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hidden-poet · 11 days

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Animal

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, spanking, female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

AN: Something awoken within me. I never really cared for Wolverine, but suddenly I am binging all the movies. I don't really understand them so this will definitely not make sense to those who follow the fandom.

Word count: 12, 418

Logan walks through the city. People part as he storms through the path. Hearing the sound of his heavy boots as they thud against the concrete.

If his large frame wasn’t enough to warn off people, his scowl was. He didn’t even know what city he was in. Xavier sends him off to eliminate out of control mutants. Given the urgency, he is often sent without a goodbye, let alone a debrief.

He knew he was somewhere foreign. All the signs were in a different language with the english translation printed small underneath.

One of them read ‘bathhouse’ in bright red neon sign. He looks at the dirt caked under his nails. The final battle with the latest mutant took place in the forest.

He could feel small leaves in his hair, and dried mud clinging to his body.

A nice, hot, relaxing bath may elevate some of the tension he always carried with him, so he walks up the steps into the large stone building.

A lady in a robe greets him. The place is dark, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps. The front counter is placed in the entryway to the baths, and is sectioned by a large maroon colored wall that offers the men bathing privacy.

“How can I help you?” the woman asks.

“I’d like a bath”, he responds. His eyes go to view the bath that beckons him.

“Communal or private?”.

Logan looks around at the men in towels, lounging by the large pool. An elderly man takes off his towel to reveal nothing underneath, and steps into the steaming water.

“Private”, Logan answers, “please”.

She gives him a sly smile, asking him to follow her.

He is brought along the pool where men swam nude, and women who wore thick robes served them drinks, and cigars.

At the back of the communal bathing area there was a long stretch of red doors that were numbered in large golden letters. He follows her to door seven

The woman knocks on the door once before turning back to logan.

“Just through this door when you are ready”. With a sly smile she looks him up and down before returning to her hosting station.

“Ah-yeah, thanks”, he comments.

Muttering under his breath, he twists the door knob and takes a step inside, wanting nothing more than to wash away his adventure.

His hand clinches the door knob, his claws begging to come out upon hearing someone on the other side.

Had someone been following him? Another mutant, buddies with the one he had killed?

He lunges through the door, ready to face anyone willing. It startles him when he sees a young girl.

Your hair was blown out to give it volume, and styled in an effortlessly curled way. Your dress was short and black. The halter neck tied together behind your long neck, and was cut down to the middle of your chest. The thin material only reached your upper thigh. Your lipstick was a dark red, matching your pointed shoes. You looked ready for a club, not a bath.

You push yourself back into a chest of draws, surprised at his entrance.

“shit”, Logan turns from you, training his eyes to the ground. It felt wrong to look at you. “Sorry, i was told to come in here”.

“You were told correctly”, you state, “I am ready for you”.

Your voice was low and seductive, making Logan hard under his jeans.

“Ready for me?” Logan questions. He feels his brows furrow, the sweat that he had accumulated started to run down his forehead.

“This is a bathhouse”,you state, “You got a private room. You get bathed in private rooms”.

You seemed as confused as he was.

He looks at you stunned. His cock ached in his jeans to think of you bathing him. But you were young. Young, pretty, and naive. What were you doing here, giving baths to dirty old men like him. He couldn’t have it. Couldn’t be a part of it.

His other side begged him to have a bath, and enjoy your touch, but he didn’t want to do anything that he would regret. The animal side of him was hard to contain. He was sure you would pull the wrong string, and the restraint he had built would come undone.

He couldn’t even bring himself to bid you goodbye. All his will power went to turning back to the door.

“Wait” you call out. He freezes immediately, and looks over his shoulder at you.

“Is there something wrong with me?” you ask. His heart sunk at your question. He didn’t mean to offend you.

“Am I not desirable enough for you?”, you continue.

“God, no” he states, shutting the door firmly behind him as he turns. He didn’t want anyone passing to see you through the door. “No, you’re anything but undesirable”.

You blush but remain in your seductive composure. Your hand waves him forward, and his feet shuffle to your command.

“Well then stay. If they see you walk out, i’ll get in trouble. Men start walking out of my bathhouse, and they might turf me”, you state.

“Look, baby, I am just looking for a bath,” you eye the water so he continues to explain, “a bath alone. Without the help of a young woman, no matter how they look”.

“You don’t seem the nervous kind”, you provoke.

“I ain’t” he defends.

“How about this, I won’t look”. You spin around and face the wall, covering your eyes with your hand. “You can take a bath without my help, and I won’t get fired. Win, win”.

He thinks about it. With you facing away, and not touching him, what harm could be done? He would be doing you a favor.

“You sure you can restrain yourself?” he flirts.

Your giggle echoes off the wall to his ear.

“I am sure”.

Logan strips, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and entering the marble tub centered in the room. The water is steaming, and works to unknot his mussels.

He moans as he sinks into the water.

“Feel good?”, you ask.

His cock twitches at your words. He struggles to keep his voice even as he answers.

“Yeah”.

“I am y/n”, you comment, bringing your hand down to face the red wall.

“Is that your real name?”, he asks. He shouldn’t care what your real name was, but he did.

“Yeah”, you respond. He listens for your heart beat as you answer. It never falters so it was the truth, or a lie that had become the truth. Either way it was good enough for him.

“Logan”, he gives.

“In town for business or pleasure, Logan?”, you ask.

Your butt was three inches from the bottom of your dress. It curved around the material. Logan wanted to jump up from the water, and bite into it.

“Business” he answered absentmindedly. He forces himself to look away and up to the ceiling.

Your heartbeat was even. You weren’t scared of him. It comforted him to know.

“What do you do?”. The question irked him.

“Nothing good”, he spat.

You let out a breathy laugh as if he had told a bad joke.

“Men who do ‘nothing good’ aren’t afraid of young women in bathhouses”, you jest.

“Well I suppose I do bad things for a good cause”, he admits.

Although it never felt like a good cause. Only some of the mutants he killed deserved it. Most of them were only confused and scared. They were too dangerous to be allowed a second chance at reasoning. Like a wild dog, they had to be put down.

It would have made Logan feel better if he didn’t enjoy the fight.

“What bad things for a good cause?”.

Logan slides further into the water, trying to shield himself from your questioning.

‘Is this a bathhouse or a police station?” he bit. His voice was hard, and carried a commanding tone that made your heart skip.

He wanted to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“I am sorry. I am not used to talking to the clients. I overstepped”, you confess.

“Have you worked here long?”.

He wanted to turn the attention back on you, but he chose the wrong path. The last thing he wanted to hear was you admitting to washing men.

The image of you bathing other old men angered him. His claws dug through the bones in his hand, itching to come to the surface.

“A year”. It seemed like you were content in your workplace, but Logan fights to keep his claws under his skin. He splashed his hands under the water, worried that you would turn and see him in his mutated state.

You shuffle slightly, angling yourself so you were always turned to him. You move off the wall, back over to the door. Logan watches you, his body shifting to hide himself if you decide to look. His member was hard under the clear water. He didn’t want you to think he was some sort of pervert.

“Hey”, he calls, watching you move to pick up his clothes. Your hand shielded your eyes to him in the tub, “What are you doing?”.

You separate his room key, wallet from his jean pocket and place them next to his shoes before picking up his clothes, and turning your back once more. Moving to the far wall where a washer and dryer were stored under a sink.

“It’s part of the service. I wash your clothes for you”, you state.

“Just leave them” he commands, “they are fine”.

You ignore him, throwing the clothes in the machine, and starting the cycle.

“You’re paying for it”.

You crouch in your high heels as you dispense the detergent into the washing machine on the floor before rising back up, but you don’t turn. Talking to him through the shared space rather than at him.

“Do you mind if I sit at the vanity?”, you ask him.

“No. Sit where you are comfortable”.

Your eyes train at the walls of the room as you slide along to the vanity set in the corner. You stop just before you get to the mirror, and kick off your heels so you could drag the seat with your foot over to you. You sat facing the wall like a child on time-out.

He notices without your shoes, you were quite small. A small, pretty thing in a house of old men who wouldn’t need to be twice your size to overpower you. It didn’t sit right with logan.

“So, how did you end up here?” he asks.

“What this, a bath house or a police station”, you joke.

He stifles a laugh. He didn’t mind a bit of cheek.

“Fair enough’’, he relents, “Just tell me if any of these old guys ever caused you any trouble?”.

Just as he claws retreat, they shoot back again. If your answer was yes, he was going to find out who, and where after his bath.

But you shake your head no.

“We have a button that calls for help. As soon as I get a bad feeling I press the button and they are thrown out”.

You were intuitive like him. He wondered if it was a survival technique you were forced to pick up. He wanted to know why, but knew it was none of his business.

Instead, he picks up a cloth and runs the cooling water over his skin. He was right, mud stuck to his chest hairs, along with dried blood.

“You, uh, press that button a lot?” he pries.

“Enough times to know when I should”. Your voice had lost its seductive tone as it hardened.

“Maybe you should quit. Do something else”, he suggests.

He would love for you to do something else. Something outside of harm's way. You were a grown woman who could decide what she wanted. He had no right to tell you what to do, but he wanted you to listen to him.

“Only one of us hates their job”.

“You like this?”, his voice came out too angry. Your heart skipped another beat as he raised his voice at you.

“You like touching dirty old men? Help them get off?”, he bites his tongue to the point of blood to stop himself talking to you this way.

“No one gets off. I bathe them and send them on their way. Most of them are just lonely”.

“Lonely”, Logan scoffs, pushing the water away from him. But you were right. Logan was lonely. A dirty, old, lonely man wanting to taste your young flesh.

How many other dirty, old, lonely men wanted to do the same? How many times would you be able to get to the button to press for help before it was too late?

He wanted to protect you. To have his place in protecting you. Something about you drew him in. The animal called for him to throw you over his shoulder, and take you from his place in all his stark naked glory. But you were no one to him. He had only met you by mistake five minutes ago.

Your heart rate was too fast. He had succeeded in scaring you. If his clothes weren’t washing, he was sure you would have kicked him out.

He sighs, bringing his hands to the side of the tub.

“Darl, I am sorry. I just hate to think of a pretty young thing like you here without anyone looking out for you”.

“I look out for me, Logan”, you declare.

He nods his head, almost in disbelief. He rests the back of his head against the hard marble, causing the water to swish as he moves.

“There’s shampoo on the caddy. You should wash your hair. I noticed that some of it was stuck together”, you comment.

He was thrown across the forest floor just last night. He must have taken a harder hit than he realized.

“I can do it if you want?”, you offer.

“No. No. You stay right there” he demands. His hands itched to pull you in the bathtub with him. He wanted you to stay as far away as possible.

As he squirts the small bottle of shampoo into his hands, the washing machine rings out a tune to signal it was done.

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer” you declare.

He watches as you move again over to the machine, and kneel to transfer the clothes into the dryer.

Your bare feet make a nice sound against the tiles. Logan notices that your little toes were painted a dark red, and your fingers were perfectly shaped and painted the same color.

He supposed a woman of your profession, maintenance was important. He pretended for a second that wasn’t the case. That instead, you were his little woman.

He had come home after a long day of lumberjacking like he used to do, and you were fussing over him. The thought remained only for a second before he shook it off.

Everyone he loved died. A little thing like you didn’t stand a chance in his life.

“I hope you like the scent of vanilla”, you remark.

He grunts in response, dipping under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair. It felt lighter as a rose from the water. It was due for a good wash.

He begins with a conditioner while he watches you lean against the counter of the sink instead of returning to your seat. His fingers dug into his scalp, pushing the liquid into his hair.

“Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to look?”, you ask.

“No girlfriend. No wife. No dog”, he washes the soap from his hands, “I honestly didn’t know what I was signing up for”.

“Are you glad you signed up for it?”, your seductive tone returned from its disappearance.

“The view has been nice”, he returns.

“If you like my back, you should my front”.

His hands curled into fists. If anything had been in his hands, it would have been snapped in two.

“If i see your front, you might not see the light of day again”.

