#this is an invitation to think about stuff and what it means to you

[lilianalovespink]

Your lungs burn.

Your skin does too.

Sweat soaked clothes cling to your skin, cotton made heavy by the sheer amount of it that you've let off in the last hour of training.

But most importantly, there's a lump in your throat that aches worse than any cough ever could've- feeling like that time you had tonsillitis as a child.

"'ny more wisdom or are you done, private?"

If you cry now, he'll be kind; understanding. He always is, but that's the problem.

"I'm done captain."

~

'Unable to follow orders without questions, unable to integrate into the team.'

Sincerely and with your entire heart, you wish only the worst upon John Price. You could follow orders, you could work with them- if they let you.

A discomfort of needle like nature pulls through your muscles at that thought, considering that you had in fact voiced it and that the consequence had been the training you usually do over the course of three hours having to get done within an hour, no breaks, no warmups.

The worst part, you thought as you stepped out of the showers, is that in his view, he didn't hate you but rather...think you incompetent; a cocky amateur with too much of their chest puffed out.

You, a little child, a toddler acting rebellious or throwing a tantrum, and him, the sensible adult, strict but 'caring'.

"Shh, I know. This is too much for you. I know."

Leave it to him to make comfort a painful act; one for you to be belittled during, made out to be just another stupid teen in over their head.

Yes, you were younger than your commander, your captain, but no younger than your lieutenant or seargant.

Just not at their rank.

Your transfer to the 141 was abrupt, but by no means unwelcome. You were the best in your recruitment class, you were capable but as price, at the time you thought jokingly, put it, you weren't 'broken in'.

And boy did he have every intention of breaking you.

Training was tough, but doable except-

"You were top of your class? Again."

"There's a reason you're still a private."

"If you can't manage, leave."

And then, whenever you snap at him, show teeth at the hand that constantly strikes you, he's a saint. He's really just putting you what everyone else is going through, why are you this upset? Clearly because you're immature.

If you can hold back your urge to bite bite bite- this man, if you try to ask him stuff it's really a coin flip of what version of Captain John Price you'll get.

"You can't handle it? That's okay. It's okay, hey- no crying. Come here...yeah, that's a good girl."

Or, in case you didn't crawl between his legs like a scared puppy-

"I'm only being hard on you because I thought you wanted to be better. Was I wrong about that? Or do you want to be something other than a private one day?"

The worst part is that, the team seems to see you as a puppy as well- with you literally getting that as a monicker.

Lt. Riley wasn't as cold and mysterious as you expected when you first saw the mask, but he certainly wasn't hellbent on letting you be his buddy, let alone his comrade. He never helped you out unless you asked, but, should you make that mistake, to ask for help, he'll nod and simply guide you aside like you're a sheep and he's your shepherd. Like teaching you wasn't literally his job.

Sgt. MacTavish as well as Sgt. Garrick had initially been warm and inviting, had made you feel like this was your team- until you noticed how they'd leave you out whenever they could. Sure, neither of them were rude but- they weren't proper teammates either.

And then, of course, Captain Price.

What should you say about this man? How horrible he is? Would that do what he's put you through any justice?

As if this alienation from the people you literally had to trust with your life wasn't bad enough, the way they seemed to pity you was worse. Like you were a small child who dropped your candy.

It hurt, badly.

So when Commander Philipp Graves joined for a mission in Los Alamos and was the only one who treated you like you were on one level?

Yeah, you took the bait.

[gamergirlwrites]

Title: Expecting

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Female!Reader

Synopsis: You invite Leon over to tell him some news.

CW: mention of pregnancy

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you waited for Leon. He was on his way to you, possibly panicked in the same way you were. He didn't know yet, but you'd have to tell him. Leon had been gone for long enough that you were pretty sure that he could take one look at you and figure out what this was all about. He had left you months ago without much word, but the fetus growing inside of you was definitely his. You hadn't slept with anybody else, not when you were still holding out for a change of heart.

"(Y/n), open up. It's Leon!" He called out over a couple of quick knocks. You took a deep breath to steady your heart, but it wasn't much use. You were still absolutely freaking out when you opened the door to see him.

Leon looked good. He had never showed up to your door looking bad, but this was a nice change from the usual suit you saw him in. The leather jacket reminded you of the guys you had always been too scared to date in college. His chest was practically straining against his shirt, as were the muscle in his legs with his jeans. You were sure that a big part of his affect on you was hormonal, but all you wanted to do was climb him like a tree.

"Come in, and you'll probably want to sit down for this," you warned. Leon seemed skeptical, but still did as you said. "Okay, so, um, I'm pregnant."

"I've been gone for a long time," Leon said. He didn't seem upset, which was a good thing. However, you noticed that he didn't exactly seem happy either.

"There hasn't been anybody else in almost a year, so I think it's safe to assume that you're the father," you told him. You didn't mean to sound so short with him, but you couldn't help it. "I know that you're not the relationship type, so I don't expect anything special. I just wanted to let you know, give you that option."

"I won't just leave you to raise our baby by yourself. I've been staying in Colorado, but it's definitely time that I come back to DC again. There will always be secrets, but if you give me a chance I won't throw it away," Leon promised you.

"Alright, I like the sound of you being around more. And Colorado, seriously? Not even a phone call." You shoved his shoulder back, and Leon just flopped back against your couch. You turned away to hide the evidence of your amusement. Everything considered, Leon always knew how to make you laugh.

"Do you know the sex yet? If you'd let me, I would love to help with the name and some other stuff. I can put the nursery together here, I'm pretty capable with my hands." You paused for a moment as you listened to Leon. He was offering himself up, that much was obvious. The man who had run at the first sight of feelings before was openly asking for involvement.

"A girl, and some help with the name would be great. I've been driving myself crazy trying to come up with one. I know it's short notice, but I've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow if you wanted to join me?" You tried not to sound too hopeful, but Leon didn't hide his excitement at your invitation at all.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What do you think of the show's seeming obsession with everyone (the leads especially) being the best and the top? Like, Marinette's parents don't just run a good bakery, they run the Best Bakery in all of Paris! Kitty Section gets a record deal with the city's top producer! Marinette is the personal designer of Jagged Stone! Alya runs a super popular video blog! Max isn't just the resident smart kid, he can make AI with real feelings!

Oh, but actually, Marinette and Adrien are also top of the class (the webisodes straight-up state Adrien is best in class, surpassing Max and Sabrina, and Marinette gets top grades in Chameleon despite all the workload), because how dare our leads be not good at something?

And that's not getting into "Marinette and Adrien are the best LB and CN ever" stuff. That part is best chalked up to Tikki and Plagg being encouraging, because otherwise the show dunks on all the historical figures they made holders, all at once.

Anyway, with everyone in class being a) hyper talented and famous or b) related to some big nabob, it's not surprising that fans thought it was some elite private school. But no, it's apparently a regular state school (holy smokes, why would Andre and Gabriel send their children to a regular state school??)

That would work in a story where comical exaggeration was the absolute norm, but seems like Miraculous tries to be grotesque and realistic at the same time and fails at both.

