#who shows affection through physical touches

[torchwood-99]

Eomer and Eowyn only talk to each other once in the films

but they communicate so much.

When Eomer first returns with a wounded Theodred, an entire dialogue is shared between Eomer and Eowyn without a single word passing between them.

This mutual look of concern, they're both on the same page.

Eowyn then goes on to look at Theodred's wound. It's interesting that Eomer now looks curious above all things, he's waiting on Eowyn's judgement.

Eowyn looks at the wound and grimaces. It's bad. Theodred isn't going to survive this.

She looks to Eomer, who looks back at her in grim resignation.

They go to Theoden to inform him of the situation. As Eomer walks by Eowyn, he doesn't speak to her or interrupt her, but he puts his hand on her back as he passes. Even when the focus is on other things, he is giving her that gesture of support and fondness. That it is done without fanfare shows that this sort of affection is commonplace.

They both stand before the throne, both of them united in their attempt to reach through to their uncle. They're a team, a unit.

Eomer throws down proof that Saruman, who Grima is trying to protray as a friend to Rohan, is sending his soldiers to terrorise their people.

Eowyn gives Grima a death glare, challenging him to refute her brother's accusations. She's on Eomer's side, Eomer's team.

Eomer sees Grima looking at Eowyn, and knows what he wants. It fills him with fury.

Eowyn sees her brother choking Grima against the wall. She looks on in cold silence, then walks away.

When Aragorn reveals that the beacons have been lit, Eowyn rushes into the throne room, drawing to a stop at Eomer's shoulder. They wait together for Theoden's judgement.

When it comes, and Theoden sends Eomer to muster the troops, Eomer bows, but even before he has fully straightened up, his eyes go to his sister.

Again, no words exchanged, simply a look of common understanding. They both know what the risks are, they both know what is at stake, for the world, for their country, for their family.

Before Eomer leaves, he touches Eowyn's arm, before walking away.

With Eomer gone, we see a steely determination come into Eowyn's eyes. Now there's something Eomer's missing, now Eomer's back is turn and there's something about sister that she's keeping from him. She's riding to battle.

The one time they speak to each other, they're in opposition. About Merry, about Eowyn, about war.

The words are harsh. Eomer is stern, Eowyn is defensive.

But Eomer puts his hand on Eowyn's shoulder. He doesn't say "I don't want you to get hurt, I don't want you in battle", but that hand on her shoulder, tells the audience that's exactly what he's saying.

Those small moments of physical affection culminate in one great moment, when stern, stoic Eomer discovers Eowyn on the battle field, and breaks down in tears, cradling her and rocking her like she's a child.

And his devotion to her ultimately shown in him sitting small and hunched, tucked in on himself, crouching down in armour for what seems to have been a lengthy space of time, as he sits by her side, waiting for her to be healed.

This is such an effective way of showing to an audience that two characters love each other, when there is a limited time window. The movie needed to crack on to cover the ground it needed to cover, and with so many important dynamics to reveal to the audience, the creators needed to be time effective. Eomer and Eowyn don't share much screen time, but the looks exchanged, the passing moments of intimacy, tells us clearly that these are two people greatly fond of each other, and have been fond of each other a long time.

The lack of spoken dialogue almost enhances it. Little is said between them because little needs to be said. They already know. The one time they do speak, it's when they're quarrelling, because that's the only moment when they need to use words. The rest of the time, a gesture, a look, is enough.

[jungwnies]

sfw alphabet | carlos sainz

୨ৎ : synopsis : sfw a-z alphabet for carlos sainz ୨ৎ : word count : 1311

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

(a/n) : don't forget to like & reblog !! my requests are open!

a ⤖ affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

very affectionate in his own way—he shows love through actions more than words.

small, consistent gestures like holding your hand, forehead kisses, or brushing your hair out of your face.

he’s affectionate daily, but it feels natural rather than overbearing.

b ⤖ beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

as a best friend, he’d be the funny, charming guy who always makes you laugh.

your friendship would start with banter—he’d tease you a lot but in a way that makes you feel special.

he’d invite you to casual outings, and over time, you’d become one of his closest confidants.

c ⤖ cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

loves to cuddle, especially after a long day or when he’s relaxed.

he’d be the type to wrap you up tightly, either spooning or with your head on his chest.

he’d stroke your back or play with your hair absentmindedly while you’re cuddling.

d ⤖ domestic (does he want to settle down; how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

he definitely wants to settle down eventually, but he’s not in a rush—he prefers to focus on the present.

he’s decent at cooking, with a few spanish dishes he’s mastered, but cleaning isn’t his favorite thing.

he keeps his space tidy enough but would happily let you take the lead on organizing.

e ⤖ ending (if he had to break up with you; how would he do it?)

he’d be honest and straightforward, sitting you down for a heartfelt conversation.

carlos would ensure you understand his reasons and would never leave you with unresolved feelings.

he’d take the blame if necessary and try to leave things on as good terms as possible.

f ⤖ fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

he’s serious about commitment and wouldn’t propose unless he was 100% sure.

carlos likes to take his time with big steps, so he wouldn’t rush into marriage, but once he’s ready, he’d be all in.

g ⤖ gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

very gentle both emotionally and physically.

emotionally, he listens and respects your feelings without judgment.

physically, his touches are soft and caring, always ensuring you’re comfortable.

h ⤖ hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

he loves hugs, especially spontaneous ones.

he’d hug you often—quick hugs throughout the day and longer ones when he misses you or needs comfort.

his hugs are warm, firm, and reassuring, like he’s anchoring you to him.

i ⤖ i love you (how fast does he say he loves you?)

he takes his time to say it, wanting it to feel meaningful and special.

once he’s sure of his feelings, he’d say it in a quiet, heartfelt moment—he’s not one to rush something so important.

j ⤖ jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

he doesn’t get jealous easily, but when he does, it’s subtle—he might get a bit quieter or extra protective.

he’d never start an argument about it but might pull you closer or ask for reassurance indirectly.

k ⤖ kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

his kisses are slow, intentional, and full of emotion—he doesn’t rush them.

loves kissing your forehead, cheeks, and neck, but his favorite is your lips.

he likes being kissed on his jawline or the corner of his mouth—it makes him smile every time.

l ⤖ little ones (how is he around children?)

he’s amazing with kids—playful and patient.

he’d joke around and play games but also knows how to be responsible when needed.

he’d love the idea of being a dad someday, but only when he feels ready.

m ⤖ morning (how are mornings spent with him?)

mornings with him are relaxed—he’s not in a rush to get out of bed.

he’d pull you closer for a cuddle before finally getting up, often sneaking in a quick kiss or two.

breakfast would either be something simple he made or an outing to his favorite café.

n ⤖ night (how are nights spent with him?)

nights with him are cozy and quiet, often spent watching a movie, sharing a glass of wine, or talking about your day.

he’d be attentive, making sure you feel loved and appreciated before bed.

o ⤖ open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

he takes time to open up, sharing pieces of himself little by little as trust builds.

he’d start with lighthearted stories but eventually share his deeper thoughts when he feels safe.

p ⤖ patience (how easily angered is he?)

he’s incredibly patient and not easily angered.

even when frustrated, he prefers to talk things out calmly rather than letting emotions take over.

q ⤖ quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail; or is he forgetful?)

he remembers most things, especially the little quirks that make you happy or things you’ve mentioned in passing.

he’d surprise you by bringing up something you thought he’d forgotten.

r ⤖ remember (what is his favorite moment in the relationship?)

his favorite moment is probably something simple yet meaningful,

like the first time you laughed at one of his silly jokes or a quiet sunset shared together.

s ⤖ security (how protective is he; how does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

he’s naturally protective, but it’s not overbearing—it’s in the way he holds your hand in a crowd or checks in on you during tough times.

he likes knowing you feel safe with him and would appreciate emotional support when he needs it, too.

t ⤖ try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts a lot of effort into things that matter to you—he’s thoughtful and loves planning surprises.

dates are always creative, and he remembers important anniversaries without fail.

y ⤖ ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he can be stubborn, especially when he thinks he’s right.

sometimes, he’s so focused on his career or hobbies that he might forget to check in as often as you’d like.

v ⤖ vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he’s definitely mindful of his appearance—he likes looking polished and put-together.

he spends time on his hair and style but isn’t overly vain about it.

w ⤖ whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

he’d feel the absence deeply if you weren’t around—he values emotional connections and wouldn’t take your bond lightly.

x ⤖ xtra (random headcanon for him)

he loves sharing his culture with you—whether it’s introducing you to spanish music, cooking his favorite childhood dishes, or teaching you spanish phrases.

y ⤖ yuck (what are some things he wouldn't like; in general or in a partner?)

he dislikes dishonesty or a lack of trust in a relationship.

he’s also not a fan of overly negative attitudes or people who don’t respect his love for family.

z ⤖ zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

he sleeps deeply and usually sprawls out, taking up more space than he realizes.

he loves falling asleep while holding you or at least having some part of him touching you, like your hand or leg.