His eyes shut in rhythm with your heart skipping.

“Fuck. no. I didn’t mean” he began to justify but had nowhere to go. He had meant what he said, the way he said it.

“All this talk of protection from dirty, old men. Did you mean you?”.

Your voice didn’t sound scared, but your heart beat faster than it had all night.

Logan rises from the tub with conditioner still weighing down his hair.

“Look, how long until my clothes are ready?”.

“Ten minutes”, you answer.

He couldn’t wait ten minutes. He had to leave now.

“Just give them to me”, he demands.

“There's still ten minutes”, you complain.

“Give them to me, now!” his voice rose at you once more.

You jump as he yelled at you, quickly moving to pull the wet clothes from the machine and throw them backwards towards him.

They don’t go far enough from you and Logan is forced to get too close for his liking to dress himself.

He pulls his wet shirt on himself, the long sleeves stick to his skin as he yanks it on.

“Keep facing forward. Don’t turn around”, he orders.

“But” you begin. He can see you slow movement to turn around so he gently shoves you in the right direction.

“Listen to me. Face the wall”. His voice was angry again, commanding you to stay still.

The jeans didn’t want to go on wet. With his harsh, and quick movements it felt like he was in a fight. He does eventually get them on, only bothering to do up his button and not his zip.

He doesn’t bother putting on his socks. Keeping them in his hand while he picks up his wallet, shoes, and keys from the floor.

The jiggling of the keys gives way to his plan of escape.

“You still have fifteen minutes”, you state not moving from your position on the wall.

He wondered why you cared that he was leaving early. Did you not want him to get away from you? Or where you wondered about his reaction if he found out he was cut short?

“It doesn’t matter”, he barks as he makes a quick bee line to the door.

He pauses once he reaches it. The water pools at his feet as he turns to look at you once more.

“I am sorry” he comments.

He races back down towards the door he came in through. Everybody stares at his dripping state. Some men laugh quietly among themselves. He could still hear your elevated heart beat in room seven.

“Hey! Hey!” a voice calls behind him.

In his agitated state he was ready to rip their head off. He turns to do it to see the lady who greeted him.

“You still pay full price”, she demands.

“Huh? Yeah”. He steamrolled over her to the counter, pulling out his wallet.

His focus turns to the hallway expecting you to appear, but from what he could see your door never opened.

He taps his bank card without looking at the price. Xavier kept him comfortable for his work.

He leaves without approval, bumping back into the crowd of people as he makes his way back on the path.

Soaking wet, and barefoot, he makes his way back to his small apartment.

His claws dig underneath his skin, wanting to come out despite there being no threat. He fails to make it to the bed, laying on the carpet floor instead.

Your name repeats in his mind.

—---------------------------

He tries to forget you for the next three days. He was supposed to be back by now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.

Xavier called him every hour to be sent straight to voicemail.

Logan walked the city, often finding himself walking along the front of the bathhouse. He never goes in, but listens for your voice, and breathes deep to smell your faint scent.

You didn’t talk much to your clients. A few flirty comments when they first arrived, but then silence as you completed your work.

You didn’t talk to them like you talked to him, and that had to mean something.

The worst part was not knowing exactly what you were doing. He loved to hear the beeping of the machine as you pressed the buttons, because at least that meant you weren’t touching them.

Even in his best efforts he couldn’t manage to walk away. He knows he should. There were plenty of other mutants that needed to be put down.

He should continue with his life, and you yours.

He couldn’t keep you. He could barely keep the kids at the mansion alive, and they all had powers to protect themselves.

He would be throwing you in the line of fire. A fire that he might not be able to protect you from.

You would grow old too. Unless he could figure out a way to keep you young. Could Xavier know of a way? He was sure that he could protect you from everything but time. He would need some help. A connection to someone who could slow down time in adjacent to him.

He grunts as he drives his claw into his right thigh. He lets out a painful laugh as he pounds his fist into the brink building he was hiding behind.

The brick crumbled under his fist. A reminder of what he could do to you without even intending it. He would only need to make a mistake once.

He was worried about protecting you from others, when he should have been worried about protecting you from him.

He was no good for you, even if you would be very good for him. He was destined to live out his life alone. A punishment for his ability.

Maybe a goodbye would help him. If he could leave you with a nice impression instead of an old, dirty man, maybe he could leave.

He crosses the sea of people to the steps of the building. He could hear you as you said goodbye to your client, and drained the water from the tub.

He waits by the bottom of the step until the man came down and passed him before entering.

Was this a place where you made appointments? How long would he have to wait to see you again? He wondered.

It was a different lady at the counter which alleviated some of Logan's anxiety.

She greets him in the same manner as the other lady.

“I was after a private bath with y/n. Would she be available?”.

The woman looks at her computer before smiling up at him.

“You’re in luck. She just finished up. Follow me”.

Logan wished he dressed nicer. Put on some cologne, brushed his hair.

Your scent became stronger the closer he got, it seemed to ease his nerves.

The women knocks three times on the door, and Logan's hand goes to reach for the knob prematurely.

“Just a second”, you call out.

“She won’t be long”, the woman addresses Logan, who drops his hand away.

With a nod and a smile the woman returns to her desk, and Logan waits by the door for you. He ran over what he was going to say, but when you swung the door open he had forgotten his opening line.

“I never expected to see you again” you state.

“Me either”, he responds.

To his surprise you step back from the door to allow him in. He quickly takes the invite, shutting the door behind him.

You were dressed in another black dress. This one had thick straps and an appropriate neckline but an open back that scooped down as far as possible.

“I wanted to apologize”, he expresses.

You tested the running water with your hand as you listened to him.

“You are far from my worst customer”, you revel.

You don’t look at him as you add bubbles to the bath.

“Still, what I said” Logan pauses under your stare before continuing, “What i did was uncalled for”.

You smile a pretty smile at him almost as if you were laughing at him.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Now did you want me to face the wall again?”, you ask.

Logan twists on his spot. “I ain’t looking for a bath. Just to apologize”.

“Have one” you insist.

You walk over to him, taking his belt into your hands. He catches your wrist to stop you from taking it off.

“You got me in trouble last time”, you tell him, “You’re not supposed to walk out scared and wet. If you walk out now in less than a minute they’ll wonder what I did”.

“Well I owe you two apologies”, he states.

“If you're looking to apologize, get in the tub”.

He feels you pull out of his hold, and he lets you make distance so you could spin around.

His self-restraint wasn’t that strong so he rids himself of his clothes and hides under the bubbles in the tub.

Hearing the water splash, you turn to him.

With the weight of his adamantium bones the water rises to the top and you quickly go to turn off the tap.

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the faucet and walk back up to the top of the tub.

“I can’t see anything”, you console as you kneel down beside him.

He reaches his hand out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re a world of hurt for me, bub”.

“Your world only lasts fifty minutes”, you tease.

You move out of his touch to go behind him. Your small fingers squeeze his big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch as you work your way along his shoulders to his neck and back.

“Feels good, bub” he praises.

“Feels good?” you repeat.

Your hands trail down his chest, reaching for the top of the water. His hands catch yours before they could immerse under.

“Don’t” he warns.

“Okay. I am sorry” you apologize, tugging your hands free and back up to his neck, “I’ll stay above water”.

He found it hard to relax again. He felt vulnerable, naked under your touch. It would be better if you too were naked. It would make it less embarrassing when you realized he was hard under the water.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash” you say.

He reaches out behind him for you to stop you moving away.

“No. Keep going”, he protests.

You don’t go to move again. Your fingers continue to massage him until he relaxes once more.

Only then do you stop to reach for the shampoo bottle in front of him. You squirt it into your hands, and then massage it into his head.

He falls back against the tub, loving the feeling of your hands twisting in his hair.

You do it for longer than necessary seeing that he liked it.

Your fingers roll in a circle on the side of his head, causing him to groan at the feeling.

His claws push up, moving the bones of his hands. It was painful every time but Logan had gotten used to the feeling. He flexes his fingers in an attempt to dissuade them from coming through.

You must have noticed the grimace on his face as he forces the metal back into his hand because you stop massaging and reach for the cup to rinse his hair.

You’re careful not to get it into his eyes, smoothing back the hair as the water and soap runs off. He could see why men pay for this.

He takes your hand not holding the cup and forces it against his cheek as he lays back. With his eyes closed he breathes softly against your skin.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

“I am worried I’ll never be okay again”, he admits.

“You’re tough. I can see it” you flip your hand so your palm is pressed against his cheek, “You’ll be okay”.

You drop the cup next to him, and reach for the conditioner. He is grateful that you allow him to rest against your hand as you massage it into his head.

You try your best to get his whole head but his position made it difficult.

"You know you don’t have a scar over you”, you mention.

“Soft living’”, he jokes, although it was only funny to him.

As you leave the conditioner to soak, you pick up a clean rag and begin to scrub his skin.

Disappointment fills him when he feels you trying to release your hand from under him. He could have kept it stuck there but chooses to raise his head.

You lift up his arm and scrub under his armpit, and along his side. Carefully not to scrub any skin under the water.

You move onto the next and he laughs at you.

“The full treatment here”.

You smile back as you continue to work.

“$300 should get you the full treatment”, you utter.

“$300? Christ, that’s a year's worth of cigars”, he remarks.

“You smoke?” you ask him. He feels your hands push him forward so he leans for you to wash his back.

“Like a chimney” he honestly admits, “You get $300 an hour?”.

You were done with his back so he leans against the tub again.

“No” you state as you reach for the cup that had sunken under the water. You stop yourself before your hand goes under. “Would you mind passing me the cup?”.

“Oh yeah”, he remarks, reaching down into the water and bringing up your cup.

You take it from him and begin to rinse his hair.

“No, I make $150 an hour. The house makes half”.

“Still pretty good. Maybe I am in the wrong line of business”, Logan quips playfully.

“Maybe you are” you jest back, “You never did tell me what you did”.

“I told you. Bad things”, he pulls up out of your hold. He didn’t want to tell you what he did. What he was.

“Are you always this tense?” you ask him.

“Yes” was the short, curt reply.

With a final squeeze of your fingers against his neck, you move down to the bottom of the bath. Slowly you reach for his soapy feet that were propped up against the end of the tub. When he doesn’t object, you take it as permission and begin to massage his feet.

His head makes a heavy thud as it falls back into the marble. It had been a long time since he had ever felt this good.

When he hears you begin to speak, he lifts his head back up to have eye contact with you.

“What made you come back?”, you question.

He feels you apply more pressure to his foot as you ask. Something about the question made you nervous.

“You”, he answers honestly, “i didn’t want you to think I was a prick”.

Your lips curve into a smile at him, and Logan feels his heart twist.

“I didn’t think you were a prick”, you say.

“You’d be the first”, he huffs.

Relief floods him. He wanted to ask if you thought he was a dirty, old man but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

No more conversation interrupts the peace. Logan allows himself to relax into the water while you dig your fingers into his flesh. He lets out soft groans to let you know that he appreciated what you were doing.

All too soon, your strong fingers stop pushing into the soft flesh of his foot. His head shoots back up automatically out of his relaxed composure.

His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and the steam from the bath had begun to sweat his skin. He looked like a wild animal, while you looked put together as always.

With your make-up perfectly placed and not a hair out of place. He would love to see you disheveled. A whining mess underneath him as he teased another orgasim from you. But tonight would be the last night he would ever see you.

You would go on, find a nice man to marry and have children to. Die of old age when your time comes.

Logan would go his separate way. Keep living well past what he desired. With no purpose, and dying friends.

You rise from your knees, and he watches you as you retrieve a towel from a warming rack and bring it back over.

With your body half turned to him, you hold out his towel.

“Get out and I’ll dry your hair”, you offer.

He takes the towel, and you walk over to your vanity as he rises from the water and wraps the towel around his waist.

He follows you, taking a seat when you tell him to.

You look at him in the mirror as you plug your hairdryer in. Once you began to maneuver the device around his head, your eyes followed but his remained staring at you in the mirror.