Oh look, it's time to talk about Kim Possible again! Phineas and Ferb, too. I'll even use My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic to really drive this one home.

It's incredibly normal for episodic kids shows to have the cast be ridiculously talented and connected. They do this for a couple of reasons.

The first reason is that the characters are meant to be stagnant. Every episode stands alone so there's no time for true character growth. That means that the characters need to be their best selves right from day one. Kim Possible doesn't have time to let Kim learn to fight and be awesome. That's just her default state.

Small life lessons may be taught as we see in both Kim Possible and My Little Pony, but you can miss an episode and still understand the characters because those life lessons didn't really matter to the characters. They weren't there as part of some major character journey. They were there for the kids at home.

The second reason is that kids shows star kids and teens. You don't want adults to be too involved, but sometimes you want "adult" powers and so the kid and teen characters get ridiculous upgrades. A great example is Wade from Kim Possible. Wade is Kim's tech guy. He's also 10-years-old. Absurd? Yes, but they wanted Kim to have cool teach while also keeping the reoccurring hero cast mostly teens and kids and so we get Wade. Phineas and Ferb is another example of this. The titular characters are shown doing things like welding even though they're around 10. This happens because they need to have ridiculous skills for the show to work.

The third reason is that the more connected the characters are, the more stories you can tell. If Marinette's parents don't have a successful and popular bakery, then they can't be hired to cater major events like a movie premier. If Kitty Section isn't wildly successful, then they won't get invited to appear on TV.

This is why Kim Possible made Kim's dad a rocket scientist. It let the show use rockets and advanced tech in several episode. There's at least one where they go to space! The main character of My Little Pony is the student of the kingdom's ruler, allowing the show to include princesses and have plot lines around things ranging from royal balls to diplomatic missions. Things they couldn't do if it was just about some random ponies with no connections.

Some kids shows keep the characters more normal and stick to more realistic hijinks, but when your show is about magic and superheroes, it makes sense to go big.

The reason Miraculous' version of these things doesn't work for some people is probably because of our ever present issue: Miraculous feels too serialized. There's too much connective tissue for the characters to get away with being stagnant. The lessons they "learn" are too big to just go away never and be touched on again. They are not their best selves from day one. They actually do need to grow! This makes the things they're good at feel hollow to some because the show didn't set Marinette and Adrien up the way Kim Possible set up Kim and Ron or the way Phineas and Ferb set up its leads. The character's adult skills don't fit their very real flaws.

Similarly, the show has added all these celebrity connections and then done stuff that makes it feel like those connections should matter to the plot when that's not the way this is usually played. My Little Pony kept Princess Celestia well removed from the things Twilight and her friends were getting up to. It never felt like she should step in. She had a kingdom to run! The show also never treated Twilight's connection as a big deal. Celestia might be the country's ruler, but she's very down to earth. She doesn't feel all that special.

Meanwhile, in Miraculous, the celebrities are treated like celebrities, they often have close ties to the cast, and they are actively around, making it feel like they should play a part in the story at times. The big example is, as always, Lila's lies. Many of them should fall apart because of who the cast knows or, conversely, the cast shouldn't care about Lila's celebrity friends because they have those friends, too. Princess Fragrance was a season one episode and gave Rose a close friendship with Prince Ali that is confirmed to be ongoing in season four's Guiltrip, making it deeply confusing when Rose never catches on to Lila's bullshit. You're really telling me that Rose never once talked to her good friend Ali about her good friend Lila? Really? Rose? Little miss loves-to-talk-about-her-friends-and-how-much-she-love-them? Sure, writers. Sure.

In summary, the problem isn't that the characters are too cool, connected, and talented, it's how those ideas were executed. There are versions of the show where the characters are fine being the best things ever and versions of the show where those elements should have been toned back. I can't really say which canon should have done because canon is a mess of episodic stories and serialized elements that has no idea what it's trying to be.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

soooo babe, what do we think about a little fic where auston facetimes you before every game because you are his lucky charm?🤭💚🤞🏼

*bing, bing, bing, bing*

You had been waiting with your phone next to you for the last hour, anticipating Auston's call. You were sitting on the sofa, leaning with your back against the arm, knees pulled up and wrapped in a large blanket. When his video call invitation took over your screen, you wasted no time answering. You were so excited that you had to be careful not to spill the hot tea you had been sipping when you heard it.

"Hey, mami," Auston said with an instant smile, seeing you on the other end.

"Hey, sweetheart! How are you feeling?"

His brown eyes looked like caramel against the sunlight streaming in through the windows he was seated by. You could tell he had just gotten up from his post-practice nap, and obviously couldn't wait to call you. A man of many pre-game rituals, Auston had his habits and one of them included giving you a call --either on video or by phone as he drove to the arena-- before every single game, since the two of you had become an item. The first time he had done it, the Leafs had won, and he just felt like keeping the habit going, in the hopes that maybe it would happen again. Not to mention, he just really liked talking to you.

"I'm pretty good, still waking up. What about you? I hope you're feeling better." You watched as his eyes wandered over you slightly. "I'd love to be there with you. You look pretty comfy."

"You know you're welcome anytime! And I'm okay, doing better than yesterday, so I can't complain." After dealing with the flu for the past week, you were thankful to finally be feeling like yourself. That had been the reason you weren't going to the game tonight.

Auston smiled at you while you spoke, just in love with the sound of your voice much as you were with his. Everything about him made your heart flutter: from his smile, his laugh, his little gestures, all of it.

"I wish you could be there, but I understand why you can't. You've got three days to get better," he laughed lightly. "Need my lucky charm sitting next to the bench with me."

You could feel your face grow hot. Why had that made you blush? Was it the fact that Auston was confessing how much he meant to you --calling you his good luck charm-- and honestly meaning it? Was it him making you the center of his world whenever he could, especially during busy game days? Why were you so surprised?

He caught the change in your face, "Are you alright? Your face looks flushed."

You tried to hide it by taking a sip of your tea, peering at him over the rim of the cup, but it was no good. "Mhm, yeah, I'm-- fine!"

Auston raised an eyebrow suspiciously, smiling. "Are you blushing?"

"No! Well-- maybe!"

"You're adorable."

"See, it's stuff like that that does it!"

His whole face lit up as he smiled wider, looking down. Was he blushing now? It was hard to tell against his tanned skin tone, but it made you feel better thinking that he was just as flustered as you were.

"It's good to see you smile," he added, finally returning his face to look at you. "I was worried about you."

You appreciated his concern, and moved quickly to reassure him that everything was alright, "It was just the flu, baby! I'm okay now!"

"I didn't know you could sleep that much," he teased. "I missed you."

Playfully, you rolled your eyes, "I'm sure you were just fine~"

"I was lost without you," Auston replied, giving you his best puppy dog eyed pout. "You left me all alone...for days!"

You had to laugh at his dramatic display. Even though he was just hamming it up for you, to make you smile, you had wished that you could have given him a little more attention --check-ins-- during that span of time, but being sick had taken more from you than you had realized.

"I'm sorry~ Forgive me?"

"Only because you're so damn cute."

Both of you shared a laugh followed by a quiet moment after. You knew he couldn't stay on the call too much longer, and neither of you were ready to let the other go.