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[binniesunderworld]

"I once compared Adrien to a mirror that projects the user's perception and cognition. Anyone who uses him, approaches him, educates him and guides him. His people will subtly project their own shadows onto him, and he absorbs many of the not-so-good things without any analysis and almost greedily"

You know, I guess that's something his parents taught him. Adrien never had completely positive influences in his life before school. While there were people who liked him, they were not good role models. And growing up surrounded by those behaviours, he never questioned whether they were really bad until he entered society, as you said.

"I can guess that before s2, he may have borrowed the image of Emilie as his personality expression (they are equally emotional, refer to some other people's comments on Emilie's resistance to her native family), and the isolated environment is very suitable."

In ‘Simon Says’ there is a scene where Gabriel talks to Ladybug and says: "I have to apologize for my son, Ladybug. He's like his mother, way too overly dramatic". So it's basically a confirmation that S1 Adrien got his mother's personality. We don't know much about Mrs Agreste's personality, we only know that she was rebellious and capricious, but still kind and hated upper class responsibilities. And by ‘capricious’ I don't mean that she was a selfish brat, but that she had very specific desires and did everything in her power to get them. It's basically the same personality as S1 Adrien.

S2 Adrien from now on is basically Gabriel. Adrien internalised Gabriel's anger and made it his own, and so many of his other behaviours. For example: physical touch. Gabriel always touches Adrien (whether it is a hug, holding his hand or grabbing his shoulder) when he is going to manipulate him, and Adrien does not realise that this is manipulation because he is so unused to physical displays of affection. So he interprets this simply as a token of affection without any other intention behind it. And that is why every time Adrien tries to comfort someone or show how much he loves them, his way of doing so is physical contact, because that is his perception of a token of affection.

Here is an example of Gabriel manipulating with physical touch, not only Adrien but trying to do the same with Ladybug. He puts his hand on Ladybug's shoulder and says ‘what could possibly happen with you here to protect me?’ in a rather odd tone of voice. Then, in another scene, he asks her permission to touch her earrings and extends his arm to do so before she gives her consent, to which Ladybug looks rather uncomfortable. This kind of manipulation does not work with her because, unlike Adrien, she is not touch starved. Hence the difference in atmosphere between the chapters where he manipulates Adrien and this one where he tries to manipulate Ladybug: Adrien's are not uncomfortable because they are from the perspective of a victim who sees it as a good thing, Ladybug's are from the perspective of a person who knows that the behaviour is weird and that's why the scene is so uncomfortable.

Whatever, I started talking about Adrien and ended up talking about Gabriel. Sorry about that. I guess the conclusion of this is that Adrien is a sponge that absorbs all the behaviours he is exposed to: when his mum was a strong influence in his life he behaved like her, when Gabriel was he behaved like him and when Marinette (S5) was he started to see through his father's manipulation and in a way he also started to behave like her.

I really liked the points you made and I don't think there are any mistakes, you did a great job!

How Gabriel Agreste Destroyed Adrien's Life: A 3 a.m. Analysis

From: ‘I enrolled in a school without my father's permission, I ran away from home to attend the first day of school and although I don't want my father to be angry with me, I'm not afraid of a punishment either because I KNOW there won't be one’.

To: ‘My girlfriend is alone with my father, with no one to protect her, completely defenceless. I NEED TO SAVE HER’.

One knows that his father is a good person who, no matter how angry he is, would never hurt him. The other doesn't, it's the opposite, he is no longer sure of anything, he fears for the safety of those he loves and is so terrified that he is about to have a panic attack.

But how did we get from the first to the second?

How Gabriel Agreste's abuse managed to completely change his son in a matter of days

People don't remember this because it happened a long time ago and has not been repeated, but Adrien used to be a NORMAL person, not as perfect as he is now. While he has always been kind and polite, there were also times when he allowed himself to be a bit hostile and not as perfect as we are used to seeing him (as Adrien, not as Chat Noir). Usually that ‘good boy’ facade was only used in front of his father and Nathalie, but in front of his friends he behaved like a normal teenager, even becoming a bit teasing, self-centred and rebellious. "The Bubbler", "Animan", "Kung Food" and "Evillustrator" being the clearest examples of these behaviours, in particular towards Nino, Chloé and Marinette.

In S1 it becomes clear that the only conflict Adrien has with his father is the fact that he does not give him as much freedom as Adrien would like. Apart from this, Adrien has no other problems with him and considers him to be a good father. There are several of Adrien's behaviours that suggest that Gabriel's overprotectiveness towards him was the only thing wrong with him, but that otherwise Gabriel was excellent. It is time for us to look at that.

1. Origins

Adrien literally enrolled in a school without his father's permission and when his father refused to approve Adrien's attendance, he ran away from home and went running to school. When Nathalie tries to convince him to come back Adrien simply says ‘this is what I want’ and turns around to continue up the stairs, not caring if she has anything else to say. He hears that someone needs help and immediately goes to their aid, and as soon as he finishes doing that he turns to Nathalie and the bodyguard with a charming smile expecting to see their proud faces, and when instead he sees that they are still angry he is immediately horrified and gives up.

This tells us a lot about Adrien: he is a spoilt child who has never been punished in his life, and when things get difficult his first reaction is to be adorable or do a good deed to be forgiven. Adrien intended to leave Nathalie talking to herself, and he wasn't worried about the idea of being punished when he got home from school because he knew it wasn't likely to happen. He then helps someone to ingratiate himself with Nathalie and the bodyguard so that they will stop being angry, and when he realises that it didn't work he is surprised. He is used to people forgiving his disobedience just because he is cute. He immediately gives up and asks Nathalie not to tell Gabriel. While he didn't want his father to be angry with him, he also didn't fear punishment because he knew he wouldn't get it.

Later, at the mansion, Adrien realises that Nathalie did tell Gabriel and he feels betrayed, as if he didn't expect her to do that. Basically, he is not used to people disobeying him. Gabriel again forbids Adrien from going to school but it's nothing he hasn't said before: Gabriel reprimands Adrien's behaviour with words, never with punishment, and there comes a point when words are no longer enough and Adrien is no longer afraid of them, hence he becomes ‘rebellious’. The next day Adrien runs away again and, surprise surprise, he is not punished, in fact he is rewarded. Despite having disobeyed his father again, he is rewarded and allowed to go to school, even Nathalie (whom he treated very badly) offers to help him. This reward is without explanation, just because. I'm not saying Adrien deserved to be locked up for life at home, at the end of the day he's just a teenager who wants to socialise with more people, but it's clear he was a spoilt child whose behaviours both good and bad were praised, just like Chloé and Felix, so if you ever wondered why he was such good friends with them, here's your answer.

2. The Bubbler

Here we get confirmation of how Adrien is a good boy only in front of his father and Nathalie, and how he is himself in front of his friends. At the beginning of the episode he together with Nino makes fun of his father because he does not agree to throw him a birthday party. Then, when Nino is akumatized, he at first refuses to be part of the party because he cares about Nino and wants to save him. Even when he realises that all the adults are trapped in bubbles, he never cares about his father, Nathalie or his bodyguard, only about saving Nino. And then he also gives up on this idea after a little chat with Plagg and says: "Okay, you're right. This might be the first day in my life that I actually get to do what I want for once", and Adrien joins the party without any show of consideration for the adults he knows.

Although all these behaviours were forgotten by the fandom, they are important to understand Adrien's character and how he changed due to his father's abuse. This is the normal behaviour of a teenager with a bit of a grudge: he's not a psychopath who wants something bad to happen to his father, he's a kid who knows that in the end he and his superhero partner will fix everything and he allows himself to have fun in the meantime. But it's something the current Adrien would never do, and there's where the difference lies.

3. Volpina & The Collector

This is the last episode in which we see Adrien acting like a normal teenager. He overhears Gabriel talking on the phone and decides to spy on him, then discovers that he has a safe behind his mother's portrait and out of curiosity goes to investigate. Adrien discovers the book and takes it with him, when he is discovered he quickly makes up a lie. RIP pre-lobotomised Adrien, you will always be missed.

This is the key point in the change of behaviour of both Adrien and Gabriel.

Gabriel confronts Adrien and he immediately gives an explanation in a tone of voice intended to generate sympathy:

—I just wanted to know what you were hiding behind that portrait that was so important.

This doesn't work so he resorts to blaming Gabriel himself:

—You.. you never told me about those things.

And this doesn't work either, so he decides to admit what he did but also looks for a way to justify himself:

—I was intending to give it back to you, I swear. But then I lost it.

Gabriel tells Adrien that he no longer trusts him, and what is Adrien's reaction? He just looks jaded and apologises to Gabriel, in an attitude that makes it clear that he is used to apologising to make things right, that he is not genuinely sorry, and also offers to buy him a new copy, confident that this will be enough for Gabriel to forgive him. This confirms the previous point: Adrien is used to getting out of his punishments just because he looks cute or does a good deed, and this became so repetitive that Adrien already knew how to get out of a punishment, and was not afraid of his father but simply tired of scolding that went nowhere. Again, there is no fear of consequences.