Sitting directly in front of you, he could see the actual size difference. You were half of him if that.

You said you looked out for you, but how would that be possible? You weren’t anything special. Were you a mutant too? Or just a naive little girl who had never faced any real danger.

Maybe it would be best if he were to take you. Danger lurks everywhere. He could take you home. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to you.

The bones in his knuckles separated and the metal began to break skin but as the sound of the hairdryer cut, his claws retracted back in.

He couldn’t take you. He was old enough to be your great grandfather. What had happened to him that he was thinking these thoughts? Has loneliness finally caught up with him after a century of being alive?

Your fingers snake up through his hair again, itching his scalp and the thoughts of taking you returned.

“There, all dry” you state.

The sound of a timer goes off, startling Logan who was expecting something wrong from the sudden noise.

“That’s our five minute warning” you tell him.

The forty-five minutes went too quickly. He would never see you again, or at least he had promised himself he would never see you again.

You gather his clothes for him and throw them over a blind.

“You can get dressed behind that”.

He nods his head. Moving quickly to cover himself again.

These thoughts were relentless telling him not to go. She couldn’t stop you from staying, no one could. His conscience told him. But he needed to leave your presence before he did something he couldn’t just apologize for.

Maybe some distance would help. He had been away from home too long. He just needed to return home and live comfortably for a while. Focus on the kids at school.

He makes sure his jeans were properly done up, and that his shirt and jacket were the right way before returning from behind the blind.

You were by the vanity chair, back on your knees with his shoes next to you.

You smile at him and pat the chair. Telling him without words to come to you.

He follows your request sitting down in front of you. You came up to his thigh in height.

“I can do it” he states.

“Full service” you reply.

He feels the wood of the chair cracking under his hands so he moves it to the top of his thigh in a tight ball.

You’re gentle as you place the socks on his feet, followed by his shoes. You even do up the laces for him despite the end timer going off two minutes prior.

You rise from the floor, taking his hand to lead him to the door.

“Will I see you again?” you ask him.

“No” he promises but taking another look at you, he wonders if he can follow through.

“Well, goodbye then, Logan”, you gently say.

“Goodbye, y/n” he returns.

He tears himself away from your door, walking the same quick pace back to the front counter where he throws his card on the desk and pushes his way back into the busy street.

His instinct told him to go back, he had to fight against it the whole way home.

—--------------------

He thought distance was the answer, but his heart ached to go get you. No amount of alcohol or pills satisfied it.

Everyone knew something was wrong. He got sick of everyone asking him what happened on his trip. If he was okay. If he wanted to talk.

He had gotten more aggressive than usual. Things that he could normally brush off, now end with someone pinned against the wall by their throat.

Xavier tried his best to get into Logan's head but his resolve would not soften. No one would understand how he felt. No one would justify the measures he was willing to go.

He booked a flight only a month later. Every day was spent thinking of you until he broke. He was a hero. Saved people daily. What was one life if it meant he was able to save countless others.

He books a room, the closest and cheapest to the bathhouse. He could smell you from here now that he had locked onto your scent.

The old bed creaked under his weight as he struggled with himself. With his head in his hands, he grumbled to himself.

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking these things to himself. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone.

But then he heard it. Your sweet voice welcoming a man into your door. His feet took off before he could stop them. It was only a short distance of a block to the bathhouse.

The street was busy no matter the time of day, but much like when he first walked down it people parted to let him through.

When he grips the door knob it shatters underneath his hand. So he is more gentle when he pushes the door open.

A new woman greets him cautiously but he ignores her going straight to your room. The woman yells at him as he walks. One brave man tried to stop him and ended up thrown half a meter into the pool.

No one bothers him after that. He could hear the water move as you washed the man.

Knowing he will break the door knob, he instead pushes the door open, snapping the lock.

You gasp hearing the impact, and look at him startled. The position was compromising. You were sitting back on your heels scrubbing the man's back wearing the same halter neck slut dress that you wore when he first met you.

“Logan?” you question, “What are you doing?”.

The man rises from the tub, unashamed by his naked state.

“Get out”, Logan growls.

“Listen buddy, I paid the full-” the man stops his sentence when the claws emerge from logans hands.

You shrink back to the floor, using your hand to keep you upright.

“Get out”, he repeats.

This time the man scrambles to the door, running past Logan without his clothes.

You try to follow suit but Logan's long claws block you from your exit.

You stare at the shiny metal, your face reflecting back at you.

“You’re coming with me”, Logan states, putting away his claws so he could take you by the arm.

“Let go of me” you beg, trying to pull your arm from his grip.

He leads you to the chaos of the bathhouse. Word had spread that a mutant had entered the building and now people ran for cover.

“Let go. No!”, you scream.

You pull your arm too harshly in his hold, he could hear the muscles in your arm straining under the pressure. He loosens his grip so not to hurt you, but brings you closer to his chest.

“Stop it, kid” he demands, “You’re going to hurt yourself”.

“Stop, logan. Please, just let me go”. Your heart was fast, and your eyes dripped with tears.

He reaches up to touch your face but a gunshot pierces his body before it lands. An annoyed groan rubbles from his throat, and he pushes you away from the line of fire.

Another bullet lands in his chest when he turns to see a man in a robe holding a shaking gun.

He dodges the next shot, stalking forward to the frozen man, he grabs the gun out of his weak hold and sends him to the floor with a headbutt.

Tossing the gun aside, he turns to see you no longer in your spot. You couldn’t have made it to the door in that short of time, and your scent was still strong in the room.

He follows it behind the bar to where he saw you squeezed into a tight corner.

“Hey, bub” he tries his best to use a soft voice, “we gotta go. Come on”.

He reaches for you, but you push his hands away.

“Come on” he says more forcefully. He reaches for your waist and not your arm to avoid hurting you.

You thrash against him, begging him to let you go.

He allows it until you reach the front door then he extracts a single claw from his hand that crossed your stomach.

“Walk” he demands.

He manoovers himself so he was behind you with a hand on your stomach and his claw pressed into your side.

You allow him to walk you down the steps and through the crowd, back to his apartment. You were too scared to say anything. Some people gave you a strange look as you passed them crying but no one stopped to help.

“You’re alright. I ain't going to hurt you”, he promises.

He would never hurt you. As soon as you had managed to make your way through the crowd, Logan retracts his claw completely, instead placing both his strong hands on your hips to keep you moving forward.

“Almost there. Atta girl, just keep moving”. He encourages.

The dim lights of his hotel came into view. The vacancy sign buzzed allowing small flashes of light in an otherwise dark street.

He could see fine given his heightened ability, but knew that your lack of senses must be adding to your anxiety.

“Alright, this way”, he takes your wrist into his hand, trusting that you would follow him up the metal stairs.

Your heel snagged on the step. Without Logan's hold you would have been sent flying forward.

“Sorry” you gasp, trying to let him know that it was an honest stumble and not a deliberate act on your part.

“Are you hurt?”, he steps down to your level, throwing your arm over his shoulder while he bends down to take off your shoes, “Let's take these off”.

He holds them in his hand, and your waist in the other and continues to lead you up.

“Come on, we are almost there. Just down the end”.

You reach the top of the stairs and he leads you to the end of the corridor. Stopping at the door that peeled with paint while he digs in his pockets for his key.

He opens the door, quickly pushing you inside and shutting it again.

“Here sit” he suggests.

With his hands off you, he turns on the bedside lamp so you could see.

You do take a seat on the bed, and Logan stands in front of you.

“You’re a mutant?” you finally say.

“Yeah” he admits with a hard tone.

“Are you going to kill me?”, you whisper.

“Christ, no”, he kneels down in front of you so he could be in your eyesight, his hands caged around your legs on the mattress.

“Y/n, I am one of the good guys”, his own words froze him. His eyes cast down to where your dress has risen dangerously high up your thigh. His finger traces up from your knee to your dress hemline.

“Not that you are going to believe that after I am done with you” he says more to himself than you.

“What are you going to do?”, you quake.

He rises himself enough to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Whatever I want”, he whispers against your lips.

He pushes you as gently as he can into the mattress. Using his body weight to cement your place under him.

“Get off”, you complain the second his lips are off you.

“I can’t” Logan protests. His lips go to your neck, biting down harshly. He intended to leave a mark. A claim of sorts for the world to see.

He may have bitten down too harshly, as you push against his face with your hands.

He can hear your heartbeat as it thumps in your chest. It stills him in the crook of your neck.

He didn’t want to scare you.

“I am sorry”, he admits softly into your skin.

He places a soft kiss on the sore he had just created, and reaches to untie the knot of fabric around your neck.

Your hand reaches up to catch the fabric as it falls, holding it over your breasts.

He moves on, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, and pulling them off onto the floor.

“It’s alright, just breathe”, he concludes.

You keep your eyes shut, and your breaths manic.

In an effort to make you more comfortable, he lifts you up by your armpits and places you in the center of the bed. He changes positions to match yours, straddling you on the bed while he moves the pillows under your head, and by your sides.

You lay there frozen with your eyes squeezed shut, while he removes his clothes on top of you.

You feel his attention return when his lips press down on yours, his hand gently on the side of your face.

“Open your eyes, and look at me”, he commands in a low whisper.

You are met with his face, and bare shoulders peering over you.

“There she is”, he grins a beautiful smile as he brushes his thumb along your cheek.

His lips go to yours again before trailing down to your neck, and chest.

His hands met your on the fabric of your chest, and he tugs it down, bunching the dress around your hips.

A kiss is placed at the top of your breast activating your fight.

You tried to push against him but he was too heavy to even shift.

“Easy” he tells you, “take it easy. It’s alright”.

He comes back up to your face, and begins to stroke your face with his finger again.

“Settle down”, he breathes.

“Logan, please just let me go”, you beg.

“I tried to,” he admits, “but I've never been much of a quiter”.

He kneads the flesh of your breast in his hand, and grows darker at the thought of not completing what he wanted to do.

“Now you’re going to relax and let me take care of you, or I'll tie you to the bed”.

You don’t move again as Logan trails down your body to slide the bunched fabric of your dress down.

He nestles between your thighs next, keeping a strong grip as he inserts himself into you.

He groans as you accept him. Despite your protests you were warm, and wet for him.

He places his hands on stomach feeling the skin that had been hidden from him for so long.

“Please keep your hands away from me”, you shudder. You curl into yourself as much as you could, scared that the blades would come out and pierce into you.

He takes his hand off your stomach, per your request.

In an act to show you he had no intention of hurting you, he releases his claws, and drives them into the mattress either side of you. He feels as they push through the fabric to the bed frame.

“I would never hurt you” he promises.

He keeps his weight on his hands as he thrusts into you. Your hand remained on your chest until they sprang out to his shoulder in an attempt to control the pace.

He slows down until he is at a pace where you no longer push on his shoulder.

As he continues you find yourself building, so you turn away and bury your head into your pillow.

You hear as his claw is pulled from the mattress, and feel his tight grip as it latches around your chin. He pulls your face back to his direction, resting his forehead on top of yours.

You feel his quick breaths on your skin, and breathe them in.

His eyes were closed, but one hand now held your face in place, and the other held your hip down.

You gasp when you feel yourself cuming around him. A low growl makes its way to your ear but you were more focused on Logan fucking you through your orgasm.

Your nails become claws when he doesn’t stop. You make weak sounds, but no words as he thrusts into you.

“You can take it” he says, somehow knowing what you were trying to say.

His hold on your chin becomes hurtful as he reaches his end. You yank at his fingers trying to pry them off but your fingers slip from the force you were trying to use and makes no difference to him.

A loud moan tells you he was done before you felt the warm substance drip from you.

With a smaller, satisfied groan he opens his eyes to look at you. The same smile appears on his face preceding a deep kiss to your lips.

He doesn’t remove himself from you but loosens his hand on your chin, and hip.

You feel his body weight as he rests his head back on your forehead. He was conscious to keep his weight off you, yet the skin he pressed against yours, pinned you to the mattress.

“You alright, princess?” he pants.

You don’t answer him, and he kisses you in your silence.