"I'll call you on my way home, okay? Well, I'll text you first, make sure you're awake."

"I'll be up! I'm going to watch the game!"

Auston smiled, "I know, but that post-game stuff takes a bit. You still need to rest. I can always call you in the morning."

"But--," you tried to interject, but failed.

"Mami-- you need your rest. I'll still text you good night. Don't make me feel bad because I woke you up," he frowned slightly. "Be kind to your body."

His protective nature had your heart fluttering. He was so kind, so considerate. "If I get tired, I'll go to bed. I promise."

"Thank you," he winked, before catching sight of the time. "Hey, I've gotta get Felix out and get around. Like I said, I'll text you, okay?"

"Mhm," you nodded, sad that he had to go, but understanding why. "Be careful tonight, and good luck!"

"I will," he promised. "I love you."

"I love you more!"

Before Auston ended the call, he left you with one more reason to blush, "Next goal is for you."

[heysoundsgood]

A few more (genuine) thoughts and theories about chapter 85!

I love narratives that invite a close reading, and Witch Hat's foreshadowing is so on point and the worldbuilding so detailed that it's kinda hard not to.

Working through the new details from chapter 85, this may not age well, but I one thousand percent think Qifrey is going to turn into a silverwood tree at some point. Like, he's toast on that front, no? Everything about his visual design and story so far is all gravitationally drawn around the idea. He's a chekhov's gun and you can't not fire those.

But if that's the case, what's the inciting incident that causes him to be, even momentarily, chilled out enough to germinate, and god what a sentence to type. You know what I mean, what's something so good that could happen to him that the curse/spell/experiment would fulfill itself?

No idea, but we know what (and where) he cares about more than anything because he's said as much. And good god the notion that Qifrey collects apprentices as a way to protect them from being planted/experimented on...

I love this stuff to pieces.

I'm also not really sweating possible treefrey* because the entire story is, in some part, about what happens when people turn into things because of magic. Into rock, or solid gold, or wolf boys or cat hybrids or big ol blood trees. Not just what happens though, also, 'how do you undo this transformation' and 'can you'?

The counterclock spell un-leeching a man. Coco's idea about canceling Euini's wolf curse with a negative version. Accessing the library to undo Coco's mom's petrification. A lot of story beats about reversing or mitigating spells cast on people.

My very first thought on seeing the Naakiwan Downs was also, 'huh this is an interesting choice for a cozy atelier, it's so barren of vegetation.' It was a genuinely interesting artistic choice for a setting, and maybe a reason she chose to put there was because a giant tree would contrast real nice with the surroundingsssssjustsaying.

Anyway, this was fun, correct me if I misread some of the details. I don't think it's inconsequential that there's more than one piece of concept art of future(?) melancholy Olruggio, or the one with older/adult Coco wearing lil Qifrey glasses.

*delicious angst

[smallnico]

nobody asked but i want everyone to know that when i draw karlach doing a happy tail thrash, it's stimming. i'm drawing her happy flapping. i'm not trying to compare karlach to a dog (or, rather, i'm not trying to condescend to her or minimize her pain or awareness or intelligence). i think everyone knows she's got big feelings and she's a very physically emotive and fidgety person (we've all seen her little dance) so it just makes sense to me that she would vent her excitement physically somehow.

also it's what i would do if i had a tail. i'm stuck using my hands lmao

[perilegs]

i know astrology is fake but i'm not too keen on how a lot of people on this website seem to be clowning on it as a hobby a bit too hard. i swear the woman who thinks it's neat how she and her friends with the same sun sign are all similar isn't trying to say that you are who you are born as and there is nothing you can do to change it. it's a hobby. an interest. what happened to finding meaning and joy in the small things. does it affect you if someone enjoys tarot reading or crystals. does it make you upset someone has interests that they enjoy.

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

fascinating revelations out of my dad's professional coaching of the whole family today

my mom scored astonishingly high on empathy and caring for a woman who seemed to find it next to impossible to express that to me

my dad has done an insane amount of work to be so warm and personable considering that his natural inclination is towards strong reserve rooted in anxiety (just like me!!)

my sister shocked - SHOCKED 🙄 - to learn that she scores almost zero in empathy AND very high on manipulation

actually shocking reveal that my sister always knew she was my mom's favorite. like I kind of assumed she was mean to both of us but apparently most of the biting comments were for me

[figofswords]

I want to know which octopath developer woke up and chose violence

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[spotsupstuff]

ur grading people and if they get an f theyre blocked? my main you aint a kindergarten teacher this is a microblogging platform

yeah, that's why there's that function called blocking! :) cuz this is a microblogging site! that's what microblogging platforms have! :) so you don't have to put up with people's shit! :) interesting that kindergarten teachers where you live are capable of blocking people in real life, hope you had fun with that

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .

[gothgoblinbabe]

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: You can’t stand each other, so it’s a mystery to you and Logan why you’re sent out together on an assignment. To make it worse, you’d have to act much closer than you really were.

Warnings:  mutant!reader (no specific power mentioned, though), fem!reader, enemies to lovers, swearing,  fake dating (technically fake marriage), mentions of violence, a little bit of suggestive stuff, a little bit of fluff i guess, and mild alcohol consumption. I think that's all but if i missed any, please let me know! also this is def loosely inspired by the movies 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' and '10 Things I Hate About You'

Word Count: 5K

part 2

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ .

You hate the way he dresses.

You hate his stupid hair.

You hate the pet names he calls you.

You hate his voice.

You hate his hazel eyes.

You hate his smile.

You hate Logan Howlett.

It was no secret and neither was the fact that he couldn’t stand you either. You bickered like a married couple, constantly fought till you bled when you were training and couldn’t go a day without one of you insulting the other. Truthfully, it was probably because you were too alike - fire versus fire - and knew exactly how to press each other's buttons.

That’s why you were both confused when you stood in Charles’ office - dumbfounded expression on your faces - as he told you that he assigned you to a mission together.

“Oh, no way,” you nearly laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Yeah, not happening,” Logan agreed. It may have been the only thing you’ve ever agreed on.

“That’s unfortunate for both of you, as I am sending you anyway. You are the only capable people that aren’t already out on an assignment or teaching a class full time.”

“How do you expect us to do it without killing each other?” you raised your eyebrows.

“You are adults. I trust you will navigate that on your own.”

Logan scoffed beside you, his arms crossed over his chest.

You sighed, closing your eyes in frustration and biting the bullet, “what do we have to do?”

“There is a safe hidden in the home of a very wealthy socialite who’s been involved in orchestrating attacks on mutants - injecting them with a serum that replaces their mutation gene with that of a normal human,” Charles began to explain.

Your chest felt heavy. It always made you anxious and a little ill when you’d hear the stories of people who hated you so much that they’d go as far as to harm or violate you in some way, all in the name of trying to rid the earth of you completely or turn you into one of them.

“The only known sample of the serum is locked in that safe,” he continued, “and I will need you to retrieve it. You are to infiltrate a gathering being held in her home, obtain the contents of the safe and return promptly.”

“So, we’re…going to a party?” Logan asked with one eyebrow raised.

