#turns out many of them have been calling me by nicknames

[youcouldmakealife]

Do you ever mix up names? I love your stories, but I am shit at names and as your pantheon/league grows I find myself increasingly turned around by all the north american dude names (first, last, AND hockey nicknames!!!). I can usually keep track of the on-going series names and names that are less common in North America (Kiro, Sven), but if I'm reading, say, an ask or rereading I usually have remind myself who is who first.

I don't mix them up between themselves and other characters in either a similar name way (James vs Jake, say) or roles (mixing up say, Wheels and Craney and Matty).

(This got so long and off topic, why does this always happen)

What I do mix up is sort of more of a...muscle memory thing, maybe? I'm writing the word, say, gorgeous, and I have to delete georgieous first, because my fingers apparently have become a phone's autocorrect function. I actually did write James as Jake a few times when I was deep deep in editing BTT, but again, it was just sort of like...an autofill error between my brain and my fingers.

The names themselves I'm pretty good with, though I do worry about whether I'll continue to be as a) the pantheon continues to expand (I love this by the way, and now I'm probably going to spend the rest of my evening mentally assigning characters places in the pantheon) and b) I get older. And both things seem pretty inevitable to me.

Unfortunately, the two things I appear to have in common with Leo Tolstoy are brevity and 'these people have three names, and I'm going to use them all interchangeably'. (ie Vinny is Thomas to himself, but Vinny to literally everybody else including me. And sometimes Tommy but only to Anton and his parents and only sometimes. Anton's alternately Anton, Petrov, Tony to Vinny and teammates, or Antosha to his family.)

I'd honestly apologise for it but it's one of those things that's really inextricable from the sort of...falling into a perspective way that I write, the same way I write in American English for American characters and Canadian English for Canadians, or use Christian (and specifically Catholic) references in Robbie or Georgie's POVs but never, say, Mike's or David's, unless we count Mike's very liberal usage of the word goddamn (and it's lowercase with him, but it'd be Goddamn to Robbie.)

And the different vocabularies extends to names. Like William Dineen is William to Robbie, he specifically asked to be called that when he was a teenager who wanted to feel more adult, and Robbie respected that then and continues to now. Georgie respected it in another way -- he was Willy to him, and now he uses Will, which William is fine with, but only with immediate family.

But in the text itself Georgie would never use William, because it'd feel distant to him, and Robbie would never use Will because he'd consider that disrespectful after William specifically requested to be called that, and me choosing one or the other wouldn't be in character, so he's Will and he's William, but never Willy (that's Tate Williams).

I make this all sound like a much more conscious process than it is. A lot of this stuff I've only figured out via metacognition of my writing process, which is, by necessity, done in hindsight.

My original answer to questions like 'why did you do _____ that way?' is invariably '*shrug* felt right', and people tend to find that...unsatisfying, so I often investigate further, and the answer becomes 'felt right because of <this reason I was in no way consciously aware of during the writing process>'. As I've said to my poor beleaguered editor, a lot of my writing process is 'just vibes'. I follow good vibes. Bad vibes tell me something's not working, and I adjust accordingly. I think a lot (I cannot tell you how many times I've been accused of overthinking things), but when it comes to writing, most of it's happening beyond my own perception, so instead it feels more like gut instinct. (which is, indeed, what gut instinct often boils down to: pattern recognition going on beneath one's conscious awareness)

[prof-polaris]

so i went to the doctor today. as one does. because lately i have been experiencing these terrible migraines. also my hair is beginning to grey. both of these are concerning instances.

apparently! according to my doctor! i am one of those people who have been affected enough by the psychic type pokemon around them that they just become a psychic type as well! which was news to me! i will absolutely be blaming this on uxie. couldn’t stop at making my eyes yellow, you also had to grey me at 19 and give me migraines hmm???

anyways. he says the greying and the migraines are from me trying to actively block out all the psychic nonsense going on around me and not actually doing anything with the latent psychic powers i now posses. the solution to this is apparently to float around some pokeballs and make telepathic connections with the pokemon around me to share our thoughts with each other. which should stop the migraines but the greying is probably permanent. oh well.

anyways, here is the headshot they took of me at the doctor because i realized i don’t actually post many photos of myself.

[beaversatemygrandma]

I just did a subtle test to my dad a bit ago. I ended up explaining how my name just Doesn’t Vibe with me. Like how I hate hearing it and the fact that I was named after a famous person and I even cringe when i hear about that famous person. (I found a documentary on her. Brought it up that way. Worked well tbh.) And the ending of this went Very Well. I was scared it’d be that situation where a parent is offended that you don’t like the name they gave you and it was the exact opposite. He asked if i still liked my middle name and offered to start going by that. I don’t mind my middle name (as long as i drop the e so it’s not the feminine name and more of the body of water. a change my mom approved years ago but idk if we ever did that legally) and uhhhh yeah. I might try that out. Might even be a name to keep once I’m out. (better than the medieval Hungarian one I’ve been using online tbh.)

Welp. My passed grandma is getting her wishes. Not only did they drop the second A for her, but I’m about to drop the whole damn name. You got your way nana, just 20+yrs later. They should’ve followed your advice, even if your advice was antisemitic which was why they did it anyways.

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[bro-atz]

fifteen inch club

in which: you're doing such an amazing job as maid of honor that you definitely need to be rewarded...

pair: stripper!seonghwa/stripper!yeosang/stripper!san/maid-of-honor!afab!reader

word count: 3.5k

content: smut, nicknames (doll, darling, baby), filthy?, face riding, throat fucking, fingering, double penetration, slight pussy slapping?, oral sex, anal sex, bukkake, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i blame @yunhoszn for sending me the pic that started it all and thank @bunny4yungi for helping me come up with this amazing plot <3

When your best friend asked you to be her maid of honor, you thought it was going to be the most fun experience of your life. You were sorely mistaken. Turns out that you weren’t her first choice— you were her third. You would’ve been more offended had she not been the most unbearable bride in existence (and if her first choices weren’t her family members).

For her bachelorette party, she had so many insane demands, one of them being that there must be strippers. Not only must there be strippers, but they must be hot according to her standards. You weren’t complaining about her standards since she did have very good taste, but you were complaining about the fact that her standards were quite impossible to find. You considered asking the groom if he and his friends would be willing to pose as strippers, but knowing your friend, she would be upset with you for doing such a thing.

Luckily, you managed to find a place. You had to pay a really pretty fucking penny to hire them, but you found one.

“So, when will the strippers get here?” your friend asked excitedly as you and several other of your friends waited in the private room of the hotel restaurant.

“Uh, soon,” you told her while glancing at your watch.

“What place did you use, Y/N?” another friend asked.

“They, uh… They’re called “Fifteen Inch Club”? I know the name sounds a little weird, but they’re supposed to be really good…”

"Fifteen Inch Club? Why are they called that? Is it because they have massive dicks?"

Everyone, except for you, giggled when the comment was made. Before you could explain the meaning behind the name, there was a knock on the door. Someone told them to enter, and three gorgeous men with insanely thin waists entered the room dressed in the skimpiest clothing— so skimpy, in fact, that you wondered what on Earth they would be stripping in the first place because you could quite literally see so much of their skin already.

As your friends cheered and whistled, you were simply staring with your jaw dropped to the ground. Your eyes were darting between the three men rapidly, and you felt your entire body tense up as the one with the broadest shoulders eyed you up and down and bit his lower lip.

“Now, where’s the special girl? Our bride-to-be?” the tallest one asked as soon as the screams and whistles died down.

All of the attention immediately turned to the bride, who waved her hand and fanned herself.

As the men danced and stripped their clothes off, you couldn’t help but feel the pool in your panties only get worse. The shortest one of the three men stopped by you first, and he rolled his waist towards you, making your entire body flush with heat. Your body temperature continued to rise when he held the back of your chair and closed the distance between you, his chest nearly grazing yours. You held your breath and did your best to keep your shit together when he turned around, his barely clothed ass shaking right in your face. You felt your friends shove a bunch of bills into your hands, and with trembling fingers, you managed to tuck one into the waistband of his underpants.

After he left, you truly thought you were going to be able to breathe easy, only for the other two men to approach you. They both gave you a personal lap dance at the exact same time, and whatever sanity was left in your brain flew out the window at the speed of light. You could barely remember to stuff bills into their waistbands— especially when they trapped you in between their thin waists. They kept rolling their waists on either side of your head, and as they kept doing so, you couldn’t help but wonder what they were packing in their underwear.

Your mind was swimming in the horniest of hormones as they continued to dance and turn you and your friends on with all of their grinding, and you completely spaced out until they were finished with their routine. Actually, you were spaced out until they fully redressed and left the room. After all of the squeals, screams, and laughter calmed down, the party finally ended, and you were left with the bride in the room. You started cleaning up as the bride leaned towards you, her lips by your ear.

“You’re going to pay for everything, right?” the bride asked you in a hushed voice.

“Yes, of course,” you responded to gritted teeth as your heart sank at the thought of your money flying out of your wallet. “I am your maid of honor, after all…”

“Thank you so, so much!”

With a pat on your shoulder, your friend scurried out of the restaurant, leaving you to clean up the room and pick up the tab. As you did so, one of the men returned to the room.

“Need any help?” he asked with a surprisingly soft voice.

You looked up to see the man with the broad shoulders. You shook your head and said, “No, that’s okay! Thank you for the offer, though.”

As you got back to cleaning everything up, the man decided to help you despite you rejecting his offer.

“So,” he said slowly in an attempt to start a conversation. “You’re the maid of honor then?”

“Unfortunately,” you couldn’t help but respond under your breath.

“Unfortunately? That doesn’t sound great.”

You sighed deeply. You could go on a rant about the bride for years, but instead of indulging him, you smiled and shook your head. Before he could ask more questions, you averted your gaze and finished collecting the remaining decorations.

“Here’s the rest of these,” he spoke up again as he handed you the decorations he had collected.

“Thank you,” you took them and shoved them into the box. The two of you were silent for a moment before you asked, “Is there a reason you came back, or…?”

"Oh, yeah," he cleared his throat. He looked around while scratching the back of his head as he muttered, "I can't find my phone."

And so, the two of you searched for his phone, and like a scene out of a movie, the two of you spotted his phone at the exact same time and reached for it. Your hand brushed against his, and rather than grab his phone, he grabbed your hand. You felt your face get hot when his fingers rubbed your palm. The two of you locked eyes, and you could've sworn that there was something darker behind his eyes, but before you could think about it, he let go of your hand, and you returned to reality. He picked up his phone and moved away from you slightly. Even though he had his phone, he lingered— he had something he wanted to say.

"You look a little sad— It seems like you're the one getting married with that look on your face."

"I'm not getting married," you couldn't help but laugh. "I just can't wait for this wedding to be over."

"So what I'm hearing is that you're single...?"

You looked at the man with slight confusion. His words felt genuine, but there was something in his tone that made you wonder if he left his phone behind accidentally or purposefully.

"So if I did this..." he whispered while closing the gap between the two of you. "Then it wouldn't be a problem, right?"

His arm went around your waist, pulling you sharply into his chest. The dark look in his eyes returned, and you realized that he definitely left his phone behind purposefully. You had heard stories about strippers hooking up with the best man, but you never thought that you, the maid-of-honor, would be hooking up with a stripper; and while all your logic told you that you should keep things professional, the tension rising in between your legs overruled your mind.

Before his lips met yours, the door to the room suddenly opened, and in walked the other two strippers. The two of you quickly separated, but the tension in the room did not go unnoticed by the other men.

"You lost your phone my ass," the tallest one commented with a sly smirk. "You could've just told us the truth, San."

"Shut up, Seonghwa," San mumbled as he retreated. "I really did lose my phone."

"On purpose for sure. I would ask if we should leave the two of you alone, but I don't think I want to let you do that."

"Seonghwa— What?"

"I'm just saying you're not the only one interested," Seonghwa responded nonchalantly before winking subtly at you.

As San and Seonghwa bickered, the other man approached you. He took one of the boxes from the table and asked you with a sweet smile, "Would you like help bringing these boxes to your car?"

"Actually, I got a room here," you shook your head. "But thank you."

"So let us help you bring these up to your room," he countered. "I'm Yeosang, by the way."

He held his hand out for you to shake, and the second you touched his soft hand, electricity ran up your arm. There was something about his low voice that made everything in you desperate for him to do something, anything to you. 

You weren't the only one who was desperate, apparently. Seonghwa and San, who were no longer immersed in their own conversation, watched as Yeosang got closer to you. It seemed like he wasn't really one to speak much, but when he did, he made you feel like you were fighting for your life.

“You’re so beautiful…” Yeosang whispered, his fingers tilting your head up.

He inhaled briefly before pressing his lips against yours, his lips encompassing your lower lip. You sighed softly when you felt his hands grip your waist and pull you closer to him.

“You were saying earlier that you’re staying in this hotel, right?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yes…”

“Let’s go back to your room, then...”