Everything changes completely when Gabriel tells him that this book is unique in the world, that there is no other copy. Apologies didn't work and the other form of redemption, buying him a copy, wasn't possible. Then is when Adrien's face changes completely to horror: he has just understood the magnitude of his mistake. His father punishes him by forbidding him to go back to school and Adrien is heartbroken, but does not try to reason with his father (as he had done, and many times, in past episodes). This is the birth of the Adrien we know now: from a normal boy to a submissive puppet. He knows that there is no way to redeem himself and that is why he decides not to fight, he finally realises that his actions have consequences, serious ones, taking away what is most precious to him: his freedom.

From here on we see a completely changed Adrien, from a rebellious teenager to a perfect doll with no thoughts of his own. Before, he pretended to be perfect only in front of his father, Nathalie and his bodyguard. Now he pretends to be perfect in front of everyone, regardless of whether he knows them or not. The trauma can be clearly seen: Adrien adopts this neat behaviour because he is afraid that his freedom will be taken away if his father finds out that he made another mistake. Now Adrien knows that he CAN be punished. He doesn't even allow himself to breathe in peace because of all the stress and fear he carries. And so it is that Adrien becomes a puppet unable to stop pretending even in front of his own friends: we go from an Adrien who was not afraid to react strangely to Marinette's odd behaviour, who was not afraid to tease Nino about his crush and who was not afraid to put Chloé in her place when the situation warranted it, to an Adrien who could not even keep his back bent for fear that his father would consider it inappropriate.

Gabriel Agreste being a shitty father and exploiting his son's weaknesses to profit from them

Despite being strict with Adrien, there were times when Gabriel let him spend time with his friends and have fun with them. In fact, in S1 there are several of these, most of them to be found there (before all the drama).

In ‘Animan’ he is in the zoo helping Nino with his date with Marinette.

In ‘Gamer’ he is playing video games for the school championship at Marinette's house.

In ‘Kung Food’ he comes to Marinette's house to help her with her uncle and even takes them to the hotel and stays for dinner with them, he spends practically the whole day away from home.

In ‘Horrificator’ he spends many hours filming the movie for the school.

In ‘The puppeteer’ he is going somewhere alone and relaxed.

In ‘Timebreaker’ he is present during the race between Alix and Kim.

As you can see, despite being strict, Gabriel sometimes let his son spend time with his friends. When did this change? After the book incident. After forbidding Adrien to attend school, Gabriel noticed how heartbroken he was and realised that school and his friends were not a whim for Adrien, but something he truly cherished. And Gabriel used these feelings to manipulate Adrien. In S1, before the incident, Adrien is more ‘rebellious’ and still has enough freedom to be with his friends. In S2, after the incident, Adrien behaves much better than in S1 and still doesn't have half as much freedom as before, and when he finally gets his father's permission to be with his friends, something happens at the last minute (Heroes Day Part 2, for example). This is because his father has discovered his Achilles' heel and uses it to benefit himself and manipulate Adrien.

The clearest proof of this is in the difference between ‘Horrificator’, where Gabriel let Adrien spend hours in the school filming the movie, and ‘Queen Banana’, where Gabriel let Adrien go for only a few minutes to the filming and right after he finished his part he literally left in a cage hanging from a helicopter. It is clear the pleasure that man developed in making his son miserable.

And we could talk about ‘Chat Blac’ and ‘Ephemeral’, but I won't touch those topics as they are not part of our timeline. I'll just say that they made it clear how far Gabriel is willing to go (literally traumatise Adrien) in order to get what he wants. What I think, is sick.

Adrien's Stockholm Syndrome: normalisation, justification and romanticisation, and how it makes him vulnerable to unhealthy relationships

1. Gabriel

We have already made it clear that Adrien became an uncritical puppet, and as a result he developed a terrible Stockholm syndrome. Adrien normalised all the manipulation, and by accepting it as something usual this caused him to start justifying it as well. Needless to name the episodes, in many of them there is always someone (usually Nino, Marinette or Plagg) who points out his father's problematic behaviour and Adrien immediately tries to justify it with ‘he does it because he loves me’ or ‘he just wants to protect me’. This shows us a big difference from the Adrien of S1 who was aware of his father's behaviour and even made fun of it, the current Adrien would never do that, on the contrary, he seems to live to justify Gabriel's actions. That's how serious the brainwashing is.

With Gabriel's behaviours now normalised and justified, they in turn begin to be romanticised. Despite being a shitty person, there are moments when Gabriel treats Adrien well: like when he hugs him (something Adrien is not used to), his worried words to Chat Noir about losing Adrien, or when he watches his mother's movie with him. These are all details that if they weren't accompanied by manipulation, anyone could call ‘cute’. And this makes Adrien unaware of the manipulation at first: his own denial and the kind details his father had for him confused his brain. Adrien did not think that his father could be so kind to him if he was a bad person, and that is why Adrien refused to consider him as such. This is a method of self-defence against dangerous situations, the feelings developed by this are not only romantic but any kind of feelings that are enough to make the victim feel safe in dangerous environments.

2. Kagami and Marinette

Let's start with Adrigami. Adrien didn't show a strong interest in Kagami until the chapter ‘Oni-Chan’ where he even rejects Ladybug's fist to make sure Kagami is okay, but what led to this? The romanticisation of obsession and control.

Kagami is simply Adrien's friend, but when she sees a photo of him with another girl, she gets so jealous that she is akumatized and starts chasing this other girl to get her away from Adrien. This is behaviour that is bad as a girlfriend, but even worse as a friend. Adrien doesn't take this seriously and even spends the whole fight making jokes instead of worrying that one of her friends is a jealous girl who is willing to kill for him even if they don't have any kind of commitment. Then, when he sees that Kagami still has the rose he gave her, his behaviour immediately changes and you could say that this is when he starts to feel a real attraction to her, even rejecting Ladybug's fist, whom he had long been in love with.

Here we see how dangerous the romanticisation of problematic behaviour is: Adrien is willing to let go of all the chaos Kagami caused and all her toxic behaviour just because she showed that she really ‘loved him’. And he reciprocates her feelings because he finds it cute that someone is in love with him enough to go crazy. The romanticisation of Gabriel's actions eventually led Adrien to romanticise other people's actions, even going so far as to feel honoured by all the questionable actions these people committed under the justification of loving him.

Something quite similar happens with Adrinette. In S5 Adrien mentions that he started to accept his feelings for Marinette from what happened in ‘The Puppeteer 2’, and there's no way this isn't weird. He had feelings for Marinette long before that, but it was that event that led him to accept them. Marinette literally assaults a ‘statue’ just because it looks like Adrien, starts fantasizing about a life together, steals one of his hair and many other weird things, and what's Adrien's response? To say that he fell in love. He literally saw how far Marinette was capable of going because of her obsession with him, and as much as that behaviour was justified with ‘it was a joke’, instead of caring, what he does is fall in love with her... because of her obsessive and bizarre behaviour towards him.

It is honestly quite disappointing to see how Gabriel's manipulation damaged Adrien to the point of leaving him craving only unhealthy relationships because that was his perception of love.

Both victim and perpetrator

Adrien developed a split personality and a taste for taking advantage of people when he is in situations of power. Gabriel turned Adrien into a victim and a perpetrator, the role depending on the situation. When Adrien is the one at a disadvantage, he displays submissive and manageable behaviour. When he has all the power, he has no problem using it selfishly and taking advantage of others. This was taught by Gabriel, from prudence to ruthlessness, are things Adrien learned from him. And in a way that's how Adrien differs from Chat Noir: the power they possess.

Adrien is always at a disadvantage: his life is in the public eye, everything he does is always monitored by his father or his fans, and if he makes a mistake it is very easy for his father to find out and punish him. This is why Adrien, always powerless, forces himself to act submissively. He does not possess the power in such situations, so he can only act as he is expected to act.

As Chat Noir things are quite different, he always has the power. Chat Noir is a superhero, he watches over Paris but no one watches over him, he has freedom, destructive power, a city that depends on him and a partner who needs him to defeat the supervillains. He has the power. And he uses this power to his advantage.

A clear example of this is his tendency to threaten. Adrien has several times been willing to give up his miraculous and even verbally threaten (in a passive-aggressive way) Ladybug just because it bothers him that she has secrets. All of S2 was Adrien threatening to give up his miraculous if Ladybug didn't tell him her secrets, and this behaviour wasn't like ‘we can't keep hiding things from each other anymore, this isn't healthy for me and if we're not going to be honest it's best to just give up’, no, this behaviour was like ‘if you don't tell me what you're hiding, I'll give this up and you see if you can do it all by yourself or if you find me a replacement’. I understand that he was tired of the situation, but manipulation is never justifiable behaviour. Evidence of this is found in episodes such as ‘Syren’, where Adrien even threatens Plagg with give up his Miraculous if he doesn't tell him what Ladybug is hiding.