“A dinner party,” Charles replied, “and another thing - you must not attend as yourselves. You’ve been invited on the good word of another guest - someone we trust - but you’ve been invited as a married couple to avoid arousing suspicion.”

He must’ve been getting some sick enjoyment from this.

“Married couple,” you repeated, your eyes narrowed, “Us. You want us to pretend to be a couple.”

“What, do I have to like - touch her? I’m not doing that,” Logan piped up.

“Oh, i’m so disappointed,” you rolled your eyes, sarcasm clear in your voice, “Fuck off.”

“You fuck off.”

“No, you fuck off.”

“No, you.”

“I said it first!”

“Enough,” Charles interrupted, “you will be attending as Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Huh,” Logan hummed, “that’s creative.”

“Its inconspicuous,” he replied.

“What are our first names, then?”

“You have creative liberty. I trust you will come up with something just as unremarkable.”

“How about Sid and Nancy?” you scoffed, chuckling a little in disbelief. 

“Does that mean I get to stab you?”

“You’d miss.”

Charles had his head in his hands.

“How about Jack and Jill?”

You both turned your heads to him when he spoke, pausing the back and forth between you that you were sure to continue later. You glanced at Logan and shrugged, indifferent to the names.

“That’ll work,” Logan mirrored your actions.

“Lovely. Tomorrow evening at five. I will have the address ready. In the meantime, here,” he opened his palm and placed two rings on the table, “these are your wedding bands.”

You huffed and took the smaller of the two, Logan picking up the plain silver band. Yours was simple - a false diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on each side.

“What, you couldn’t get me anything bigger?” you joked to Logan, holding up the ring. 

“Oh, you want somethin’ big?”

Your eyes went wide and you elbowed him in the arm, groaning in disgust, “Gross.”

—----------------

Five o’clock came fast, your nerves seemingly increasing the speed of time. You’d made a mess of your wardrobe looking for something to wear that was comfortable, but not too ‘you’. What would a rich person wear to a dinner party? How the hell were you supposed to know?

Some nice pants, a blouse and complimenting shoes would have to do - it was the only thing you had that looked relatively formal. Adding some jewelry made it just a little more convincing. 

You went down the stairs to meet Logan at the front door, dreading the coming hours. You turned the corner and finally saw him, leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He wore a white t-shirt tucked into his jeans, his boots, and he’d traded his usual leather jacket for a suit jacket. He actually cleaned up pretty nice, but you weren’t gonna tell him that.

He heard your footsteps and turned towards the sound. He could feel the sweat starting to form at the back of his neck. 

He’d never seen you in anything nice like that - you never really had any occasions to dress up for - and he hated how much he liked it. Your pants hugged you perfectly, your blouse was buttoned low and you even had on a little bit of makeup. 

“You don’t look too bad,” he managed to comment, opening the door for you.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you realized aloud, the both of you heading towards Logan’s truck, “You look alright.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Smith.”

He opened the car door for you, uncharacteristically gentlemen-like.

You shot him an odd look and got in anyway.

“I’m practicing,” He explained, shutting your door and walking around to slide into his seat, “can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m a shit husband.”

“Good luck.”

“Uh-oh,” Logan had an amused expression, his eyes glued to the road as you began moving, “that’s not wife behavior, sunshine.”

“Bite Me.”

He clicked his tongue, “Feisty. Oh - I can use that when people ask about us! I’ll say it's one of your absolute worst qualities that any man would be repulsed by, but that our love is blind.”

You scoffed, “Great, and I’ll get to tell them you spend sixteen hours brushing your hair into cat ears and shed all over the bathroom like an animal.”

“See - now, that one seems a little personal.”

“It is.”

“Just pretend for a night that I’m the man of your dreams, okay?” he asked, “pretend I’m, uh - I don’t know, some celebrity guy you have a crush on.”

You were silent for a second, engrossed in thought, “you look nothing like Hugh Jackman.”

“Who? You know what - sure, pretend I'm him, alright? Just squint.”

Truthfully - and you’d rather be stabbed than admit it - Logan wasn’t far off from who you could picture yourself with. Strong, kind of handsome, good with kids. He was humble, most of the time. He was just terribly annoying and way too cocky.

It wasn’t long before he was shifting the truck into park and yanking the keys from the ignition. You let him open your door and walked beside him up the front steps.

“You ready, Jack?” you teased.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill.”

He rang the doorbell and you stood awkwardly, eyes scanning your surroundings. The house was huge - probably only a bit smaller than the mansion - and modern, something probably built in the last ten years. The front lawn was impeccable, as were the marble statues strategically placed between foliage and flora. 

The door opened and you inhaled sharply, trying to prepare yourself to lie your ass off.

“Hello! You must be Mr. and Mrs. Smith! So lovely to meet you, please - come in,” a woman ushered you in, her neck and ears decorated in pearls. You recognized her immediately, Charles having shown you both a picture of the hostess beforehand. You politely greeted her and introduced yourselves, already scanning the room for an emergency exit in case things went sour.

“So,” she continued talking, leading you to sit in the living room with the other mingling guests,”tell me a little about yourselves! John wasn’t very descriptive when he mentioned you. What do you do for work?”

Whoever John was, you silently thanked him.

“Uh, well,” you began, nervously glancing at Logan, “I’m a bank teller.”

Plain, boring, inconspicuous, 

She then looked to Logan expectantly, awaiting his answer. 

“Cage fighter.”

Jesus Christ. You were glaring daggers into the side of his smiling face and he pretended not to notice.

“Really?” the woman in front of you inquired, a hand on her chest. You watched her eyes scan him up and down, landing on the pecs prominent through his shirt. You scoffed out of instinct, faking a cough to cover it up.

‘Oh, yeah. Undefeated MMA champ.”

You looked away to hide the scowl on your face when your eyes locked on the vodka bottle sitting on the table a few feet away with a collection of other booze. Bingo.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?” you smiled politely and walked away before Logan could protest, leaving him to his own devices.

You twisted the top off the bottle and picked up a glass, filling it with Vodka and some soda that was left on the table.You almost walked away with it, planning to keep it in your hands until you felt your nerves subside, until you remembered you were supposed to be a wife. Wives brought their husbands drinks, right? Not doing so would look rude and rude might blow your cover. So, you reluctantly picked up another glass and filled it partially with whiskey, knowing it was something he’d drink. You happened to glance across to the kitchen and notice a neat little rack of spices and condiments on the counter. A bottle of soy sauce was front and center, like a message from the universe, and you giggled to yourself as you snatched the bottle and hid it up your sleeve - this could be a good night if you made it entertaining.

You returned to Logan with both glasses, handing him the one filled with significantly darker liquid. He looked a little surprised but accepted it anyway.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said with narrowed eyes, a look that asked ‘what are you up to now?’

You simply nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at the hostess still standing in front of you.

“She’s a keeper,” he continued, holding the glass up to his mouth, “ always knows exactly what I like.”

You bit back a snicker as you watched him tilt the glass and finally take a sip.

His eyes went to yours immediately.  He pulled the glass from his lips, mouth still obviously full of whiskey and soy sauce. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead.