The second you got into your room, Seonghwa pulled you into his arms and made out with you roughly, and the other two men quickly worked on removing all of your clothes so that you were standing in nothing but your underwear.

"God, you're so beautiful," Yeosang murmured, his hands roaming over your chest before squeezing your breast tightly.

Seonghwa moved aside, allowing Yeosang to take your breast into his mouth and suck on your tit harshly. You moaned and whimpered, your hand moving to his hair. You ran your fingers through his soft locks, egging the man on further. His hand found your other breast as Seonghwa tilted your head to the side, his tongue immediately shoving its way into your mouth.

San, meanwhile, was on his knees. He lifted one of your legs so that it rested on his shoulder, and he left the lightest kiss on your throbbing clit. While you held onto Seonghwa's shoulder for stability, you subtly rolled your hips into his face, your clit yearning for his lips. However, you brushed your clit against his nose instead, which seemed to have more of an effect on you.

All three men working their simple magic on you was enough to bring you to your first climax of the night. You moved your hand to San's head to push him away before you could squirt, but he was an impossible force to move. He kept his face planted in your sweet cunt and slurped up all of your arousal as you came. You would've been more mortified had Yeosang not bit down lightly on your tit, completely melting your brain.

Before your legs could give out on you, San stood up. Yeosang and Seonghwa moved so that San could pick you up and toss you onto the hotel room bed. You landed onto the soft duvet and managed to push yourself up to see the three of them standing at the foot of the bed, the haze in your mind slowly beginning to clear up.

After they had finished work, all three men were dressed in casual wear ranging from simple t-shirts and jeans to sweatpants and hoodies; yet, their underwear was the same as before. So, when they slowly stripped themselves down— giving you a quick, private show of your own— you nearly giggled at the sparkly underwear. That giggle subsided quickly the second they revealed their stiff, throbbing cocks.

"Sit up properly for us, doll," Seonghwa instructed as he got onto the bed.

Obeying, you knelt so that you were upright for the most part. Once he got on the bed, Seonghwa immediately laid down and moved your leg so that you were straddling him, his face right below your cunt. He pulled you down, his tongue meeting your cunt immediately. You let out a loud moan, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your entire body shaking at his touch.

"F-Fuck," you whimpered and gasped the more Seonghwa's tongue ravished you from below.

"Darling, we haven't even started yet, and you already look so far gone," San chuckled, his low voice making your heart flutter. His hand reached for your neck, and his fingers pressed into your neck as he brought your face closer to his.

San's pressure on your neck, along with his words, made your mind swirl. Your mind got even more scrambled when he kissed you sensually, his lips enveloping your lower lip before sucking hard on it. You were going to bring your hands to his shoulders to hold onto him, but before you could, Yeosang took one of your hands and guided it to his cock, while San moved the other to his cock.

You had absolutely no functioning brain cells left, which made you grateful that both Yeosang and San were guiding your hands on their cocks. Seonghwa gripped your hips, but he didn't have to guide you as you were already lowering yourself onto him so you could glide your wet cunt along his slender face.

"Fuck, baby, just like that," you heard Yeosang gasp when you squeezed his cock lightly.

The man buried his face in the crook of your neck and sighed sensually, the air leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. San loosened his grip on your neck, and the second he did, Yeosang grabbed your cheeks and turned your face so that you were kissing him. His tongue dove deep into your mouth as he held your face tightly. You were so fixated on kissing Yeosang that you didn't realize San's hand had moved around your waist, his fingers nearing your asshole. Your entire body jerked when you felt his finger slip inside, and you felt your sanity melt away.

"Darling, you're okay with this, right?" he whispered with a sultry voice into your ear.

Yeosang let go of your cheeks, allowing you to gasp and agree with San. You watched San smirk before he slid another finger into your tight hole, his fingers starting to spread you wider.

"I just need to make sure you're prepared to take me, darling," he murmured before leaving a bite on your shoulder.

Before your brain had time to process everything, the three men had moved you so that you were lying on top of Seonghwa, your face right above his. He rubbed his cock along your folds before slowly slipping it inside you, a cry and a whimper leaving your lips.

"Doing alright, doll?" Seonghwa asked, his breathing hitching. "You're really fucking tight... You feel so good..."

You bit your lower lip and nodded at him, making him smile. He moved his head up and kissed you over and over again slightly, distracting you. San, meanwhile, had got on the bed, and he snapped your attention back to the position you were in when you felt his hands clench your ass cheeks tightly, his hands pulling them apart to get a good luck at your ass hole. You nearly bit down on Seonghwa's lower lip when you felt the tip of his cock prod into your ass.

"Oh God!" you cried loudly when San rammed the entirety of his thick length into you. "You're— Fuck!"

You moaned and cried loudly when the two men inside you bottomed out, your entire body throbbing with pleasure and pain. Yeosang grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back so that you looked up at him, his throbbing cock hovering near your lips.

He didn't even have to tell you what to do— you did it so automatically. You opened your mouth and moved your head closer to him, the tip of his cock brushing past your lips. Yeosang inhaled slowly before humming, the depth of his hum ringing in your ears warming up your already insanely hot body.

You did as he expected, but it wasn't enough for him. As Seonghwa and San slowly began to roll their hips, their cocks moving inside you, Yeosang tightened his grip on your hair and moved your head forcefully along his length. You looked right at him when he started praising you, and you watched his eyes flutter as he tilted his head back to sigh with pleasure.

Suddenly, they all acted at once. Seonghwa rammed his waist upwards, San smacked and grabbed your ass, and Yeosang forced your head so far down his cock that you choked. Not a single man refused to let you breathe for a mere second, the three of them picking up their pace.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cried as you turned your head away from Yeosang's cock. "S-so good— So c-close!"

You were so close, yet, they stopped. Those words were the catalyst for the three of them to manhandle you. San's cock was still buried deep in your ass as you sat on his lap, and Seonghwa and Yeosang knelt near you, their hands rubbing their lengths quickly.

As they jerked themselves off, Seonghwa cupped your face and kissed you sloppily, allowing Yeosang to bring his fingers between your legs and slip them into your cunt. He fingered you roughly, and between his fingers ruining your cunt and San's cock ruining your ass, you lost your mind. You held onto Yeosang's wrist and tried to get him to let up, but there was no way in hell he was stopping.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the pleasure building inside you rapidly. You came hard when Yeosang's fingers and San's cock rubbed inside you so perfectly, your arousal squirting all over his fingers and onto the bed. Yeosang withdrew his fingers, and you thought you were finally going to be able to breathe, but Seonghwa's hand rapidly replaced Yeosang's. He slapped your pussy several times quickly, sharply, the stings from his slaps stimulating your still-trembling cunt. Then, he rapidly moved his fingers against your folds, his nails repeatedly grazing your sore clit until you squeezed your eyes shut and bit back a moan as you came one more time.

"Doll, if you liked it, then you should moan out loud," Seonghwa whispered in your ear. "Did you like that?"

You moaned softly and nodded, your lips parted slightly as you turned your head to look at him with bleary eyes. A brief look of shock crossed his face before he inhaled sharply and directed his attention to his cock, his hand pumping rapidly, your eyes following. Climbing off San's cock, you faced Seonghwa fully and knelt on all fours, your face right near his cock as you looked up at him with wider eyes, an open mouth, and your tongue out as you waited in anticipation for his load.

Seeing you waiting so patiently for Seonghwa brought the other two men to kneel before you, their cocks right above your face. You locked eyes with all of them as they stroked themselves faster. You felt their cum land on your face and tongue, the three men groaning loudly as they covered you with white ropes.

After they all finished completely, you collected some of the cum from your cheeks onto your fingers and sucked your fingers while looking up at them with wide eyes. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle when you saw their cocks twitch and their faces turn a light shade of pink.

"Now why would you go do that, darling?" San murmured, his fingers trailing along your legs before his large hand gripped your thigh.

"Do what?" you asked innocently while fully knowing what San was talking about.

"Doll," Seonghwa sighed while he pushed your hair back with his fingers. "Just say the word..."

You looked at him with that same fake-innocence plastered to your face, only for your façade to break the second Yeosang wiped some of the cum from your face off with his thumb and stuck his thumb in your mouth for you to suck.

"Tell us you want us, baby," Yeosang's low drawl sent shivers down your spine. "We'll make you feel like the special one."

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[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[maxlarens]

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

[cosmictheo]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦

(gif credits to @peace--n--love)

— summary: ao'nung calls you the way neteyam usually calls you, which makes him feel jealous and insecure, but that finally pushes him to confess something he has been feeling for too long. — pairing: neteyam x female!na'vi!reader — word count: 2k —warnings: pure and comforting fluff, ao'nung being ao'nung (an idiot), love confessions, jealous!neteyam, neteyam being the purest and most beautiful angel.

* Neteyam is aged up, for obvious reasons, of course; he is 19 years old. * Sluyang means flower.

neteyam's playlist i made for inspo

writer's note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

You liked to observe the beauty that Eywa gave to Pandora, you were still surprised by how beautiful the forest and the places it could hide, even after having grown up there and having been all those years among its leafy trees, even so, the forest hid secret and beautiful places, worthy of being seen and found by only those chosen ones.

Your mother was sure that you had a special connection with Eywa, practically since the day you were born and opened your eyes for the first time, green as a pair of emeralds. She told you that you had come into the world for a purpose, that you were Eywa's chosen one, in fact, those were her last words to you before she passed away in your arms, haunted all her life by an illness from which she never got better. And since then, Jake and Neytiri had taken care of you, accepting you into their family as if you had always been one of them. You soon became close to their children, especially with Neteyam, as you were close in age.

And because of that special fascination you had for the forest and nature in general, Neteyam made a habit of always bringing you things from his many explorations and hunts, things that reminded him of you; flowers, leaves and even rocks, bright and beautiful, out of the ordinary, that stood out among everything else, just like you.

“You don't have to, 'Teyam.” You always said every time he came to you once again with a new gift. But he would simply shake his head, offering you a charming and gentle little smile, ever so kind, ears slightly bent and gaze so bright every time he met yours that it seemed to dazzle you, leaving you completely mesmerized.

With a coy smile you tried to avert your gaze from his, analyzing the object now in your hands. “Really, it's not necessary.”

“I like to do it.” He would simply reply, seeking your gaze with his big, captivating, coaxing eyes, as if it were something insignificant, something that didn't matter, something that wasn't like the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you would do nothing but grin at him. You couldn't stop smiling, your cheeks felt almost numb, but you were happy, content, he made you happy. And you knew that this, in the long run, would bring serious consequences, not so good, you supposed.

And now, in the huge ocean, when you thought nothing would surprise you anymore, Eywa seemed to turn every assumption you had upside down. Jake had taken you with him and his family to the place where the Metkayina Clan lived, leaving the Omaticaya behind, leaving the shelter that the forest offered you, to now be surrounded by the ocean; salt water and sandy land.

They had been kind enough to accept you into their home and to show you their ways, noting the great difference from your own, but, apparently the younger members of the clan were not as friendly to strangers as the older ones.

Ao'nung had been rather harsh with you, especially Kiri, whom they had addressed as a freak, as they had nicknamed her, and from there, the problem grew larger, for you and Lo'ak had taken up against them in her defense.

“Look at her.” Ao'nung called out, following Kiri like prey, looking at her with big, disgusted eyes. “Is she a freak or something?”

“Don't call her that.” You stated in a not at all friendly tone, scowl and defiant eyes looking up at the chief's son, pointing at him with your index finger and thus causing him to move backwards. “You have no right to call her that, did you hear me? The Chief's son or not, I'll kick your ass.”

With a tilt of your head, you stated the threat, making him snort ungraciously, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“For such a pretty little girl, you sure have a big mouth.” His big eyes narrowed as he spoke, demonstrating a smug attitude as he heard a couple of snickers from his little friends at his words. “You are one of us, little flower. Why you waste your time hanging out with these aliens?”

“Hey!” Lo'ak exclaimed, appearing at your side, fists clenched and face angry. “Don't call her that, get away from her!”

“Please, leave us alone.” Kiri grumbled behind your back, hearing how now, you were the target of annoyance from the little group.

Your mouth hung open wide, totally offended now, feeling the fury shake your body from head to toe, your tail wagging angrily as you lunged at him at the same time you heard an 'oh uh' from Lo'ak.

But your movement was halted as you watched as a body larger than yours stepped between you and the bully, leaving you in view of nothing but a broad back you knew all too well and blocking Ao'nung's smug, sneering face from your view.

“That's enough.” Neteyam said in a stern tone, deep voice and tense body, always as diplomatic and calm as ever, braids moving under the command of the wind and his head, which rose slightly, giving him a more stern and much more menacing stance. “As long as we are here you will treat my family with respect and call no one by other than their names.”

His head moved so that he could look at the faces of the little group that had formed, friends of Ao'nung, as silly as he was, apparently, but who, in Neteyam's presence, seemed to have been brought back to reality and put back in their places. They were not so foolish after all, they knew that against him they would have no choice but to flee. Cowards.

