over her chest, allowing Claude to get started. Trying her best not to mess her makeup up, YN drops down on the bed next to Vivienne. YN found herself picking at the hole that sat around the wrist of the sweater she was wearing. It was an attempt at not trying to show the nerves that were wracking around her body – but it was difficult, especially when the people in the room were YN’s closest confidants and knew every little tick that the girl had.

“Look,” Vivienne reaches over and grabs YN’s hand, “If you’re nervous about the awards, it’s honestly too fucking unlikely that you won’t win.”

YN snorts, accepting Vivienne’s reassuring squeeze, “Thanks Viv, but I don’t think it’s that.”

“Ah,” The girl nods, “It’s about Harry, isn’t it?”

The announcement for who would be presenting the awards came out a few weeks ago, and whilst YN had originally not thought it was important to know who it would be – it very quickly became obvious that wasn’t the case. When the presenters had been announced, Vivienne had received word of who would be presenting Album of the Year and had immediately rushed over to YN’s house. Being a two-time winner of the award himself (once for Harry’s House, the album that she had written with him), it shouldn’t have surprised YN as much as it did that Harry would be presenting the award.

Knowing that her chances to win were so likely, YN had wondered if it was sort of a set-up. Whoever had decided to ask Harry to do so knew of their past and knew that it would make a lovely bit of new gossip. That was unfortunately where YN’s mind went, and that’s what stressed her out slightly. Especially since her album was so open about her feelings, and even more so about Harry and their relationship – this wasn’t something that she would have ever asked for.

“I’ve just spent so long… so long, Viv, trying to change the narrative of my life,” YN sighs, now starting to pick at the polish on her nails, “And him being there, after I’ve spent so long trying to reclaim my story for me, I’m just scared of how I’m going to react. I don’t want this to be the thing that spirals me right back to the person I was.”

Vivienne sighed, shaking her head, and lifting their joint hands to press a kiss to the back of YN’s hand, “YN… you are not the person you were back then. Trust me, I was right there with you. I mean… God, if that man tries to say anything to me I might lose my shit, but you won’t lose yours. You’ve grown, you’ve matured and most importantly you’ve forgiven yourself. You thought you needed him – but you didn’t.”

YN nodded her head, wanting nothing more than to accept Vivienne’s words and believe them. She hoped she would at least that her face convinced Viv that she was believing her words. The truth was when YN reflected on that time of her life (mostly when she had finished writing her newest record), there were parts of her that wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t reacted the way she had. It was mostly what would have happened to her and Harry if they had handled the situation differently. Because, to YN at that part of her life (and sometimes now) she felt as though Harry was going to be it for her. That she was his, and he was hers.

YN truly did think that she was going to spend the rest of her life with Harry. He saw her and loved her through her hardest times, and yet it was when her life was truly starting to get back on track that she lost her faith in him. It hurt her soul and truly sent her spiralling through the idea that she could only ever be loved when she was broken – and it took her a long time to realise that wasn’t the case.

“It’s just… I think..” YN shook her head, struggling to articulate the words that were swimming around in her head, “My message, especially with this album, is so much more than what we were and what happened to us… I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” It was Pamela that spoke up this time, from the makeup chair, “You are going to do what you do best, YN, you are going to dodge and dive any of the sleazy questions and hold yourself with grace and fucking win that Grammy. You can even thank him for breaking your heart because it made you stronger, and it made you the person you are today.”

YN smiles, trying her best not to tear up and ruin the makeup that Claude had worked so hard on, “You’re right… it’s my day, not his. And anyway, it’s been so long since we last spoke that I honestly doubt he’s even thought about me.”

“He has,” Vivienne nods, “I know you haven’t listened to his albums – but I have. Trust me, he has.”

“God,” YN’s eyes widen, “Don’t say that! That makes me more nervous!”

Vivienne shakes her head, “No, nope, not letting you do that. Come on, I’m going to do your hair, then you’re going to put your pretty little dress on, and we are going to go and win that award.”

YN knew that it was silly, but if she had these girls behind her – she could do anything she put her mind to.

Chicago, 1975 – 5 minutes after the concert

“YN!” YN didn’t listen to Harry’s calls of her name as she stormed off stage. She had no idea where she was going or what she was doing, but all she knew was that she had to get far away. Far away from Harry, far away from Mary and far away from everyone who would know that something was wrong, “YN! Stop walking away from me!”

“Why would I listen to anything you say anymore?” YN scoffs, wiping the tears from off her wet cheeks. She turned down a hallway and realised that it was a dead end. She stopped and sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get away from him now – and also that they would have to have this conversation where anyone could hear them.

“I need to explain, YN,” Harry sighs from behind her, but she still doesn’t turn to look at him, “Let me explain, please.”

That’s the thing when you love someone – even when they fuck up, you can’t say no to them. That was what YN was struggling with. This man had hurt her, done something inexcusable to her and yet he wanted her to listen, and she was going to do that. It was just who she was, and it’s just what love is.

YN turned to face Harry, slightly shocked at the sight of his reddened face matching hers, “Explain then. Try and explain what I saw!”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair, “It wasn’t what it looked like at all – she came on to me. I would never do this to you, you know that!”

“You only pushed her off because I was there!” YN exclaimed, “To me, it looked like you would have had ample opportunity to walk away, to push her away to say fucking no, Harry, but she was still on you!”

“I tried, YN, I fucking tried,” Harry claimed, clearly becoming more exasperated by the second, “She was coked out of her fucking mind! She was high, and on an adrenaline rush and there was no stopping her without hurting her!”

“Then fucking hurt her, Harry,” YN points her finger in his direction, “You were supposed to be mine. Mine. Not hers. I fucking knew she was up to something, and I never said a word because I trusted you! I trusted you more than I trusted myself.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Harry shakes his head, “Blame this all on me. Tell me to hurt her and that she was up to something but not once in any of that did you come to me and tell me that!”

“Oh, good one,” YN chuckles, “I didn’t fucking tell you Harry because I trusted you! And I also thought you had eyes and a pretty good eye for this shit. You should’ve fired her months ago, and you know it. The drugs, the booze, the partying – it’s not who you associate with!”

“I associated with you.”

His words stop YN right in her tracks. She couldn’t believe what he was saying to her. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying to her. She had thought that he would’ve never, ever, put her past against her like that and here he was.

“You did,” YN nodded, “You helped me and loved me when I didn’t know I needed that. All I could hope is that you seeing me like that, loving me like that would make you realise that you shouldn’t be around people like that.”

“She’s a good fucking singer, YN, the crowd responds to her. You’re saying I’m just supposed to fire her because she’s an addict? – come off your fucking high horse.”

“No,” YN shakes her head, “I’m telling you that firing her would have been the right option so that she could get help. This life is not the life that addicts need, you and I both know that. You’re enabling her, allowing her delusions to run, and hurting me in the process! You let her get on top of you, let her kiss you. At no point did you think why? Why does she have the confidence to do this to taken man? It’s because she has no inhibitions, no awareness of her actions!”

“So this is all her fault, yeah? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, I’m saying it’s your fault,” YN took a step forward, pointing her finger against his chest, “You should have realised, you should have put a stop to it. But, now I’m thinking you didn’t want to. Now I’m thinking that you didn’t mind someone coming in and ruining our relationship in this way. I don’t know maybe I wasn’t giving you enough attention, maybe I was getting bigger than you could handle now I’m sober – maybe I don’t ride your dick good enough, I don’t fucking know!”

Harry goes silent, obviously stumped at the girl’s words. Unfortunately for him, that gave YN everything that she needed to know. In her head, all she could think was that he was understanding her, and he wasn’t seeing this from her perspective.

“She hasn’t come in and ruined our relationship, YN,” Harry sighs, shaking his head, “She hasn’t ruined our relationship, you’re the one doing that by not listening to me.”

YN gasps, and that’s it. She lifts her arms and pushes past Harry. He tries to reach out for her, but she pulls away from him.

“YN, you can’t walk away from this,” He calls from behind her, but YN carries on walking. She storms through the hallways, brushing past people lingering in the hallway and hoping that none of them would stop her.

Despite Harry’s calls of her name and the fact that this place is like a fucking maze YN somehow manages to find herself outside. The only problem was Harry had followed her. YN fumbles with her cigarette carton in her pocket and despite her shaking hands she manages to light one.

“Are you finally going to listen to me?” Harry asks, throwing his arms open.

“Are you finally going to listen to me?” She retorts, raising her eyebrow at him.

He shrugs, “What do you want me to say? Sorry? I’m fucking sorry YN.”

YN nods, letting the words settle for a minute. She’d seen this man sorry before, she knew what he was feeling and knew the signs of his true feelings. Whatever he was saying, and trying to express right now she knew wasn’t him. She didn’t know who he was.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” YN shakes her head, “I’m going back to the hotel, packing my shit and going home – I’ll see you in L.A.”