“Good, honey?” you smiled wide then, taking a sip of your own drink. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, clearly fighting a grimace. He swallowed and nearly gagged, coughing into his fist, “mhm, just a little strong.”

“Oh,” the hostess began, “Jack was just about to tell us how you met!”

A couple of guests had gathered in the same spot, all lingering in a semicircle. Logan was quite the charmer and it wasn’t a surprise that he already had a couple of women gawking at him, hanging on his every word as if any of it was true. 

“Was he?” your tone was shrill but you attempted to appear playful, lightly smacking him on the arm, “Oh, honey, you should really let me tell it.”

Whatever he was about to come up with, you hoped it was not in the same outlandish category as cage fighting. Before you could begin, though, he dismissively waved his hand in your direction.

“No, no - you’re a little forgetful, sweetheart,” his grin was mischievous as he turned to speak to the surrounding guests, “so, it all started with a tshirt competition at a bar where the girls had to - “

“Nope! Nope,” you interjected, doing your best to keep your tone light and shaking your head, “haha - that must have been another girl, honey!”

That earned a few chuckles from the guests around you and you took the opportunity while everyone's attention was on you to try and spin a tale of your own.

“So, we actually met a couple years ago,” you started, mulling over what true details to sprinkle in or if you should make it up entirely, “uh - in a library.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue. You’d been at the mansion for a couple days before you bumped into him in the library while gathering books to try and put together your first lesson plan. You had a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of books in the other - admittedly stupid - but you’d always been careful. Except for that once. 

You had a book open in your arms, resting atop the stack you already gathered. You were walking and reading - again, admittedly not very smart - when you bumped into someone, spilling coffee on both of you and sending the stack of books to the floor with an audible thump. 

“Fuck, sorry -” you began to apologize, finally looking up to the strangers face. It was Logan, of course, though you didn’t know that at the time. You remember thinking he was handsome with his scruffy mutton chops and well groomed hair - until he opened his mouth.

“What the hell is wrong with you, kid?”

You knew it was partially your fault but were irked by his attitude.

“Dude, you weren’t paying attention either, obviously!” you snapped back, looking down at the beige stain now adorning your white button up.

“I’m not the one who carries coffee and a shit ton of books at the same time.”

“Whatever.”

That was your grand introduction, neither of you even exchanging names.

Logan remembered it about the same way you did, though the version he tells is a little different. He loved to tell people that when you bumped into him, it was because you were so lovestruck that you just walked right into him. The part he always left out, though, was the first thing he thought when he saw you. He’d scolded you before even looking up to see who you were and when he had, he wished he’d reacted a little differently. 

You were beautiful, even with coffee spilt all over yourself. You looked like a girl he’d only ever dreamed of, all the way down to the color of your hair and eyes. Unfortunately, he’d already been an asshole. So, from then on, that was basically your shtick - bickering over little things, calling each other names - all to the amusement of everyone around you. It wasn’t meant to be funny, but it was obvious to everyone else that the kind of teasing you did was only because you had feelings for one another - like two elementary school kids - and neither one of you seemed to know how to approach it. The mask would slip sometimes for either one of you - when he’d place a hand on your lower back, the times he’d managed to pin you to the mat during training - and you’d always find yourself staring at the ceiling that night, overthinking every interaction you’d had until the sun came up. He was never any better off, pacing in his room to try and decipher what the hell it was he actually felt for you.

Anyway, you decided to stick to the real story, minus the part where you insulted each other.

“We bumped into each other, literally, and I had coffee and a bunch of books in my arms. So, I drop the books, coffee spills everywhere - of course. Then I looked up at him, and..” you paused, the truth caught in a lump in your throat.

“And it was love at first sight,” Logan added, grinning down at you, “for both of us.”

His eyes were trained on yours and he continued to contribute to the story.

“The second I saw her, I fell in love.”

He was still looking at you. Why was he still looking at you like that? You were supposed to be husband and wife, right, but he was leaning into it far heavier than you expected. It felt like you were the only ones in the room.

A couple ‘aw’s were shared between guests and you smiled politely at the reminder that you were in fact not the only people in the room. As the conversation switched to another topic and someone else began to speak, you felt Logan’s hand at the back of your head, gently playing with your hair. Your face was pink - he was being too nice.

A short while later, you were sitting on the couch beside him, listening to someone’s drawn out story that you stopped paying attention to after six minutes.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Logan uttered unceremoniously and stood from the couch. He disappeared into the house and not even a minute later, another guy came to sit in his spot.

“Hey,” he put his arm around the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing your shoulder, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

You looked at the fingers grazing your shoulder and sat forward to shrug them off, “nope.”

He told you his name and you couldn’t have cared any less, deciding to actually tune back into the story being told rather than converse with him. He was alright looking, but his approach was far too off putting. 

“So, did you come alone?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, opening your mouth to answer before he cut you off.

“Cause It looks like it, and I can’t stand to see a pretty girl alone.”

You groaned in disgust, hoping if you were dry enough in your answers, he’d leave you be.

“mhm.”

It wasn’t really an answer to anything, just a noise of affirmation. You hoped he’d get the hint then, but of course, he didn’t. In what would probably be the stupidest thing he’d done that night, the guy moved his arm from the back of the couch so he could squeeze your thigh. Right as you were about to tell him to fuck off, you saw a hand grip his shoulder from behind. Logan was leaning over the sofa, bringing his face a little lower so he wouldn’t cause a scene, his dog tags hanging when he leaned forward. He had a death grip on the guy's shoulder while he used his other hand to steady himself against the sofa. 

“Hey, bub.”

The guy looked a little terrified, to say the least, but Logan didn’t let up there.

“Do you always go around hittin’ on people’s wives? Or is it just mine?”

His eyes were wide and he looked like he wanted to run but that wasn’t going to happen as long as he was in his grip. 

“I-I didn’t, uh, I didn’t know she - “ the guy sputtered, trying to nervously laugh it off.

“Mhm. Hey, tell you what - why don’t you leave my girl alone and maybe I’ll give you a five minute head start to get the fuck out of here.”

He let go of his shoulder and that was enough to drive him away, the guy scurrying to his feet and finding somewhere else to mingle.

You didn’t know why you found yourself smiling the moment he’d said ‘my girl’. You rid yourself of it with a shake of your head, reminding yourself you were there to do a job.

“Hey,” Logan leaned himself down even further so he could whisper, “I gotta show you something, c’mere.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him but got up to follow. He stopped in the hallway in front of the bathroom, looked around to see if anyone would notice you, and promptly dragged you in with him before closing and locking the door. He hit the light switch and you looked around.

“Do you always take girls to the bathroom on first dates?” you teased, crossing your arms.

“You’d have to go out with me to find out,” he remarked, “besides, it’s not like that. Look.”

You watched him get low to the ground to open the cupboard under the sink and you crouched with him, following his pointing finger to the wood paneling in the back. It looked like a fake back - a board that appeared to be the back of the cabinet but definitely had something behind it. There was a sliver of metal visible behind it when you shined your phone’s flashlight.

“I figured we should look everywhere, so while I was in here I was checking it out - saw that. You think that’s it?”