By the third time you are fucked dumb. You have a glazed look in your eye, and your body is weak against his. He uses you like a toy. Kissing you, and fucking you while you lay there with little energy left.

His stamina and quick recovery times meant that once was never enough to satisfy him. You would lay quietly next to him for only a few minutes before he was ready to go again.

You whine as he approaches you again, not ready for yet another round.

He lays on top of you, gently caging your head between his arms as he whispers “I know, I know”.

He did know. When you began to cry from overstimulation, he felt terrible but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wasn’t anywhere near his peak, and your pussy clenched so nicely around him.

“Don’t cry”, he begs, “sh, don’t cry”.

You wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure if you could even hear him in your state, but he continued to talk anyway.

“Sh, its alright. Feel good there?”, he asks as your hips buck against him.

“Feels good there, hey baby”, he targets the spot that makes your hips buck, and you latch on to his strong shoulders with your nails.

“Pretty girl like you should always feel good. Can I be the one to always make you feel good?”.

No more fresh tears sprang from your eyes, but the path was still wet, and a large tear balanced on the outer corner of your eye.

He moves his hands closer, using his thumbs to brush off the water.

“No more crying, hey bub”.

You turn your head away from him, resting your forehead on his bicep. He turns his attention to applying the right amount of force between your legs.

He gives you a bigger rest time between the next one. Despite, him roaring to go again.

You lay pressed against his side, half-asleep. He slung his arm over the top of your pillow, waiting for you to recover.

Your lipstick was worn off from his ferocious kissing, and your hair had come undone around you.

You open your eyes to look up at him, and he takes it as a sign that he could continue.

He takes your chin into his hand to keep it still as he slides down in the bed next to you.

“No. That’s enough”, you demand, trying to wiggle your head from his hold.

“Just one more” he promises, “I just need one more”.

He kisses you as he hooks your leg over his hip. Reaching back to guide himself into your swollen pussy. You fit together like a jigsaw piece, another reason why all of this was meant to be.

He liked the intimacy of the position, pushing against your lower back to force you closer. He holds his hand there as he thrusts into you, keeping you from wiggling away.

You rest your head on his chest, and arm over his neck taking what he gives you.

His pace is gentler than it had been all night. Slow, controlled thrusts that rocked your body rather than shook it.

His arm under your head kept you level with the large man, but also meant that every moan, and whimper went straight into his ear.

It was encouraging for him to hear you reluctantly enjoying yourself. He only wanted to bring you pleasure never pain.

You groan softly as you cum again, and it triggers his own orgasm.

When he was done with you for the final time, you collapse into the mattress without Logan's body scaffolding yours.

He brushes the hair that had fallen over your face away with his large palm, and lays flat on the bed.

“Come here” he requested, opening his arms for you.

With eyes closed you shuffle to his chest where he pulls you just over his heart. You fall asleep almost instantly, but Logan remains awake gently stroking your hair.

He had been called an animal all his life, but tonight was the only time he truly felt like it.

—-------------------

You woke the next morning to the sound of his voice,

“Hey bub, hey, come on, we have to get going”.

You feel him smooth his palm over the side of your face, and you knock it away. It felt like knocking your hand against an immovable metal pole.

Last night ruined you. You weren’t sure you could rise from the bed if you wanted to.

“I am not going anywhere with you”, you state.

He had taken what he wanted. The deal now was to leave you in peace.

The next sound of his claws unsheathing and digging themselves into the mattress next to you made your eyes sprung open in shock.

“Get up, now”, he demands. He was eager to get home and get you settled in.

Xavier would get involved if Logan was absent for too long. A week here and there was nothing unusual but Xavier knew Logan too well to ignore any strange behavior.

He passes you your dress as you rise, and you quickly place it on, looking for your panties next. Watching you put them back on made Logan want to take them back off but the plane was departing soon.

The short, black dress was definitely more night time appropriate. You stand trying to cover your chest with your folded arms.

He takes off his jacket, passing it to you as he speaks.

“How far is your place from the bathhouse?” he asks.

“Not far, a block”, you answer. You take the jacket off him and zip it up over your dress.

It smelt of him, and his cigars.

“Come on”. He says, taking your arm and tugging you behind him as he left the apartment.

“I can get there myself”, you fought.

“Kid, we haven’t got time”. He moves his grip to a harsher one on your upper arm, and half carries you in the direction he wanted you to go in.

Your heels click behind him down the steps. He detours to drop his room key back to reception before continuing on the path back to your work.

He is silent as he backtracks to the bathhouse. The street is much busier during the day. People stare as you pass them looking.

When the Bathhouse comes into clearing he can feel you pull against him trying to get him to stop.

He halts of his own accord, peering down at you in the middle of a busy street.

“I need to get my keys and phone from work”.

“I can get through the door. Don’t worry about that”, he shakes you slightly, getting impatient with the lack of direction, “Which way?”

You point to the left, and take the led back to your house.

The streets thin as you weave your way out of the center of the city, and into the residential block. Everything was old and run down.

Broken, smashed cars lined the streets, graffiti was sprayed on every covering, people kept to themselves not even looking out the window as you passed.

He follows you until you stop at a run down apartment block.

“This is it”, you state.

“Upstairs”, he orders but you don’t move.

“Let me go or I'll scream”, you threaten.

“And I’ll kill anyone that comes. Upstairs”.

You were yet to learn that Logan had reservations about killing needlessly, especially non-mutants, so you admit defeat and wander down three apartment blocks to your actual home.

The bar was low, but your apartment block was the nicest in the street. No graffiti or broken windows. A nice, clean brick that reached three stories and opened to a nice fourier.

There was no elevator but there was only one flight of stairs up to your apartment.

You show him your door labeled 2A, telling him there was no way to get it open unless he took you back to the bathhouse.

He ignores you, placing his hand on the knob and giving it a gentle push that breaks the lock.

Your heart rate picks up faster, which worries Logan as it was already quite high.

He lets go of your arm to allow you to go in first, and shuts the door behind him.

It was a one bedroom apartment, with a small open kitchen that opened to a small space that had to be chosen to be a living room or a dining area.

You had chosen a living room with a green couch sat in front of a small rectangular table.

“You can take what you want. I have some jewelry in the food cupboard”, you state.

“This isn’t a hold-up”, he grumbles, “Come here”.

He goes to your bedroom, listening to your feet following him.

He goes to your closet to see your luggage bag stored up top. He takes it down, and begins throwing items into it.

‘What are you doing?”, you begin to panic seeing him stuff your suitcase with your clothes.

“Do you have a passport?”

“Why?”

The plane was departing within the hour. He had no time to answer obvious questions.

“Do you have one?”. He reiterates.

“No”. Your heart skips a beat as you lie.

“Go get it”, he demands.

“I don’t want to”, your voice was quiet and strained.

He knew he should have taken a softer approach. To be uprooted overnight would be a hard thing for anybody.

Yet still, his claws dig through at your resistance.

“Go get it”, he said in a lower tone.

His blades work to persuade you, and you move quickly to your bedside table to retrieve it.

He zips up your suitcase, holding out his hand for your passport. You pass it to him, taking a step back once it's in his hand.

Checking it’s valid, he puts it in his back pocket alone with his.

“Logan, I can keep a secret” you say, “I would never tell anyone about you”.

“That’s nice, bub. Go change”, he nods to the wardrobe behind him which you take a pair of jeans, and a singlet from.

You were too quick to the bathroom, so he stops you before you enter.

“Ah” he tuts.

He takes a look inside first to check for windows. There was only a small one with a security screen so he allowed you to pass and shut the door on him.

After a frustrating phone call in which he was misunderstood twice, he manages to order a taxi to the airport, and knocks on the door to let you know it was on its way.

You open the door a different person. Your makeup was all wiped off, and your hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

The confident seductive was replaced with this fragile girl-next-door type. He didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore.

You hand out his jacket to him which he takes but opens it to wrap around your shoulders.

“Keep it. It looks good on you”.

“Logan-” you begin but he cuts you off.

“Sh” he dismisses taking your head into his hands, “it’s alright. I know”.

“But-” you try.

He sh’s you again, “Don’t think. Just come with me”, he begs.

Moving his hands from your head to your wrist he takes you back outside the bathroom to where your bag lay waiting by the door.

You don’t know why but you follow his direction to put your sandals on your feet, and follow him down to the street and into a taxi.

Your head reels as the car drives. The taxi is silent, only the sound from the radio plays. Logan holds onto your thigh while he looks out of the window.

You stare at his hands, wondering where the blades went when they were retracted.

You think about telling the driver but one man was no match for Logan.

The man pulls into the drop off station, and gets out to get your luggage.

Logan turns to you in the car, demanding your attention from his eyes alone.

“Are you going to save us both some time and be a good girl, or do we need to go over what will happen if you draw attention?”.

You shake your head ‘no’.

“Good girl, let’s go”.

Logan goes out the same door you do, instantly taking your hand in his in the busy station.

He pays the man, and takes your suitcase for you.

“Where are we going?”, you request.

Logan joins the back of the line for check-in’s

“New York”, he gives.

“What's in New york?” you ask him.

“Home”.

You flex your hands in his, trying to get it free.

“I am going home with you?”, you implore.

He nods, not looking at you.

“You said you were one of the good guys”, you remind him.

“I told you, I am a good guy that does bad things”.

His fingers clench around yours in a painful hold. Your eyes fill up with fresh tears. You knew Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but he was a stranger, a mutant, who had taken you from your home, and planned to place you in his.

“Don’t cry. Not here”, he demands.

He moves his body to shield you from prying eyes, as you try your best to conceal your panic.

A gentle hand rubs your back as you move up in line.

The girl at the counter notices your red eyes, and asks if you are okay.

“She’s a nervous flyer” he lies.

The woman ignores him, asking you the question again.

The hand you held had blades that came out on command so you nod your head in agreement.

“I’ll be fine once we are up in the air” you say.

The woman hands Logan the tickets, and you make your way over to the security screening.

Logan seemed amazed you had lied for him.

He kisses your head, thanking you for not causing a scene.

He lets you go easy when you reach the security point, letting you walk through the metal detector.

You eye the security and their guns, but you watched Logan get shot at point blank. Would their guns even dint him?

The metal detector beeps when Logan walks through. For a second, you think that you will find out if their guns work on him when a security officer closes in.

“Easy there, big guy”, Logan takes a slip of paper out of his pocket to show the man, “I have a metal hip”.

The man takes the pass over to his supervisor. You wonder if they know something is wrong as they talk, but the manger looks relaxed, and with a wave of his hand the pass is given back to Logan, and you get the go ahead.

Logan slings his arm over your shoulder past the security who don’t take a second glance.

“You have metal in your hands?” you whisper the question to him.

“I have adamantium in my entire body” he explains, “It’s a type of metal”.

You feel amazed at the news. A whole body of metal reinforcing him to be the most dangerous man you had ever met.

The most dangerous man you had ever met took you over to a cafe stand. Buying you, and himself a roll and coffee.

You never would have guessed the man you met at the bathhouse harbored such a secret. How many other clients were mutants too, or was he the only one.

“It’s gettin’ cold”, he says noticing you staring at him.

You accept his gift, starving after last night.

The rest of the time until boarding was silent. Only then did the sense of dread kick back in.

“Please”, you beg.

“I am sorry. Get on the plane”. His voice was soft, but you could hear no sound of true sympathy from it.

He keeps you in front of him as the attendant checks the tickets, and you find your seats.

You were the only two on your row, right at the back of the plane.

Logan settles into the seat beside you, doing up his seatbelt, and checking yours.

The cabin crew begin their safety speech. Your eyes were trained out the window, not looking at them. You hoped the plane crashed.

When the plane began moving at a fast pace, Logan checked your seatbelt again, pulling on it to make sure it was tight across your lap.

You look at him. He was tense again, and shut his eyes when the plane took off.

When it stabilized he let out a breath of air, and opened his eyes, falling back into his seat.

“Afraid of flying?” you ask surprised.