YN turns and walks away, ignoring Harry’s calls to her. The fact that he dared to shout that she was the one leaving this relationship and not working on it as she walked away was crazy to her, and yet here he was. She knew that being on the road changed people, but she didn’t think that it would change him this much. He was her everything, and now she didn’t even want to look him in the eye.

There was always a part of her that thought this was too good to be true, and something was going to ruin it. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t think she would be the one guilty of such, but it seems like it was him that caused this and seemingly had little to no remorse for his actions.

As much as it was going to be difficult, she couldn’t let this ruin her tour. More so, she wasn’t going to let it ruin her life. She had worked too fucking hard.

The second that their car arrives on the carpet, YN knows that everything that she was feeling and all of the memories that had been brought to the surface had to be pushed away. This was her night, one to celebrate with her band and her friends and not bring anything from the past up at all.

Out of all of the awards shows she has been to, YN pulled out all of the stops. The dress she had decided upon was a forest green, one which complimented her darkening hair. It had layers and lace, draping around her arms but allowing her figure to be shown at the same time. Vivienne had styled her hair to perfection, just as the girl always does. Even though Vivienne wasn’t a hairstylist by trade, there wasn’t a single person that YN would trust with her hair besides Vivienne. The last and final touch to her outfit was her cowboy boots and despite Vivienne’s protests when she pulled them on – they truly made her feel like herself.

YN isn’t even two metres onto the carpet before a camera is thrust in her face, a reporter standing by, ready to ask her question upon a question that YN had no control over. It was only in the latter years of her career that she found herself truly in the hands of the media. If her name was mentioned before, she wasn’t in a state of mind to know anything of it.

“YN, it’s your first Grammy Awards, how are you feeling? Nervous? Excited?” The reporter asks, thrusting a microphone into her face before she can even think properly.

“Uh,” YN hesitates for a moment before a small smile crosses her lips, “A bit of both of those, I think. It’s an honour to be invited and nominated at that, but it’s also a little nerve-wracking in the same sense. All I do know is that each person who is nominated deserves that win, and even if it isn’t me I’ll still be grateful for the invitation.”

“How do you feel about reuniting with someone from your past today? Harry Styles. I’m sure you’re aware that he’s announcing your category?”

YN’s heart starts to beat ten times quicker, her palms sweating, but she’s thanking God for all of the media training that she’d been given over the years, “I admire Harry so much as an artist, and has won the category twice before – I can’t name anyone more deserving to present the category.”

The reporter doesn’t look too impressed by her answer, but with more thanks to the reporter and a nod from Vivienne, she decides it’s probably time to move on and get inside. YN immediately links her arm with Vivienne’s and tries to calm her breathing down.

“Was that okay? I think I fully blanked for a second there,” YN mutters the second that they are out of earshot of anybody but the two of them, “I honestly think I just spewed absolute shit at them.”

“It was absolute shit,” Vivienne nodded, pushing one of YN’s curls over her shoulder, “But, as far as PR think it was probably absolutely perfect shit.”

The two girls share a giggle. Pamela joins them a few seconds later, having just come out of her interview, and feels a similar level of confusion and delusion to YN. They take some more photos just as they enter the building, and even though there are calls from left and right for photos of YN on her own – she doesn’t stray from her girls. She could’ve, and she knows that in the future, she might regret not having one fully alone on the carpet – but now, the idea of having to stand on her own without Vivienne or Pamela to hold her up was unbearable.

Once they make it inside the building, YN fully intends to beeline straight towards the drinks. She needed something to chug down to get rid of the cottonmouth she currently had. It wasn’t going to be alcohol, and she certainly knew that – but anything would have been better than the feeling that currently was in her mouth.

“Can I have a glass of water, please? Or soda? Or anything without alcohol?” The bartender looks at her confused, as though he wasn’t suspecting anybody to ask for anything non-alcoholic that evening. YN had offered the man a short but sweet smile in thanks, knowing that if she had opened her mouth she might have said something that she would later come to regret, and beelined straight for where Vivienne and Pamela were waiting for her.

“I can wholeheartedly say I have never wished to drink more than I did in that second,” YN mutters with a shake of her head as she stops in front of the two women, “And it’s not for the sake of I wanted a buzz, no it was for the fact that man had sixteen glasses of champagne ready and not a single glass of fucking water!”

“Okay,” Vivienne reached over and placed her hand on Vivienne’s free hand, as the other was currently lifting the glass of water to her lips, “I think the nerves are probably getting the better of us, and drinking is not the solution to that.”

“I’m not going to do it,” YN sighs, dropping the now empty glass back down on the bar, “Have more faith in me than that, it just crossed my mind, that’s all – for ease.”

YN doesn’t notice the partners share a look, one that they both know exactly what that means, and what they are to do. They knew wholeheartedly that this was just YN’s nerves talking, and the second that they got her distracted and sitting down it would all be okay.

“Did I tell you about the man who got in touch the other day?” Vivienne started, immediately realising that she was about to be chatting absolute shit to her friend, but it was better than to let Vivienne sit in a ball of her stress.

“No,” YN shakes her head, accepting another glass of water from the bartender, “What man?”

“Yeah… what man?” Pamela mutters, her entire face pursed with confusion. Vivienne kicks her slightly under the table, “Oh, yeah, that man! How about we walk and talk?”

Vivienne started to rattle on to her about a man who had come into her gallery and asked her question upon question without seeming to be interested in buying anything. It became obvious to YN further on in the conversation that the man wanted to ask Viv on a date, and she had to be the one to break the news that she was in a committed relationship. Even though Vivienne was rattling on, YN knew why she was doing so. It was to distract YN from the thoughts, and more so from the impending reunion that was on the horizon.

Vivienne rattled on until they got to their seats and continued even when they had sat down. It was funny to YN, that these two women would do anything for her, and she would do anything for them – and that included making a story that certainly wasn’t as interesting as they were making it seem so for YN’s sake.

YN was repeatedly kicking herself internally for the fact that every time her eyes darted around the room, there was one person that she was thinking specifically about. The thing that YN didn’t want to face was not being in control when she saw him again. She had learnt so much about how to control herself recently, and that would send her spiralling right back to a place that she didn’t want to be.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” YN spoke once there was a lilt in the conversation, “Don’t want to be needed a piss in the middle of the awards.”

“Okay,” Vivienne nodded, knowing that some time by herself might be what YN needs right now just to centre herself, “Do you need us to come with?”

“No,” YN offers her a smile, “I’ll only be a minute or two.”

When YN weaved her way through the corridors to the bathroom, it was made abundantly clear to her that her time in the bathroom would be spent sitting on a closed toilet rather than doing anything. After a few minutes, she left the cubicle to glance at herself in the mirror and make sure that her makeup and hair still looked okay.

Once she was happy with herself and felt calmer than she did it was the perfect time to make her way back to the awards and hope that it all went smoother.

Just as YN had turned out of the bathroom door, a smile on her face finally – it was made obvious straight away that it wasn’t to last long. That was because standing a few feet away from her was Harry. He was dressed to the nines in a full pinstripe suit, one hand resting in his pocket as he walked towards her.

YN froze completely, unable to move or breathe or simply function. It was a second or so later that Harry noticed her as well, and his movements came to a stop also. His face dropped, just as hers had. It was the first time in ten years that they had been face to face, the last time being the night of her final performance in L.A., when their relationship had ended completely. Even though it had been ten years, when Harry opened his mouth to speak to her, she felt as though she was right back in that moment and that all of the work she had didn’t matter anymore.

“Hi.”

L.A., 1975 – The last performance of YN’s tour

To say that YN was ready for this tour to finish was an understatement.

There was nothing she loved more than performing her songs for the people who loved them – but with everything that was going on behind the scenes, she just wanted to go home and be with Vivienne and Pamela.

Her band had been doing her fucking head in the entire time, not the girls, mainly the boys, but they were all at fault. It was her simple rules, and they seemed to just not understand the consequences of what happens when they break them. It was why for the first time in a while, YN walked into the green room with a certain skip in her step.

The band was lounged around, empty cans and packets of coke on every surface, but YN was past the point of caring. This was their last night together, and she was not embarrassed to say that she was excited to break that news to them.

“Last night,” YN sighed as she dropped down against the sofa, crossing one of her legs over the other (her cowboy boots sat comfortably on her feet), “I didn’t think we’d get here but we have.”

There was a slight chuckle in the room, and then there was a silence. It was a bittersweet moment. This tour had been one of the best and worst times of her life, and there were only so many words in the English language to explain that.