“Could be,” you answered honestly, “that, or it’s some sort of electrical box we’re about to rip out of the wall. It’s an odd hiding spot for a safe.”

“Not really. Think about it - where's the first place you’d look for a safe?”

“Bedroom or office, maybe.”

“Right, and where's one of the last places you’d check?” he gestured to the open cabinet.

“Under…the sink,” you realized aloud, looking between him and the wooden board. 

“Exactly,” he nodded, swiping the contents of the cabinet onto the floor to gain access, “here’s the thing, though - I’m too big to get in there.”

He could maybe stick his head in, but in order to duck under the pipes from the sink, he’d need to have shoulders that were much less broad.

You sighed, knowing what that meant.

“Alright, alright - move. This better be it.”

You reluctantly crawled under the sink and into the cabinet on your hands and knees. You yanked the wooden board with all your strength and it came free, revealing a metal safe.

“Got it! You were right, it’s the safe.”

Logan simply hummed in response, clearing his throat. You figured he’d be a little more enthusiastic. 

Truthfully, he was too busy staring at your ass in the nice pants you were wearing to pay attention. When he heard your voice, he shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts he was having about you so he could think of a response. He’d always thought you were beautiful, but seeing you all dressed up drove him a little crazy.

“Yeah? Is it locked?”

You inspected the metal box, holding the absurdly large padlock hooked around the latch that opened the door.

“Uh-huh. Padlock - we’re gonna need the numbers.”

“No, we don’t. Bring it out.”

You did as you were told, crawling back out with the safe under your arm and placing it on the bathroom rug. It was a pretty small one - probably a little bigger than a basketball.

Logan picked it up and set it on the counter beside the sink. He unsheathed a claw and sliced through the metal latch that held the door closed in one swift motion.

“Well, yeah - that's one way to do it,” you shrugged.

“Easiest way to do it.”

He reached in and took out the small glass vial. He put it inside the pocket of his suit jacket.

“What if it falls out?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Alright, kid,” he sighed, “what do you want me to do with it? ‘Cause i’m sure as hell not lettin’ you carry it.”

You rolled your eyes and looked him over.

“How about you wrap it in your jacket, like cushioning?”

“Fine.”

He reluctantly shrugged off his jacket, keeping the vial in the pocket but folding the jacket into a ball. You hastily replaced everything in the cabinet, safe included, and you followed Logan as he opened the door to step out - only to be met with another guest, her fist raised to knock.

“Oh! Dear,” she chuckled, clearly a little startled. She looked to the both of you, a grin appearing on her face, “Young love, what a gift. Don’t worry, I didn't see a thing!”

You shot her a confused look, chuckling nervously before you happened to catch a glance of your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Your hair was mussed and your blouse was untucked on one side from having to bend up and down. Logan had taken off his suit jacket and you realized what it was she was implying.

“Oh, oh - we weren’t -”

“It’s alright, honey,” she responded as you stepped out, “like I said - my lips are sealed.”

She shot you both a wink, went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“She thought we were fucking in there,” you mumbled, eyes wide in embarrassment.

“Is that so bad?”

You snapped your head towards him, a confused look on your face, “what?”

Logan shrugged, “we're supposed to be husband and wife, aren't we?”

You shook your head in disbelief and decided to ignore him, both of you joining the other guests back in the living room. Dinner was finally ready and everyone took their seats in the dining room. There were a couple of things on the table you couldn’t even pronounce.

“Is that…meat? A vegetable?” you leaned over to logan, whispering behind your hand and nodding towards one of the dishes.

“Hell if I know,” he muttered, “I don’t think I wanna find out.”

You both piled on the few things onto your plates, poking at it with your forks.

“Do you wanna get a pizza after this?” you whispered.

“Definitely,” he replied, pushing around an unrecognizable sludge with his utensil.

“So, how long did you two say you’ve been together?” You both looked up, only to be met with the hostess’ stare. You had never mentioned how long you’d been ‘together’. Her smile was polite but her stare was piercing, as if she knew something she was not supposed to.

“About three years,” you replied, looking to him for back up.

“We got married a couple months in,” he added, grinning at you. Again, he had that look - like he wasn’t just pretending to be in love with you. 

“We were in this restaurant - this little place we go to all the time,” he kept talking, “and I just told her I thought she was beautiful, that I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life.”

“Really? I have to say,” she began, sipping from her glass,” for a young couple who got together so quickly, you two don’t seem very affectionate towards each other.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shot Logan a panicked look, but he appeared unbothered.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue,” it’s this rule she’s got about PDA. I’d be all over her if I could.”

You hated the way your face became hot. You couldn’t tell if he was leaning into it to be convincing or flirting just to make you flustered. You heard a muffled snicker from somewhere across the table and your eyes shifted to the source - it was the woman from earlier, the one who’d thought you and Logan were getting busy in the bathroom. 

“Can I at least get a kiss, babe?” Logan cooed, a smug look on his face.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“Being a husband,” he replied in a hush voice. 

It all happened within seconds. His hands cupped your face, warm and soft, and he leaned in to plant a kiss right on your lips. It was gentle and you melted into his touch, kissing him back. When he pulled away, you were still stunned, your lips parted in surprise. 

Logan kissed you.

His lips tasted like the remnants of cigar smoke. His touch was nearly intoxicating, like you were drunk off just the way he held you. You inhaled sharply and finally turned your face out of his grip, eyes glued to the table cloth. You had almost forgotten where you were - feeling like the room was spinning - and you let out a nervous laugh.

The topic of discussion moved on quickly and it seemed like any suspicion the hostess had about either of you had dissipated. You and Logan decided to say your goodbyes immediately after dinner, making some excuse about having to wake up early the next morning. When you stepped out and he shut the door behind him, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“What the hell was that?” you spat, eyebrows knitted. 

“What was what?”

He was completely nonchalant as he continued to walk next to you towards his truck. 

“You kissed me.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He stopped with you at the passenger side of the truck, standing in front of the door so you couldn’t get in.

“What if I wanted to?”

You swallowed hard. It was dead silent outside, save for the chirping of crickets.

“What?”

“I wanted to,” he admitted, chewing his bottom lip, “I wanted to kiss you.”

You didn't know what to say. He hated you, didn’t he?

“Logan, I - “

“You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything in there, pretending to be together.”

His voice almost sounded strained, like he was pleading.

“You don’t even like me, you hate me,” you deflected, but he shook his head.

“That’s not true. I never hated you. I figured you’d hate me after I acted like an asshole when we met, so I went with it. I don’t hate you. I think you’re funny, I think you’re pretty - I just never really knew how to tell you that.”

When you only stared in response, he moved aside and opened your door with a defeated sigh. You were still speechless but you hesitantly slid into the seat anyway, letting him close the door. When he got into the driver's side and started the ignition, you couldn’t stop looking over at him.

“So, you like me,” you finally said aloud.

He kept his eyes glued to the road when he responded in a low voice, “why do you think I bother you so much?”

“You pick on me because you like me? Like a little kid?” you couldn’t help the amusement in your voice as your confused expression turned to a smile.