Another example is ‘Glaciator’, where he invites Ladybug to a dinner and she makes it clear that she already has plans and is unlikely to go. And yet Adrien is self-illusioned, and when his fantasies are shattered by something Ladybug had already warned him would happen, he simply accuses her of mocking him, throws a tantrum, refuses to help with the akuma, and when Ladybug comes up with a good plan to defeat the villain he guilts her by saying: ‘Sorry, Ladybug, it's not cool to play with people's feelings’ when Ladybug never played with his feelings and in fact realised these only minutes ago.

There are many other episodes like these, too many to list. I guess the most notorious ones are ‘NY Special’ (where he has no problem being unfaithful to Kagami) and ‘Lies’ (where he also has no problem being unfaithful, lying to her, trying to provoke akumatizations and so on). His problematic behaviours are not only as Chat Noir, but also as Adrien when he finds himself in relationships where he has the power. In his courtship with Kagami he knows that she is completely in love with him and uses this to his advantage and does truly horrible things like the ones mentioned above without regard for her feelings because he knows or believes that she won't leave him. Something similar happens with his friendship with Chloé, he knows how much Chloé appreciated him and so every time she committed a bad deed he threatened to end their friendship. It's not wrong to want your friend to stop being a shitty person, and it's okay to let him/her know that if he/she continues this stupid behaviour you'll have no choice but to walk away, but the problem with this is that we go from Adrien's genuine concern for Chloé to empty threats just because, in the end, Chloé wouldn't change her behaviour and he wouldn't leave either.

Conclusions

This is not as well written as I would like it to be. I procrastinated for weeks and when I finally decided to write it I no longer had the series so fresh in my memory. I am a teenager with no professional knowledge of psychology who wrote this at 3 a.m. while I was not so sober.

This post is not salt against Adrien/Chat Noir, in all of ‘Miraculous’ there are only two or three characters I hate and none of those are Adrien, so this post is not hate towards him. While I did describe some of his behaviour in a not so nice way, that was not a personal opinion but an analysis. Like when you go to a psychologist and he doesn't give you his personal opinion but a diagnosis, the main difference being that I am not a professional nor do I claim to be one. Anyways, this is a direct attack on Gabriel Agreste for being a shitty person.

As you may have noticed, most of this analysis is based on S1 to S3. While I did mention some episodes from S4 and S5 they were not as relevant, this is because the first 3 seasons are the ones I've seen the most and ergo the ones I remember the most, maybe later (I don't think so) I'll do a part two on S4 and S5.

Finally: my personal opinion on Adrien. He is an amazing character whose development and build goes unnoticed by the fandom, this is probably because it wasn't done on purpose (if this character build was planned it wouldn't be half as good as it is, the writers aren't that talented). Adrien is just a boy, a victim of an abusive home that ingrained several of his father's behaviours within him and he has no ‘true personality’ as this depends on the situation he finds himself in. He acts this way as a method of survival and although it is not right, it is a psychological response and it is not as if he can help it. I'm really happy that the poor boy is free from his abusive father and I hope that in S6 he can be happy and get therapy.

[d3vilsadv0cate]

Keep up, Soap

[maelancoli]

Writing Intimacy

i often see writers sharing a sentiment of struggling with writing kiss scenes which honestly bleeds into other portrayals of physical intimacy. i see it a lot in modernized styles of writing popularized by the recent trend in publishing to encourage short, choppy sentences and few adverbs, even less descriptive language. this makes intimacy come across awkward, like someone writing a script or clumsy recounting of events rather than a beautiful paragraph of human connection.

or just plane horniness. but hey, horny doesn't have to be mutually exclusive with poetic or sensual.

shallow example: they kissed desperately, tongues swirling and she moaned. it made her feel warm inside.

in depth example: she reached for the other woman slowly and with a small measure of uncertainty. the moment her fingers brushed the sharp, soft jaw of her companion, eliza's hesitance slid away. the first kiss was gentle when she finally closed the distance between them. she pressed her lips lightly to gabriella's in silent exploration. a tender question. gabriella answered by meeting her kiss with a firmer one of her own. eliza felt the woman's fingers curling into her umber hair, fingernails scraping along her scalp. everything inside eliza relaxed and the nervousness uncoiled from her gut. a warm buzz of energy sunk through her flesh down to the very core of her soul. this was right. this was always where she needed to be.

the first complaint i see regards discomfort in writing a kiss, feeling like one is intruding on the characters. the only way to get around this is to practice. anything that makes you uncomfortable in writing is something you should explore. writing is at its best when we are pushing the envelope of our own comfort zones. if it feels cringy, if it feels too intimate, too weird, too intrusive, good. do it anyway! try different styles, practice it, think about which parts of it make you balk the most and then explore that, dissect it and dive into getting comfortable with the portrayal of human connection.

of course the biggest part comes to not knowing what to say other than "they kissed" or, of course, the tried and true "their lips crashed and their tongues battled for dominance" 😐. so this is my best advice: think beyond the mouth. okay, we know their mouths are mashing. but what are their hands doing? are they touching one another's hair? are they scratching or gripping desperately at one another? are they gliding their hands along each other's body or are they wrapping their arms tightly to hold each other close? do they sigh? do they groan? do they relax? do they tense? are they comfortable with each other or giddy and uncertain? is it a relief, or is it bringing more questions? is it building tension or finally breaking it?

get descriptive with the emotions. how is it making the main character/pov holder feel? how are they carrying those emotions in their body? how do they feel the desire in their body? desire is not just felt below the belt. it's in the gut, it's in the chest, it's in the flushing of cheeks, the chills beneath the skin, the goosebumps over the surface of the flesh. everyone has different pleasure zones. a kiss might not always lead desire for overtly sexual touches. a kiss might lead to the desire for an embrace. a kiss might lead to the impulse to bite or lick at other areas. a kiss could awaken desire to be caressed or caress the neck, the shoulder, the back, the arms etc. describe that desire, show those impulses of pleasure and affection.

of course there is the tactile. what does the love interest taste like? what do they smell like? how do they kiss? rough and greedy? slow and sensual? explorative and hesitant? expertly or clumsily? how does it feel to be kissed by them? how does it feel to kiss them?

i.e. examine who these individuals are, what their motives and feelings are within that moment, who they are together, what it looks like when these two individuals come together. a kiss is not about the mouth. it's about opening the door to vulnerability and desire in one's entire body and soul.

[trvthservm]

let’s talk virgin!geto who might be inexperienced but knows what he wants.

you both have been dating for a good few months, early years of college and can’t get your hands off each other. he’s the sweetest boyfriend you could ask for, possessive sure but he always treats you right. it’s one of his first serious relationships while you had dated around before, plenty of experience up your sleeve. he makes sure to kiss your forehead, carry an extra jacket because he knows you will get cold and drives you around the city on his bike.

geto who’s ears are completely red when you spend the night with him for the first time ever. he made sure to kick his roommate out so he could have his complete attention on you. he cooks you your favourite meal and has your favourite rom com waiting to play on the television but deep down inside he’s busy thinking about how you look underneath all your clothes.

it’s not like you haven’t touched each other before. you find yourself often pushed against the library wall with geto’s pierced tongue in your mouth, his tattooed hand travelling under your top to play with your breasts. more than once you’ve been caught by a fellow student who had the misfortune of witnessing your very public display of affection instead of a physics textbook.

so when you are in his flat, hips straddling his thighs on his old couch, geto almost moans out loud. he watches you as you grind your ass against his clothed cock, not innocent on his side when he intentionally wore grey sweats. “slow do— fuck! slower! baby” he groans as your gyrating hips make him leak through, the friction between your shorts and his sweats enough to make his eyes roll back.

when he carries you to his bed and lies you flat, it’s like a dream come true. you pull down your shorts and stop, inviting him to do the rest. geto does not need anything more to use his pearly white teeth to drag your pretty black panties leaving it to hang around your ankle. he can’t afford to wait when all he has ever dreamed off is spread open waiting for him.

you look up to him with glossy eyes and your lip tucked under your teeth when you hear him say the words — “i have never done this before.”

confused you get up, supporting your body on your elbows. he looks away turning red at his own brazen admission, and only looks at you when you pull down his sweats to help release his girthy cock, precum beading at the tip. he groans when your much smaller hands begin to jerk him off, cooing about how good he is being for you. there’s a teasing tilt to your tone because it’s not everyday you learn your hot boyfriend is a secret virgin! you continue to jerk him off and tease him for acting tough when he decides can’t take it anymore, the way you talk to him like he’s too innocent to touch you back.

geto shows you that despite being your good boy, he can make you eat your shit eating grin when he pins your thighs down. his mouth is on your dripping cunt, tongue licking your clit in slow circles. he does not stop when you cum on his face, he does not stop to take a break when his ringed fingers enter your wet entrance, squishing and squelching echoing throughout. he does not stop until there’s a ring of your cream that parallels the silver rings he wears and the lower half of his face painted with your slick juices.

you don’t start worrying until he picks you up and holds your legs open in front of his full length mirror so he can slip his heavy cock past your spread folds and just to say, “fuck baby, wanted my first time to be in missionary looking at your pretty face but i think full nelson might be better for your bratty pussy.”