“(Y/N) is just fine for you, got it?”

“Whatever.” Ao'nung replied, rolling his eyes and starting to walk, bumping his shoulder against Neteyam's as he walked past him, his eyes met yours for a couple of seconds and he offered you a smirk, making you grunt and by the time you could take a step towards him, a hand found itself on your forearm, stopping any act of violence you had planned to do.

“Cowards.” Kiri spat, rolling her eyes.

When you looked back, Neteyam was looking at you with eyes, dark, but now filled with concern, his fingers barely caressing your skin before he pulled away from your arm.

“Are you okay, syulang?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing heavily. “I'd be better if I'd beaten that skxawng—”

“Hey.” He interrupted you, noticing how your ears were still bent and your tail twitching behind your back and he laid both of his hands on your shoulders now, in an attempt to reassure you, giving you delicate petting strokes. “It's okay, it's all over now.” His gaze traveled to his siblings behind you, moving his head and face transforming to one of authority, chin up. His voice came through loud and clear, almost scolding. “Home, now. You've had a lot for today.”

Lo'ak lifted his hands, looking incredulous. “But they were bugging-”

Neteyam was quick to interrupt him. “Home. We will talk to father later.”

The younger boy let out a snarl and without further ado, began walking back to where his family was staying, followed closely by Kiri, who kept a glum face, arms crossed over her chest.

And now, all of Neteyam's attention landed on you, as it naturally did, as his body always seemed to do instinctively, even though he didn't even intend to, he always focused on you, as if you were the center of the universe, the sun of his world, the core of his heart, the magnet of his mind and the horizon of his eyes. He saw you. He had always seen you. And practically everyone in his family knew, perhaps everyone on the whole planet, except for you, of course.

Neteyam had expressly refused any offer or even, even idea from his parents to find him a Tsahik as his position as the future leader of the clan, it was his duty and it behoved him to follow to the letter the duty that rested on his shoulders as the future chief, but now, all that had been left behind with his leaving. Now all he cared about having was you. All that mattered was you.

With a beautiful sunset behind him, he began to speak to you once again, hands gently running over your shoulders and arms, becoming more attentive, affectionate, but still concerned. His brow furrowed slightly and you knew immediately that a scolding was coming now. “What were you thinking, hm? Fighting them all?”

He was always like that with you, especially when you were alone together. Neteyam never felt he was enough for his father, and he too never seemed to be satisfied of him, let alone see all that his son did for his family, for his siblings and for him, but with you, with you everything was different, he could be different, he could be himself and he knew that was enough for you, you made him feel enough, you made him feel special.

“If that's what I had to do for protecting Kiri, Lo'ak and their family's honor, of course.” You answered immediately and with your words, sounding so sure and affirmative, Neteyam felt his heart be flooded with a most familiar warmth, an emotion quite well-known to him whenever you were near him and said things such as those, always putting others before yourself, putting the welfare of his family before yourself.

A smile tugged at Neteyam's lips, admiring you with bright, big eyes, his hands trailing down your shoulders, sliding down your arms to your hands, taking them between his own tenderly, fingers toying with yours absentmindedly as he watched the clear size difference.

“He called you little flower.” Neteyam stated after a silence of a couple of seconds, twisting his head. His jaw was clenched and ears barely tilted back. “I call you that.”

You bit your lower lip, holding back the smile that threatened to curve your lips at his clear display of jealousy. He was upset about it and you had to reassure him. Your fingers caressed his wrist, tracing imaginary lines down his forearm. “I like it better when you do it.”

“I sure hope so.” He smiled again and tugged on your hand, inviting you to walk with him, both of your hands tangled between his arm, and he didn't waste a second in drawing you to him. “I want to show you something.”

. . .

Neteyam had found the spot walking along the local beach, it was a bit far from the place where his family was staying and it was far from the town in general, but that made it a perfect location. It was a small bay, surrounded by coastal vegetation, a couple of palm trees and soft silky sand, but what was really amazing, was the glows of bioluminescence under the clear ocean water, algae of all colors, small animals swimming, with the sunset light bathing exquisitely over the turquoise sea.

It was beautiful, of course. But your reaction at the sight of it was even better; mouth half-open, eyes huge and amazed, face in wonder.

“'Yam… it's beautiful.” You murmured in a soft, barely audible tone of voice, but he was right next to you, as close to you as possible, so he could hear you perfectly. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he pulled you with him across the sand to the perfect place to sit.

“Yes it is. I found it as I was passing by... I immediately thought of you.” His gaze lowered with a hint of embarrassment flashing across his pretty face. “I know how much you love nature, all the things our great mother has given us, so, I thought, you would like it.” He stated and then shrugged, attitude becoming quite braggy now. “I've seen more beautiful things, though.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing your shoulder against his in amusement as you wrapped your arms around your knees, admiring the scenery in front of you. “Don't lie now.”

“I'm serious.” He laughed, looking up at you, analyzing every expression on your pretty face. “I'm no liar, you know that.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head so you could look at him now. “Really, huh? So what have you seen? What possibly have you seen prettier than this?”

Neteyam smiled thinly, stirring his arm lightly, his hand passed down your back, resting on the sand, fingers fiddling with it. “Something prettier than this?”

“Hm.” You hummed, looking at him curiously.

His ears perked up, gaze dropping to his lap, steeling himself inside, trying his hardest to calm the nerves that were practically eating him alive. And then, he moved his eyes up your body, until he met yours. “I'm looking at it right now.”

Your breath hitched and your mouth parted, feeling your body freeze. Your arms fell to either side of your body, adjusting your position.

“Nete…” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“Yes, sluyang?” He tilted his head softly. “I'm being honest.” He swallowed saliva, his hand trailing up your arm, caressing your shoulder and tracing your jaw, down to rest on your cheek, fingers tracing every inch of skin he could, arranging your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “I've always seen you as the most beautiful thing…” His lips trembled, faltering for a few moments. “I see you, (Y/N).”

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I see you too, Neteyam.”

He closed his eyes too, caressing your face with his. “When that idiot called you flower and treated you that way… like you were nothing.” His hands cradled your face now, and you rose up to face him, completely silent, breathing agitatedly. He was breathing in an agitated way too, looking frustrated, disturbed. “I was furious. They should respect you. Every one of them should know that you are mine and they should treat you as such, as my equal, as my mate.”

You opened your eyes to find his eyes already on you, your fingers stroking his arms subconsciously. Your lips brushed his as you opened your mouth to speak in an agitated voice. “I want to be yours, Neteyam.”

“I can't pretend anymore.” He declared between shaky breaths, gaze traveling between your eyes and mouth as he shook his head. “I don't care what anyone else says, I don't want anyone else. I have already chosen. I just want you, (Y/N)... I was made for you.”

“Then just take me.” You murmured against his lips before joining them with yours in a needy, agitated kiss that felt as if everything at last, made sense, as if life had been created just for this moment, as if you had been brought to life just this moment, for each other.

It felt as if all the constellations had aligned for you, as if you had all the stars just for you, and that was given just once, you knew. Everything made you feel as if Ewya had created you for each other. You were made for each other and perhaps the Great Mother had aligned the whole universe for it, for you.

“I am yours.” He promised. “I always have been.”

Your legs tangled between his as you landed on his lap, being drawn in by his arms chaining themselves around your body, massaging your waist, tattooing his touch on your skin.

“Forever.”

[hiraethwrote]

NEVER GOT YOUR NAME

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader ✧ summary: based of this drabble — you're ex is borderline harassing you. he just will not leave you alone, and in a desperate attempt to get him off your back, you tell a little white lie. in panic, you grab the first stranger to walk by and introduce him as your date ✧ cw: fluff, light profanity, one little comment about previous sexual relationship, arguing, word vomit ngl (i'm describing too much sorry) pining, reader is smaller than satoru, mild use of petnames, no use of y/n ✧ word count: 3.5k

He was a menace. A true and genuine menace, who seemed to have some sort of natural ability in finding you, no matter where you were.

Maybe getting a restraining order was the next step — there was no way he managed to just randomly run into at the rate that he was, whether that was in the grocery store, the gas station or just on the street. No, he had to be stalking you, right? The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give this guy, your god awful ex, the privilege of fulfilling his desires of bumping into you.

Yet, here you stood in front of him again.

His eyebrows pinched together, an innocent little smirk tilting his mouth crooked, feeding you the same lines he always did.

“Great seeing you again,” like you hadn’t ran into him not even three days ago. “You look fantastic, as always. How’ve you been, sweets?” Urgh, one of the many nicknames he had named you — your stomach turning at the sound of it. You were scared you might actually hurl.

“Stop calling me that,” you demanded, keeping your voice low. He always managed to bring your anger right to the surface, to which you had to use all your energy not to blow up in his face. It had already happened once, about two months after you broke up with him. You had raised your voice at him and lashed out, causing some random bystander to interfere — who had then proceed to take his side. Unbelievable, as if he wasn’t the one who had taken you for granted for the entirety of your relationship.

“Sorry, old habits die hard, you know.” So full of shit. You’d been broken up for months, there shouldn’t have been any problem dropping the pet names. He only did it as a tactic to try and manipulate you into his arms again. And to think you willingly used to sleep with this guy. “Since we’re both here, why don’t we grab lunch together?”

“Oh, please,” you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll be good for us, sweets-“ don’t punch him, don’t punch him, don’t punch him. “Maybe we can talk some things-“

“I’m actually here on a date!”

Finally he shut up, only for his face to twist into an expression of pure disgust. It was clear the idea had never even crossed his mind — and you would have been able to enjoy his agony had it not been for the fact that it was a complete and utter lie, thrown out in a moment of desperation.

What were you to do when your ex decided to wait around for your date to arrive, and he never showed? You could already picture his face — the patronising pity he would pay you, while you’d be able to read his satisfaction behind his eyes, as he would use it against you for months to come.

You had only bought yourself some time and you needed to think fast.

“Who? I mean, do I know them? Have you met them before?” He stuttered out questions of bewilderment as your limbs were growing ever more frantic at your side.

And then the bell above the entrance of the cafe chimed a sweet tune, eyes snapping towards the sound. “Ah, there he is!” Your arms acted on their own accord, hands grabbing onto the bicep of the person who had been so unfortunate to walk in right as you were spiralling.

Swallowing the worst of your anxiety, you dared turn your head towards the random person, hoping to god he wasn’t ugly (because that would just be yet another thing your ex would badger you about).

Due to his height, you had to angle your head more than expected to meet his piercing eyes that were ogling you with complete confusion — but you only had time to take in his appearance for a slit second before you shot him a pleading look, betting everything on the off chance that he would be able to read the situation — but also finding it in himself to play along to your little performance.

Your fingers squeezed lightly at his arm, bringing him back to reality. Then it only took him a second to make up his mind, the white haired stranger wiping off his confusion and confidently throwing his muscular arm across your shoulders. Once he turned to face your ex, he had painted his features with the smuggest grin one could imagine, revealing a charming dimple.

He tilted forward slightly, which only brought more attention to how much taller he was than your ex, and shot his hand out between them. “Satoru, pleasure to meet you.” His tone matched his expression, not a single speckle of insecurity to pick up on anywhere. Your ex stared at his hand with disdain before begrudgingly accepting the gesture and introducing himself in return. “Hm, don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, not expecting this Satoru to take his role so seriously — and then put on an award winning show right off the bat, nonetheless. Was it finally your turn to be blessed by the universe with some good karma in the shape of the most perfect stranger to deal with the situation?

Turning to take a quick glance at your ex, you had to press your lips together to choke back the cackle that threatened to escape. His expression was priceless, Satoru’s innocent little comment rolling of his tongue so effortlessly, causing a slight twitch in your ex’s eye.

“Well, I’m her-“ then he cleared his throat, struggling to finish his sentence. You weren’t surprised his title died in his throat, having never really accepted the fact that the relationship with over.

“He’s my ex,” you said, finding some courage to casually place your hand on Satoru’s chest, hoping and begging you weren’t making him uncomfortable by crossing a line.

“Aaah, your ex,” this Satoru trialed off with an awkward raise of the eyebrows before he turned to look at you again. That’s when you finally got to take a proper look at his breathtaking eyes, the whole ocean trapped in his irises. But you couldn’t let yourself fall completely mesmerised — you shook off the affect his piercing eyes seemed to have. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I stopped by the bookstore down the street to see if they had that book you recommended on our first date.” Then he served you what seemed like a genuine smile.

Stop, not the time to admire the handsome stranger!

You bashfully tilted your head forward while the sweetest chuckle traveled past your lips, also having to sell the performance. “How sweet of you to remember.”

“Of course!” He smoothly removed his arm from your shoulder to slide it along your back, moving it in comforting circles — but he never let it travel too far.

Your ex had his glare glued to Satoru’s gesture, unable to look away no matter how badly he wanted to.