You saw him bite back a smile that mirrored yours, shaking his head.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well, you’re not too bad, you know, and I guess you’re kind of handsome.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, but don’t make me take it back.”

The rest of the short ride home was spent in comfortable silence, both of you seemingly trying to figure out where you’d go from there. When Logan parked his truck and got out, he came around your side to open your door. You hopped out and he shut the door for you, but grabbed your hand before you started to walk away.

“Hey, c’mere for a second.”

You let him pull you a little closer, intertwining both your hands. The evening air was chilly and you could see his breath in the air when he spoke.

“Can I kiss you, for real this time?”

You could feel your heart beating fast and you nodded eagerly. The second you did, his lips were already on yours. His hands let go of yours to settle in your hair, threading the strands between his fingers. His touch felt warm in comparison to the cold air and you leaned further into him with your hands gripping his jacket to pull him close. When he pulled away, he rested his hands on your waist and planted another kiss on your forehead. 

“Maybe we could, uh, try again,” he cleared his throat, running his hands up and down your sides, “be nice to each other this time.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t hate Logan, even though you tried. 

You couldn’t hate his perfect hair.

You couldn’t hate his sweet voice.

You couldn’t hate his kind smile.

You couldn’t hate the way he dressed.

You just couldn’t hate Logan Howlett. 

So, you kissed him again, smiling against his lips and letting him hold you as close as possible, almost lifting you off the ground with his arms around you.

“We should probably go inside, huh?” you mumbled when you leaned back, lightly scratching the mutton chops on the side of his face in an affectionate manner. Those were another thing you’d pretended to hate - probably because you were embarrassed to admit you thought he pulled them off well.

“As you wish, Mrs. Smith.”

He held his hand out for you to take and you did, eyeing the ring on your finger.

“You know,” you held up your hand to show him the jewelry, “I think i’ll keep this.”

He grinned, bringing your knuckles to his lips and leaving a chaste kiss, “I think i'll keep mine, too.”

You were both still holding hands when you went inside, blushing like two little kids. You were so engrossed in one another that you didn’t notice Jean and Ororo in the hallway ahead of you as he leaned down to kiss you again. Now that he knew he could actually do it, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll take it your night went well,” Ororo giggled, Jean doing the same. You jumped a little in surprise, covering your pink face in mild embarrassment. 

“What changed? I thought you hated each other,” the latter of the two asked.

“Eh, he’s not so bad,” you teased, shrugging your shoulders.

‘’Turns out, we make a pretty good fake husband and wife,” he explained, “I guess we got a little too carried away with it.”

As the two of you walked hand in hand further down the hall, Ororo elbowed Jean lightly, leaning over to whisper behind her hand.

“You owe me twenty bucks.”

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

A/N: If you've made it this far, thank you sm for reading!! I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep this as is or add smut so I'll leave it how it is and if enough people ask for it, I can make a part two <3 pls reblog and like if you enjoyed/want more and my inbox is always open :)

Edit: here is the link to part 2!

[silversurfersx]

media duties | f1grid

part 2

f1 grid x driver!reader [smau]

summary: in which the reader tries to escape her media duties

faceclaim: jamie chadwick and random people I found on pinterest

warnings: fluff, swearing

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liked by user, user, user and others

f1gossip: williams driver y/n y/l/n was seen entering the redbull garage. Is redbull looking outside their junior team for a possible perez replacement?

view comments

user: y/n I'm telling you, this isn't a good idea

user: that would be so cool

user: slow your horses redbull, the seat's still warm

redbullracing: this is news to me

yourusername: same

user: what about yuki and liam

user: and isack

user: I don't think she's got the pace

user: how the fuck is she supposed to have the right pace in a williams user: the right talent finds the pace anywhere yourusername: that's deep man user: y/n cheering on her own hate comments, lol

___

alex_albon posted a story

[caption: netflix I've found her]

yourusername: betrayed by my own teammate, I can't believe it 🥺 alex_albon: if I have to do the netflix stuff, so do you yourusername: max and oscar put all this work in to help me hide and you ruin it all😔

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"Y/n what do you say about the redbull rumours?" The interviewer asked, stopping you in the media pen.

"Which one?" You asked, pretending to be clueless. It was a little joy of yours to give short answers to media personal. You didn't really enjoy interviews, but you understood your duties, but that didn't mean that you took them serious. You were in f1 to race, not to entertain interviewers.

"The ones regarding your possible move to redbull, leaving williams." The interviewer continued.

"They're not true." You plainly answered, grinning at the interviewer. A short glance over to your pr officer told you that she didn't support you content-less answers.

"What were you doing at redbull then?"

"Hiding."

"From?" The interviewer seemed to be more annoyed with each word.

"Netflix. They're filming for drive to survive." You answered the frustrated interviewer, giving into better worded answers.

"And you don't want to be filmed." The interviewer asked and you shook your head chuckling. "No."

___

The crowd was screaming all around you as waved at them from time to time, your eyes were focused on them but kept switching over to the front of the wagon where the interviewer was speaking with Lando. You didn't dared to walk up front, because you knew then you would be in immediate eyesight of the interviewer to pick you.

When Lando seemed to finish his talk you stepped further behind Fernando who stood beside you and looked at you with light amusement. He himself wasn't the biggest interviewer fan and tended to stay in the back. You seemed to have bonded over that.

"Don't make eye contact, Fernando, I think Lando is done." You muttered stepping behind Fernendo, hiding from the eyes up front. You crouched down slightly and Fernado aided you by carefully stepped forward to hide your body.

"They're looking at Geroge, I think you're clear." He muttered looking at you.

Leaning around Fernando you watched as Geroge stepped forward to be interviewed.

"I think Geroge is gonna be the last interview." You said standing back up.

"Great. We escaped once again." Fernando chuckled and you joined.

___

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and others

yourusername: yacht, brother, nephew. life is good! ⛵🧑🏽🧒🏼🌼

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alex_albon: james has been calling you nonstop

yourusername: I don't have my phone alex_albon: how are you posting the pictures then? yourusername: my laptop alex_albon: you have been taking those pictures with your laptop? 😐🤨 yourusername: yes.

user: is she hiding out on her yacht?

user: is netflix looking for you again?

yourusername: yes

charles_leclerc: where is my invitation? Alex wanted to see the little man too

yourusername: she can come, auggie misses her too😊 alexandrasaintmleux: ahh I can't wait 🥰 charles_leclerc: what about me? yourusername: gotta ask auggie yourusername: he says to bring lec if you want to come charles_leclerc: sure 'he' 🙄

williamsracing: james wants us to tell you that you get a strike if you keep putting off his calls

yourusername: 👍

user: she really gives no fucks

user: not when she knows that netflix is involved

___

"Hello?" You finally picked up James' call, after a few too many unanswered calls made you feel bad for not answering. Putting on your most innocent voice, you hoped he wouldn't be too mad.

"Y/n, where are you?" James asked his voice urgent and stressed. You grimaced at the tone, swearing internally.

"Home in Monaco on my yacht. Why?"

Jame groaned on the other side of the line. "Y/n, Netflix has been standing in front of your flat for an hour. You were supposed to be filming for them."