“I’m not one for many words, as you all know,” YN starts before she hears a snigger from one of the boys.

“Unless you’re fucking complaining about some shit.”

A laugh spreads through the room, and even YN is guilty of a smile spreading across her face.

“Normally complaining about you two just being fucking idiots,” She retorts with a smile, “That’s why I’m happy and relieved to say that this is our last show of this tour, and our last show together… because if I ever do this again, it isn’t going to be with any of you.”

For once, the room is silent, and YN feels a wave of accomplishment rush through her veins.

“Now, let’s go and put on the best fucking show of this tour.”

YN turned to walk out of the room, an ever-present smile still resting on her face. Despite what this show was, and what was consequently going to happen because of this – there was at least this positive for her to focus on. As YN prepared to go on stage, standing on the sidelines and hearing the screams and shouts of the people who were here to see her, she realised that nothing was going to ruin today.

“You ready, babes?” Vivienne smiles from behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

YN sighs but nods, “I am… is he here?”

Vivienne’s eyes never leave YN’s, but a wave of sadness washes over them, and she nods, “He’s in a green room with his band.”

YN nods. Since that night in Pittsburgh, there’s been no communication between herself, and Harry and she was glad about that. Everything had gone through management, and YN thought that was the best way to do it. It was strange to think that she would be seeing him in the flesh soon, and singing with him once again but it was probably for the best that she hadn’t thought about it at all.

“If you see him, tell him not to be shit,” YN says and Vivienne chuckles, reaching out to give YN’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t you worry,” Vivienne shakes her head, “If I see him, I’ll be saying a whole lot more to him.”

YN just rolls her eyes but is appreciative of her friend, and she knows that Vivienne knows that, too. When YN had first called Vivienne to explain what had happened, Vivienne was ready to jump on a flight and speak her mind to Harry. Once YN had gotten over her initial anger at the situation, Vivienne was there for her throughout the sadness, too. When she needed to cry, Vivienne was always there at the end of the phone to be there for her.

The two girls shared one last hug before it was time for YN to go on stage, to finish the tour that might have actually been the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t loved it as well.

Telling her band that she was firing them before the last show could have gone one of two ways. Fortunately for YN, it had gone a better way than many would have expected. They were good at what they did, and they all (she was including herself in this) played the best that they had the entire tour. There was an energy from the crowd that was palpable, and it seemed to be wearing off on the band as well as herself. It was a damn good show if she said so herself.

Just as she was coming to the last song on her set, she received a nod from the side of the stage saying that it was time. Time for her to welcome a guest on to stage, and to pretend in front of thousands of people that this man hadn’t just broke her heart.

Once the cheering has subsided, YN tucked her hair behind her ears and addressed the crowd, knowing it was better to do so like she was ripping a band-aid off rather than drawing it out.

“Now, it’s coming up to the point where we have to say goodnight,” YN smiles, hearing a mixture of cheers and boos from the crowd, “And before we do say goodnight, I thought… since it’s the last night of our tour, and you’ve been such an amazing crowd that I’d surprise you all… Now, this guest, he’s someone that’s very special to me. I haven’t seen him, or spoken to him in a while… but he has my heart, and he should always know that… Now, please put your hands together for Mr. Harry Styles!”

There’s a moment where YN doesn’t want to turn to look at Harry, in fact she just wants to ignore that he’s there all together – but she knows she can’t do that. Once she does turn to look at him, she’s shocked at what she sees. It still looks like him, the man that she loved with all of her heart, but he looks worn out, and tired and quite possibly heartbroken.

The band starts to play Cherry and all of a sudden she’s transported back to that night. Everything that happened, everything that he did, everything that she felt rushed back to her body, and flooded every one of her thoughts. It was difficult to keep her composure, and even more difficult not to turn and look at him, but she couldn’t. Not when she had a show to put on, and a tour to finish.

“Don’t you call him [me] baby/ We’re not talking lately.”

As the song was drawing to a close, YN realised that she had to look at Harry. Now that her initial anger and upset had passed, he needed to see how she felt. He needed to see how he had hurt her.

It wasn’t in YN’s plan to change the lyrics, but she couldn’t help herself. A song that Harry and herself had written all those years ago was now resonating in their life in a way that neither one of them could’ve expected.

“Don’t you call her what you used to call me.”

Harry stopped singing when he noticed what she had done, and even with thousands of people in the room it felt as though it was only the two of them, once more, just as it had been on that night. Instead of an anger running through her veins, YN felt sadness, a heaviness. She was grieving the man she knew and the life that she had envisioned for herself because in that moment she realised it was over… for good.

“Thank you all, you’ve been amazing!” YN snapped herself out of her trance and turned back to the crowd, “Thank you for having me, and I’m sure we’ll see you all soon!”

With once last smile and wave to the crowd, YN turned and walked off the stage, leaving her band and Harry standing there. She wasn’t necessarily proud of this action, but it was needed. It was her time to leave this tour, and these feelings in the past – and there was one more thing that she needed to do to ensure that.

“When Harry comes off, tell him to come to my dressing room,” She spoke to Jeff as she walked past him, offering him a small smile as she did.

“Of course.” He replied with a nod.

She paced in the room for a few seconds and then the door opened behind her. She turned, and he was there. It was strange, she had imagined what this conversation was going to be like so many times in her head and now that he was here, she couldn’t think of any of it. All she knew was that she needed to tell him how she felt.

“YN…”

“No,” YN shook her head, biting the side of her lip and resting her hands upon her hips, “I need you to listen to me… and I need you to listen carefully,” There was a slight pause where she had to compose herself from crying, “I love you, and I still love you and I probably always will… but, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t… you couldn’t see it from my perspective, and I don’t know if you ever will, but I know that for myself, I can’t wait and find out.”

“YN…” There were tears in his eyes.

There were now tears in hers, “I will never be able to get that image out of my head, and what you said… It hurt me. I love you and I want you to know that… but we’re over.”

A silence washes over them, as though both of them were coming to terms with what she was saying.

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know what else I can say but I love you.”

“I just saw him,” YN says the second she sits down with Pam and Viv.

Vivienne almost spits out her drink, and Pamela’s mouth drops open, “What do you mean?”

“He was there when I left the bathroom,” YN shook her head, “I just stared at him. I didn’t even say anything.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Vivienne asks and YN nods her head.

“He said ‘Hi’ and then I bolted back here,” YN places her head in the palm of her hands, “I knew that I was going to see him, but I thought it was at least going to be in this room, or when he gets on stage – not after I had a piss.”

Vivienne wraps her arm around YN, “The show’s about to start. Put it out of your mind. You’ve got a Grammy to win.”

That’s exactly what (with a little bit of inner strength) she did. The show started, and awards were given out, and the clock was ticking until it was her category. She kept herself looking cool, calm, and collected to anyone glancing at her, but inside, her heart was racing out of her chest.

“Your next babes,” Vivienne grabbed YN’s hand from the side of her, “Whatever happens, I just want to tell you that I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

YN’s eyebrows lifted, tears collecting in her waterline, “Stop it… or I’ll cry before it even starts.”

“Don’t you worry, babes…” Vivienne squeezed her hand tighter, “I’ll wipe your snot before you go on stage.”

YN rolled her eyes, and the girls shared a chuckle. It was then that the lights dimmed. A round of applause started, and the spotlight hit the stage. Harry was dressed in the same pinstripe suit as she had seen him a few hours before. He stood on the stage, his arms crossed in front of him and a smile on his lips. It wasn’t the smile that YN remembered in her dreams, the one where his dimples and his teeth lit up the world – but it was him.

“As a recipient of this award myself, I am honoured to announce this category today,” he said, cool, calm, and collected, “As much as I’m sure you would all love to hear me chat away, I think it’s probably better for everyone that we get to it. The nominees are…”

YN blanks out as the names are read, but when he speaks her name for the first time in years, she almost melts. It was strange that her body had such a visceral reaction to something that she hadn’t ever thought about before.

“And… the Grammy goes to…” Harry speaks, opening the envelope. It was then that a beaming smile crossed his face, “YN YLN!”

A gasp left her lips, a high-pitched buzz filling her ears. There was a part of her that didn’t believe it, but when she saw Vivienne’s teary-eyed face staring at her – she knew it was real. The girl, who was usually cool, calm and collected was sobbing so forcefully that YN was slightly scared for her.

“I told you, babes!” Once YN pushes herself up from her seat, Vivienne pounces on her in a hug, “I knew it was going to be you!”

“I…” YN shakes her head, her eyes brimming with tears.

“You need to go,” Vivienne places her hands on YN’s cheeks and nods, “Take Pam, and go. Get your fucking Grammy babes.”