[nunyverse-scribe]

What if I said you don’t need to be physically affectionate with your partner. What if I said you don’t have to ever kiss them on the lips. Or hold their hands. Or cuddle. What if I said that expecting physical touch out of a partner without talking about those things first is weird, because you shouldn’t expect those to be default givens to you. The same way you wouldn’t expect (or I’d hope you wouldn’t expect) those to be default givens in a friendship.

Sure, a lotta people may be fine with physical affection with their romantic partner, but have you ever considered that not everyone does. Would you assume that someone’s romantic relationship is “probably doing poorly” if you learned they don’t engage in physical affection like that. Would you pity the person who respects the boundaries of their partner that feels uncomfortable with physical touch. Would you villainize the person who set that boundary.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How these guys would react to having their face held…

Dick smiles out of habit and pushes his face even further into your hands, humming in content.

He loves it when you held him, however that may be, as it was the one thing he looked forward to the most when coming home.

He’s prone to frequent bouts of fatigue with patrols and the like, but it was moments like these where he could truly appreciate your touch and the healing properties they have on him.

‘I could spend forever here in your hands.’ He’d sigh as he allowed himself to relax within your touch.

‘Oh really? Is that so?’ You raised your brows, watching as the features within his face relaxed into a one that showed you just how exhausted Dick looked. You could see the toll his job his job took but you knew that Dick was too devoted, too attached to what he does to ever give it up, no matter how constantly drained and tired it made him.

You respect his decision to keep doing what he was doing but there came times where you’d just wish he would take a breather from it all, even if it was just for a second, you just wanted to take the weight off of Dick’s shoulders and put it aside for a moment while you work the tension out of his aching muscles.

‘Yeah.’ He responded, feeling himself sink further into sleep. Dick loved what he does but some times he resents it for leaving him with little to no time to spend with you, at least not without him falling asleep five minutes within the interaction. Time with you was sparse and all Dick wanted to do was spend as much of it as he could to make up for the fact that he was barely home at all during the day.

He knew that he prioritised being a hero over your relationship too often and he couldn’t help but feel a tremendous amount of guilt over it during your relationship. You didn’t deserve to wait up for him every night to make sure he was okay, not while developing heavy eye bags of your own and a lack of a sleeping schedule.

He just hopes that one day you too will realise that you better then what he’s giving you and put yourself first, but you were too selfless to ever do that and he could feel that through the way you trace his features with your fingers with featherlight caresses.

Jason stiffens beneath your touch and goes unresponsive for such a long time that you were worried that you had accidentally crossed a boundary.

So just as you were about to remove your hands from his face, Jason quickly reaches out to grasp your hands and pull them back to cupping his cheeks as he then proceeded to nuzzle his cheek against your palm.

‘Stay.’ He whispered. ‘Please.’

Your heart broke at his plea but obeyed as you began to stroke his cheeks with either of your thumbs, feeling him gradually relax under your touch until he was practically a puddle in your hands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whimpered, burying his face into your hands so that you didn’t see his tear stricken red face. ‘I don’t deserve this. None of it.’ He adds, cursing himself for being so pathetic but your touch practically broke him in the best way.

In your hands Jason felt as though all his broken prices were being put back together again through love, warmth and patience and that was enough to make him breakdown into tears.

Physical affection is a foreign concern to this poor man, and in due to that Jason is naturally going to be skeptical and on edge the moment the pads of your fingertips explore his jawline, before slowly coming up to cup his cheeks. ‘I’m right here Jaybridie.’ You utter softly as you felt his grip on your wrists slack a little. ‘I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere because nowhere is more important than staying here with you. Just take your time.’ And stay with him you did.

Damian is another one who’s not use to soft touches and sweet affection.

So he’ll initially be on guard when he saw you coming his way with your hands outstretched to cup his cheeks, but will huff and reluctantly rest his face in your palms, he’s extremely stiff while doing so and looking away from you out of initial embarrassment.

‘Get on with it.’ He’d mutter, acting as though such acts or moments of tenderness and vulnerability were beneath him, when in actuality Damian loved the feeling of you hold his face as though it were porcelain. He loved the fact that despite knowing his upbringing you still treat him with a love, kindness and warmth that he has never been shown before.

To Damian it was clear that you didn’t care if he was the son of Bruce Wayne and Talia al Ghul, grandson of Ra’s al Ghul. You only cared about him, Damian Wayne and he could feel that care through your touch as he vowed to cut through anything and everything that intended to harm you.

Your touch brings him a sense of calm, serenity and peace that brought him back from the brink a plethora of times, especially in moments when his arrogance and brashness would resurface. Damian was thankful for you being in his life, a true guiding light in his darkest moments, and he couldn’t think of any possible way to thank you for everything you’ve done for him but he’ll surly try.

Bruce feels the tension behind his eyes and in his jaw sooth themselves under your touch.

His eyes would slowly close as he brought his calloused hands up to gently stroke the inside of your wrists. Bruce needs no words to describe how he felt because he feels as though his expressions and the noises of content made it clear how much he appreciated you being here with him.

‘You look tired.’ You commented, tracing the weary lines on his hard face with your eyes as he observed your face and the way it showed most of your innermost emotions whether you were aware of this fact or not.

Bruce knew that you worry and that you worry a lot about him in particular when it came to whether he was sleeping enough, eating enough and keeping himself safe whilst fighting on the streets of Gotham. Bruce knew he was as stubborn as mule when it came to his life choices and that you were only just worried about him because you cared for him, but sometimes he wished you would redirect all this effort towards yourself because he oftentimes didn’t think he was worth of your worry, nor your care.

Bruce felt as though he should be the one taking care of you rather than you taking care of him. It’s not as though he hates it, it’s just you’ve shown him on countless occasions of your care towards him, and on even more occasions you have shown him of your unwavering dedication towards him. Bruce also feels like he should be the one paying you back for all the hard times where you stood by his side, watching him practically work himself to the bone and almost into a comatose if you didn’t step in and deal him away from the computers.

For you’ve proven time and time again that you weren’t so easily swayed into leaving, and that was made more true when he felt comfortable enough telling you that he was Batman and the dangers that would come with knowing such knowledge. You however only shrugged and told him that by his side, you were the safest you’ve ever been or will ever be.

‘More so than usual?’ He asked in a way that it might as well have came out as an indignant huff.

‘And by more so than usual you mean constantly, then yes, yes you are more tired than usual.’ You replied as you ran your thumbs under his eyes and across his eye bags as if to emphasise your point. Bruce only huffs as he watched you take in all of him with nothing but love and affection in your eyes and your touch.

John would most likely bite your hand out of an inherent need to be a teasing little shit.

Will boast about the fact that you just wanted to touch up his stubble. He wasn’t lying but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that and instead say; ‘in your dreams John.’

‘Oh I’m sure I am in yours.’ He reply with confidence as he winked, causing you to lightly pinch his cheek as punishment for his cockiness. ‘I hate you.’ You’d say as you push your fingertips through his stubbly beard, enjoying the way it deliciously tickles your skin, almost as though they were little prickly kisses.

‘No you don’t sweetheart, try as you might but you and me both know that for definite that you love me.’ John would state in a matter of fact tone. Once again you hated how right he was, but kept your lips sealed shut as not to give him any more ammunition to tease and contradict you at any given opportunity than you’ve already have.

The air between you is playful and light in comparison to how cynical, sharp witted and sarcastic he usually is on a daily basis. It was a welcomed change as you allowed the blonde to pretend to bite your hand, only allowing for his teeth to barely graze your skin before pulling away with a sly smirk as you scratch at his stubble.

[rottenfyre]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ ʏ ᴏ ᴜ ɴ ɢ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Robins x Fem Reader

Headcanon: How would they be as your boyfriend?

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ㅤ Dick Grayson   ׅ      ♡ 𝄒!

Affection Overload: Dick is all about physical affection. Hugs, kisses, holding hands—he’s constantly touching you. If you’re in public, expect him to have an arm around your waist or your hand in his at all times.

Grand Gestures: He loves making big romantic statements. Random flowers delivered to your class? Check. Swinging into your bedroom window just to say goodnight? Double check.

Jealousy Level: Surprisingly chill, but only because he’s confident. If someone flirts with you, he’ll swoop in with a smug smile and casually remind them that you’re his.

Protective Side: He’s sweet and easygoing most of the time, but the second he thinks you’re in danger, he turns into serious protector mode. He’s not above scaring people off if necessary.

Clingy but Cute: He hates being away from you. Even if you’re just apart for a day, he’ll text or call constantly. "Miss me yet? Because I miss you."

The Cheerleader Boyfriend: Dick is your biggest fan. Whether you’re pursuing a hobby, trying something new, or just having a bad day, he’s there hyping you up like, “You’re amazing, don’t forget that.”

Drama King: If you ever fight, expect him to show up at your door with flowers, chocolates, and the saddest puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. He cannot stand the idea of you being upset with him.

:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ㅤ Jason Todd   ׅ      ♡ 𝄒!

Acts Tough but Is a Softie: Jason tries to play it cool, but deep down, he’s so soft for you. You’ll catch him staring at you like you hung the moon, and he’ll deny it every time.