“Never got around to that one,” your ex said with an awkward, forced laugh in an attempt to shift the attention back to him. He probably thought he was being charming (he always thought he was), but his little comment only gave you another reminder to why you had broken up with him — he never cared about your interests, as he couldn’t be bothered to pick up your favourite book, no matter how many times you had asked him if he could at least give it a try.

“Huh, how unfortunate.” Again, your ex couldn’t conceal the little reaction Satoru caused in his face by his incredibly taunting tone.

He cleared his throat again, and you could see how he was grasping at straws trying to redeem himself. “So, what do you have planned?” It wasn’t too obvious, but you could tell — you could tell he asked as a challenge, certain your “date” wouldn’t be able to suffice an answer that would leave him satisfied.

You opened your mouth to answer, but only managed to take a breath before Satoru had already started his lengthy explanation. “Well, first I’m taking her out for lunch, obviously,” he mused, taking a quick glance around your surroundings. “And I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I got us entrance tickets for the botanical garden uptown. She told me she’s been wanting to go for months.” Then he turned to look at you.

He said it with such a genuine smile painting the corner of his lips, both of you letting the eye contact linger for a second. For once you were thankful for your ex, because if it wasn’t for him drawing Satoru’s alluring eyes away, you were scared you might just have found yourself swooning a little.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” your ex chuckled in response with a nonchalant eye roll, “she might have mentioned it once or twice.”

“Hm,” Satoru huffed, sucking in his cheeks and eyeing him up and down

Pathetic was really the only word that Satoru would use to best describe the individual in front of him. He just seemed so puny, reeking of insecurity, only amplified by how he had so easily went along with the lie of a botanical garden — something Satoru had just pulled from the top of his head.

A huge, nervous lump traveled down his throat as Satoru held his gaze hostage, his dominant behaviour easily smothering any sprinkle of confidence your ex might have possessed at one point — all by just being there. And it was just so satisfying that it was finally your turn to watch your no-good ex being the one who was tormented for once.

“Well-“ his voice cracked the slightest, Satoru pursing his lips in amusement at the little slip, “I have to get going now. I’ll see you around,” stumbling over his words as his face shyly grew redder. Then he just turned on his heel and left, leaving no time for you to even say goodbye.

Satoru instantly felt your body relax at his side with a deep exhale, the hand that had shyly rested on his chest with modesty falling the second the door was shut — and once you took a step in front of him, he became hyper aware of how close to him you had been the entire time. With the sudden absence of your body next to his, he realised how perfectly you had just seemed to fit next to him. Nearly as if you had been made simply to be by his side.

And stood in front of him, he finally got the chance to take a look at you. A proper look at you, and damn, you were beautiful. Your eyes were kind, which amazed him considering the unpleasant encounter that had just taken place.

The chuckle you’d faked along with his act was still resting on your lips, but now it definitely seemed more real — warm.

“Thank you so much!” You gushed, “I am so sorry I just dragged you into that! I was panicking.”

Satoru watched intently as you spoke, unable to peer his eyes off you. His attention held on to every syllable, entirely captivated by your person, eyes roaming your face to take in every little detail there was to observe.

“Shit,” you suddenly interrupted yourself, taking a glance at your watch.

“I never caught-“

“I really wish I could stay and treat you for lunch, as thanks,” you cut him off, seemingly not even acknowledging how he had tried to speak, rummaging through your bag frantically before pulling out your wallet, “but because of him I’m running late. So, here, take this,” you chuckled lightly while stuffing his hands full of cash. “I really appreciate what you did!” Satoru was barely able to decode what you were saying as it all came tumbling out in one breath.

Continuing to spew a string of thank you’s, you quickly backed out of the cafe, his eyes following you as you jogged lightly down the street and out of sight.

Satoru was left utterly baffled, simply ogling the vacated spot you had occupied seconds ago.

Of all the times Satoru would end up tongue tied, this was the worst possible moment — he was cursing himself relentlessly for not being quick enough to demand a name, and now you were just gone, some random person he’d been lucky enough to cross paths with for a moment.

He knew he should just get on with his day — use the money you had gifted him and buy himself that sweet treat he wanted and forget about you. But he couldn’t — he wouldn't.

Had you just decided to walk into a random cafe you had just so happened to walk past that particular day?

Satoru certainly thought so. Because when he couldn’t rid you from his mind, he had gone back to that very same cafe, childlike optimism filling his body while he lingered the area, waiting for your figure to show.

It never did.

His patience quickly ran out, growing more restless every day that passed where he didn’t see you stroll down the street to return to the cafe to grab the lunch you never got to have.

He couldn’t let it rest in the hands of the universe any longer. After days of casually stalking the area, he decided to strut through the entrance of the building to simply ask.

“And how can I help you today, sir?” The sweet girl behind the counter mused, the perfect customer service smile greeting him as he leaned his entire weight in the edge of the counter.

“Hi there, remember me?”

He saw her shoulders rise slightly as she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” yet another polite smile.

“I was in here about three weeks ago. Was with this really pretty girl-“

“Sir,” she gently interrupted him, still the same smile on her face, “we see hundred of faces every day. We have no way of remembering them all.”

His head fell back dramatically, huffing in disappointment as his fingers flexed against the marble top. “Thanks, anyway,” he mumbled quietly, shuffling over to a secluded table in the corner, sulking in his lonesome while his eyes were locked on the door, still filled with a light glimmer of hope that you would show.

It became routine — sitting in the same corner in the back, ordering the same thing while he waited for three hours everyday before he eventually had to leave, with a heavy heart, to attend to his duties.

And if the nice barista didn’t recognise him before, she definitely did now, walking over to his table and serving him his plate with a sympathetic smile. “No show today either?” The most theatrical sigh would leave his lips every time she asked the question, sad puppy dog eyes on display as he shook his head. “Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s getting a little sad, don’t you think?” Her coworker would comment once she rejoined her behind the counter, both of them keeping an eye on him with pinched eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a little romantic.”

Then they would share a look, some judgement passing between their eyes before they burst into innocent laughter, wondering how long they would get to witness his yearning before he eventually gave up his dreams of finding you again.

For days, Satoru’s head would snap towards the door every time the tiny bell rang, witnessing all sorts of people come to enjoy a little treat but not a single one of them fit your description.

Maybe this was just too hopeless? Tokyo was the most populated city in the world — bumping into the same person twice was like finding a needle in a high stack. Scratch that, it was like finding a rice grain in the great Sahara desert. But he kept praying, hoping the universe would bless him with his desire.

It was a perfectly okay day.

The temperature was nice — higher than expected for a mid-fall day — but the weather wasn’t much to brag about. For the past week it had been raining. Not pouring, but a light, constant drizzle that tapped quietly against the cafe window as Satoru stared mindlessly out at the scenery of concrete buildings and trees changing colour.

There was only a single string of hope that kept him sitting in that chair day after day, but it was destined to break soon. His head didn’t even turn towards the door anymore when that little bell rang with the familiar chime. He simply rested his chin in the palm of his hand, giving all the responsibility back to the universe.

The familiar barista came to his table, picking up the plate littered with only crumps and not one, but two, empty coffee mugs (that had been more sugar than coffee).

“Same time tomorrow?” She asked sweetly, wiping the table clean while balancing the dishes in her other hand.

He instantly wiped away his disappointment, plastering on the most convincing smile he could muster as he turned to face her. “I don’t think so.” She stared wide eyed at him, mouth parted into a shy ‘o’, a little disappointed to see him finally give up, having started to root for him a long time ago. “You’ve had exceptional service,” he beamed from ear to ear as he got up from his chair, her eyes never leaving him as he stood to tower over her.

He gave her one last tight lipped smile as he passed her. “Goodbye,” she stuttered quietly, keeping her pitying gaze on him as he headed for the exit.

The bell rang one last time, and Satoru was a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hear the obnoxiously high-pitching ding again — his relief short lasted as he crashed into a figure smaller than himself the second he was about to exit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching- well, if it isn’t my knight in shining armour!”

What were the chances?

After all those days — waiting, staring, stuffing his face with sweets — and to think he was just about to give up. Maybe the universe had finally decided to take pity on him, wanting to reward his patience.

You looked as breathtaking as the day you had desperately latched onto his arm — maybe even better. You seemed lighter almost, as if someone had lifted off pounds from your shoulders. Same kind eyes, but a sense of peace glossing over them instead of frustration.

“It’s you,” it fell from his lips involuntary.

“In the flesh,” you chuckled. The sweet, vibrating sound faded into a clear of the throat when Satoru only continued to ogle you without a word. “Oh, sorry, you were leaving-“ you stuttered, stepping aside to let him pass. You were left confused when he didn’t walk past you, but rather kept his glare on you.

“I never got your name.”

“Sorry?” You asked, his voice too quiet to pick up on.

The same smug grin you’d seen on his face so many weeks ago greeted you, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “I never got your name,” more assertive now that he had increased his volume.

“Oh,” you said shyly, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Eyeing his attractive smile, you let your name roll off your tongue before mirroring his expression of happiness.

If it was even possible, his smile stretched even further across his face, the dimples you’d noticed last time appearing on each side of his face. “Nice to finally meet you. Properly this time.”

His natural charm just steamed off him in abundance, something you had only appreciated in glimpses in your stressed haze. “You too,” you smiled.

“I haven’t seen you here since that day.”

“Well, that’s because I haven’t been here since then,” you chucked nervously, glancing towards the register when you felt some interrogating eyes on you — both of the girls behind the counter wringing their heads away from you and Satoru. “My ex has had a tendency to linger in areas we ‘bump’ into each other,” you raise your fingers to gesture the quotation marks, “but I actually think meeting you might have scared him off for good. Haven’t seen him since, so thank you again.”

“Truly my pleasure,” he straightened his posture, his height growing even more impressive. He spoke your name, and despite not really knowing you, he said it with a tenderness your ex always lacked. “I was wondering,” he took a step closer, his eyes flittering between yours, “I owe you a trip to a botanical garden, don’t you think?”

Your breath instantly hitched in your throat, heat spreading modestly across your face.

Of course the handsome stranger who had come to your rescue in a moment of genuine despair had crossed your mind from time to time since then — you had just come to terms with the fact you would never be as lucky to cross paths with the polite stranger again. And the part of you that had been plagued with embarrassment was okay with that.

But the excitement in his eyes as he waited for you to answer slowly erased the uncomfortable feeling.

“Sure, I’d like that.”

tags (taglist form) @sad-darksoul ﾉ @05-simply-06-simping ﾉ @geniejunn ﾉ @alixris ﾉ @shadava

@gdamnackerman ﾉ @sunfl0werlevi ﾉ @gojonegs ﾉ @m0nsterzl0ve

@cupidxml ﾉ @lashaemorow ﾉ @cirquedelooney ﾉ @itsinherited

@elenor222 ﾉ @mima0127 ﾉ @lem-hhn ﾉ @mechanicalmari

a/n it's finally here and i think i'm happy with it... not entirely sure. think i've seen myself blind on this fic. however, thank you so much for the reception on the little drabble that took me literally ten minutes to write, hope this lives up to your expectations <3 likes, comments and reblogs is much appreciated

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[ohimsummer]

DARK RED ft. BULLY!SATOSUGU

— minors dni, angst w/comfort, mostly bully!satoru x reader, ft. bully! suguru, one implication of male masturbation, some fluff, also one (1) kiss

summary; bully! satoru manages to seriously upset you, and now he’s scrambling to give you a genuine apology

wc 2.8k

"I thought love was supposed to be easy."

Geto pauses mid-sip. "Oh, is that what you're calling this?"

Satoru leans further into his hand. His cheek smushes against his palm, muffling his grumbles. "Duh. What else would it be?"

"You being a dumbass."

Gleaming, white hair sways over Satoru's forehead, brushes his skin. "She wasn't supposed to react like that." You don't usually react like that, he thinks.

He toys with you all the time. The constant teasing and insults towards you is a regular occurrence, as much as you seem to hate it, but you always end up angrily leaving Gojo in the dust, and then the cycle repeats the next day. Only it was different last time; they’re your usual cries and shouts, but it’s a different type of outburst. Real tears in your eyes, your choked words of 'you suck!' and 'why can't you ever take anything seriously for once?' piercing through Gojo's heart and leaving a still-bleeding wound. They don't have your usual, pissed-off bite to them, but instead sound miserable. Heartbroken and disappointed, like the victim of a betrayal. Your expression shriveled any incoming words up in Satoru's throat, leaving him wide-eyed and dumbfounded as he watched you messily wipe away flowing tears and shove past him. That was last Wednesday, and he hasn't seen you since, not a glimpse or even a whiff of you on campus. It's like you never attended this college to begin with.

Satoru looks at his text messages with you, the last one being a dismal 'princess?' that you hadn't even read. He'd thought about threatening to leak one of the many sex tapes he had of you in his phone, but usually those coercions were bluffs, as Gojo nor Geto would dare leak their precious videos of you like that to anyone else. Besides, somehow forcing you into showing yourself made Satoru's stomach queasy. Like he'd vomit up his own heart.

"There."