YN nods and reaches for Pam’s hand, whose face looks the same as YN does. There was a flash of disbelief as well as pure shock on both the girl’s faces. YN squeezes Pam’s hand as tightly as she can, trying to centre herself as well as be there for the other woman as they walk towards the stage. It’s then that YN hears the clapping from the crowd, and it takes every ounce of strength she has not to burst out into tears.

Then she sees him.

He was standing at the front of the stage, the award clutched in his hand, but at that point, it was almost as though the award didn’t matter. The smile on his face was the one she saw in her dreams when she closed her eyes and thought back to that time of her life. When she doesn’t want to think of the heartbreak or the hardship, when she wants to think of the overwhelming love she felt and had in her body. That was the Harry that she saw standing there, the one who first asked her to come on stage and sing his song with him, the man who gave her everything.

If it wasn’t for Pamela pulling her up the stairs, she would’ve ceased moving altogether. Once she had come to a stop in front of him, he held the award out to her.

“Well done.”

“Thank you.”

That was all she could say before she was pushed in front of a microphone. Pamela tried to slip out of YN’s hand, but she pulled Pamela right to the side of her.

“I hadn’t expected this,” YN chuckles into the microphone, “So I’m sorry if I forget anyone or anything. I think… I want to thank my team, my band, and Pamela in particular, who stayed with me all of those nights when I couldn’t give up and had to finish even though everyone else had left… I want to thank everyone in my life who saw me at my lowest and pushed me to my best. Vivienne. I want to thank you for forever being my best friend, my sister, and my family. This is for you and for everything you’ve ever done for me… and, uh, Harry. I, uh, want to thank you for seeing something in me that night at your show and asking me on that stage… I wouldn’t be here without that. Thank you so much, I’ll keep this forever close to my heart.”

Even though he was standing right next to YN, she couldn’t look at him. When she had given her speech, some thought earlier on in the day, the thought of thanking Harry hadn’t even crossed her mind. Looking back, she assumed it was because she was too nervous to see him that thanking him in her speech hadn’t even crossed her mind. Once she had deemed that seeing him hadn’t been as bad as she expected it to be (minus the stress and also rehashing of memories that she had wanted nothing more than to forget), it was like her brain couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth.

Music started playing around her, and she saw this as her cue to leave the stage. Grabbing Pamela’s hand, she pulled them off the side of the stage, where she guessed that she was going to have her photo taken.

Just as she started to make her way down the steps, she felt something tug the end of her dress, and she nearly went toppling forward down them. A hand grabbed onto her elbow, steadying her. She turned, and there he was, a concerned look on his face.

“Keep going,” He nodded, “It’s okay.”

Then she felt the skirt of her dress lift, and she didn’t have to worry anymore.

“If it was up to me, you would’ve won for your very first,” A man who YN knew as some studio executive was standing in front of her. There was a strong smell emanating from his person, and the empty glass in his hand, YN assumed it was whisky, “It’s the studio’s fault for not nominating you. I would’ve done that straight away. You would be on your fourth, even fifth nomination and win by now.”

“It wasn’t the studio’s fault,” YN offered him with a small smile, trying to be polite and not as though this was the fiftieth conversation she’d had like this since she arrived, “It was mine. I was in recovery. They couldn’t have nominated me even if they wanted to.”

“Oh,” He seemed surprised, “Anyway, if you ever do fancy a switch in studios, gimme a call.”

“I won’t,” YN offers another smile, “But thanks for the offer.”

YN turns, and spots Vivienne and Pamela coming back and drinks it hand. It happens every time they leave or every time they even turn their back on YN for a second. YN was so proud of herself for having won, but if this was what she was going to get from here on out, she was going to have to mentally prepare herself for such.

“Here is your water, winner,” Vivienne passed her the glass with a smile on her face, and YN rolled her eyes at the girl’s antics.

“Are you going to stop with that already?” YN accepted it and placed the chilled glass against her face, flushing from the heat in the room.

Vivienne shrugs, “I will… once the novelty has worn off.”

YN just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, “I’m going outside for a cigarette, it’s too hot in here.”

“Okay, winner,” YN shakes her head once more, seeing as though Pamela had decided to join in on her girlfriend’s antics as well.

“You’re a winner too, Pam, don’t forget that.”

YN placed a kiss on Pam and Viv’s cheeks before making her way towards the glass doors that opened to a balcony. They were at some fancy hotel that YN assumed she had been at before in her life but couldn’t remember either due to being high or so exhausted that she didn’t know where she was. Once she stepped outside, though, she realised that she had been here before, and it was on neither one of those occasions. It was after that tour had ended, the one where she had broken up with Harry. There had been a party to celebrate the end, and it was here. YN only remembered the view because instead of being inside celebrating, she had been out here, sitting watching the skyline pass by her.

YN pulled her cigarettes out of her bag, slipping one between her lips and lighting it. It seemed like a coincidence that she was here now after so much had changed. She stood, leant against the railing just as she had that night prior, and looked out at the skyline – this time a Grammy winner, but she would not say any less heartbroken.

“Congratulations,” YN didn’t jump at the sound of a voice behind her, but her eyes closed when she realised who it was, “I didn’t get to say that before.”

“You did,” YN mumbles, exhaling smoke as she did so, “On stage.”

He stops and leans against the railing next to her, taking his own cigarette out. She doesn’t turn to look at him but once she does she just nods her head.

“What’s your plan now? Going to write another?” He asks, turning on his side slightly so that his body is facing hers.

YN just shrugged, turning her body so that she was facing him as well, “I don’t know. What about you?”

Harry sighs, nodding his head slightly, “I’m taking a break. Going back to London, going to spend some time with my family. Gem’s getting married in the summer, and I want to be there.”

“Pass on my congratulations to her,” YN nods, “A break sounds nice. I mean, it’s been ten years for me must be twelve, thirteen for you.”

“Thirteen,” He nods, running a hand over his face, “I need to slow down, I’m not getting any younger here.”

YN exhales a laugh, “We all know that’s the truth… and in hindsight, I don’t think a break is ever on the cards for me. As long as I’m breathing, I’ll probably be making music.”

YN had said it before, and she’d say it again – as long as she was making music that people enjoyed, she’d do it for as long as they let her.

“Speaking of music…” He looks away from her for a second and back out onto the skyline, “You didn’t have to thank me in your speech… I know it probably wasn’t the easiest thing you’ve ever done.”

YN just shakes her head, turning to look at him even though he wasn’t looking at her, “It was just the truth. I truly would not be here if it wasn’t for you. Without you pulling me on that stage that night, God I dread to think what my life would look like. I’d probably be in some unhappy marriage, with a husband who I hate and kids that hate me – just like my parents.”

Harry finally turned to look at her, “It was nothing.”

YN shakes her head once more, “It wasn’t.”

Harry clears his throat, “I know… I know I’ve done this before, and I know last time it didn’t go the way that I wanted it to, okay? But YN, I swear to you… I am so sorry about everything that happened. Looking back, you were right. I was enabling her, and not only that, but I was also hurting you in the process. I can never forgive myself for that… and I’d understand if you never forgave me as well.”

YN sighs, immediately feeling tears starting to well within her eyes, “It’s okay… it’s been too long now, it’s water under the bridge.”

As YN spoke, her voice cracked. She hadn’t realised that even though her mind knew what she wanted to say, her body betrayed her. She hadn’t realised what was building within her as he spoke, even more so when she did.

When she turned to him, there were tears in his eyes just as they were in hers. Standing here, with him after all of those years – no matter how much he had hurt her, there was a part of her that still loved him. She loved him, the life he gave her, the memories they had – the way he made her feel. She tried not to go back to that chapter of her life if she could help it, to stop the pain from resurfacing, but oftentimes, it was the memories of love that she welcomed the most.

Harry dropped his cigarette down on the floor, squashing it with his heel so that it was out. YN turned to him once more, watching as a tear slipped down his face. He immediately reached up and wiped it off his cheek.

“Listen, YN, if you ever do fancy that break London’s just a plane ride away,” He turned as though he was going to walk away, but then he stopped and turned back around, “And I’m always just a phone call away.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

#rm #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #hary styles series #series

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jewishcissiekj · 8 months ago

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Tomás Giorello's Asajj is actually top-tier, I'm obsessed with the way he captures her character

#daily asajj thought of the day #star wars #sw #ventress #asajj ventress #star wars art #not my art #tomas giorello #he did my favorite asajj comics so naturally he's also one of my fav artists for her #he did republic 60 and um #republic 51-52 #quick post for now so i'm not posting anything from there #Tomás giorello #star wars republic #star wras comics #(these are commissions he did btw)#art #comic art

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slingbats · 3 months ago

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just a reminder that I have this community going here on tumblr!