“If god wanted us to fly, we’d have wings”, he quips.

“And if god wanted us to have blades in our hands, we would”.

Logan's hands ball into fists. He was a freak in your eyes.

“One day I’ll explain what happened to me”, he promises.

“What else can you do? You’re strong, hard, body full of metal”, you start, “and that man. He shot you”.

“Baby, I can do alot of things”, he dismisses.

“Like what?” you push.

“Maybe now is not the time to be discussing this”. He says looking around at other passengers. Most of whom already had their earphones on.

“What do you want with me?”, you implore.

“Now’s really not the time to be discussing that” He grits.

“One of the good guys” you remind him.

“I'll settle for being an okay guy. Stop talking” he growls.

You turn back to the window away from him the rest of the flight.

You watch as the clouds below you turn orange, and then black. Logan passes you a food tray from the stewardess and you eat it in silence.

It must have looked odd to the stewardess. Neither you or Logan played with the screen in front of you. Just sat there with grim expressions on your faces.

Lights turn off as the cabin goes to sleep. You were nowhere near ready with the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Logan takes his blanket from the wrapper and lays it over your shoulder.

“You should sleep,” he says.

“Is that how it's going to be from now on? You telling me what to do” , you snap.

Logan turns away from you, facing to the front.

“It was just a suggestion”.

You run your hands over your face wondering what sort of keeper he was going to be.

“I need to pee” you say.

He unbuckles his seatbelt to get up out of your way but you couldn’t wait for him. You’re fighting to get past him as he tries to stand.

He grabs your waist to maneuver you but the touch sends rage through your body.

You scream in his face. A loud ear piercing scream that turned everyone’s attention on you.

Logan quickly let go, slumping back into his seat under the stare of other awake passengers.

You rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The tight space allows you to breathe.

Washing your face with cold water, you decide it is time to return to your seat.

Logan waits for the sound of a turning lock before he jumps from his seat to catch you as you exited and push you back inside.

He is quick to lock the door behind him.

Three, quick, firm smacks are placed on your bottom as he pushes you against the sink.

It stings when he sits you on the counter, and stands between your legs.

“Are you crazy, bub? Acting like that”, he scolds.

You try to move him out between your legs, but he pushes your knee down as you move your leg.

“Don’t you ever misbehave like that again”, he warns.

“Or what?”. He had already taken everything from you, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt you.

His angry stare didn’t scare you, but when his hands reached for the button of your jeans your heart rate spiked.

“I gotta fuck the stupid out of you?” he spat.

“Get off” you demand.

You scream in his face again when his hand continues to unhook the button.

He is quick to quieten you, clamping a hand over your mouth. Your head hits the mirror from the force.

He secures your hands behind your back with a single hand when you begin to hit him. It caused you more pain than him, it felt as if you were hitting against a brick wall.

The force knocks out his necklace that he had never worn before. A rectangular pendant dangles as he moves. You could see it was inscribed but the writing was too small to make out.

“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Me telling you what to do. Yeah. I think fucking so”, he grunts.

“Now don’t scream” he orders.

The hand over your mouth is removed as he uses it to tug down your jeans, and then his own.

You know you should scream, make some sort of noise that would alert the others, but desire pooled with him between your legs.

Your emotions were too complicated to unpack so you allowed him to take your pants off your legs.

He throws them to the floor, but keeps your panties in his hands.

You see why when he brings them to your lips, and forces them in your mouth. He clamps his hand back over to keep you from spitting them out.

He sighs as he enters you.

“You know, you don’t need to act stupid to get my attention”, he grunts as he rocks into you.

Your toes curl feeling him inside of you. He fit so completely that you were building from just clenching around him.

“Don’t cum. I’ll tell you when”, he says.

You muffle a protest against his hand, but it was met with no sympathy.

“Don’t you fucking cum or I’ll put you over my knee for ten more”.

Your ass still stung from the three he gave you so you delayed yourself the best you could.

He picks up his pace, slamming into you quickly, and hard. You hear his chain clink as he moves.

“Okay now”, he directs.

Your thighs shake as you clench around him.

His hand drops to allow you to regain your breath, bringing your pants from your mouth as he did.

He pants in unison with you, only he is quicker to regain his resolve. Your head was still reeling while he re-buttons his jeans.

He shakes his head as if he was trying to snap out of the trance he was in.

It seemed to have worked as he was gentle when he slid your underpants back on.

It was as if two people lived inside of him. One was sweet, and gentle, the other impulsive, and violent.

You weren’t sure which one turned you on the way it did.

He looks at you with those remorseful eyes. You should hate him but yourself wanting to comfort him. You knock it down to Stockholm and square your shoulders against his.

“Let me take a look at you”. He turns your face in his hand and smooths back your hair from your face with his other hand.

He checks to make sure you are okay. You didn’t look to be crying or in any pain.

“You right, Bub? You going to be good for me from now on?”, he asks.

You take the necklace out of his shirt. He doesn’t move to stop you, letting you read his dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ in capital letters and Howlett in smaller letters below. A series of numbers trace the bottom.

You flip it, feeling the indents on the other side, and run your finger over the name.

“Wolverine” you read, “like the animal?”.

He takes his tags from your hand and tucks them back under his shirt.

“Yeah, like the animal”.

#Dark!logan #dark!wolverine #logan howlet smut #logan howellt x you #dark logan howlett

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honeyed-nothings · 3 months

Text

To Have a Crush: Heartslabyul

Warning(s): Gender-neutral reader, not proof-read

Notes: I’m pretty new to the writing side of the fandom and it’s been a while since I’ve last written something, or really anything for that matter, but I hope you’ll all enjoy! (>ᴗ•)

Riddle Rosehearts

❤︎︎ Slowly, steadily, and like a flower love bloomed. At first he simply thought of you as a good friend, someone who he had approached out of guilt for the incident that you were dragged into not of your own will. It started off with passing conversations in the hallway to tutoring sessions in the library to personally asking you to attend the Unbirthday Parties at Heartslabyul. Don’t worry, there’s no rules against inviting outsiders to the Unbirthday Parties, he guarantees it.

❤︎︎ He doesn’t know when he started counting the seconds that’ve passed by until you’ve arrived to the tea party. Or when he started giving you leniency for the rules you’ve broken. Or when his eyes started trailing your figure as you walked by him in the hallway. He doesn’t know, he didn’t know.

❤︎︎ Until he did.

❤︎︎ Due to a little nudging from Cater’s discerning eye, he started pinpointing down the cause of the fast beating of his heart as not due to the caffeine of the tea or the irritations Ace and Deuce caused him but rather..you. Simply you. Your smile, your voice, and even your mistakes. He couldn’t help but realize that everything about you made him red with love.

❤︎︎ Riddle’s not exactly good at hiding it either but people have learned not to point it out to him unless they wish to be collared. His ears that are tinted with the brightest shade of red every time he’s near you. The soft, gentle gaze he holds as he listens to whatever you have to say. If there was a rule against love…then he supposes he’ll have to break it.

“If you’re available…would you like to have tea with me today?”

Trey Clover

☘︎︎ A slow process to a passionate love. Trey is not someone who chases for love but rather waits for it to find him. Patiently he waited, with baked goods and nurturing care for those around him, but he never thought he’d find that love in NRC of all places. He thought it was just appreciation that he felt towards you and at first, it was. Gratitude for your help with Riddle’s Overblot and even more for your continuous help in the kitchen and everything else you’ve done. Oh, feel free to take some treats back with you, he’s baked too much you see?

☘︎︎ You were just like every other student in NRC, maybe a little special in regards to your situation, but Trey really had no other plans other than treating you like how he did everyone else. That equality…didn’t last for too long. Gently he chides you for touching a pan that was not done cooking off, kindly he offers to lend an ear to whatever troubles you were going through, and softly how he brushes aside that flour stain off your cheek did he realize he had fallen in love.

☘︎︎ Huh, this isn’t bad at all.

☘︎︎ This realization didn’t change much of your relationship with him. In fact, it only improved it with a few hints here and there that showed his interest in developing a more romantic relationship with you. With how he sought you out to give you a bag of baked goods that everyone in Heartslabyul knew from the smell that wafted in the kitchen that early morning he baked just for you. Or how his hand lingered on your head for a second too long after ruffling it like how any good ‘friend’ would do. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

☘︎︎ But he won’t say it aloud. Not until you do first. Forgive him but he’s always secretly wanted to know what it was like to be the one being chased. Patience is necessary to be a good baker but as a human, he wonders how much longer he can wait for until the sweet called love is ready to be eaten.

“Hm? You look like you have something to tell me.”

Cater Diamond

✧ A love that can barely be repressed by denial. Keeping you at arms length was the goal he had made for himself when he first met you. You were interesting sure, and a bit of an enigma to boot, but he genuinely didn’t think it would develop into anything like love. Well maybe he was just lying to himself in the first place but that didn’t matter, not when it’s better to just keep your friendship as it is.

✧ It hurts. Love hurts. Trusting another person hurts. That’s why he’ll cover himself with a smile and a phone to snap a pic, to pretend that everything is normal and the day can continue onwards like always. Does it mean something that you’re now always in his pictures? Do you think there’s anything when he’s constantly seeking you out for a friendly selfie or chatting you up on the latest trend? Isn’t that what friends are supposed to act like? The Diamond desperately wants to believe that or else..he’ll crack.

✧ But maybe that was fine too.

✧ Can you tell? That his eyes are always glancing at you in the pictures you two take? How his smiles appear more genuine when you’re around? How fast his heart beats whenever he’s near you that he feels like it might burst out at any moment? No, you shouldn’t. That’s why he’ll start maintaining a distance from you, take an inch away at a time and maybe this painful feeling will go away. It’s nothing really, he’s fine.

✧ Cater doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to be apart from you. He didn’t want to fall for you. He…doesn’t want to lose you. Still, he maintains his distance hoping for a miracle that his feelings will fade when he knows deep inside that they won’t. The courage to face you and admit he’s fallen isn’t enough. The love he has towards you is fickle at best, that’s what he tells himself. Lies are the best protection against truths so why does he find himself drawn towards you still?

“Ahahaha! You caught me! Come on, let’s-Huh? Whaddya mean I look like I wanna say something else?”

Deuce Spade

♤ Hardships that create the bond called love. A reliable friend and someone he who will always have his back. He knows he’s not the best at…well anything really but he’s glad to have your support on his dreams of becoming an honor student. That’s why he didn’t think anything of it when he finds himself looking for you more. Ace teased him a lot for it, “like a duck looking for his parent”, is what he said but Deuce doesn’t really think that. He just enjoys your company so why wouldn’t he go and seek you out? Oh, and Mr. S’s shop has a sale on tuna today so maybe he can help you out on carrying the bags?

♤ The study sessions you two hold together have started becoming a little distracting for him though. With how often he finds himself looking away from the material and looking at you instead. How your eyes narrow in discontent at an explanation you don’t understand or how they light up when you’ve figured something out. Strangely, it’s actually improved his grades instead of diminishing it. He just couldn’t miss out on the smile you’d give him and the congratulations you’d say as he’s passed another test. It wasn’t until Ace pointed it out to him that he realized it.

♤ Oh…Oh.

♤ Smoke started coming off his head, at least that’s what it felt like, as the realization sunk in. Deuce could recognize it now for sure, that the rapid beating of his heart was something far more than friendship but rather love. A feeling that had been developing ever since you two met that day. He tries to treat you the same as always and horrifically fails with how bad he is at hiding his blush. Or his attempts at reaching out to hold your hand but pulling back last second out of embarrassment. He’ll just have to try again later.

♤ Getting advice from his mom was the last push he needed to fully go head first into appealing to you. His attempts at acting like a gentleman appear more like a young man fumbling his way through love but the effort is always nice to see. He’s doing his best to improve himself for you and while he knows he isn’t perfect, he hopes you’ll accept him anyways.

“Prefect! I have something to tell you.”