He looks up at the sound of Geto's voice, following his pointed finger to the drink machine in the cafeteria. After loitering around for 2 hours, you'd finally shown up, alone and looking a little worse for wear. Even from a distance, Satoru can spot the dark circles under your eyes.

You stand idly in line, awaiting your turn to fill your cup. Eyes flitting from person to person, looking out for a fray of white strands or dark hair. It's hard to discern when the cafeteria is so busy at this hour, though you're not too concerned. Gojo and Geto don't usually frequent the cafe, not unless they're here to cause trouble. And you've been avoiding Satoru for about a week now with no complaints from either of them, so you're hoping you can get in and out without being spotted.

It’s an easy walk out of the cafeteria building, and you’re on your way back to your dorm when a familiar nickname stops you in your tracks. "Hey, princess!"

Fight or flight kicks in, and unfortunately your feet cement to the ground. His presence grows stronger as he draws near, until you can sense Gojo right behind you.

"Been avoiding me, Y/N?"

It feels off. He never really calls you by your actual name. "Why do you care?"

A few seconds of silence pass. Then, "Guess I missed my pretty girl is all."

Your heart aches for a second, before you scoff. "Sure you did. What, it's not the same making some other girl cry?"

Gojo doesn't answer, and you finally force your legs to pick up, heaving yourself towards your destination.

"Sorry."

Aaand, they're stuck again. Blinking, your head eases to the side, catching sight of Gojo in the corner of your vision. He looks awkward, staring at you with hands in his pockets and scuffing the ground as he kicks at the concrete. A knot forms in your stomach, hearing him utter an apology without his usual sarcasm or malice. It almost makes you want to talk things over, until the pain of your previous encounter comes flooding back, and you leave him standing there by himself. Rejected.

Day turns to darkness, and Satoru is stuck with another night of humping his fist like a desperate virgin. Suguru’s out, no telling where, leaving him alone with regretful thoughts to torment him. The next day passes. Then two. Then three. Satoru feels like he's going insane, and it's not just because he misses fucking you on the daily. He never realized just how much of a constant you were in his life until suddenly you weren't. Fuck. He groans into his pillow.

"Maybe give her a non-half-baked apology, like a normal person.," Geto complains. "And stop making so much noise, you're distracting."

"Fuck off."

"Fine, she can stay mad at you forever for all I care. You're the one who can't get in her pussy, not me."

Satoru jolts up, jaw falling slack as he glares at who was supposed to be his best friend. "Wha–, you're still fucking her? I just saw her for the first time again like three days ago!"

A smile stretches across Geto’s face. "Do you think our darling is stupid? Why would I get punished for your wrong-doings, she knows I’d fuck her up for that. "

Gojo flops face-down back onto the bed. "Not fair. We should be suffering together."

"Hell no, this is a personal problem between you and Y/N."

He groans again, legs kicking in the air. "Suguruuu, what do I do?"

"...Give her a genuine apology? I coulda sworn I just said that.”

"I already said sorry!"

"Genuine, I said. Not lazy. Give her something she likes."

Satoru turns slightly, brows furrowed. "What, like flowers? I don't know her favorites."

"Sunflowers."

Gojo pauses, directing a curious stink-eye towards Suguru. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I asked?"

Satoru rests a cheek against his arm, thoughts wandering off as he thinks of all the things he knows about you. Small things he's noticed. Like how you wear necklaces more often than any other jewelry, what certain colors catch your eye, things you've mentioned in passing when arguing with him. And now he does remember offering you a random weed he plucked from the ground as a joke, and you muttering 'what the fuck? for future reference, i like sunflowers’ before walking away from him.

"Suguru!," the mentioned man jolts at the sudden bellow of his name. "I'm making Y/N a bouquet!"

"Right." Geto rolls his eyes. "Do you even know how to do that?"

"Do you?"

"Not really–“

"Excellent, cancel your plans tomorrow, we're going out to get flowers!"

Suguru sighs. "Fine."

Both men, well Satoru, and a very grumpy Suguru after being shaken to consciousness, get up bright and early the next Saturday morning in search of a florist.

"Are these vibrant enough, ya think?" Satoru questions Geto, rubbing a hand over his own chin in contemplation. These flowers needed to be perfect, he wanted only the best for his ba–, you.

"These for someone special?," the lady behind the booth inquires. She smiles politely as she admires the golden petals. "A girlfriend, or wife, perhaps?"

"Uh–“

"Wife.," Satoru cuts Geto off. "So yes, very special, indeed."

He narrows his eyes at Suguru, who poorly muffles a chuckle behind his hand. "What?"

"Nothing. Didn't know you were married, is all."

Satoru shrugs, turning to examine the sunflowers again. "Hmph. That just shows you know nothing about me."

“I know you’re a jackass.”

“Anyway,” Gojo brushes him off. “I think these look terrific, perfect for my girl. I’ll take them all!”

Silence passes. The florist’s lids flutter in astonishment. “All of them?”

“Yep! This bouquet needs to be huge!”

Suguru places a hand on his shoulder. “I think that’s enough for several bouquets.”

Gojo’s grin widens. “Even better! Give ‘em to me.”

The looks both men get as they walk the streets with giant armfuls of sunflowers are…peculiar, but Satoru is too busy firing off his own praises on how he’s going to give you the best apology of your life to notice.

“I’m gonna make her cry!,” he beams, pauses, before adding, “Happy tears this time, though.”

Shoulders bounce as Suguru laughs, unable to stifle it with his hands full of shining yellow flowers. “She might just tell you to piss off.”

“Would it kill you to have some faith in me?”

“A little, yes.”

Geto curses under his breath. ‘Shit!’ as he goes stumbling forward right over Satoru’s foot, almost loosing his grip on the assortment in his arms.

“Hey, don’t you dare drop those.,” Gojo pouts. “These are for my wife, and they’re her favorite.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It takes Satoru hours before he’s happy with the final product. Along with countless tutorials on how to organize a bouquet properly.

“Hold it this way.,” he commands Suguru, who rolls his tired eyes, ready to catch up on the sleep he missed this morning. “There, perfect! Wait, hold on, let me just redo this.”

“Can you hurry up?,” Geto frowns at him. “You’ve redone it like a million times already, damn.”

“Hey, my marriage is at stake here, excuse me for trying to make this look like the best bouquet she’ll ever see!”

“I’m letting go.”

“Nonowait! Okay, I’m done, promise.”

The bouquet comes out stunning, given the fact it was whipped up by two college boys who’d never created a bouquet in their lives, and especially when one of those college boys was Satoru Gojo. He boasts to Suguru, who’s yanking a blanket over his head, how it’s “his best work yet”.

“Maybe be a little more humble when you give it to her.,” Suguru grumbles as Satoru heads out, eager to present you with the display of his apologetic affections.

There’s a certain pep in his step, an excitement Gojo doesn’t often feel unless it’s to see your pretty face. Elated can’t even begin to describe it. The image of your soft lips curling into a smile, eyes sparkling as you see the large array of your favorite flowers, pushes Satoru closer and closer to your dorm building, which stands tall before him. He can’t help but mentally pat himself on the back. Heart swelling, Gojo can see it now, this surprise is going to make you ecstatic–

“Gojo?”

He halts mid-stride, foot hovering in the air, arms loosening around the bouquet. Satoru turns towards the sound and there you are, standing ten feet from him. Your mouth is open in a small ‘o’ as you notice the gift in his hand. Both of you stand there for a moment, eyeing each other, before you eventually break the silence.

“What’s that?”

Satoru snaps back to life, fumbling terribly to stuff the large bouquet behind his back, and he damns himself for making something so awkwardly huge. You watch, biting back a giggle, as he tries to hide what you’ve so obviously seen already. He stutters “u-uh, nothing!’ as a few petals flutter down from his hard work, and he curses ‘fuck!’.

It's easy to sneak up on Gojo when he's so busy floundering with the bunch of flowers. Your mouth threatens to grow into a smile, teeth sinking into your lips at the outlandish sight of him struggling to completely conceal the massive bouquet from your sight. The sharp pinch of your fingertips on his shoulder snatches Gojo from his frantic thoughts.

“Is this your way of apologizing again?”

“No!,” is his instant reply, startling you until Gojo averts his gaze to the concrete. “I mean...yeah. You ruined the surprise.”

This interaction feels more routine, less delicate. The way his lips jut out in a pout, his teasing banter. Crossing arms over your chest, you give Gojo an unamused look. “Ummm, it’s huge. How did you plan on hiding that from me?”

“…”

Satoru thinks his heart stutters as you hold out your arms, hands gesturing for the bouquet, and he slowly reveals the assortment of flowers behind his back. Through his panicked, rushed efforts to hide them, the paper has torn, some of the flowers are missing petals, and some aren’t in the exact position he and Suguru had so meticulously arranged them.

“Dumbass.,” you huff, wrapping fingers around the stems, which are adorned with a crinkly, cream colored paper and a dark green bow. “I’m still mad with you.”

Satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush his, as if it's the first time he's ever touched you. He relinquishes hold of the bouquet. “You like ‘em, though? Don’t lie, I can tell.”

“Just shut up.”

He flashes you a toothy, boyish grin, one that makes your heart beat a little faster. “It’s all for you, my pretty Y/N.”

Eyes rolling, you intently study the bouquet, raising it to hide your flustered expression. A warmth creeps over your body at the way Satoru utters your name, like if he says it too loudly, it will break apart into glass pieces. The paper creases under your restless fingers.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

The flowers are striking, but Gojo doesn’t think they compare at all to your beauty. Blue eyes admire you, at the way you marvel over the bunch of sunflowers, beaming at how fresh and vibrant and downright captivating they are. You glance up to meet Satoru’s eye, and he rubs at the back of his neck.

“So, uh,” he starts, avoiding your gaze. “I’m sorry about what I said. Really didn’t mean to upset you that much.”

Your eyes narrow. “That much?”

“Well, you know you’re really hot when you’re mad, but I didn’t mean to do that–“

“And did I look hot then?”

“No! Well, you weren’t ugly, but I didn’t like seeing you so upset–, usually it’s a turn on when you’re all angry but it felt different that time and Suguru didn’t tell me until later you were having a super rough day so I figured I might have hit a nerve–“

You cradle the bouquet to your chest, thoroughly enjoying the clumsy flow of his words, determined not to dig himself a deeper hole or upset you all over again. His lips pause, and then Gojo interrupts another sentence with a new one, before the downturn of his brows as he catches your gleaming eyes.

“My point is that I’m sorry.” He spots the twitch of your frown. “I know you wanna smile, let me see it.”

You can’t help but grin as your mouth opens. “No I don’t. And I guess you’re forgiven, now get away from me so I can enjoy my bouquet in peace.”

“Wait, that’s not it!” Before you turn away, Satoru reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small, white, silk bag with a white ribbon securing the opening. “I got this too. Here.”

You recognize the design of the tiny sack from a rather expensive jewelry store, one you could only dream of buying from. And now here you were, in possession of something from that same store, mouth gaping open as Satoru snickers.

“You just gonna stare, baby, or…?”

The fabric of the bag is soft in your hands, smooth and easy on your fingers. Hugging the bouquet to your side, the ribbon loosens to reveal a dainty, silver necklace inside, adorned with a small, heart charm engraved with your initials.

“Oh, wow . .” You’re awestruck at how delicate and pretty it looks. Turning it over, you find a “G.S” on the other side of the heart. “And Suguru’s initials on the back? How sweet.”

“Don’t play.”

“Whatever.,” you giggle at his downturned lips. “It’s very nice, I like it.”

Satoru can’t help pat himself on the back. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it? Cost a hefty chunk of change, especially since I wanted it so quick and on such short notice–“

“Uh huh.” This big dummy. Your smile grows at the thought.

“–and you know I just had to get the best for my pretty girl, plus I got kinda hard at the thought of my initials on your chest–“

Gojo’s words catch in his throat at the soft press of your lips to his cheek. Blood shoots to his face, instantly, and you can’t help bursting into a round of giggles, barely gasping out ‘you look like a strawberry!’. He’s so embarrassed that the realization that you willingly kissed him of your own accord doesn’t even register. All Satoru feels is a burning heat on his cheeks and a tightness in his chest, desire squeezing a fist around his heart as you smirk up at him through a fit of laughter.

“You are really somethin’ else. Bye, Satoru, also learn to stop talking sometimes.”

All Gojo can do is wave as you depart, leaving you with a ‘see ya, princess’ as you disappear into the building, sparing him one last glance. His phone vibrates as you leave his line of sight, announcing a text from Suguru.

asshole🤮: you give it to her yet?

s: i thought the sleeping beauty was getting a nap in?

asshole🤮: she told you to fuck off, didn’t she?

s: stfu

[caffeineaddictwriter]

The wolverine with reader who has a bunny mutation

reader has a bunny mutation, so they can form a bunny tail and ears that are both white. Can jump incredibly high and kick hard. There hearing can reach miles when ears are out.

Warnings: smut, p in v, breeding kink, hint of violence, some fluff.