The header and icon are Gotham, but I really want this place to be able to open up to a lot more verses with more interpretations of the characters

as someone who doesn't delve into the tags/tumblr's search feature very often, I want this to be a place where people are encouraged to self-promo their works that they're proud of, or share works from others that they think deserve a spotlight

link to the community, for any interested

not spoiler free!

#gotham #riddlebird #nygmobblepot #tumblr community #and just a reminder that you can now mute communities as well #if you want to take a look you don't have to join #people who aren't members can't view the comments on posts but i'll tell you the feature isnt used much so there's nothing in them atm #i only post what i can find and i've been using it to spotlight older artworks that haven't been circulated in a long time #a lot of stuff from when the show was still running or a little after it ended #it's hard to find stuff that isn't gotham which is kind of why i'm reaching out again #because i'd share more that isn't gotham but i can't. find it i don't know where it is #i don't use tumblr's search at all so i can't rly find anything #but obviously every verse is welcome #i wish i could make that more visually obvious in the group but #i'm not very good at graphic design so i only made a very quick edit from a screenshot

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crystalkitty1220 · 7 months ago

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Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

#had to re-edit the image real quick because the original edit was from a post I made about Drew years ago #and while the Drew thing is becoming less and less likely. Nevin havinv one has basically been canon since #someone mentioned Greg's (was it Britney's) aura being familiar in s2ch1. ive been putting together a list of every line #that points to Nevin's aura throughout the whole thing (most from s2ch1 but then s2ch10 came out and it was really canon at that point)#but clearly i'm running out of time to say ''i fucking called it'' before it's explicitly stated and i dont want to be in another situation #where somebody else will beat me to a theory and me posting anything about it will seem like copying them. sorry about that btw i had #thought i had already mentioned theorizing that nevin was possessed by a demon in that old theory i made but i had forgotten that one was #super old and was about sigma. so no copying there i just got extremely paranoid there was a mention of a cult and i was like ''nuh uh #that's way too specific and out there of a detail to end up in both our theories'' and i forgot the rest of my super old post was outdated #as hell. and echos had gone ''yeah they're so similar!'' and i took their word for it but now i'm realizing they were probably just trying #to be supportive. so yeah no copying there i was just beaten to the punch of saying something. but i will NOT back down from the aura shit #because i have been calling that shit FROM THE START or at least since i started reading ibvs back when ch20 came out.#also not backing down from saying chris was the worse friend because these past few chapters are the first time isaac has done anything tha #could knowingly upset chris meanwhile chris has. let edward drag isaac to the lair after isaac said edward would beat him up. chose not to #believe edward was holding the secrets over their heads because 'it was something isaac had said' and then immediately distrusted edward in #the next chapter because a random person he didn't know said to steal a book (might i mention how that entire scene proves chris' lack of #development and refusal to take responsibility because it perfectly alludes to when chris had brought those fireworks into his old school #and makes me wonder if charlie has actually gotten him in trouble with his past schools or if he's still just not taking responsibility #and if him following nevin to the woods to test out their powers is an extension of ''if something bad happens its not my fault''#like seriously this man would bring a mysterious suitcase onto a plane if he's told to). uh what was i talking about agai #anyway on a related note my mental state has only gotten worse since i left tumblr and the habit of thinking about chris instead of sleepin #or doing schoolwork has not stopped. so i was still failing for a while and might graduate now but am still staying away from tumblr.#so yeah this was a little update and im not going to linger this time im just going to leave tumblr again right after hitting post #addendum because i just can't let things go. and was thinking about chris again. i don't think his lack of development is because of bad #writing (anymore. i used to.). instead i'm certain his character arc is going to continue into him following someone (nevin probably) into #doing something really bad. and then he'll finally get actual consequences and go 'oh shit i fucked up real bad this time'#if you think that theory is reaching too far into the future you should hear mine about isaac dying at the end lmao

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trinketstreasuretrove · 4 months ago

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Uhhhhh erm um ms paint hand for you

I got really annoyed with my art and just didn't like anything and when that happens I take a random color palette from the internet and use it to make a hand in ms paint with no references

older examples from last year:

#I found out what my problem was with my art though #I switched to a different brush and now I'm having a much better time #so when i post actual art its gonna look pretty different #also im taking benadryl rn so i cant real quick draw anything to post #ill try to post something else soon but yknow #im still trying to do the whole 'post something at least once a month'#i think this is helping me get better at drawing hands though which is cool #feel free to do this yourself as a drawing challenge or something #its verrry freeing to just do whatever and let the art flow guide you #im too tired to remove the text from the pictures

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alwaysoc · 4 months ago

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Tumblr's searching method for posts while on your account is almost comically inconvenient.

First off, private posts/reblogs made by you don't show up no matter what you search, even if you go by tags. Even if it's recent.

This is my dang account! Why would I want it to be private to ME?

"Well just copy and paste the link of your private posts!"

I don't wanna open up Google Docs every time I do that! Even if I did use this method the whole thing would be a hassle to me personally.

Plus, as far as I can tell, in mobile, you literally CAN NOT get links from private posts. This is especially true if you have a post you didn't reblog, and wrote and made yourself, in which case the share button is nonexistent and you can't go to the OG poster, because you ARE the OG poster, and there's no share link!

It doesn't even really matter if they have tags, are public or not, because even if they do and they are, if they're too old, or buried under too many posts, it seems like they don't show up even if your post is public.

Can't remember any specific tags, but you can recall what the post is about, a sentence, or a specific word?

Too bad! It STILL won't show up if you search for it!

Aaasyuugggg! This is so awful, and I'm very mad!

I was only able to find my public post I was looking for after scrolling for literally 23 minutes! This shouldn't be a thing!

And what's up with not having some kind of filter thingie for your blog? What if I wanna find my first three posts I ever made without scrolling for ages? Why can't I do that? Huh?

What if I wanna see only the posts I'm tagged in? What if I only want to see posts that have tags? Or only posts that aren't reblogs?

If there IS a way to filter, or sort through things, I haven't found it on the mobile app!

"Just use the web version then—"

My computer is in the room where my sleeping Grandma is, do you THINK I want to take time to get it and boot-up my 7+ year potato computer?

(This is the exact reason why I never use the Spotify app on phone (honestly I don't even use it on PC anymore either), because basic things like PICKING A SONG is available on PC with zero restrictions (as long as an ad doesn't play) but you have to go through some kind of 3-minute intermission since the app plays a song you don't give a hoot about and isn't even in your playlist, before your entire playlist shuffles and shoffles around for NO APPARENT REASON!)

I hope there's some kind of convenient addon or thing I just didn't ever catch or something, because this is incredibly annoying!

"Wow! You don't seem to want to compromise at all! That's a massive you-problem! Maybe if you lowered your standards—"

No. This type of thing is over nearly every other fairly-popular app where you interact with others. So why is it such a chore for Tumblr to implement it?

I shouldn't have to be inconvenienced by something that is solved on every-other social platform!

Yes, it is a me problem that I don't want to scroll all over my blog to look for that one post, but this me problem doesn't exist on whatever other social sites I go on!

#it's like almost-11 #but I need to rant SO bad!#it's been bugging me ever since I got on here!#aaaahhhhh! I'm gonna be so #so annoyed if there's an easy solution in missing #I couldn't find anything when searching on Google for solutions #meaning it's extremely common knowledge #or I'm just lame for having this problem #likely the latter #I bet these ramblings are very not-coherent #can't wait to wake up tomorrow and see that I don't know English #like watch #quick access #this post is not gonna show in like a month from now

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bravevolunteer · 1 year ago

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what if we kissed on the wiki page for disembowelment

#sometimes i want to google things for michael and i'm like. Should I.#'the scooper only hurts for a moment' not to say i don't fully place my faith in scott cawthon of all people but Is it instant-#and the answer is depending on the organs. obviously. but humans sure can be conscious for a Bit before #blood loss takes em out... so . depends on how fast they Got All That Out and ennard climbed in .#which it's not looking good for michael bc i've always interpreted it as far from a CLEAN removal he still has. for lack of a better #description Pieces of his own organs left just barely hanging on and yeah post ennard they've just merged #with the wires and remnant so much it's barely recognizable as a human being so. with the limited information i'm willing #to look up without ending up on a list as long as the heart/lungs/anything crucially vital Weren't fucked up Instantly there very well #could've been a minute there where he was just. Well.#i don't think much longer the blood loss would happen Quick . and shock. and. whatever the fuck ennard did.#BUT MY POINT IS HE DOESNT HAVE TO INSTANTLY GO UNCONSCIOUS-#what am i doing with this. i don't. I Don't Know-#⁂ ･ﾟ: i was looking for a job‚ and then i found a job‚ and heaven knows i’m miserable now ➛ ooc #body horror tw #gore tw #ask to tag

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sakurarisen · 8 months ago

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Quick update on my semi-hiatus: Still on it! The repair guy came today and while the net is up again with a few issues fixed, doing anything with the net overall is going to be difficult and an exercise in patience. Turns out we have another major issue affecting the net in general that I doubt we'll be able to fix anytime soon, and that in and of itself is a big player in why my net has gotten to be so gradually terrible. I'm also out of data on my phone after being net-less for the last 2 or so days, so I've got no choice but to stay on semi-hiatus.