Ace Trappola

🂱 A blessing of love in disguise as friendship. Seriously, how did he find himself falling for you? You were just someone who attracted trouble and he happened to have been caught up in some and now he just can’t seem to leave you alone. Teasing you is an everyday occurrence and walking with you to the classes just comes naturally. Don’t think anything of it though, you’re just friends…unless you wanna be more? Alright alright, he’ll treat you to something in the cafeteria so smile okay?

🂱 Friends hang out with each other so that’s what he does too. They have sleepovers (in his case it’s more like a crash over but that’s besides that point) and talk about the weirdest stuff or maybe nothing at all. Maybe he’ll steal your blanket while he’s at it or maybe your bed if you’re kind enough. At some point he started leaving his own things at Ramshackle, more convenient than risking going back and suffering Riddle’s wrath you know? His toothbrush, a spare blanket, a pillow, and a couple snacks that he might be willing to share with you if he’s feeling like it. If you’re interested, he’ll even show you some card tricks to keep your attention focused solely on him.

🂱 Well crap.

🂱 Okay so maybe he does like your attention more than others but like, that’s just a friend thing right? People have best friends, you’re his! And sure he finds himself getting a little irritated when someone gets too close to you but you’re bros! He’s just looking out for his friend, trust him. Deuce thinks otherwise but what does he know about anything? He’s the one with relationship experience, even if it did fail on..his part, but ignoring that he knows so much more!

🂱 Like an adolescent boy who wants his crush to look at him, he lightly bullies you. Teasing you about the stray hair on your head and playing jokes on you like any would. He can’t help it, he wants your attention and he wants your love but can’t seem to admit it. Ace isn’t satisfied with just being friends, not anymore at least, but he doesn’t want to make it too obvious that he’s fallen. The light red tint on his ears and expectant expression on his face whenever he brags to you about something tells of a different story however.

“Ha! Has my coolness charmed you- Ouch! Okay okay! I’ll get to the point already!”

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yayakoishii · 4 months

Text

sleep it off | Ace x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre/Tags: Fluff, Light Angst, Slight NSFW at the start and end, Suggestive, Established Relationship, kinda crack/silly

Summary: Ace falls asleep in the middle of your first time having sex together.

A/n: I have had this idea for a while but, there were multiple factors I had to consider before I wrote it. So, fair warning, I have no clue how actual narcolepsy works. It would be best if you read this as a silly fic based on his gag. Secondly, I have never written sex or sex adjacent scenes so, really sorry if this is awkward ;-; Other than that, I hope you enjoy reading this !!

also available on ao3!

"You better fuck me hard, commander," you whispered into Ace's ear. His grip under your thighs tightened at the words and he lightly growled, holding you even closer against him. You tightened your arms around his neck when he started walking back to his room with you in his arms. "Fuck, Ace, that's…"

You trailed off, cheeks burning at how hot it was that Ace could pick you up like you weighed nothing. Like yes, you knew he had to be crazy strong considering he's the second division commander, but having him actually pick you up was enough to give you butterflies in the stomach. Even the wolf whistles and jeers behind you only fuelled to make you flush harder, the arousal pooling in your gut.

Ace slammed the door shut with his foot when you finally reached and up close, you could make out his pupils dilated with lust as he gently placed you on the bed. You crawled backwards to give him space and Ace immediately hovered over you on all fours, trapping you underneath him.

"You don't know how long I've waited to have you underneath me like this," he looked equally flushed. In fact, Ace's eyes seemed to have a quality to them that said that he couldn't quite believe he actually had you.

"Mm, I think I have an idea," you teased him, hand reaching up to card through the bottom most hair.

"You will be the death of me," he groaned and sat up, straddling your waist just so that his weight wasn't on you. "Don't you think it's unfair that I'm the only one who's half naked here?"

"You're always half naked, though?" You laughed even as you removed the form fitting top you had worn solely for the purpose of enticing Ace into having sex with you. "Not that I'm complaining. It's just my luck that I get blessed by the sight of your abs every day without having to do anything for it."

"Returning the favour every now and then seems like a fair deal," Ace's eyes were trained on your body intensely. It made you squirm and blush harder but you focused on throwing your shirt over to the chair a distance away. (You missed but that was a problem for later, right?) "God, you are beautiful."

Without waiting for a response (not that you had one other than to feel pleased at his words), Ace dived right at your neck, pressing open, wet kisses at the juncture of your neck and shoulders. Every part of him was so much warmer and hotter than you expected and it felt like his lips were leaving a trail of fire. You keened at the feeling, back arching as he marked the way down to your chest and over the nipples.

"Ace–" you exhaled shakily, fingers automatically tightening in his hair. He went lower and lower, down your stomach and then suddenly, you felt him drop on top of you. His weight trapped your legs, his face poking into your stomach. The sudden sensation startled you and you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at Ace. "Ace?"

To your surprise, he had fallen asleep. Of course, you were aware of Ace's sudden bouts of sleep and found them endearing at times, but right now, you could only stare at his calm, sleeping face for all of two seconds before you burst into giggles.

He really fell asleep in the middle of your first time. You smiled softly at him as you scrambled to pull him up and settled him beside you in his bed. Although someone else might have been upset, you were too in love with this fiery idiot to not find it cute and hilarious. You gently pressed a kiss on top of his forehead and leaned over to turn off the light after you put on your shirt.

Curling up next to Ace's warm body, you fell asleep.

•

When you woke up, the bed was empty. It was just you and the crumpled up sheets that you had thrown off yourself after Ace made you sweat all night with his insanely high body heat. You sleepily sat up and looked around but it looked like Ace had already left.

He was a division commander, so he was busy a lot of the time. You didn't think too much about it and trudged back to your room and freshened up with a nice bath. It was normal to even miss him at breakfasts sometimes so you didn't realise until half the day had passed that Ace was avoiding you.

Unbeknownst to you, Ace had woken up and remembered what happened last night. He was mortified and embarrassed and didn't know how to face you after that. He fell asleep in the middle of sex?!! How could he have fallen asleep in the middle of the one thing he had wanted to do so desperately for months now? And you had even gone all out yesterday, dressing to seduce him (not that you needed it, but it sure had helped speed things up) so for him to fall asleep like that… You must be so upset with him!

Ace just ran out and started on his work, avoiding everyone else as much as he could. The other commanders were giving him suggestive looks or asking him how it was and all Ace could stammer out were nervous lies. There was no way he could let anyone find out what had actually happened. They would never let him live it down.

Of course, he already knew that he couldn't hide it forever. After all, you were definitely upset with him and might even break-up with him and then everyone would know what had happened the night before. And then Ace would have to jump off the Moby Dick in mortification and also as an apology to you.

"You're not being very subtle," Marco's comment made Ace freeze. The two of them were currently going through some data compiled by the recent investigation team. Outside, the sun was starting to dip beneath the horizon. "Did something happen with (y/n)?"

"Uh, no, why would you think that?" Ace didn't think he was this bad at lying. Maybe he was just terrible when it came to things related to you. Even he knew that his nervous smile at Marco wasn't convincing anyone, not even himself.

"Avoiding your lover after you finally have sex with them, for one," Marco said pointedly without looking up, "is a sure sign that something's not right. What is it? Was it bad? Did you have a fight?"

"I kinda wish it was that," Ace admitted, giving up on the papers in front of him and also on trying to hide what happened. Marco could see through him a bit too much.

"That bad?" Marco finally looked up with a raised eyebrow. "I'm curious what could make you say that but, regardless of whether you want to tell me or not, I'd say you better figure it out soon. (Y/n) is looking really upset, you know."

"I…" Ace sighed and buried his face in his hands. You were the best thing to happen to him. He had liked you for so, so long and when you accepted his confession (that had been a complete disaster too, what with a bar set on fire, his bloody knuckles and the bloody tooth you had found in your hair), it had felt a lot like a dream. You liked him back too and said yes even though he fucked up the confession. But now he had gone and fucked up again. You deserved better than all this, right? "I need to fix this. But I don't know if I can, or how to even."

"You could start by apologising for whatever you did wrong," Marco suggested.

"How do you know it was my mistake?" Ace pouted. Marco just smiled in amusement as he looked back to his papers again.

"Doesn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't (y/n)," he answered. "An apology and your honest feelings would help. I don't know anyone who would accept and forgive you as easily and quickly as (y/n) does."

Ace sat there in silence for a few seconds, thinking over the words. You deserved better, yes, but all that meant was that he had to better himself. It's not like he would just give you up. After all that time he had spent on trying to get you to like him back, he sure as hell wasn't giving you up without fighting for it. He would beg on his knees if that's what you needed, but he would get you to stay.

"Um, Marco?" Your voice startled Ace and his head snapped towards the door where you were standing nervously. "Could I borrow Ace for a few minutes?"

"Of course," the first division commander flashed you an easy smile. "Just make sure he comes back. He still has quite a bit to finish."

"I'll do it," Ace grumbled as he got up. You had come to him. You had made the first move. A part of him was sure that you were going to suggest a break-up but he told himself that he was jumping to conclusions. You wouldn't do that… right? "Let's go to my room to talk?"

"I was going to suggest that," you smiled weakly at Ace. The two of you walked in awkward silence; it was so unnatural and Ace hated it. Your relationship stood on the basis of your friendship and the ease with which you treated each other.

Once inside the room, Ace closed the door behind him and gestured for you to sit on his bed. You did so and Ace settled down next to you. Silence rang in the room for a few more seconds.

"Did–"

"Are–"

The two of you abruptly cut-off.

"You go first," Ace said hurriedly. You worried your lower lip between your teeth before you spoke again.

"Did I do something wrong?" Your voice was small. Ace had never heard you speak in such an unsure manner. You were fidgeting, playing with your fingers nervously. "You've been avoiding me all day, Ace…"

"I'm…!" Ace reddened in embarrassment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to face you properly before he spoke. "I'm the one who made a mistake. I have been avoiding you out of embarrassment but, you deserve better than that. You deserve a proper apology for last night–"

"Apology?" You were confused. "For last night?"

"Yeah, I," Ace was confused by your confusion. Weren't you upset with him?

"There's nothing you need to apologise for last night, though?" You tilted your head in question. "An apology for avoiding me today would make sense but… why are you apologising for yesterday?"

"Aren't… you upset?" Ace flushed, looking down at his own lap. "That I fell asleep in the middle of our… y'know."

There was silence for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. Ace looked up in surprise, finding you laughing through watery eyes.

"You thought I was upset about that?" You were giggling and Ace didn't really understand it but it didn't look like you were upset about it. "Here I was, worried that I did something wrong and that you didn't want me anymore and you were avoiding me because you thought I was upset you fell asleep?"

"So, you aren't upset?" Ace asked, bewildered at your reaction. You beamed at him and shook your head then folded up your legs to inch closer to him. You straddled him and sat yourself on his lap and Ace automatically wrapped his arms around you so that you wouldn't fall.

"Why would I be upset, silly?" You smiled at him, eyes soft and full of love. "I admit that it was shocking but it honestly just made me laugh. It was unexpected but it's nothing so bad that you need to hide from me, Portgas D. Ace. I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. Honestly, I'm just glad you fall asleep in moments like these instead of on the battlefield."

"Hey!" Ace weakly protested but it died down the moment you cupped his cheeks in your palms and kissed the tip of his nose. You were smiling so happily at him and suddenly, all his embarrassment and mortification from before felt silly. "Does this mean I get a second chance to prove myself?"

"I wouldn't be against a redo of last night," you trailed a finger down his chest as you spoke, "but don't you have some work to finish, commander–oof!"

Ace didn't wait to hear you finish speaking before he toppled you onto your back, his frame hovering over yours just like last night. You didn't resist and pulled him in for a kiss. Only after a few minutes of making out did you look up at him slyly, flush and with spit-slicked cherry red lips.

"I guess it can wait for later, hm?"

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

★ Taglist:

@toertchen | @boomboom-tanjiro2019 | @katiemrty | @writingmysanity | @akaashi-todorki

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfic #one piece imagines #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace #ace x reader #ace x you #fire first ace #gender neutral reader #female reader #male reader

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disillusioneddanny · 7 months

Text

DPxDC Negativity

Hey this is just a friendly reminder that I'm going to put in the plainest terms that I can.