•oh boy.

•Logan will take the piss out of you for the first while when yous first meet. After all you’re a “wild animal”.

•”so your most defenitly a stripper in disguise”

•but after a while he comes to love your bunny features.

•”cottontail”

•”thumper”

•”carrot eater”

•always coming up with new nicknames for you even if some of them piss you off but it’s all in good nature.

•once got many weird looks when he asked you if you cut holes in your pants for your tail. While in public.

•he won’t admit it but he thinks your the most adorable thing he’s ever fucking seen.

•instead of smacking your ass when he walks past you he squeezes your tail making you squeal and hit him playfully. He loves it.

•will run a finger up the spine of your ears to make you shiver.

•once tried to train with you. He thought you’d be to soft to take him on. You kicked him through the wall. He didn’t try to go easy again.

•buys you a carrot cake for your birthday to be ironic. You slammed a slice into his face but ate the rest.

•booped you on the nose once and you refused to have sex with him for three months.

•if he’s been away on a hard mission he enjoys how your cute little ass takes care of him. He’ll set you on his lap and just stroke your hair and ears.

•a lot of people think the look is cute. Especially guys in the bar when you’re with Logan. Logan is a very jealous man and won’t hesitate to beat the shit out of anyone that’s getting to confident.

•”my fucking bunny, you got that bub”

•loves watching you kick people with your strength. Also gets turned on by it.

•the first time he witnessed you kicking some ass hole across the room he was incredibly confused on why he got a boner.

•will stroke your ears when yous are making out just for the hell of it.

•will use your amazing hearing to his advantage. Will make lude sounds when your in the shower to make you either horny so he can come have you in the shower or make you get out faster so he can have you on the bed.

•now with the term “fuck like rabbits” he takes that literally now. He’ll be bending your cotton ass over any surface.

•he’ll hold your tail as he pounds into you just squeezing it ever so tighter when your getting close.

•”oh fuck that’s my good bunny~”

•”you take me so well just like a wild animal aye bun”

•most definitely loves taking you from behind so he can see your tail bobbing as he pounds his dick into you.

•if you go into heat you bet your ass he’ll be right there fucking you till you can only drool his name out your mouth.

•breeding kink can’t tell me otherwise. This man loves the idea of you filled with baby bunny’s.

•once when you were sucking him off he called his dick a rabbit so you bit it softly making his claws fly out.

•will buy you so much white lingerie. It goes with your ears and tail and it’s just so hot to him.

•laughs when you get in the shower or bath and your tail gets wet so you blow dry it or shake it like a wet dog.

[luveline]

hey luv (haha) bombshell!reader lives rent free in my head and I have a lil request for you 🫶🏽 can you write spencer calling reader a nickname for the first time and how flustered she gets? especially in front of the team I would ashdfkflsjah i feel like she always teases him with baby, handsome, etc. and he just turns red but when it’s his turn for (non malicious) payback she melts into a puddle of 🥹🫦 and forgets how to act 🥲 thank you queen ily 🫰🏼

thank you! this isn't in front of the team but i can def do that if that was the most important part, ly ♡ fem

"What's that?" you ask, peering over Spencer's shoulder. 

He turns his face to yours, sneaking a kiss against the curve of your neck. Your breath catches at his affection. "It's online shopping," he answers. "Have you seen it? They deliver your parcel the next day, apparently." 

You like the sound of that, wheeling your chair next to Spencer's to sit at his desk side by side. You're in the midst of a very rare occasion in which there's no  case and no paperwork. It won't last long, and you and your teammates are using these spare hours like a paid vacation. You deserve it (even if it isn't technically moral). 

"What are you buying?" you ask, squinting at his glaring screen. 

His gaze flashes between you and the monitor. He turns the brightness down for you. "You need new socks, right?" 

"Don't buy me socks." 

"Why not?" 

"Because I can buy my own socks?" 

"But I can also buy you socks. I felt bad this morning when I didn't have any matching pairs to lend to you. I'll buy you a big pack and this way you'll always have socks when you need them." 

"Spence, that's so sweet," you say, your hand on his bicep, thumb stroking a line he likely can't feel over his layers. "You really don't have to, though. I kind of like the odd sock look." 

Spencer looks down at your shoes. Your socks are mostly hidden. Despite what you've said, you don't like wearing odd ones, it doesn't fit your perfectly kept image, but you like Spencer a whole lot. 

"No, you don't, and that's fine." He clicks on the Buy Now button, a twenty four pack of black and white crew socks jumping into his cart. "What else should we get?" 

"We?" you ask, leaning back. 

You've barely lifted your left leg when Spencer grabs you by the knee and drapes it over his right. "You never have the stuff you need when you come over. We may as well get it all done now while we have time." 

"Are you serious?" you murmur, a slight pout to your lips. 

Spencer's eyes dart down, catch, and lift back to yours. He sounds soft as you do as he says, "Of course I am. Am I being too forward?" 

"You're never too forward. I'm too forward enough for both of us, Spence. But you don't have to buy me things, I can get all of this stuff myself and bring it with me." 

"What kind of boyfriend does that make me?" 

You can't believe he's your boyfriend. You could scream. "The most adorable one ever?" And that's just the half of it. Spencer Reid has a penchant for ignoring his own good looks. He could've been a super model if the whole genius thing didn't work out. "I need a pillow, then. If we're doing this Reid, let's do it. But I'm paying for my stuff." 

"Okay, angel. Whatever you say." 

You almost miss it, his pet name. Your brain assumes sarcasm, but when you play it back, there's only a soft giving in, like he'd do anything you asked him to just because it's you. Because you're an angel. 

You've called him so many pet names and though you knew they flustered him, you're thinking maybe the team was right, and that you were torturing him the whole time. You melt like a little square of butter in the middle of a frying pan, limp in your seat and uncomfortably warm. Angel. It inspires the want to be saccharinely sweet to him, and you would if you could regain your strength. 

You huff a breath up your hot face in hopes of cooling down. 

"What kind of pillow? Do you want a really soft one? They have hypoallergenic, or down feather." He looks at you sideways. "You can't pay for this, it's too expensive." 

"It's sixteen dollars," you say, feeling submerged. 

"Exactly. Are you okay? You look uncomfortable." 

"I'm feeling a bit hot, suddenly. Hot flush." 

Spencer abandons the computer and his online activities to unbutton the top button of your shirt, and then the second, his hands achingly gentle against your collar. "I'll buy a fan," he says, one hand trailing down your arm soothingly as the other searches for paper. "But for now." 

He fashions you an origami fan and fans you diligently. It works for a time, but you remember the dulcet cadence of his voice and the delicate way he strung the syllables together as though 'angel' were the name you were given at birth, and you feel warm all over again. 

[myfairstarlight]

I need to ramble about the wedding breakfast dance.

That is Colin and Penelope's "Stare into my eyes. (s1) / Just keep looking at me, no one else matters. (s2) / Keep your eyes on me. There is no one here but us (QC)" iconic couple dance scene except no word is exchanged the whole time.

Instead, we get a visual representation of that feeling as the room empties, and only them remain. Albeit the editing did not let us savour that long enough, where's the full footage in HD Netflix???

And I think it's a core aspect of a friends to lovers story and Polin's that is so under-appreciated, this silent understanding between the characters. They've known each other for years, they've always been comfortable when together, so in that moment, no word of reassurance is needed because they already know! They have always been each other's safe space, even before friendship turned into romantic love. After all, they just need one look and a nod, just like at their wedding, to be secure in the other's love. No one else matters indeed.

Furthermore, unlike the other couples who were scrutinised by the Ton at some point or another because of their match, with the unfortunate pressure that comes with it, Penelope and Colin were always more of the outcasts, gossiping on the side of balls and no one truly paid them any attention until very recently as they both forced themselves to take part in society (Penelope to seek a husband, Colin to be taken seriously). Their season is the first time the Queen (or Lady Danbury) does not meddle with the main couple! (I would add Violet to the list who was more withdrawn than in previous seasons and mostly focused on Francesca this season, but she did nudge Colin a little.)

As soon as they get together, they stopped caring about others' judgement, because why should they? The Ton did not care before, after all. Colin and Penelope dancing in broad daylight at their wedding breakfast was breaking some unspoken society rule, but even before that, dancing at the church (also in broad daylight), at the Mondrich ball as they break the dance routine to add a twirl. They simply do not care. In fact, they never truly respected propriety rules, have they? Calling each other by their given names (even a nickname on Colin's part), the letters, the many unchaperoned encounters (one of which they got caught by Portia and Jack and yet nothing happened), Colin refusing a dance with Cressida to dance with Penelope instead... it just never brought a scandal because, well, the Ton constantly overlooked them, so now Penelope and Colin return the favour by overlooking the Ton.

And it is so significant that despite the Whistledown issue still hanging over their head, it does not change the fact they have chosen each other, that they will keep being their most authentic selves with each other and act like the whole world around them does not exist because they have each other, and as long as they do, everything will be alright.

After all, it is Colin loving and supporting Penelope that will give her the courage to step into the light and face the Queen as Whistledown, and it is Penelope loving and supporting Colin that will inspire him to write and publish, and make him feel like he finally belongs.

Oh also shout out to Albion Finch, best brother-in-law, always delighted to see Penelope thriving <3

And credit to this post I saw on twitter that prompted me to write this.

[slvt4felix]

I Could Never Hate You

Pairing -> ninth member!reader x Lee Minho WC -> ~3,300 words Includes -> hurt/comfort, angst, enemies to lovers, hyunjin's a meanie, reader has anxiety, minho struggles with his feelings, cringy nickname use, yelling, swearing Summary -> The rest of the group members are over the silly rivalry between you and Minho. They decide to take matters into their own hands. However, their little game takes a turn for the worse when one of the members betrays your trust. Some may call it destiny…the way it leads you straight into the arms of the one you would never expect. Author's Note -> This is my first time posting on here, so hopefully this isn't too rough. Also, I swear I don’t hate Hyunjin. I love him to death. It was just necessary for the plot… anywaysss hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ♡ Next Part

“I swear to God if you guys don’t open this door right now!” You yell as you pound on the hotel room down the hall from yours. There hasn’t been a reply, but you know that Hyunjin and Felix are in there. The two of them are always locked in their hotel rooms the night before your shows. They try to get as much sleep as possible for the next day.

‘They are definitely laughing their asses off right now,’ you think to yourself. It was just a stupid prank to them. Something to get you and Minho to finally get along again, but they just don’t get it. You had tried for so long to make it work, but Minho was just too stubborn. For heaven’s sake, you guys used to be the best of friends. One day he just started being cruel. Ignoring your texts, saying snarky things under his breath, scoffing every time you accidentally messed a move up. It escalated to the point where you no longer talk anymore. Truly, it is not your fault and they don’t seem to get it. He refuses to say anything about what happened, completely disregarding the fact that you were ever close enough to share your deepest secrets.

You turn around to leave, realizing the two boys were probably never going to open the door. You hear the lock click and spin back to see the annoyingly beautiful face of Felix. Although he wasn’t outright laughing at you, he was putting little effort in trying to hide his smile.

“Hey, what are you so upset for? I didn’t notice anything wrong on the bus earlier?” Felix asks. You just stare back dumbfounded.

“Why the fuck would you ever put me in a room with him?” you spit pushing past Felix into his room, “Don’t you dare look at me like that, you know how he treats me.”

Hyunjin just looks at you from his spot on a queen bed closest to the window. He looks shocked, as if he hadn’t expected you to actually put up a fight against the sleeping arrangements.

"How is that our fault?" Hyunjin questions. He seems like he may be genuinely asking, but you know him better than that. You have always been closer to him than the other members, especially after all the things that went down with Minho. Hyunjin was always the one to comfort you. The first to step up when your anxiety got to be too much. So, it was obvious that the members did have something to do with it, and it wasn't just an unfortunate fluke.

"I saw the way you guys all ran to claim your rooms while I was still collecting my suitcase. Don't act stupid. I know you know what's going on," you say back in hopes to get him to at least explain what their plan was. Maybe you could reason with them and get one of the boys to switch. Heck, you'd even be willing to sleep on the couch in Hyunjin and Felix's room, but it's starting to seem like they don't even want you in their room in the first place.

You hear Felix close the door behind you, but it's all blocked out as you watch Hyunjin roll his eyes at you. While this may seem like a typical Hyunjin action, it just didn't feel right. He tries to be more gentle with you than the other boys. After confiding many of your secrets and insecurities in him, he knows to control his face around you. Yet, it's beginning to look like he's forgotten all about that tonight.

"Yeah, I'm the stupid one..." he mumbles under his breath. With every sentence exchanged, the tension in the room grows thicker. You almost feel bad putting the other poor boy in the room through this. You can practically feel him stiffen with every word spoken.

"Hyunjin-" Felix starts but is cut off by a sharp look from the man himself. You know it's starting to go too far if Felix is getting upset, but Hyunjin doesn't seem to care.