Not pleased with it when all I want is to be here, especially when I don't DARE try anything with even an icon, but... It's something at least, I guess? Hoping it won't be a month plus before the rest is fixed-

~Pom

#Out Of Poms [OOC]#The net straight up full on died for like... Two and a half days #I can connect not but anything graphical isn't loading right/well/quick #So I don't dare try even icons right now in a post #Just an update that I DO live! <3 And I can do things in the background - and have been watching stuff! <3 #I'm just forced into a corner with everything surrounding it #And a terrible mental state that would've required I step back ANYWAY to recover from so-#Might be for the best I break from dash stuff to recover anyway

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facts-i-just-made-up · 6 months ago

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Not A Joke, Not Unreality:

A company called Quantum Fiber (under Century Link) recently set up my home town for fiber optic internet. I got them a month ago and aside from a few outages it was decent.

Last week, it went out. They sent me a super specific time it would be back-

They failed to make it and sent another, minutes later.

And another when that failed.

And over the week, more and more.

I called and they just read me the same email out loud. They offered no escalation or resources. Every time, they fail. I have not had internet for my house in a week, and this morning I got this one-

I looked into other people having the same problem and found this-

Edit forgot link

That's not something called a "766" line, that's them fucking up my city 766 times. This company is fucking shit, and I'm sick of this. I've filed an FCC complaint but those take a month to even get a reply.

So I'm hoping my 173,365 followers can help make this show of their ineptitude and callousness go viral. Please.

They are in a time of massive expansion into many new states and cities. I am asking anyone so inclined with a few minutes to spare to find your town or state's government information technology office or liaison, or just a local government representative of any kind, and write them a quick note stating that this company destroys town utilities and offers absolute frustrating failures of service in return.

If you have Quantum Fiber and have been similarly failed by them, please file an FCC complaint. You might at least get a free month out of it.

If you work with a news source or popular blog, please boost this however you can.

If you are on any app on which they are present, please feel free to write or tag them and let them know they have failed their customers and cities they work with.

Please do not engage in threats or harassment of any form. Keep this legal, civil, and proper so that it can create a legal basis and record of good citizen interaction on the part of this company's victims. I am asking for help in a grassroots campaign, not a violent or prank-filled heap that just gets people in trouble. AND DO NOT FOR ANY REASON EVER PESTER THE WORKERS, PHONE REPS AND TECHNICIANS THEY HAVE OUT THERE. This is the corporation's fault, not the poor folks they employ who they likely try to make take the backlash.

If you have any other ideas on how to hold a mega-corp responsible for the shit they put their customers through, please comment and recommend. I am sick of this shit. I know there are worse things happening and even worse companies doing horrid things right now. But maybe this one is new/small enough that a viral campaign can kick them where it hurts and get them to act more responsibly to their customers and safely to the places they work.

Please help if you have time. Please spread this in the hopes they see it and get off their butts and fix their horrible shit. Any random reblog or post on any platform might be the one their investors hear of.

Thank you anyone for anything you can do.

-Ari

#not unreality #quantum fiber #centurylink #fiber optic internet #call to action

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javierpena-inatacvest · 4 months ago

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Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Long.”

“My knees are killin’ me.”

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.”

“Better now that I’m home with you.”

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone.

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you.

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.”

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock.

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans.

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did.

Not even what he had done today on the job.

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby.

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it.

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day.

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too.

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him.

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.”

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass.

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.”

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby.

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest.

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke.

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out.

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin.

“I want one.”

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said.

“W-what?”

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.”

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality.

“Joel… Really?”

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-”

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear.

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin.

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?”

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?”

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.”

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness.

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs.

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans.

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby.

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?”

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?”

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs.

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.”

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only-

To get you pregnant.

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic.

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm.

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line.

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami.

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good.

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop.

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way.

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted.

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.”

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache.

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you.

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for.

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core.

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in.

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting.

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give.

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again.

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly.

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth.

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-”

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body.

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!”

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste.

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath.

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you.

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him.

“Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs.

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter.

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin.

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer.

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin.

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.”

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.”

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting.

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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logaenhowlett · 2 months ago

Text

SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I'M HEAD OVER HEELS - L.H.

Summary: What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Pure fluff - Logan is 100% whipped, Wade

A/N: 4.4k - my longest fic yet! Worst!Logan has my entire soul, I'd give anything just for that pretty smile. Title creds to Tears For Fears. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The familiar burn of whiskey stings the back of his throat. Logan rests his head against the couch, second-guessing his decision to babysit Laura's cat while she's enjoying her night out. Her tireless attempts of pestering him at last working in her favour so he can finally meet his 'copy-kitten' - her words.

A quick glance at the time reveals he should probably head out now. Logan rises, groaning as his muscles protest after weeks of just slumping around the apartment. Even Al had pointed out how lazy he'd become lately. And that unsolicited observation gave him half the mind to consider finding new roommates. But who was he kidding? As much as he also barely tolerated that one incredibly maddening little prick's incessant jibber-jabber, he wasn't going to find anything for what he's currently paying.

Soon enough, he weaves his way through the crowds, swerving past the shoulders of, frankly, one too many people absorbed by their devices to step aside for his large frame. Luckily, Laura's place isn't too far and he really appreciates that detail as the sound of thunder rumbles overhead. A faint ding emerges from his pocket and he retrieves his phone, reading the screen with a slight squint.

His boots soak the welcome mat as he fumbles with the door trim, locating the key according to Laura's text - making a mental note to remind her of personal safety later. Shivering, he shrugs the wet jacket off, tossing it over the armchair. His eyes dart around the room, looking for the damn cat, and for a moment, Logan wonders whether he's being pranked.

The pitter-patter of paws against the hardwood floor has him snapping his head to the little creature in question. The cat, or Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Thomas Gareth Mountbatten - Leo, for short - he learns begrudgingly after Wade shoved pictures upon pictures to his face one particular day, stares at him with indifference.

Understanding the need to be left alone, Logan trudges towards the kitchen, swinging the fridge open. A small post-it stuck over a box of leftovers, reads "Knew you'd be hungry", has him scoffing, mildly amused that Laura had predicted his actions.

Minutes later, he sinks onto the couch, making brief eye contact with Leo, who's nonchalantly licking his paws. He's halfway through the bowl of pasta when the cat suddenly leaps onto the cushion next to him. Logan watches curiously, he's not terribly experienced around pets, hardly spending any time with Mary Puppins herself despite living under the same roof.

"Alright, here's the deal." He murmurs, "You stay outta my way and I stay outta yours."

Leo replies with a meow to which Logan nods, satisfied by the response. He hopes to god this cat has the same temperament as Dogpool and allows him to simply coexist till Laura returns. Intrigued by the smell, Leo slowly inches forward, gently nudging his head against the bowl.

"Don't think you can eat this, bub."

Leo seems to understand the implication and meows in defiance. With a sigh, Logan gingerly flexes his hand, stroking the cat's head. The act immediately has Leo purring in content, the desire to investigate the food long forgotten. And no one's there to witness the ghost of a smile that teases his lips.

The calm attitude only lasts an hour before Logan's biting back a string of profanities, frustrated by Leo's refusal to take his medication. He's thankful for his healing factor, for otherwise, he'd be covered in a litter of scars. How the hell Laura deals with this devil-of-a-cat is beyond comprehension.

There's no use in trying again. Leo clearly wants nothing to do with him or what he's hiding in his hand. The thought of seeking help crosses his mind, perhaps one of the neighbours is especially skilled in feeding pills to literal hellspawns. Logan tunes his hearing to the apartments on the floor. Old lady already asleep to her TV - no. A family of six attempting to eat dinner in peace - no. Two people about to - fuck no. Now he really wants a word with Laura about her living situation.

Just when he's about to give up, a recognisable melody reaches his ears - one he's unwilling heard Wade jam out to in the shower. This person swaying along to music seems far more approachable than anyone else in this building, and so he steps out, knocking on the apartment across from Laura's.

The door cracks open slightly, you peek your head out giving him a questioning look, “Um… hi? Can I help you?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you. But, uh… I’m watching Laura’s - your neighbour’s cat.” Embarrassment creeps into his cheeks as he points behind him, “He’s not takin’ his meds and uh do you… can you help me? Please?”