Overprotective: Jason is feral when it comes to your safety. If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s ready to throw hands. “You okay, babe? Need me to deal with them?”

Big on Small Gestures: He’s not a grand-gesture kind of guy, but he’ll quietly leave your favorite snacks on your desk or slip a note into your bag that says, "Have a good day, idiot."

Jealousy Level: Off the charts. Jason tries to play it cool, but the second someone flirts with you, his hand is on your waist, and his glare is lethal.

Supportive but Real: Jason is your rock. He’ll always be there for you, but he’s not afraid to call you out if he thinks you’re being too hard on yourself. “Stop beating yourself up. You’re amazing. End of story.”

Loves Quiet Time Together: He’s happiest when it’s just the two of you curled up on the couch, watching movies or reading. Those moments mean the world to him.

Secretly Romantic: Jason pretends he’s not into cheesy romance, but he’ll randomly do something that makes your heart melt, like showing up with a book he thought you’d like or quoting poetry at the most unexpected times.

:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ㅤ Damian Wayne   ׅ      ♡ 𝄒!

Awkwardly Affectionate: Damian isn’t great at expressing his feelings verbally, so his affection comes in the form of small, thoughtful actions. He’ll make sure your tea is brewed perfectly or bring you handmade gifts.

Possessive but Polite: Damian hates sharing your attention. If someone flirts with you, he’ll politely (but firmly) remind them who you belong to. “I believe you’re wasting your time. She’s spoken for.”

Jealousy Level: High but controlled. Instead of losing his temper, he’ll subtly outshine whoever is trying to steal your attention. “Ah, yes, you’ve met my girlfriend. Isn’t she magnificent?”

Protective in a Subtle Way: He’s not loud about it, but Damian is always watching out for you. If someone wrongs you, he’ll handle it quietly and efficiently. “You’ll find they’re no longer a problem.”

Always Wants to Impress You: Damian is constantly trying to prove himself to you, whether it’s through his art, his fighting skills, or his intellect. He’s desperate for your approval, even if he pretends he’s not.

Secretly Vulnerable: Behind his confident exterior, Damian is terrified of losing you. He doesn’t know how to handle those emotions, so he’ll sometimes withdraw until you reassure him.

Over-the-Top Romantic in Private: When it’s just the two of you, Damian lets his walls down. He’ll read you poetry, kiss your hand, and whisper how much you mean to him.

How They’re Similar:

All of them are incredibly protective of you and hate seeing you hurt or upset.

They’re obsessed with making you happy and will go out of their way to ensure you feel loved.

Whether they’re soft and sweet or intense and dramatic, they all love you with their whole heart—and they’re not afraid to show it.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[lubdubology]

Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too. 

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k 

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave. 

One month. 

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away. 

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist. 

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help. 

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves. 

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart. 

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features. 

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth. 

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further. 

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips. 

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it. 

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway. 

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter. 

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.” 

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.  

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence. 

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver. 

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft. 

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin. 

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind. 

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you. 

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus. 

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile. 

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence. 

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into. 

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity. 

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity. 

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips. 

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt. 

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry. 

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative. 

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing. 

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls. 

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper. 

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured. 

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say. 

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before. 

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go. 

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin. 

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense. 

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack. 

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart. 

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole. 

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go. 

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.” 

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you. 

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer. 

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features. 

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is. 

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. 

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase. 

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock. 

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering. 

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm. 

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him. 

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need. 

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release. 

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks. 

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well. 

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel. 

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him. 

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent. 

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture. 

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony. 

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him. 

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you. 

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you. 

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees. 

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose. 

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat. 

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. 

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet. 

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit. 

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist. 

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp. 

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you. 

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close. 

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.” 

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him. 

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease. 

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his. 

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan. 

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face. 

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life. 

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter. 

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.” 

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

[misswynters]

𓏲 ˖. ♡ Ekko as your bf

having the boy who shattered time as your bf

warnings. none, just all fluff (truly need it after act iii)

How You Got Together.

• It started with a deep friendship. You were someone who always stuck by him through thick and thin, whether it was sneaking into Zaun’s alleys to watch him race or sitting on rooftops together while he talked about his plans to make Zaun a better place.

• Ekko didn’t realize his feelings right away, but every time he saw you cheering him on or patching up his wounds after another risky stunt, something in his chest warmed.

• One day, during a quiet moment after a long day of running with the Firelights, he blurted it out. “You know, you’re the only person who keeps me sane around here. I think I’m in love with you.”

• You were stunned for a second, but when you smiled and told him you felt the same way, he grinned so wide his face hurt. “Guess we’re stuck with each other, huh, Firefly?”

Nicknames He Gives You.

• Firefly — His favorite. You’re his little spark of light in Zaun’s darkness.

• Shorty/Tallie — Depending on your height, he’ll playfully tease you about it.

• Gearhead — If you have any interest in tinkering or helping him fix things, this becomes a fond nickname.

• Starling — For when he’s feeling extra soft and poetic.

• Babe — When he’s feeling casual or playful.

Love Languages.

• Acts of Service: Ekko loves taking care of you in small, thoughtful ways: tinkering with gadgets to make your life easier, fixing anything you need, or walking you home to make sure you’re safe.

• Physical Touch: He’s touch-starved, and it shows. He thrives on hand-holding, cuddling, and casual touches like ruffling your hair or resting his hand on your knee during meetings.

• Quality Time: Ekko values the moments when it’s just the two of you. Whether you’re hanging out in the hideout or watching the stars from the rooftops, he treasures your company.

How He Shows Affection.

• He has this way of looking at you like you’re his entire world, especially when you’re laughing or talking about something you’re passionate about.

• He’s a sucker for forehead kisses: quick, soft, and full of love.

• Ekko likes to surprise you with little gifts he makes himself, like a glowing trinket to wear or a gadget that makes your life easier.

• When he’s feeling especially bold, he’ll pull you close by the waist and murmur something sweet in your ear just to see you blush.

What He’s Like in a Relationship.

• He’s fiercely loyal and protective, always making sure you’re safe and cared for.

• Ekko is a mix of playful and serious. he’ll joke around to make you laugh, but when it comes to your happiness or well-being, he’s all locked in.

• He listens to you like it’s the most important thing in the world, always giving you his full attention. He’s like completely mesmerized with the way you speak to him. like it could literally be you just yapping about the stupidest thing and you will still have his full attention. Ekko would be all smiley and smitten he just loves hearing you talk about your interests.

Dates with Him.

• Rooftop stargazing is one of his favorites. He’ll bring a blanket and snacks, and you’ll spend hours lying side by side, talking about anything and everything.

• Late-night walks through Zaun, where he shows you hidden spots he loves, like graffiti walls he painted or quiet corners with the best views of the Undercity lights.

• He loves taking you everywhere with him. Anywhere, that would allow him to proudly show you off to his crew.

• Sometimes, dates are simple. Fixing things together, cooking (well, attempting to), or dancing to music in the hideout.

• Taking you to do inventions. Whether it’s with heimerdinger or not he will not mind having you around while he does his nerdy stuff. Encourages you while you try to do something while failing miserably.

What He Loves About You the Most.

• Your unwavering support. He’s always carrying the weight of Zaun’s struggles, and you’re the one person who makes him feel like it’s okay to lean on someone else for a while.

• Your laughter. It’s his favorite sound, and he’ll do anything to hear it.

• Your determination. Whether you’re helping him with the Firelights or pursuing your own goals, he admires your drive and tenacity.

• The way you care for others. It reminds him of why he fights so hard to protect Zaun.

Arguments with Him.

• Ekko HATES arguing, especially with you. He’ll try to keep his cool, but sometimes his frustration slips out.

• He’s quick to apologize if he’s in the wrong. He doesn’t like going to bed angry, so he’ll do whatever it takes to make things right before the night ends.

• If you’re upset, he’ll give you space if you need it, but he’ll always check in to make sure you’re okay. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I hate fighting with you. Can we talk about this?”

• Arguments never last long because both of you care too much to stay mad.

Little Things He Does for You.

• He always checks in on you, whether it’s through quick messages or showing up to see you in person.

• He’ll steal your snacks but always makes sure to bring extras so you don’t actually lose out.

• Ekko loves playing with your hair, whether it’s braiding it, twirling it around his finger, or just running his hands through it absentmindedly.

• When you’re stressed, he’ll pull you into a hug and whisper, “You got this, Firefly. I believe in you.”

• If he notices you shivering, he’ll shrug off his jacket and wrap it around you without a second thought.

Moments That Make Him Soft.

• When you fall asleep on his shoulder after a long day. He’ll sit perfectly still so he doesn’t wake you, his heart melting at how peaceful you look.

• The way you light up when you see him, like he’s the only person in the world that matters.

• When you cheer him on during one of his missions. Your belief in him gives him strength like nothing else.

• Watching you interact with Scraps or other animals. He loves seeing your gentle, caring side.