"Why are you so angry right now?" you ask him, praying the question doesn't fire him up more. Maybe he's just having a really bad day, or maybe he just wants to be alone and can't deal with your problems.

"I'm not angry," he starts, "you're just making a big deal out of absolutely nothing." By the end of it he begins to raise his voice, another thing he knows you aren't a fan of. You take a step back, a little confused at his ignorance. He's been with you through all the fights, why doesn't he understand how big of a deal this is to you?

As you're still trying to make sense of his previous statement, his voice quiets down, and he looks back down at his phone as he whispers, "Just like you always do."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" you ask, scared for the response. He glances up sharply, making true eye contact for the first time tonight.

"You're always crying over stupid shit, and I really can't handle it anymore,” he states angrily, his eyes not leaving yours the entire time. He finally breaks eye contact, and the tension explodes, painting the whole room red.

As dramatic as it sounds, it's like a knife to your heart, or perhaps more accurately a stab in the back. You know exactly what he means by that. It's like he was aiming for your most sensitive spots. With your anxiety, you tend to panic over things that don't usually matter much in other people's minds. Every time you have an anxiety attack or are just freaking out about something, you usually try to hide it. You worry that your friends won't take you seriously or will make fun of you over something they consider 'not a big deal'. You've confided in Hyunjin over this topic before. He's helping you get over that and come to them when you need help. So why is he now turning on you? Was it all an act before?

You feel your eyes start to tear up, but you hold them back. He cannot see you cry.

"Fuck you," you say, attempting to put venom behind it, but all that comes out is your shaky voice.

"Y/n, wait," Felix says sympathetically as you go to leave the room. Normally, you would stop and let Felix comfort you, but suddenly everything is feeling just a little too heavy and you can't seem to look him in the eye any longer. You stride out of the room, keeping your shoulders straight without even glancing back. You just need to stay strong until you make it into the hallway. You slam the door behind you despite typically being the one to argue when the other members to it. Your eyes are blurring too fast at this point to even recognize the fact that you probably should've shut it a bit quieter. It is a hotel and noise complaints are a thing, but, honestly, that is the least of your worries at the moment. You just keep replaying back the fight in your head trying to figure out what you did wrong. It had to be something, right?

You start down the hallway, cursing when you realize your room is at the other end of the hall. You hope the other boys can't hear your sobs, especially the two you just departed from. As much as you want to be comforted, it feels like you're past the point of no return and just want to be alone. You try to stifle your cries a bit with your hand, but it doesn't do much. You're heads getting a little too light, you're breathing getting harder to control. Your hands are shaking, and it seems like the crying is just starting. Some may call you sensitive, but when the tears start you simply begin to spiral. There's very little that can calm you down at that point. Hyunjin usually has to take you somewhere and help you take deep breaths especially before your concerts. But he's the one who started this mess. So, what are you supposed to do now?

You finally make it to your hotel room, barely being able to read the numbers, and you start to dig around in your pockets. You start to panic as you struggle to find your key card, but eventually you grasp the small rectangular piece of plastic and open the door.

Once inside, you shut the door, a bit calmer this time, and fall back against it. The only thing on your mind being the fact that you are finally in your own room, alone. You put your hands over your face, trying to quiet some of your senses. In the haste to get out of the situation, you completely failed to remember the problem that had started it all.

Minho is sitting in one of the beds; he had plenty of time to choose considering you just dropped your suitcase off and stormed off upon realizing the two of you would be rooming together. He's all cozy in his sweat pants and t-shirt, obviously thankful for your abrupt disappearance. He looks up, shocked to see you re-entering the room. He plans to make a jab of some sort, but immediately pauses upon seeing your state. It seems like you haven't even noticed that he's in there yet. He's never really seen you like this before, or at least not since he started pushing you away. Putting that aside, he accepts defeat realizing that you need someone. You need him.

Your eyes are covered as you cry quietly into your hands, pushing your head back into the wood behind you. You flinch slightly upon feeling strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you away from the hard door. However, you soon relax into the arms, enjoying the feeling of safety flood your system. The man is warm and gentle as he presses you against him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck.

"Follow my breathing," he whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps from your head to your toes. You try to listen to him, but all of your senses are so overwhelmed that you can't seem to focus on anything. Feeling like a fool, you begin to cry harder, immediately sending you back to the fight with Hyunjin.

"Honey," he starts, "you just have to take a deep breath. I don't want you to pass out on me." Hearing the quiet voice in your ear helps bring your mind back to the present. Trying to focus on the instructions, you begin to notice the chest rising and falling slowly against yours. You can even feel the man's calm heart beat against your racing one.

Following the normally simple order, you try to take a deeper inhale resulting in a few hiccups and more tears. One of the arms around your shoulder falls and his hand begins to rub your back gently. As you focus on the sensation, your breathing starts to even out, just as Minho had hoped.

Once you are in a slightly better state, he moves you over to the bed. Setting you down on the edge, he kneels in front of you and softly pulls your hands away from your face. You instinctively bow your head, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to keep from facing the man in front of you.

Minho reaches his hand out, bringing your face back up towards his. You slowly open your eyes at the gentle touch. He's looking right back at you, a soft expression covering his face. He hasn't looked at you like that in years. He practically lights up when your eyes meet his.

A smile grows on his face, as he quietly says, "There you go, kitten." Your face flushes at the nickname, and you hear Minho giggle softly at your blushing cheeks. He used to call you that all the time. A fan had once greeted the two of you at a fan meet saying how you both had the same energy as cats. So from that day on, he had called you that nickname constantly, earning well-deserved teasing from the other boys. Yet, it had all stopped out of nowhere.

'He doesn't care about you anymore,' you remind yourself. You pull away from him roughly and stand up from the bed. You take a few steps away from him, the comfort you had felt being ripped away in seconds. This was too confusing. He can't ignore you for years and suddenly act normal. That isn't how this works.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you ask him, just wanting some sort of explanation. He slowly stands up, his soft look from before transforming into a look of pure regret.

"What are you talking about? You're upset and I care about you," he calmly explains, obviously ignoring the elephant in the room. But you can see it in his eyes; the nerves, the regret, and the sadness painting itself across his irises.

"You hate me,” you say, leaving no room for discussion. You were sick of being left in the dark and being turned on. You just want to know, what happened?

"You don't really believe that do you?" he asks as his body language changes. He reaches a hand up, pulling a little too roughly against his hair as he looks down at the ground.

"I mean-" you start to say but are cut off by a small sniffle coming from across you.

The culprit looks up at you again, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Minho never cries. It's just one of those things. So he wipes them away and says the last words you would ever imagine him speaking to you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers genuinely, "I never meant to make you feel that way, but I guess that's what it's come to, hasn't it?"

You stand stiffly, staring at him. You had never seen the man look so defeated. You are even more confused about where the two of you stand than you have ever been.

"But I don't get it, you're just so mean. I don't know how you couldn't hate me."

"I could never hate you,” he states staring at you. His eyes are so deep that you can see exactly what he's feeling, and you realize, this is it. He's an open book. This may be the one time you get to see under the surface of Lee Minho since those days of friendship all those years ago.

"Then why did you push me away?" you ask, taking advantage of his state.

"I was just so scared. I thought you would hate me if you found out..." he trails off. You simply wait for him to finish his sentence, but he never does. He just looks back at you in hopes that you understand what he's trying to say. A silence builds, and Minho takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I love you and I was just too scared in case it would ruin the group," he says, finally letting the truth escape after years of secrets. The shock of the statement leaves you speechless, simply staring at your old best friend.

After a few seconds of building tension, you can’t help but start to giggle, leading to near hysterics with more tears springing to your eyes. You had thought you had cried all of them out, but it looks like you were wrong. There's no way that's the reason. If only he had been honest with his feelings, then you would've never been in this situation in the first place.

He looks surprised at your laughing, and his whole body seems to deflate.

'Hopefully he doesn't think I'm laughing at him', you think. There's no way they had messed up communication that bad to let it get to this point.

"You should have said that, Minho. I was so in love with you," you state gently, trying not to bewilder the poor man. He looks up, and there's pure excitement on his face. It's beautiful to see compared to his earlier expressions, and you're reminded of all those little reasons you love him. All those reasons that have been buried down due to his obliviousness.

"Really?" he says, taking a step closer to you. Your cheeks heat up upon realizing that you really did just reveal one of your darkest secrets.

He takes another step closer, his face now only inches from yours. You feel his arms wrap sweetly around your waist. You glance down at his lips; they're slightly chapped, but honestly, it's just all part of what makes Minho, Minho. Your eyes go back up to meet his, and you can see the tension and nerves drawn upon his face. You quickly close the distance, making the decision you should have made all those years ago.

Minho doesn't pull away, instead immediately melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to delicately cup your cheek. This may be one of the softest moments you have ever witnessed from Minho, and man do you want more.

You don't kiss for long, it's short and sweet, but it means so much more. Within it is everything you had wished you could've said to each other since the beginning.

You both pull back, a laugh leaving both of your mouths as you take in how outrageous the situation is. He pulls you close again, his head falling on your shoulder.

"I promise, I will never ever treat you like that again. You mean so much to me," he whispers. You bring a hand up to pet the back of his hair, pulling back just enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

The two of you eventually pull away as your eyelids begin to droop. You realize how late it has gotten, neither of you noticing with all the drama that has unfolded. You quickly change into your pajamas and get ready to go to sleep.

You end up in the same bed with your head lying on his chest, his fingers running through your hair. Despite how sleepy you both feel, you know there is so much more to talk about and neither of you will be able to fall asleep.

Minho breaks the silence, asking you the dreaded question, "So, what happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Hyunjin and I fought. He said some very hurtful things." I reply sadly, the memories of the fight resurfacing.

"You two are so close, I'm sure he didn't mean it. You know how upset he gets when we’re on tour for so long. He gets aggravated having to be around us all the time, but it was still messed up for him to be so mean to you."

You laugh at his response, "Yeah, like you can talk."

"Hey!" he says dramatically. You both giggle, and despite the tough topic, the tension seems to melt away. It always used to be that way with Minho. It's as if the two of you were made for each other. Everything just felt so much better and easier around him. Suddenly, everything in life was a lot sweeter.

"But seriously, don't worry about it too much, kitten. Felix will take care of it, and Hyunjinnie will be running back to you by the morning."

Part 2 out now!

[reidmania]

I umm I was wondering if I could make a request?

My idea was that the reader is like a female spencer and is Rossi or Hotch niece and the team teases them calling them Mr and Mrs Genius when she visits.

MR & MRS BOY WONDER | spencer reid

summary; the bau likes to tease you and spencer.

warnings; hotchner!niece, non bau reader, female reader, theres literally nothing this is so short and sweeet its not funny!! theres a miniature spencer ramble about the difference between mrs and ms

an ; IM TRYING TO GET THROUGH ALL THE REQUESTS GUYS i promise if you send or sent one i will get to it, it just might take time

The elevator of the bau opened to the sound of chaos, Emily was running around holding case files while laughing loudly at whatever JJ was saying from behind her as the blonde trailed along, Penelope was standing at Derek’s desk and it didn’t take much to notice the two were probably flirting like always — you adored that, their dynamic of purely platonic flirtation.

You scanned the building for two people specifically, your uncle, or your boyfriend. Neither of which you could see currently making a frown pull on your lips as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Look who it is!” You had gotten the attention of Derek, you smiled as your eyes settled on his, then on Penelope’s as the blonde turned to see what Derek was talking about, a wide smile adorning her features.

She cooed your name as she ran over to wrap you in a tight hug, making you giggle out softly as you hugged her back. “Hi.” You settled on as a reply.

“You just get prettier everytime I see you” She muttered out as she pulled away. The compliment caused your smile to widen and your cheeks to flush pink.

“Here for anyone specific mrs boy wonder?” Derek asked, leaning against his desk as he crossed his arms over his chest as he smiled at you, taunting you.

The nickname made the tint on your cheeks only deepen, the flutter in your chest caused a lingering sensation over your ribcage. You pushed out a soft chuckle — trying not to pay as much attention to his words as your mind begged you to.

“Shes here for me of course” Penelope said, holding her hand to her chest in faux offence, as she looked between you and Derek. Her teasing made your smile widen, as you nodded your head in agreement, playing along in her bit. “Yeah— Why would you assume otherwise?” You asked.

“Mrs boy wonder!!” Emily shouted from across the room as she noticed you, her and JJ instantly made their way over to you, this time casefile-less. Their hands empty from where they hand been full holding files only moments ago.

Your cheeks darkened. “Is this just a well known nickname for me that I don’t know about?” You ask, looking between the team of bau members, who were all smiling at you. It wasn’t unfamiliar with your uncle working in the fbi, you had known them all for years — except you and Spencer had only been dating a little over six months after years of mutual pinning for each other, both too scared to make the move until one day he just blabbed it out.

“Not on purpose” JJ mentioned, smiling as she tilted her head to the side softly, her blonde hair falling with her head, “We always call you that, have for years, makes Reid blush like a mad man” Emily poked into JJ’s side jokingly as she talked, the blondes body crunched at the feeling as she laughed.