The look of absolute defeat paired with the remnants of red scratch marks on his arms has your heart clenching for this poor man, “Of course.”

When the door fully opens, Logan’s eyes widen reflexively at the state of your undress. There’s nothing evocative about it, yet he feels as though he’s intruding on an intimate side of you. One he’s definitely not privy to.

Your sheepish smile sends a wave of something indescribable through his body. He clears his throat, turning on his heel to lead you inside. Leo flicks his head up at the sound of footsteps, purring as if he hasn’t been driving Logan insane for the past hour.

You knew Laura had rescued the little guy a while ago, having run into her in the hallway the night she brought him home. Every interaction you’ve had presents him as the sweetest kitten in the world, so watching the distinct mark of dread on this stranger’s face has you stifling a laugh.

“What?” Logan asks, feeling a little self-conscious about the whole situation.

“Nothing. It’s just - Leo’s very friendly. Or at least, I thought so… what the hell did you do to piss him off?” You chuckle, kneeling a foot away.

“Piss him off? I was just tryin’ to give him the damn pills. Had no problem with me before that.” Logan’s fingers twitch as you approach the cat, wanting to protect you from the sharp claws the demon would surely attack you with.

Yet, to his astonishment, Leo innocently crawls into your outstretched arms. And Logan swears he saw a flicker of mockery come across the cat’s eyes as he peers at him, relishing your comforting embrace.

“See? He’s a sweetheart.”

The fondness in your tone almost has him believing your words. In no time, Leo’s fully cooperating with your gentle requests, happily taking the medication as if it’s the tastiest thing in the world.

Logan learns three things that night. One, your name. Two, that you have some innate ability to charm everyone around you - human or otherwise. Three, he absolutely couldn’t wait to see you again.

Logan tries to drain out the shouting match between his two roommates, ducking calmly as Al’s miscalculated spatula throw flies in his direction. Laura giggles next to him, entertained by the whole ordeal - Wade had accidentally left his cock ring plugged in the bathroom again, nearly short-circuiting the apartment.

“Hey! Kink shaming is very frowned upon, Althea.”

“You motherfucker! I almost got electrocuted by the toaster this morning!”

Logan grumbles to himself, knowing there’ll never be a quiet, normal day in this household. He turns to Laura, “Kid, you wanna grab some food later?”

“Can’t. I’m going out.”

He nods, not giving it a second thought. But as the memory of you flashes across his mind, he stops bouncing his leg, heart beating a little faster. It had been a whopping seven days since that interaction, yet every little detail has stuck with him since. In fact, he spent many hours pacing in his room planning some way to magically run into you.

“… What about the cat?” He asks, and when she raises her eyebrow, “Who’s watchin’ him?”

She replies with a shrug, “I’ll figure it out.”

The solution to his problem falls perfectly onto his lap. Oh, how his pulse quickens at the thought. And as if to not seem suspiciously enthusiastic, he pauses before speaking, “I can do it.”

“Why?”

“Better than this shit.”

Laura considers him for a moment then agrees casually - she knows exactly why he offered. You had bumped into her a couple of days ago, offhandedly mentioning meeting Logan that night as you recounted the details of your week. It took mere seconds to put two and two together and realise he was incredibly smitten.

Logan spends a good fifteen minutes messing with his hair. Fuck, did it always spike up like that? The one tiny mirror in his room supposedly taunting him with each look over. A low tsk breaks the flood of self-criticism as he slams the door shut behind him, roughly brushing past Wade.

"Ooh, is that cologne I smell or are you just horny to see me?"

His teasing spirit immediately drops when Logan shoots him a glare, precisely throwing Al's spatula straight at his crotch.

"God - not the home office, peanut! Jim and Pam need protection!"

The walk to Laura's seems a lot shorter this time, some sort of nervous, giddy energy surging through his chest with each step. Logan bites the insides of his cheeks, feeling childish by the stupid smile daring to grace his lips just at the sheer thought of you. He can't remember the last time someone had drawn these kind of emotions from him. A part of him wants to cower in fear of rejection and self-doubt, and other? Oh, it's got your name written all over.

As soon as he reaches the hallway, all his senses are directed to your apartment. Confused by the silence he finds instead, Logan strains his hearing harder than ever. Hm, it's barely seven-thirty, maybe you're not home yet? Disappointment twirls around his mind, he sighs before opening Laura's door, convincing himself it's probably for the better.

To his surprise, Leo behaves quite well this time around - eating his food, taking his medication, and sticking with minimal efforts to annoy him. The black and white movie he randomly chose keeps his thoughts from drifting to you for the most part, though he can't help but wonder where you are at - he checks his watch - 10:38 pm on a Thursday?

Whatever hope he held onto paints him a fool as time slips by. He couldn't blame you, you didn't owe him anything. Logan runs a hand down his face, and despite his wavering relationship with Leo, he's at least grateful for the cat's company on this rather lonely night.

"Was a dumb idea, huh?" He mumbles, gently scratching Leo's ear.

Not ten minutes later, the jingle of something hitting the floor has him sitting up, intrigued. Logan pads over to look through the peephole, his heart fluttering at the sight of you. It doesn't take a genius to note your drunken state with the way you're cursing and fumbling with the keys. His hand rests against the doorknob, a flash of hesitation creeping in. Do you even want to see him right now?

Before he can psych himself out, his instincts make the decision for him. Logan's unsure of how to announce his presence, wanting to avoid any chances of scaring you. In hindsight, that task should’ve been deemed impossible when you flinch suddenly anyway.

"Logan! Shit - did I wake you up?"

He chuckles at that and before he can even respond, you fire off another question, "Wait, what're you doing here?"

"Laura's out. I'm on babysitting duty." Leo purrs from somewhere behind him in confirmation. Logan watches as you nod slowly, the keys once again sliding from your grasp, "Here, let me help you."

The two of you reach down, fingertips barely grazing as he reacts faster than you. He realises he's much closer than he anticipated when your perfume crowds his senses. Logan buries the urge to meet your eyes deep, deep down, instead unlocking the door with a clenched jaw.

He's very appreciative of the fact that you're too out of it to observe his actions. He wanders into the kitchen to fetch some water, a laugh nearly spilling out of him as you collapse onto the couch, "Hey, easy."

"I'm not that drunk."

"I believe you." He lifts the glass to your lips, words ever so soft, "But... how about we get you to bed hm? Doesn't that sound better than this couch?" When you blink at him tiredly, Logan knows it's so over for him - every shred of denial he held within now shattered by your very hands.

"Okay... "

He maintains some distance, assuming you'd stubbornly dismiss his attempts to guide you to the bedroom. Leaning by the doorframe, he doesn't try to hide the fondness in his expression as you settle under the covers.

"Night, Logan."

He hears you murmur beneath the blanket. It's almost natural how quickly he replies as if you've had this exchange hundreds of times before, "Good night, sweetheart."

A groan leaves you as the sunlight eventually breaches the comfort of your dark room. Rubbing your eyes, you blindly reach for the bedside table, hoping to find your phone. Instead, your hand retrieves a piece of paper while knocking over a bottle of Advil that definitely wasn't there earlier.

'Not that drunk' my ass. - L

The party hat lays tilted on his head. Logan hooks his finger onto the string, momentarily stopping it from cutting into his chin. On any other occasion, he wouldn't have been caught dead wearing the stupid thing, but it was Laura's birthday and once she pulled out the dangerous puppy eyes, there was no way he could refuse without being an asshole.

He's been leaning against the wall, thumb lightly tracing the rim of the beer bottle in his hand as he blankly stares around the room. Throughout the night, Logan's eyes impulsively shift in your direction, tuning into the conversations you're having with - what feels like - everyone but him.

Mary Puppins zooms by, stepping on his boots in the process. She must've caught a whiff of whatever Al's cooking. He bends down to pick up the stuffed Wolverine chew toy she dropped along the way, mildly concerned by the amount of slobber coating it.

"Nice hat."

Logan hears you chuckle behind him. He quickly turns around, tossing the toy somewhere far, far away before you could notice. And despite wishing all night for the opportunity to talk to you, he finds himself tongue-tied now that you're actually in front of him, awaiting his response with an amused expression. Get it together, dumbass.

"This thing? Well... it made the kid happy." He says, incapable of suppressing the smile that never fails to make an appearance whenever you're around.

The way your features soften releases a storm of arrows to his poor, old heart. Whatever anxiety he felt earlier increases tenfold, Logan takes a swig of his drink only to realise it's empty. With nothing to divert his energy to, he grips the bottle tighter, hoping the integrity of the glass is enough to withstand the force of his nerves.

"Thank you, by the way."

His eyebrows raise in confusion, "For what?"