Overall in my opinion.

Ekko as your boyfriend is a mix of excitement, warmth, and unwavering devotion. He’s someone who will always have your back, someone who will fight for you and with you, and someone who will treasure every moment you spend together. With him, life in Zaun feels a little brighter, a little safer, and a whole lot more full of love.

note. just my opinion :3

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[chloe6994]

Jealous (Jinx, vi, caitlyn, Mel, sevika,) x reader headcanon

pls send arcane headcanon request

Jinx

Jinx gets a little playful when she sees you talking to someone else, but it’s her version of "jealousy"—more like possessiveness wrapped in chaotic energy. She’ll make a joke, pretending to be nonchalant, but the wild spark in her eyes says otherwise.

If you're not giving her attention, Jinx might start making a scene, like throwing things in a fit of playful fury or pulling you away for a "private conversation" to remind you she’s the most interesting person in the room.

She can’t help but act a bit reckless when she’s jealous, maybe showing off in exaggerated ways to get your attention. But deep down, she's unsure if you’ll still love her once her chaos is too much.

Vi

Vi’s jealousy is more protective. If she sees you talking too closely with someone, she’ll start to get a little tense, clenching her fists, but she keeps it cool. She trusts you, but seeing someone flirting with you might spark something primal in her.

She won't shy away from making it known you're hers—she might throw an arm around your shoulder or pull you closer, giving the person a clear "back off" warning without needing to say a word.

Vi’s jealousy makes her extra clingy, wanting to spend more time with you afterward, making sure you know she’s the one who has your back.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s jealousy is subtle but sharp. If she feels threatened, she might not show it immediately, but she’ll keep a close eye on the situation. Her usually composed demeanor cracks when she notices someone taking up too much of your time.

She might send a polite but pointed smile your way, signaling that you’re off-limits without being overt. It’s a more quiet, controlled jealousy, but you’ll notice her looking for ways to be closer to you, giving you little, subtle touches when no one’s looking.

Caitlyn might ask you later if you enjoyed your conversation, her tone cool, but there’s that underlying edge of possessiveness in her words.

Mel Medarda

Mel’s jealousy is more sophisticated, laced with a sense of control. If she feels someone encroaching on her space or time with you, she’ll show her jealousy with a sly comment or a look that makes it clear she’s not amused.

Mel will likely confront the situation in a calm, calculated manner, taking steps to remove you from the person she's jealous of without causing a scene. Her jealousy shows in how she subtly dominates the conversation, bringing you back to her side, ensuring you know she’s the one who matters.

Afterward, Mel will shower you with affection, making sure you know where her priorities lie. She might even get a little possessive in private, keeping you close, maybe even taking you away for some "personal time" to remind you who you belong to.

Sevika

Sevika’s jealousy is blunt and raw. She’s not shy about showing her frustration if someone gets too close to you. She might become visibly irritated, her usually calm demeanor turning cold and sharp.

She might pull you away from whoever is talking to you, making it clear that you’re hers without saying it directly. Sevika is physical in her jealousy, often showing it through possessive gestures like grabbing your wrist or pulling you close.

Later, Sevika would expect you to acknowledge her feelings—if you don’t, she’ll be direct about it, wanting you to reassure her that her jealousy doesn’t go unnoticed, and that you’re still loyal to her.

[ridher]

thinking about s2 rafe & just want to comfort him so bad

you knew something had been off with your boyfriend. with the way he was constantly running around town and refusing to tell you anything about these 'errands', it was concerning.

it wasn't worrying because you thought he was doing anything disloyal, but you knew the immense amount of pressure he was constantly under thanks to his father and you just wanted rafe to be alright — even if that meant you weren't his number one priority for once.

not expecting much, you invited yourself over to tanneyhill when rafe had failed to respond to your string of texts. it felt stupid, but you just wanted to see the boy after being pretty much alone for a few days without his presence.

forgoing knocking, you step inside the familiar foyer leading into the mansion, shoes scuffing across the floor where your yoga pants flow over.

the sound of distant talking and footsteps echo through the house, but it doesn't deter you from continuing your path up the stairs to where you know rafe's bedroom is — admittedly the only place you've memorized how to get to.

looking up from your feet when you reach the second floor, you're met with the sight of ward who seems equally as surprised at the sight.

"hey, sweetheart. good to see you." keeping it brief, he gives your arm a squeeze before passing by and flashing what you infer to be a guilty smile.

soon, you're at rafe's door and suddenly don't feel so sure about the decision to come over — hesitating in the hallway.

when your hand reaches for the knob, your name is mumbled behind you. startled, your hand jerks away and you turn to look over your shoulder — now completely turning around and relaxing when you see your boyfriend.

his tired eyes and slouched posture along with the stressed ruffle of his sandy curtain bangs reveal his state of emotion, visibly breaking your heart as you step forward.

without hesitation, you lean up on your toes to wrap your arms behind his neck and pull him into a hug. as much as he hates to admit it, you know better than anyone how he craves physical touch.

rafe lets out a shaky exhale and practically melts into your body, arms snaking around your waist and combining the shape of your body with his own.

his head drops to your shoulder and buries in the crook of your neck, breath warm and uneven against your skin. bringing a hand to rest at the bottom of his scalp, you lightly drag your nails across it — acrylics grown out from how long it'd been since he took you out to get them done.

you're rarely the one initiating any kind of contact, but it comes naturally when he's right there, so vulnerable in front of you.

"i love you," you assure him, not expecting a response as you just wanted to let him know someone was on his side, no matter how fucked up he convinces himself he is.

"love you too, baby." it's deep and muffled against your body, sending a shiver from the contact all the way down your back.

you spend the rest of the day in his company, curled up in bed and occasionally wandering about the house. it's mostly silent since he still keeps all his troubles to himself, but being in one another's company is enough for both of you.

falling asleep in his arms and nothing's changed, he holds you as if you'll slip away with his face buried in your hair, hands ghosting over every part of your body — indulging in a softer show of affection he deems as weak.

but at this moment, he doesn't seem to care. all worries are saved for the following morning when you wake up once again in an empty bed.

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[anantaru]

— cute things they do unintentionally

including wriothesley, zhongli, neuvillette, diluc x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, established relationship, neck kisses, lots of physical affection

— wriothesley + always walks closest to the street

in the early stages of your relationship, wriothesley has shown the first, out of the many following, indications of his overall protective nature towards you— and do not misunderstand him, because obviously he wasn't making it somewhat overbearing.

he knows you are capable of doing things on your own, but he wants to be the one who does them for you instead. it fills him with joy, and the duke finds himself squeezing his eyes shut, indulging in the memories and thoughts and hope that they would never cease to invade his newfound paradise.

so to speak, it's sort of a way to show you his love in a contrasting kind of sense other than telling you his affection through words or physical touch— with his heart-melting gestures and tender warmth, wriothesley will stop to walk for a split second before softly pulling you farthest from the street as he walks closest.

it was silly— and romantic, and there's a drop of silence before you hear him hum in merriment, his eyes sparkling like the stars.

full of feeling, your cheeks were poignant of a flaming prickle, your whole body burned like fire at his touch as you eagerly listen to what story your boyfriend was telling you about, his smile bringing you the most lustrous light when you entangle your fingers into his arm to press his frame against you.

and suddenly, your lips are tingling with the desire to kiss him, his lips as pink as pink delights. what's the sweetest part about it all was that wriothesley wasn't doing any of this intentionally— in fact, it had always come down to the way he has been all of his life, protective and sheltering, benevolent to the people closest to his heart.

— zhongli + kisses your forehead whenever you meet

"hello, my love," zhongli's face lights up the moment he sees you, and it's a lot more personal by how particularly he smiled at you— because before catching your frame in midst the busy streets of liyue, his facial features were stern and a little frozen, although when he finally finds you, he smiles and it takes away his cold instantly, a slow upturn of his mouth revealing small dimples around his sides.

"i missed you," he admits, and zhongli moves closer before capturing your cheeks in his warm palms, planting a subtle kiss on your forehead as he presses you against his chest firmly— his golden eyes bright enough to make even broken glass glow and shimmer like a treasure on its own again.

you mumble out through a chain of muffled words at the slightly tight embrace of your boyfriend, "i missed you too," and listlessly wrap your arms around his waist, "in fact, i missed you more," you tease as he presses dozen of little kisses on your head.

as much as zhongli would love to hug you for what he sought out to be eternity, he knows he cannot remain like this forever, at least not while being crowded by the people of liyue— although pondering about it more deeply, he figured that theoretically speaking, he could be able to hug you from day to night without letting you go, but people might start looking at you both so that'll be a negative and turn things uncomfortable.

"you know it's impossible for you to miss me more?" he slowly pulls you off his chest before pinching your cheek, "i long for you day and night," as his grin shines in tandem with the dancing joy of his eyes, unable to tear their focus away from you.