If you are telling people how they should and should not participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to read more comics before writing fanfic you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that they need to do more research into canon in any form, whether that be reading wikis, reading comics, watching shows, whatever you are GATEKEEPING

If you are telling people that what they are writing is not canon compliant and therefore not a valid way to participate in fandom you are GATEKEEPING

Fandom is supposed to be fun

Fanfiction is supposed to be fun

We are not writing these stories for anyone but ourselves. And to tell someone that they are participating in fandom wrong is GATEKEEPING

There are plenty of fanfics in the DC only sphere and the DP sphere that are so far away from canon it's unreal and that's totally okay!

People are allowed to enjoy fandom in however the hell they please. If that means they are writing a crap ton of Batfam/Danny Phantom content and not very much Justice League/DP content, that's totally okay.

If someone read the Wayne Family Adventures Webtoon and decided that they want to write Danny being adopted into a loving and crazy Batfamily that is totally one hundred percent fine.

If someone wants to write Danny with abusive and neglectful parents guess what? they can.

If they want to write Vlad as being a nurturing and loving godfather to Danny, they can.

What I'm trying to explain to you all is that it's okay to write things that are not canon compliant. It's okay to write things that are so far away from canon it's not even recognizable--I mean have you even read a fantasy au or a no capes au? That's basically just slapping a characters name and face to an OC. And guess what? THAT'S OKAY.

It's also okay to want to see more people interact with the canon lore, to want to share resources and tell people about your special interests. But the moment you start doing it and it makes people feel bad-- even if that is not your intention you are GATEKEEPING.

Gatekeeping is defined as the activity of controlling, and usually limiting, general access to something.

By you telling others what they should and should not write, you are being a gatekeeper.

I get it, you want to share lore, you want to show that you know all these cool things about DC. You want more than just batfam and DP content. That's totally valid and really cool.

Do it yourself.

Don't take someone else's joy away simply because it's not what you want to see. They aren't writing it for you, they're writing it for themselves. You're just a lucky person who gets to see the beautiful works that they are putting time and effort into.

When I joined DPxDC I knew absolute shit about DC. Over the last year, I've read over 400 issues of the Batman comics, read all of the Red Robin series, and a smattering of random other comics with plans to read others. But when I started writing? I knew jackshit. My knowledge came from the Teen Titans cartoon, the Batman animated series, and vague memories of watching the Justice League animated series as a kid.

And if Dis from a year ago saw this gatekeeping shit, they would have never started writing for the fandom because they would have been too scared to be told they were doing it wrong.

Now? I'm writing DC only fics based off of what I learned in the comics and it's a lot of fun.

But I did that because I wanted to, I was starting to get more and more interested in DC and I wanted to know more. And I had access to pay for DC Infinite so that I could get access to the comics. Not everyone has that luxury.

Not everyone has the luxury of being able to read them from free sites either. Maybe they have to use a public computer that doesn't have ad blockers. Maybe their local libraries don't have access to the comics. You don't know what their situation is.

Maybe you're being well intentioned. Maybe you're just wanting to share your wealth of knowledge with the fandom. But remember, if just one person is getting hurt by your statements, that means you're no longer being helpful. You're being harmful. You're scaring off a new fan who was super insanely excited to start sharing their headcanons.

You're making people feel unwelcome. And that's not fucking cool.

Fandom is supposed to be a welcoming space for everyone, it's supposed to uplift and bring joy. Not make people feel bad for not knowing enough, or for feeling too anxious to even begin figuring out where in the 75 year history of DC they should start reading.

I know that's what kept me from reading the comics for a long time. it was just too overwhelming. It still is overwhelming for me and thats with having friends telling me where to start and what comics are best to read.

Before I end this super hella long rant I want to remind you of one last thing.

You don't know what someone has read or researched before writing their fic. You don't know just how much they know about that character or universe. For all you know, they may have read, watched, consumed every single piece of DC media in existence. But they may still interpret it different than you did and that does not mean that their Bruce Wayne is OOC because it doesn't align with how you interpret Bruce Wayne. it just means that they view his character differently than you do.

And that's such a beautiful fucking thing don't you think? That a single character, a single universe, a single fucking line can be interpreted hundreds of different ways by hundreds of different people and it's still valid.

It's what makes fandom so freaking cool in the first place.

Like one day someone woke up and they were watching Danny Phantom and they thought hm, what if I had Danny Fenton go to Gotham one day and hang out with the bats? And next thing you know, now we have thousands upon thousands of different fanfics, fan art and HCs, all because of it. All because someone had that one idea and shared it and others saw it, interpreted it their own way, and decided to create even more.

And now we're here! And this fandom is beautiful and thriving. There are so many amazing and lovely people in this fandom. There are so many discords to talk about fandom, there's so many events, a DPxDC Bang is the works, a DPxDC fanzine is in the works.

That's so fucking cool and we should be celebrating that! Not making others feel bad for not knowing as much as others.

#dpxdc #dis has opinions #dis writes #dpxdc crossover #negativity

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 year

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I just wanted to say that the way you characterize and talk about Miguel has actually really helped me with thinking about how to write for him 😭 genuinely I love the way you describe him as an actual like person and not just some sex addict or someone who's extremely distant and cold. I hope you continue writing mild Miguel because it's so refreshing compared to all the other shit I see 😭💕

THANK YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS A MIGUEL SAFE SPACE AND LIKE- CAN I BE REAL FOR A SECOND???

MIGUEL ISN'T AN ASSHOLE YOU PEOPLE ARE JUST MEAN - A.K.A -

My Defense & Evidence of a Milder, Non-aggressive Sympathetic Miguel O'hara.

[This is a half-break down half rant about Mild Miguel, when we see Miguel's true nature, and what fandom gets wrong about him. I have my evidence.

this is shorter than my usual posts but I'm going absolute apeshit Miguel Mode by the end so sorry you have to see that.]

I think Miguel and Hobie are the two most complex characters in the film. Like - both of them equally.

It's just really easy to explain one over the other.

I feel this way because every character we see in the entire movie - Miles, Gwen, Peter, Jess, Rio, Jeff, The Spot, everyone - is forthcoming and clear about their intentions and motive throughout the movie.

When we're watching the movie the first time, we understand Miles motive, and Peter's, and Gwen. In real time. It's there and stated. Miles wants to save his dad, Peter wants to be a better mentor, Gwen just wants peace basically.

But when we're watching for the first time - we have no idea what Hobie OR Miguel is capable of until they do it.

They are the two we're surprised by. (And they're also exact opposites who somehow don't seem to be complete adversaries)

They're the only two within the film who we are left to speculate their motive, their drive, and what they'll do next.

They're the only two in the film who are truly meant to catch us off guard with their behavior.

Leading up to Hobie's big twist, there was a LOT of misdirection. I think the same is true for Miguel...but like..the fandom isn't picking up on the misdirection AT ALL.

I have a lot of ideas and thoughts about Miguel and his character and honestly I think it's the exact opposite of what the fandom sees.

But when its's Hobie, it's very easy to understand him, just read the wiki on Punk and you're good.

But I don't think anyone has look closer at Miguel yet.

I genuinely believe that the reason Miles got away was because Miguel went soft.

He was watching the videos of Gaby to remind himself why he was doing this - why he had to stand his ground, but when Miles started panicking, and begging to know how much time he had left - Miguel slipped up. He went soft.

And he told him 'two days'.

You can see it in Miguel's face when Miles is asking.

That's not the face of a man considering assault. That's not anger. He's wavering.

He didn't have to tell Miles how long he had left. But he did - why? Cause he thought 'I'd kill for two days with Gabby. A lot of people get less warning about death - Maybe he can spend those two days with his fath-'

and then Miles is like 'word?? two days to stop you?? iight im out also fuck yall' - which understandable have a nice day

But like......Miguel wouldn't have said it if he knew it would fuck him over. He didn't KNOW Miles was radicalized cause he didn't know Hobie had spoken to him. He thought that telling him might convince him. If he knew Miles was gonna run - there's no need to tell him anything.

He could've lied and said "I DON'T KNOW. But maybe let's talk about this."

But he didn't. He slipped up.

He's SOFT. Everytime he's mean, or angry - He has to think about it. Like when he looked at Hobie - and thought about it. He has to MAKE himself do it. It isn't natural to him.

Nobody else in the room was gonna answer Miles. Miles wouldn't have known. But Miguel told him two days. And because of that, that specific slip-up, Miles is trying to save his dad.

Why? Because he's SOFT. CAPITAL S SOFT.

Miguel is not a raging monster. Or aggressive. Or manipulative.

He's a guy who thinks he's holding the universe together with duct tape and a kid is in front of him begging to know how long they have left with their father and he tells them and because of that they get away and now everything he worked for is gonna emplode in his face because he had a SOFT SPOT FOR A KID AGAIN AND DID SOMETHING HE SHOULDN'T AGAIN AND TOLD HIM AND NOW PEOPLE ARE GONNA DIE AGAIN BECAUSE HE MESSED WITH THE MULTIVERSE AGAIN FUCK-

Like...yeah- he snapped. A normal person would snap. I've snapped for way less and a lot of other people have.

Granted, we don't go mauling children.

I don't know, I just feel like he's an incredibly layered character.

Because when he's ranting and screaming at Gwen like an irritated school teacher we're already like 'oh fuck you dude but also fuck you ;)'

so when he's right there doing things like this - we don't see it. The same way we don't see Hobie's stealing - because we think we have him figured out.

We don't see Miguel's tenderness.

Because we assume we know who he is - he's cold and aggressive and rude and hates Miles,

but like...is he really?

Miles is getting upset - and the whole conversation leading up to it Miguel has talked to him from a far, hands when Miles can see them. He's not trying to stand over him, or intimidate him. Miguel knows he's scary. He knows how to be scary.

He isn't trying to scare Miles. The exact opposite. He's trying to comfort him.

And when Miles starts lashing out - Miguel is genuinely surprised. That isn't the look of someone who THINKS he's about to hurt this kid.

He's telling Miles, hands up "Hey, sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you." He immediately lets go, backs up.

I just---- FUCK, PEOPLE THE MAN IS STANDING RIGHT THERE THATS MILD MIGUEL LOOK AT HIM

If you really really think Miguel is naturally aggressive, or angry, or cold -

If you write him that way -

I ask that you rewatch the leading up to Miles' escape. Look at his body language. Watch him, and look at his face. That's all I ask.

I just kjsjrghjkSIGHIDDGU I CAN'T STAND FOR THIS INJUSTICE AND EMOTIONAL ILLITERACY

HES NOT A GOOD GUY BUT LIKE....HE'S ... THE ONE YALL ARE SERVING...COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MAN.

He's SOFT. The same way he caved for Gwen after a little pushing. He caved for Miles after a little pushing. That's why he told him two days. SOFT

MILD MIGUEL, SOFT MIGUEL, WANTS TO DO THE HARD THING BUT FUCK HE CAN'T DO IT MIGUEL, HAS TO STAND COMPLETELY STILL AND UNMOVING TO NOT CAVE TO MAYDAY MIGUEL, MIGUEL WHO LOVES PEOPLE BUT KEEPS HIS DISTANCE AND SHUTS HIS MOUTH BECAUSE PEOPLE GET HURT MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL

I'm going to go Miguel Mode.

If understanding Hobie was a house, the fandom is standing out on the road.

If understanding Miguel was a house, the people aren't even in the same neighborhood. We're in the next state over. Other side of the globe. Off base by like 12 zipcodes and 4 times zones

Mild Miguel. Please tell me you're seeing this.

Am I crazy for thinking that the slip up - of telling Miles two days - wasn't out of stupidity but PITY? SYMPATHY?

Because Miguel thinks getting to spend two whole days with some you'll lose is a BLESSING to him - not a curse.

Even though to ANY non-traumatized person - it would be a curse.