"Why, I didn't agree to them filming me at home. Only that it's okay if they follow me during races." You argued, clearly remembering those conditions.

"They didn't have any footage of you during the races, so they wanted to film a little segment with you in monaco." James argued. "I told you about that and asked if that was alright and you said 'yeah, yeah, alright'."

You frowned thinking back if he you did agree to that. And deep in a memory you pushed away you did remeber agreeing.

"Fuck!" You muttered. "What do I do?"

You knew that you couldn't escaped them now, you had your duties, whether you liked them or not.

"I'm gonna call the director and explain the situation and you are gonna go back to your apartment and just do a few hours of filming, after I promise to try to keep them off your back. Just please try to do this this once."

"Okay, I will, sorry James. Thank you." You muttered feeling bad for the stress you had caused the man and if filming a bit of dts got them off your back, you had to push through. "But only in my flat, I don't want them filming my family."

"Alright, thank you. I know you don't like the media, but it is important, I need you to understand that." James insisted

"Yeah, and I'm sorry again for pushing it off. I gotta go now, bye." You muttered.

"Goodbye." James replied.

You hung up and groaned. Why did you agree to Netflix in the first place?

The sound of your nephew on the top deck brought you out of your thoughts and made you step up the stairs.

"Well off to hell."

___

yourusername posted a story

maxverstappen1: did they get you yourusername: yes😔

[i9messi]

Don't break up with me — Oscar Piastri

Because of a misunderstanding, Oscar thinks you want to break up with him. Signals made him suspect he was right, but in fact, you just want to surprise him with a new puppy.

word count — 1,3k

note: i promise you this is pure fluff and romantic stuff. oscar here loves reader soo much, so I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

Oscar started to think about the last half of the year. Everything in your relationship had been so wonderful in those last few months, almost too perfect to be real.

You went to support him to his races every weekend, had romantic dates in your favourite places, went to museums and book stores and enjoyed ordinary things such as going together to the market. You had a beautiful relationship, where you supported each other and talked about your concerns as well as your future. Having known each other since you were teens, you and Oscar had talked many times about what you wanted to do in the future: to get marry and start a family.

Your families were very close, his mother loved you and you loved her, even spent time with her when he was not around. Your side of the family adopted him as their son, showing love to him.

There was no way you would break up with him. It made no sense.

However, the signs were there. That morning before heading to the circuit he had called you and you interrupted him, saying you were busy. That would have made sense and it was fine, except then he talked later to his mom and she told him you had been texting her all morning. Why didn’t you want to talk to him?

It was bad. That couldn’t be happening.

“Oscaaaaaaaaaaarr.” Someone shouted and that made him come back to reality.

Lando was in front of him, while he was sitting on the couch. Oscar used to be the most calm in your relationship. He took things easy, used to think before taking action, but now thinking so much was turning him into a person full of insecurity.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked, realizing that his teammate was acting differently than usual.

“Nothing.”

“Is this about your girlfriend?”

Oscar didn't try to hide the truth, not with him. “I think she’s going to break up with me.”

Lando was silent for a moment, until he burst out laughing.

“Don’t laugh, I feel bad. I’m devastated.”

“She’s not gonna break up with you, mate.”

You didn’t live together yet, you hadn’t taken that step in your relationship yet, but you practically lived next to each other. Your apartments in Monaco were only a few meters away. Yesterday he had invited you on a date and you told him that you couldn’t go. Lately it was as if you didn't want to spend your time together, as if his mere presence was annoying to you.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you're the perfect couple. You love each other, you show the world how adorable you are, and then make everyone else feel miserable.”

“I don’t think that’s true anymore, Lando.”

“Go talk to her, then. Crying and feeling bad about it won’t solve a thing. Go and win back your lady.”

Oscar listened to his teammate, knew he couldn’t waste time or the opportunity to talk with you. He found you just a few minutes later and you hugged him, while he left a kiss on your forehead.

“Baby, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Oscar. Congratulations for the race, I'm very proud of you.”

That had to mean something, didn’t it? If you hadn’t missed him and if you didn’t want him more in your life, you wouldn’t have answered that. Oscar was trying to convince himself that he still had a chance with you.

“Let’s go to my house.” he suggested, as you raised your head and looked at him with a face that showed no feelings.

“We better go to mine. We need to talk.”

Damn. You were going to break up with him. You never spoke like that, you had never said those words before.

On the way to your apartment in Monaco, he drove quietly. Oscar noticed you were nervous. You ran your hand through your hair and barely spoke. You were acting strange. He was increasingly convinced that once you arrived at your home, you would tell him that you wanted to break up with him.

The road was eternal and the worst of the worst. You arrived and stayed in the living room.

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes, please.”

You went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and came back a few seconds later. He drank the water in a single instant, too thirsty and nervous.

“Is something wrong, Oscar?”

“Do you want to break up with me?”

You stayed silent, until Oscar spoke again. His eyes were shining, his hair was messy from all the times he had passed his hands over it.

“Don’t break up with me, please. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life, you're my everything. I love you, that’s all I know. If I did something wrong just tell me, I'll try my best to not make the same mistake again."

“Oscar, baby…”

He hesitated, but he walked a step closer to you. Oscar was trying to not lose his mind.

“We can’t break up."

His supplicant gaze begged you not to leave him, not when he needed you so much.

“I love you and my life would be shattered without you.”

And something happened. You smiled.

“Oscar, I’m not breaking up with you. I don’t know what made you think I would.”

Calm made Oscar relax, but he remained confused. He was very sure of all the signs he had seen, he wasn't crazy and he was not imagining things. You had been acting strangely in those last days.

“Then why have you been acting so weird?”

“Wait for me, I’ll be right back!”

You left and came back a while later with something in your arms. A little puppy.

“It’s for you, honey.”

Oscar couldn’t help but come closer to you to see the puppy. The animal looked at him with a little mistrust, but once his hand came to caress the dog, the puppy began to move his tail with happiness, while you saw him with a smile on your face.

“A dog? For me?”

“It was a surprise. I talked with your mum about it and she even helped me. When you'll be busy with work stuff, I will be taking care of him.”

Your boyfriend grabbed the animal in his arms, the puppy ran his tongue over his face and Oscar squinted his eyes, while he couldn't stop feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“l didn't expect this, thank you.”

“I would never break up with you, Oscar. You make me happy. That’s why I thought of adopting a puppy for you.”

“Then why were you acting so weird?”

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise. Yesterday I went to get him and that’s why I canceled our plans. Today the puppy peed in the clothes I was going to wear, just when you called. Also, he started barking and didn’t want you to find out. It was my little secret.”

Oscar had never been so happy, he left a kiss on your lips. Your mouths joined and he smiled so happily.

“I love you, you made me the happiest man in the world.”

“We have our little family now, Oscar. We are parents of a dog.”

Even as you planned to start a family when you were old enough, sharing the life of a pet was everything to him. Sharing the care and affection of a puppy made his tender and loving part appear.

“I love you and I love this animal. I will take care of you and him for my whole life.”

You weren't breaking up with him, that was the best part of all.

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.