— neuvillette + can't stop worshipping you

after a long, arduous day consisting of responsibilities, you plopped onto the giant, comfortable bed you shared with neuvillette before you felt the mattress slightly dip under the added weight of his body as he climbs over to lean one arm around your frame.

as he does this, his face instantly burns into the nook of your neck before he begins to caress it— obviously in those moments he was content with you, starting with a handful of soft, warm kisses until he could feel you smile, or notice your body heat raise.

it's pretty clear his senses were sharp, you cannot hide anything from your boyfriend, even if you tried.

you yawn out, opening your arms for his body to properly nestle in before wrapping your limbs around his frame to keep him close, "what did i do to deserve this?" you whisper sarcastically, squeezing him a little tighter into you, "is something the matter?"

neuvillette hums deeply before smothering one hand from your chest to your hips, his lips stretching into a lazy smile, creating a swirling haven on his handsome face, "nothing at all, everything is fine," he assures you with another kiss, his hot breath fanning over the dampened skin on your neck.

basking into the comfortable engage of your arms around his frame, he continues, "i have simply missed what's mine, that is all,"

"and you deserve this," you hear him mumble, "each and every day to be admired and loved,"

he places a kiss on your shoulder, the softness of his lips compelling, "i want to give you this," as he slowly continues to slide his lips over your collarbone, full of passionate crescendos.

your skin trembles and goosebumps arise on your neck as you unwind to his skilled. tender interludes, precisely in neuvillette taking care of you, shooting you a gentle smile before he searches for your lips next.

— diluc + likes to hold your hand all the time

it doesn't matter where the both of you were or what activity you participated in, because for neither diluc nor you this was something out of the ordinary anymore and began to become a necessity— like breathing, he required your touch, and his heart fluttered every time he felt your energy invade his.

your laugh was his favorite sound and your voice was the last tune he needed to hear before he'd close his eyes, always awaiting the flicker of longing in your caress.

but before you have found each other in this relationship, the master of the dawn winery has never considered himself to be an overly touchy individual, in fact, he was everything else but pleased whenever someone would become way too comfortable with him and overstep any boundaries.

what's funny about love is that how fast it can change things in someone— beyond looks, touches or shared smiles, there were feelings that only you two were able to understand.

diluc hadn't realized how easy and effortless it can be the moment you meet your soulmate, it's transparent and pure and you cannot get enough of them, it's useless to even try and you want to feel them again and again, until their warmth swathes through your skin and intertwines like dancers in a ballet.

in the beginning, it had started with quick and easy placements of his palm on your back or around your shoulders, but after a while, diluc wanted to turn it a little more intimate— he didn't say anything or mention it to you, but one day at a silent night in mondstadt, when he looked at you, really looked at you, he held your hand, his thumb tracing your knuckles in a silent confession of love and affirmation.

to diluc ragnvindr, the act of falling in love was the acknowledgement that he was in the presence of someone so special that it aches his heart, a journey with unexpected twists and turns— for the first time and in that moment, he knew that you were deserving of love to the fullest, without holding back.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[pure-smut]

you look so beautiful like this.

nsfw headcanons for bokuto koutarou

featuring: Bokuto Koutarou x f!reader

contains: praise kink, creampies, soft s*x, established relationship, a bit of dom!Bokuto, implied multiple rounds

word count: 1.2k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

masterlist

praise kink

Bokuto’s love language is 100% words of affirmation.

When you’re wanting to show him affection, you know the best thing you can do is cuddle up to his arm and tell him how good he looks today. You can run your fingers through his surprisingly soft hair and gush about the date he took you on. You can cup his face and say, “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Kou” and he’ll melt right on the spot.

You soon find out Bokuto’s weakness for praise goes further than you think.

The first time you sleep together, Bokuto’s being careful with you. He knows he’s big and he would hate himself if he ever hurt you, so he made sure you were well-prepped. Still, when he’s holding himself above you and starts to ease his girth inside your sopping hole, you can feel the stretch of him.

You inhale sharply and Bokuto stills, concern on his face.

“Does it hurt, babe? Are you okay?”

“M’okay, Kou. It’s just…”

“What? What is it?”

“You’re s-so… big.”

Bokuto’s pupils blow out, his cock swelling. He slides in a few more inches, feeling you squeeze him.

“Yeah?” He can’t stop himself from grinning. “You feeling full, babe?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip as he starts to stroke himself deeper. He feels so fucking good, his cock rubbing against just the right spot.

“Tell me,” he instructs softly. “Use your words, baby.”

“Feels s’good…” you whimper. “So big...”

Bokuto groans, picking up speed. He reaches under you to grab your ass, lifting your hips so he can go deeper. You grip his biceps, anchoring yourself.

“I love your cock, Kou,” you gasp between thrusts.

“Fuck… fuck…” Bokuto fucks you harder, the sound of slapping flesh filling the room, the bed rattling off the wall. “Tell me again.”

“I l-love – ah! – your cock…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your brain foggy with lust as euphoria takes over. “Gonna m-make me-!”

Bokuto feels you cream on his cock as he fucks you relentlessly, his cock harder than it’s ever been. Your words are like music to his ears. To him, the only thing sexier than you under him is when you’re telling him how good he’s making you feel.

It’s only after he’s fucked you through another two orgasms that you realise you might have underestimated who you’re with.

creampies

Bokuto loves to fuck you raw – the intimacy of having skin of skin contact with no physical barriers between you is pure euphoria to him. But it’s what comes after that he especially loves.

Bokuto has you bent over the arm of the sofa after a movie night quickly descended into something more carnal. You’re pinned in place, Bokuto’s large hard wrapped around the back of your neck. His cock reaches so deep in this position, he can feel you clench around him with every stroke, your needy pussy sucking him back in.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts. “I’m not gonna last, baby.”

“Cum for me, Kou,” you encourage, squeezing him tighter. “Cum inside me.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to say anything else. He unleashes a flurry of curses, his grip on your neck tightening as you feel him flood your pussy. Bokuto stills, grunting as he feels the last of his orgasm before withdrawing.

You make to stand up but Bokuto’s hand hasn’t left the back of your neck, keeping you in place.

“Stay there a sec, babe.”

There’s a second delay and then you feel his fingers on your lips, pulling them apart. His creamy load spills from your well-used cunt, dribbing down your thigh.

“Kou-!”

Bokuto scoops up some of the fluid, smearing it along your folds. He’s hypnotised by the sight of it, your little hole so full of his cum. You wiggle under his touch, feeling a little vulnerable under his inspection.

“What are you doing?”

“Sorry, babe, I just… fuck…” Bokuto breathes, feeling his cock harden again. “You look so beautiful like this.”

Your cheeks warm but it only lasts a second before you feel his fat mushroom tip nudging against your entrance once more. You whine as Bokuto sinks his now fully hard cock inside you again, the sloppiness of your cum-filled pussy making the lewdest noises.

“One more, babe,” Bokuto says, fucking his load back into you. “Just one more.”

making love

Bokuto is a sweet soul with a tender heart that’s easily bruised. You know when he’s in one of his emo modes because he makes it very obvious, moping around the house and sighing a lot. He’s touch-oriented at the best of times but when he’s in emo mode, he becomes the huggiest person ever.

You’re lying on the couch when Bokuto comes up to you for a cuddle, lying between your legs to hold one of your thighs, his head on your stomach. His large frame means you’re splayed a bit awkwardly around him but you don’t mind, stroking his hair and telling him how wonderful he is.

“You don’t think that…” he sighs into your thigh.

“Of course I do, Kou,” you assure him, scratching his scalp in the way you know he likes. He leans into your touch. “You’re sweet and kind and funny. And…”

Bokuto turns his head to look up at you, eyes wide and expectant.

“You’re so fucking hot.” You grin down at him.

A slow smile crawls across Bokuto’s face.

“Stop…” he says. “Really?”

You roll your eyes playfully.

“Duh. Have you seen your biceps?”

Bokuto grins wide, biting his bottom lip. He turns over to face you, crawling up your body until he’s holding himself over you. When he dips his head to kiss you, it’s not his usual high-energy make out but something slower and softer. You can tell he needs a lot of love right now.

You cup the back of his neck, smoothing your hand up his strong chest. Bokuto reaches down under your dress, gently pulling your panties down as you tug down his shorts. When he slides himself inside you, it’s slow and sensual.

“I love you so much, Kou,” you whisper to him as he presses your foreheads together. “I’ve never loved anyone like you.”

“I love you too,” Bokuto says and his voice breaks slightly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

You wrap your legs around him, holding him close to you. Bokuto usually fucks you hard and fast and full of energy but not when he’s feeling like this. When he’s sad and down on himself, he just needs to feel you while you hold him. Feel you love him physically.

Bokuto’s cock drags slowly against the nerves inside you, sending sparks through your body. You bury your face in his neck and sigh.

“You make me feel so good…” you tell him and he leans down to be closer to you.

His large forearm wraps around you as he hunches over you, keeping up his soft, languid strokes. Your bodies are pressed together, not an inch between you, just the way Bokuto likes. To hear your content sighs and soft moans, your gentle voice as you reassure him while your heavenly pussy makes him feel so good.

When Bokuto spills his cum inside you, his mouth never leaving yours, his heart is so full it could burst.

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