The was the sound of the door opening causing Derek to look over towards Aaron hotchner’ office — your uncles office, where your uncle and your boyfriend were walking out of.

“Reid!!” Derek called out, “Mrs boy wonder is hereeee” He dragged out as he talked in a sing-song voice, laced with familiar teasing and playfulness. You watched as Spencer’s face lit up as he began walking towards you, your uncle trailing behind him.

“We talked about this— It would be miss, not mrs, we aren’t married yet therefore mrs is incorrect and in many cases people will find it disrespectful — I mean — I don’t, its just fundamentally incorrect and you are technically spreading misinformation” Spencer rambled out as he came closer, He paused in front of you blocking the others gaze as he leant down, tilting your chin upwards to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Hi” He said softly.

You smiled “Hi” You replied.

“Miss boy wonder doesn’t have the same ring to it as mrs boy wonder does” Derek sighed out, shaking his head. “It suits her more as well, mrs boy wonder, miss boy wonder, mrs boy wonder” Derek muttered out.

You chuckled as Spencer moved to stand beside you — despite his want to wrap his arms around you, he was well away of his need for respect for the fact he was 1, in his work place and 2, your uncle was standing a mere few feet away.

“Don’t you agree hotch?” Derek asked, toothy grin on his face as he continued on with his teasing.

“Hi sweetheart” Your uncle ignored Derek’s question as he looked at you, your smiled at his slight softness despite the fact you knew that was the most you were going to get out of him in his work place. You were lucky enough to get fun uncle aaron before he joined the FBI — but he still treated you the same nontheless, just in more mature subtle ways.

“Hi” You grinned back widely.

“Hey Its mr and mrs boy wonder!!” You laughed and Spencer groaned at Rossi’s words

[vacayisland]

LAST BUT NOT LEAST

Floyd x Motherly! Reader

Species and gender your choice- I’m just seeing reader is sweet, calm, mature. Calls everyone baby- always helpful. Maybe Floyd and reader are already dating? And reader calls Floyd the most embarrassing nicknames(sugarplum), number one fan-maybe some mortica vibes? Idk! You have fun with this one

@!; oh, Oh... Floyd / Motherly! Reader

"Summary"! Floyd loves you for many reasons, too many to count on his fingers or toes; too many to remember in one sitting when he's asked that simply question 'what do you love above them?'; too many to make a list of that won't expand pages and pages. Yet, he knows what he loves the most about you; you complete him in the best ways possible. "Tags"! say it with me... fluff, fluff, FLUFF!!, not proof read either :(

@!; Floyd knew you before he got captured by Veneer and Velvet. He knew you from his travels around the world in an attempt to find himself after the group broke up. He actually found you in Lonesome Flats, despite not being a country troll (or maybe you were), leaning against the window inside a western building. You had been talking to Delta with such a bright smile, Floyd couldn't help but slow down his walk to stare at it; noticing to dimples on your cheeks, the way your eyes lit up as you spoke, and the passion in your voice. It was intoxicating. It drew him in. So hesitantly, he kept his distance but kept near your little building. He didn't mean to ease drop, yet he overheard your conversation: "So, anyone catch ya' eye yet, sweetheart?" Delta's country twang was more noticeable every time she decided to tease you about this subject. You knew she only wanted to see a reaction out of you. Though you couldn't help but smile at her, wafting off the scent of a plum pie you had just finished. "No, not yet, Ma'am." Your voice was soft, a subtle hum to it that Floyd had caught. It made him choke up a bit, though he tried not to focus on that feeling. "Aw, come on, pickin's ain't that slim." Delta chuckled as she crossed her arms, grinning back at you. "And I know many fine Trolls who wouldn't waste takin' you out for dinner... and maybe some wilder ones who would take ya to a rodeo show."

And she winked, causing you to shake your head as you maintained your smile and composure. Despite being teased, Floyd could only describe you as calm and relaxed. Your shoulders weren't stiffened and you didn't crinkle your nose at anything Delta said; it was like her words didn't effect you, yet you were listening intently and responding to her accordingly. "Oh, yes Ma'am. I know that." As you softly laughed at Delta's attempted, you tested the pie's temperature and deemed it cool enough to cut. You took your knife and began to slice the pie into 12 even pieces. "Then let me set ya' up with someone!- Thank you, darlin'." You handed Delta a slice of pie as she spoke, knowing plum was her favorite. Quickly, you searched for a fork and then handed that to her too. She continued, "A pretty gal such as yourself shouldn't have to be kept waitin', though you do deserve your perfect someone." Oh, so you were a baker? Floyd noted that to himself, noticing that the pie that Delta was munching on as you spoke seemed to have some personal touches. Such as some honey baked into the plums, the crust being a little more golden than pies in the Pop Troll village, as well as some sugar that had crystalized at the top. It looked delicious... and it made his stomach growl. Floyd didn't think his stomach actually growled, he didn't catch it. Thus he was both startled and confused when you turned your attention over to him, your soft eyes matching the soft nature you carried yourself. "Are ya' hungry?" Floyd covered his stomach with his arm, a bit self conscious as you called him out. But he didn't feel called out; in an odd way he felt seen. Delta soon turned her attention over to Floyd while taking a bite of the pie. She held up the plate with a grin, "Come on, don't be shy, bumpkin'! Our Miss (Y/N) is the best baker in town and you won't find talent like this; She's like a needle in a hay stack, she is." "Oh, um.. okay." Floyd walked over to the window, noticing how your grin grew slightly larger and your eyes seemed to catch this sparkle in them. You grabbed him a plate, a slice of pie, and a fork almost instantly and placed it on your window ceil for him. "Here ya' go!" Service with a smile. Yet Floyd patted his pockets, and even dug around in them, for something to give you in exchange for the generous slice of pie. He fell short, "Oh- um, I don't have anything-" "Oh don't worry about payment, sugarplum!" Your words caught Floyd off guard, his round eyes shot up to meet yours. "Baking is just a hobby, I don't ask for anything in return; well, other than friends with full bellies and big grins. Seeing people enjoying my baking is enough payment for me." Floyd had kind of believed in love at first sight; but he didn't realize it actually could happen.

@!; Sometime after Floyd first meeting you and before he got captured, Floyd had confessed his feelings to you. Confessed that he had loved you since he saw you that first day when you gave him a plum pie. Confessed that he adored everything about you; he adored your laugh and your smile; he adored the way you worried about him, but not in an overpowering way, the way you always were there for him, the way that he could come back to you at the end of the day and you will be waiting with open arms. He adored the way you mothered him a little. Not in the way a mother would actually mother their children, yet in the way you were so caring and compassionate, while being sensible and calm made his heart beat out of his chest. You were perfect in every way, shape, and form. He loved you so much it hurt him more to imagine what you were going through when he had gotten captured by Velvet and Veneer. It was complete anguish to think about you sitting on the couch by the door in the little home you two made, waiting for him to only go on days without anything to report. It choked him up to think he could be the reason you were hurting at this moment. But he just hoped you could wait a little longer, hold out a little more, (you always had managed to, though it burns him to think to ask this of you) for him; and he will take everything just to be able to return back home to you again at the end of the day. One day. one day. Until that day, please.. please hold out. Please don't cry like he is.

@!; The day that Floyd was rescued by his brothers, and Poppy and Viva, after the initial shock wore off his first and only thought was you. It filled his head and he couldn't ignored the thoughts that piled up because everything in his body was screaming for you. For your touch and comfort and he couldn't help but blurt out, "We need to go to Lonesome Flats. Now!" Which got a lot of weird looks from his brothers; mainly Clay, Spruce, and JD looking around wondering what and where 'Lonesome Flats' was while Branch was just plain confused, maybe even a little hurt. Floyd didn't mean to hurt Branch, or any of his brothers by this request, but he needed to make sure you knew he was okay. "The country troll region?" Poppy questioned as she walked over to Branch's side. She tilted her head to the side, "Why do you need to go there?" "Yeah! Why do you need to go there? We just got you back, Floyd." Branch seemed stand-offish by this request, crossing his arms and scrunching his nose a little. Floyd understood where Branch was coming from, he did almost just die in front of all his brothers, but surely they would understand? "Please, just trust me. I.. I need to get back there." Floyd pleaded with his brothers, "I'll explain everything there or on the way. We just- we need to go now! The sooner the better.." And despite everyone's confusion, and unsureness about this all, it was a family road trip to Lonesome Flats. Where, when they finally arrived, Floyd rushed out of the van towards your little bakery. He slowed a bit seeing the window shut and your door not propped open. His eyes widened when he read the sign attached: Closed. But it was your usual opening time, what.. where were you? "There ya' are!" Floyd wiped around hearing Delta's voice. He didn't catch her unfriendly tone at first, though registered it as soon as he caught her face. Still, that didn't stop him, "Delta! Where is (Y/N)?" "More important, where have you been? You've been gone longer than our grazin' cattle, and they returned a month ago!" Delta crossed her arms and let out a huff of annoyance. "You've got your poor-" Though Delta didn't make it far before Floyd saw an all too familiar person out of the corner of his eye. You always managed to steal his attention, and his brothers were even more confused upon seeing Floyd rush over to you; despite stumbling a little bit on his starting sprint due to the lack of energy he has. "Floyd!" Branch called after his brother, just wanting him to be careful. Yet he froze upon feeling Poppy's hand on his shoulder, hearing a small 'aww' escape her lips as she watched Floyd literally jump into your arms. You had noticed him as he ran towards you, and despite carrying a bucket of fresh milk, you dropped it quickly to catch him. Which, was a good idea, since you didn't expect him to cause you to stumble a little. Even so, you laughed as Floyd hid his face in your shoulder feeling your arms tightly hug him. Your hugs were always warm, best described as momma bear hugs. Floyd had missed them and you. He had missed your warmth and your laugh.

"Oh Sugarplum, what happened?" And he missed your gentle nature and calm tone, despite everything he probably put you through after he left. You were gentle as you placed your hands on his shoulders and backed him up a little, so you were looking at each other eye to eye. Floyd couldn't even get a word out before you noticed everything different about him, "Oh my dear.. you look tired! Skinner, and your hair-! Oh my lord, what in the Trollstice happened to your hair, Sugarplum?!" Floyd now had his back facing you, as you had spun him around. Oh, Floyd could just melt at this moment, feeling your hands run through his hair as you took in all the whites that now mingled with the hot pink. He knew you were more used to his darker roots, and not like these whites were natural but he thought they suited him a little more now. Though, just as Floyd was about to answer you, he caught sight of his brothers and the plus ones. And at that moment, wide wide, he knew he had a lot of explaining to do to his brothers...

@!; It wasn't like Floyd was embarrassed of you, far from it, yet when you had him up and about dancing to Brozone.. it caused his cheeks to flush; from both embarrassment and lovingly. It had been a few months after he introduced you to the family, and he was glad his brothers had taken to you like he did and accepted you into the family. Branch was a little on the nose, but he came around.

Now, after a Brozone featured show, the both of you were dancing like crazy people to an old Brozone soundtrack in Poppy's pod. Poppy was trying to get Branch to dance with her while Clay was trying not to give into Viva's silliness.

Bruce was sitting on some chairs with JD, chatting and making fun of the younger brothers; as it was their bug brother duty to.

"Are you tired yet, sugarplum?" JD snickered as he called over to Floyd and you, his hand cupped to the side of his mouth to allow his voice to carry over the record player. Floyd grumbled a little at his brother's antics and tried to chuckle it off, maybe even shoot something back.

Yet he didn't even have to!- "What's wrong with me calling him Sugarplum, John?" Oh. Poppy paused in her pursuit and glanced over to JD with pressed lips and wide eyes, a silent question of what did he just do?

Clay and Branch both seemed to stop as well, Viva being soon to follow. Since meeting, you had never called anyone by their name. It had always been some cute nickname, such as baby or love or princess. Something motherly that made people's hearts warm upon hearing the nickname roll off your tongue with such affection and ease.

Even Floyd has barely ever heard you call anyone by their first name, that was unless they were in trouble. He decided to turn down the record player a little, just so you didn't have to talk over the music.

"Nothing!-" JD put up his hands at once, "It's just-"

"Just what? You wanna tease my darlin' for my decision in calling him sugarplum? Aren't you supposed to be the eldest brother?" You kept Floyd's hands in yours as you cocked an eyebrow up at JD, your eyes narrowing in his direction. Bruce had turned away, silently drinking his milkshake.

"No of course not-" JD started again, though didn't get far before you flashed a bright smile at him.

"Phew! For a second you have me worried there, dumplin'. Thought you were really striking that low!" And JD stared at you and your sudden switch of mood, wondering if he was seeing things or if he wasn't going insane. Either or, you gave Floyd a kiss on the forehead and turned your attention back to him.

"You still have the energy to dance with me, Sugarplum?"

And Floyd swore he fell deeper in love with you, if that was even possible at this point. "With you? Always."

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D