"Few weeks ago. When I got home totally wasted." As your cheeks turn a little red at the memory, Logan wants to relive that moment over and over again.

"Oh... yeah." He huffs lightly, gaining a smidge of confidence from your flustered state. It gives him just enough courage to throw in a cheeky comment, "At your service."

He's mighty pleased when you giggle, biting his lip to control the proud smile aching to take over. Logan studies you briefly, and if he didn't know any better, you almost seemed nervous too? That possibility sends his mind reeling in excitement. Perhaps you also feel something here?

The shrieking sound of a party blower has him wincing, the plastic hits his cheek as Wade sneaks up right next to him with a wide grin, "Sugar bear! Don't mind me, I overheard you tell Yukio about your date tomorrow. Now, spill. Who is this mystery man and does he have a twin by any chance? Brother or sister - daddy's not picky."

Logan's initial reaction to harshly shove the man aside dies in an instant when you laugh rather bashfully at the question. He prays to god it's another one of Wade's fucking jokes. However, that hope flies out the window as you hesitantly ramble on about this guy. Excusing himself, he leaves the apartment, ripping the party hat off in agony - not witnessing the guilt eclipsing your emotions.

Droplets of sweat linger at the ends of his hair as he places the last of Laura's cardboard boxes on the floor of her new apartment. After weeks of mulling it over, she decided to move a little further away, complaining about how rent was becoming too crazy. Logan offered to support her financially till she was good on her own, yet she strongly refused just as he expected.

Since she was no longer your neighbour, the chances of running into you dwindled over time. He saw you in passing last month when he came over to help Laura with apartment hunting. The logical part of his brain convinced him to not stick around, desperately clinging to the idea that you're not interested. But catching your expression fall as he dismissed your presence nearly made him run back to wrangle you into his arms, to whisper apologies and beg for forgiveness.

After an especially tiring day, Logan returns home, crashing onto the couch with a sort of emptiness as he stares at the ceiling. Both his roommates are muttering in the corner, afraid to call out his incredibly irritable mood of late - instead, walking on eggshells whenever he's around. It seems that Wade loses the hushed argument, settling a good arm's length away from him.

"Peanut." He drags, slowly, "Al and I are... worried about you. As much as this brooding, tough guy act is really doing wonders for my sexual wellbeing, I just can't let you Debbie-Down-Pour all over this parade."

"The fuck you want me to do?"

"You need a one-way ticket to pound town-" He chirps, and when Logan grunts angrily, Wade shrieks, shielding himself from any incoming attacks, "Don't hurt me!"

The aroma of coffee tingles his senses as he takes an exaggerated sip, ignoring the need to continue such an aimless, one-sided conversation. Across the table is one of Vanessa's acquaintances, Karen or Kira - he can't remember - mindlessly explaining why her previous dates didn't work out. Logan forces a nod here and there, humming in pretend acknowledgement while he concocts some plan to seriously bash Wade's head against the nearest wall.

In all honesty, he didn't know how the hell that bastard persuaded him to entertain this woman for the night, making a note to check his alcohol for any suspicious substances later. What he did know was that this was going as terribly as he thought. And while he might be awfully rusty in terms of dating, Logan's certainly not oblivious to basic body language cues. Deciding twenty minutes of this torture is enough, she hastily rushes out the building and that's the last of Karen he ever sees.

The grocery bags feel like cinder blocks in your hands as you walk down the street. Mentally scolding yourself for postponing this chore till the last minute, you huff in exhaustion, adjusting your grip every few seconds. A woman nearly bumps into you on her way out, you stagger backwards, watching her storm off. Startled by her rashness, you turn to glance at where she came from, gasping when you spot a familiar face.

“Logan?”

He snaps up, recognising that particular voice - your name leaves his lips softly. Mixed emotions swirl around his mind, yet, he can't help the way his heart jumps as you fill his senses, “Wha - what’re you doin' here?”

“I was just passing by... saw you through the window.” Your gaze drops to the half-finished cup of coffee opposite him, “Were you on a date?”

“Uh Wade - he...” Logan stutters for a moment, dumbfounded that you're even talking to him after his childish behaviour the last few weeks. He nods lightly as the unmistakable bullet of regret pierces his insides.

“It’s her loss anyway.”

God, he wants to apologise so badly. Your friendly attitude only serves to make him feel worse, but Logan thanks his lucky stars that you don't hate him. He definitely wouldn't have been able to handle any sign of resentment on your part - no matter how much he deserves it.

“What’s with the eggs?”

You laugh, looking down at the several cartons peeking through your bags, “I’m stress-baking.”

He's so lost in your eyes that it takes him a second to register your reply, nose scrunching in amusement, “Stress-baking?”

“Yes, it’s a perfectly valid activity.”

That draws a chuckle out of him. He raises his hands in defense, “I ain’t judgin’, doll.”

A comfortable silence takes over and Logan realises just how happy he is to see you again - how much he's missed you all this time. He opens his mouth to spill something out of pure impulse when you beat him to the punch.

“Why don’t you join me?”

It doesn't take much convincing and he's already fallen into a steady pace as you walk together - his fingers effortlessly hooking onto all the grocery bags. His chest threatens to explode when you lean towards him, moving aside for people brushing by. Logan wills his entire strength to not drape his arm across your shoulders in an effort to keep you safe.

Time becomes irrelevant when you're around. The frequency of his own laughter shocks him at first, but he's not really thrown off by the joy you bring out of him because - well, of course, you do. It's safe to say that Logan can't bake to save his life, though he doesn't mind this particular weakness as you giggle at his dreadful attempts to mix the cookie dough. Shamelessly, he watches you come closer, breaking into a tangent about proper kneading techniques - if you ask him to repeat any of it, he'd be stumbling over his words like a fool.

Eventually, he makes something that somewhat resembles your example. He dips his finger into the dough and lifts a small piece in your direction, "How's this?"

When you gently grasp his hand to lick the sweet mixture straight off, he thinks he's trapped in some wild daydream. Logan stares at you in surprise, cheeks turning into a telltale shade of red. Your hums of approval fall onto deaf ears as he remains frozen, wondering how you're so quick to move on from that bold gesture.

Every little thing you do stains his mind - from the way you dance around to soft music playing in the background, the way you focus all your attention on him whenever he speaks, even the way you warn him about the oven as if he could get burned.

His expression must've turned serious by how you suddenly pause, peering at him in concern. Bearing a rush of emotions, the words pour out of his mouth without hesitation, "I am so sorry."

"I was an idiot and I... avoided you 'cause I couldn't deal with these damn feelings-"

He stops.

He's revealed way too much. And judging by your face, that was definitely a mistake. Logan shuts his mouth, jaw hardening as he fights something heavy crawling up his throat. His eyes land on the door and all he wants is to escape from this shrinking room.

A whisper of his name fractures the glass cage he's built up around his heart. His boots seem to be cemented to the floor, unwilling to break free even as you still in front of him - a mere breath away. Your hands rest against his cheeks, slowly turning his head so he's compelled to meet your tender gaze.

Not a single sound slips out of him before your lips are on his. His heart pounds in his chest, burning at sensation. Logan leans into the kiss, hands settling on your waist, holding you as close as he can. Relief washes over him, he tilts his head slightly to deepen his movements - his breath nearly giving out when you whimper softly.

The loud ding from the oven has you pulling back with a faint chuckle. Logan smiles too, letting out a sigh as he lays his forehead against your shoulder. He presses his lips to your collarbone, whispering against your skin, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"The cookies... or us?"

He gently pokes your side at that comment, mirroring your dazed look. Between the quiet exchanges of laughter, he knows exactly what this means - what you mean to each other.

His muscles feel looser with each stride, embracing the breeze tangling with the warmth pooling inside from your touch moments ago. Logan makes his way home with a kind of ease he hasn't felt in forever, chewing on a cookie you insisted he taste.

As he walks through the door, Wade rests his chin on his hands, “So… how did it go? I see you’re enjoying the post-bang baked goods.”

Logan rolls his eyes, not wanting his mood to be spoiled. He grumbles under his breath, your name accidentally slipping out.

"You ran into angel-reincarnate?" Wade gasps, "Oh. Finally putting that horse cock to good use." Clapping excitedly, he follows after Logan, "Wait a second, this fic is tagged fluff. There'll be no fucking on my watch, partner!"

Logan slams the door to his bedroom behind him, blocking out Wade's muffled chattering.

"She had you cosplay as Paul Hollywood all night? Goodness! The power she possesses. I must gain all her secrets."

"Fuck off."

Wade grins to himself, quickly pulling his phone out to shoot off a text.

Wade: Project-Wolvie-Gets-Pussy is a go!

Laura: We are NOT calling it that.

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