...... yo

Miguel stepped into Gabriellas life because he didn't want her to lose a father. He KNOWS losing a father hurts.

So when Miles is there in front of him, talking about not wanting to lose his father - Miguel KNOWS how he feels. Gabby didn't want to lose her dad either.

Miguel UNDERSTANDS. He's a FATHER -

HE KNOWS HE'S BEING THE BAD GUY HE KNOWS ITS WRONG NOT TO STEP IN THATS WHY HE STEPPED IN FOR GABRIELLA IN THE FIRST PLACE THIS ISN'T THE PERSON HE WANTS TO BE OR THOUGHT HE'D BECOME YOU PEOPLE ARE MEAN AND HORNY -

I- I can't even i'm sorry I -

I have a longer post about this in the works like breaking down all of his body language from his moments with MJ and Hobie and like teverything

but ITS NOT EVEN LIKE I THINK HE'S RIGHT I JUST CANT STAND PEOPLE BEING THIS WRONG ABOUT IT I CANT

If you see him as aggressive or cold this post isn't meant to be an attack. I am just down bad for Mild Miguel and I'm going delirious with hunger and starvation for him

#Justice4MildMiguel Maybe I'm huffing copium but also i know im fucking not he's RIGHT THERE

[And if you hate Miguel like hate hate him Moche says dishonor on you dishonor on your cow dishonor your family and your land in the name of Aia Paec Almighty]

If you made it this far....Imsorry you had to see me that way I don't know what came over me here's a picture of Hobie to help me calm down.

(aka Hobie judging the fuck outta me in my head)

I need a glass of water. Bye.

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jeonscatalyst · 12 days

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So something I have been thinking since the beginning of AYS. I think JM and JK give themselves away. How someone can look at their behavior and not realize these two have more than a friendship/brotherly vibe. Before I go on a tangent, what I am I trying to say again 🤔. Ohh right. In the previews, we see JK and JM have a pillow in-between them as they sit on the couch while watching TV. Why the damn pillow in-between like it's so obvious! That hug when JM wanted JK to feel how cold he was, I mean. Just go ahead and proper. They crack me up. It's too late. We already know you are together. If they just acted normal 😅. To be honest, I don't blame them it's hard faking not being in a relationship.

Ah I have found my person!

Anon, I have been in this fandom for over 7 years and spent about 5 out of those 7 years being a Jikooker and all through my years in this fandom, I have seen many jikookers give different reasons why they believe Jikook are a together but not many people started seeing them as more for the same reason I did.

I have mentioned before that for me, it was never about the GCFs, the soft looks, the touches or any moments that could be described as soft or romantic or beautiful. For me it was always those moments that many Jikookers don’t like to look at or even talk about. The first thing that made me do a double take on Jikook was fetus Jikook. You see, I wasn’t always a shipper and I was one of those people who actually thought it was silly as hell that people could even believe that any of the members could be in a romantic relationship especially because of things like skinship which is the most common thing among korean men but one day I watched a long compilation on Youtube of fetus Jikook and my mind began to change. You see, when I watched that video and read comments many people were either mad at Jk for being an asshole to Jimin while others felt sorry for Jimin and some were mad that Jimin had to put up with all of that from Jungkook but one look at it and I knew that wasn’t normal at all especially because when I joined the fandom at the beginning of 2017, I spent alot of time reading their interviews and catching up on old content (somehow I didn’t really notice the fetus Jikook bickering or push and pull alot) but one opinion I remember having was that Jk kinda liked being around Jimin and hovering. So when I watched that compilation showing Jk basically being an ass to Jimin, that was the first time I thought “maybe shippers are unto something” because what I was seeing Jk do in the compilation was very conflicting with everything I had learned about Jikook and the opinion I had about them as a duo. I didn’t necessarily think they were the closest but I didn’t think Jk had any ill feelings towards Jimin.

You see anon, one thing I understood while being in this fandom is that, how people interpret or perceive other’s actions and words depends more on them than the people whose actions they are interpreting. Without certain experiences, it is almost impossible for one to understand certain things. Your culture, environment, people around, personal experiences and basically what you are used to, shapes the way you see the world and that is why one person could see a 9 while another person sees a 6. Some people have grown up believing that couples are always soft with each other or with couples it is always smiles and rainbows and roses, you know watching a lot of romance movies or fantasy will do that to you or even only experiencing those first stages of normal romantic relationships will trick you into believing such things. Some people don’t understand context and nuances at all and so they could never understand Jikook even if they wanted to.

It never made any sense to me that we saw Jungkook pushing Jimin away or shoving him in walls or ranking him last in looks yet this same person would choose to put blankets outside to sleep with Jimin at night, or this same person’s would go to cuddle Jimin in his sleep or this same person would be seen hovering around Jimin alottt and wanting to touch him or feel him up (fetus Jk was not subtle). Jungkook already knew that he got his comfort mostly from Jimin. He already understood that the reason he teased Jimin alot was because he really liked him and I think Jungkook’s occasional “bitchy” behaviour towards Jimin was him panicking and not knowing how to deal with Jimin who was obnoxiously loud about how he felt for Jungkook. Jungkook never hated being around Jimin or being touched by Jimin like many people would like to believe because if he did, he would never choose to go spend his nights with Jimin. If he did, he would never go to hug Jimin in his sleep or pile clothes on his bed to go sleep in Jimin’s bed. He clearly loved being around Jimin so how else could anyone explain his behaviour infront of the cameras?

Watching Bangtan, anyone would quickly understand that these boys don’t understand the concept of personal space when it comes to each other. I saw this video on X the other day and it made me laugh…

This is not even the most accurate example I can use but you see how glued they are to each other? Like no care in world. They shower together, sleep together, eat after each other, that is normal for them so explain to me why on earth Jimin and Jungkook would have to put a pillow inbetween them when they sit even though we know for a fact that being glued is literally like second nature to the members?

This is how Jimin and Jungkook give themselves away everytime because you can literally see that sometimes they get overly cautious in a bid to not give too much away but they don’t realize that by doing this, they are actually giving too much away because we know that the members usually don’t have any issues sitting even untop of each other. It’s just like I had once said that when you have nothing to hide, you feel as free as a bird but when you do, you start doing even unnecessary things not to come off suspicious. Why would they need a pillow inbetween them to just sit on a damn couch? If these two are just friends or bros why on earth do they need a pillow? If it was normal to see the members respecting each other’s personal space then we could just see this too as normal but we know that these same people seated right here are the same ones who have had their mouths on various erogenous parts of each other’s bodies so why?

Like you said, if jikook acted normal then I wouldn’t have ever suspected or thought that they are more than friends but the truth is that they don’t act normal at all and this is something everyone can agree on, regardless of whether they see things in a negative or positive way, everyone can agree that Jikook don’t act normal at all and it’s been like this since they were younger.

I have mentioned before that I could never see what taekookers see in Taekook because there is just way too much comfort in their interaction for them to be closeted idols in a romantic relationship. You never see any panic, you never see them acting as if they have something to hide. I have seen some taekookers say that they know that Jikook are not together because their skinship is usually very short or abrupt while taekook’s take longer and I was like ofcourse theirs would take longer because those two have nothing to hide the same way Jk’s skinship with any other member who isn’t Jimin takes longer and they seem more comfortable doing it because they are not worried about how they would come off because those actions are completely innocent. With Jikook, there is a panic and when they start going on at, it doesn’t take long for them to snap out of it and then you see them immediately stopping which sometime makes their interactions come off as awkward.

Imagine yourself in a secret romantic relationship where you are almost always infront of dozens of cameras and staff, who would feel 100% at ease in situations like this? That is why Jikook’s interactions sometimes come off clunky or awkward because of this while you never really sense this with any of the other members interactions. I can sit through any other duo’s interactions without feeling second hand embarrassment, shy or slightly awkward but with Jikook, I go through about 20 different emotions while watching them and that is how I know they are….different. So because not everyone understands the contexts or nuances, they would immediately see this as something bad while someone who understands the context and nuances in this situation expects to see this kinds of interactions. Many people unfortunately are not very smart because if they were, they would really ask themselves why Jk seems to hate Jimin’s touches so much (according to them) or hates being around Jimin so much (according to them) yet this same Jk is the one who voluntarily goes to knock on Jimin’s door everynight at 1am. Why did this same Jk choose to sleep on the floors outside their rooms with Jimin instead of sleeping with Tae or some other member? Why did this same Jk choose to spend majority of his nights and downtime with this person? Why did this same Jk pile clothes on his bed to go sleep in Jimin’s bed? Why did Jk keep going to sleep in Jihope’s room everynight? What was he doing with Jimin at 4am on his birthday after they had already moved out of the dorm and were living in personal apartments? Which one of you knows anyone who would do this if they really didn’t like someone and literally loved being around them? Also, notice how each and everytime we “caught” Jikook in positions where they never expected cameras or weren’t aware of cameras they were always glued to each other and Jungkook especially had no issues being in Jimin’s personal space?

This is one of those cases where someone either gets it or they don’t because it is kinda hard to explain and the truth is, to really understand these kinds of things, you probably need to have experienced something like this or atleast know someone very close who has.

Jikook as a romantic pair was never meant to make sense to alot of people because not very many people have critical thinking skills, not very people know how to piece tiny details together to really understand a situation. So often, people form opinions after watching one single piece of content without caring to look at the history of things. I saw a taekooker say that Jk hated Jimin’s music style because Jk said their show will fail if Jimin sang the OST he joked about singing and you could clearly tell this person is one of those who literally don’t care about context or history because everyone and their mama knows how much Jk enjoys and has always enjoyed Jimin as an artist and a performer and he has made it clear on several occasions just how much he loves the music Jimin makes.

Like I said, Jikook is not meant to be understood by everyone. If everyone understood them then that would mean they weren’t doing something right.

#jikook #jimin #jungkook #jikook blog #my asks #are you sure

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thewulf · 6 months

Text

Sunflowers and Second Chances || Darrel "Darry" Curtis

Summary: Request - Can you do a Darry x Winston sister reader? Maybe she's Dallas's twin or like a year younger and he's just super protective over her. I was thinking maybe the two of them show up for a bonfire at the park with some greasers and reader forgets her jacket. She's shivering by the fire and Darry (ever the gentleman) gives her his jacket.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Def went overboard but mannnn do i LOVE writing for The Outsiders. This will NEVERR be a dead fandom for as long as I am alive hahaha. please keep sending these my way! I'd love to try a Sodapop or even Ponyboy :) Enjoy!

Pairing: Darrel "Darry" Curtis x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: General The Outsiders

It wasn’t that cold when you and Dallas left your shared apartment for the evening. After nagging and bothering you for what felt like hours Dallas had finally won, he was getting you to go to the annual start of summer bonfire. A tried-and-true greaser tradition. It wasn’t really your scene, most of the time. But at the mention that Darrel Curtis was going to be there you’d changed your tune rather quickly. Dallas knew of your little crush on the eldest Curtis brother. Because of course he did. He wasn’t dumb. Quite the opposite really. He caught your longing glances for Darry pretty early on. Your cute crush only got slightly concerning for Dally when he started noticing Darry throwing the same looks your way.

Dallas might’ve used Darry as the excuse to get you out of the house. See, Dallas had never taken school seriously, but you always have. He was worried you were spending far too much of your limited time studying or doing homework instead of being an actual teenager.

As you and Dallas strolled through the dimly lit streets toward the outskirts of town where the bonfire was blazing, you couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that ripped through your body. Dallas, your favorite charismatic troublemaker, seemed to sense your nerves and threw an arm around your shoulder, giving you a rough but reassuring squeeze.

"So, kid sister, what's got you all wound up tonight, huh?" Dallas smirked. His eyes gleaming mischievously in the faint glow of the streetlights.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just looking forward to hanging out with the guys, I guess. Haven’t seen them in a while is all."

Dallas shot you a knowing look, his eyebrows raised in amusement. "Uh-huh, the guys sure thing. Are you sure it’s not one guy? Don't think I haven't noticed those puppy-dog eyes you've been throwing at Darry lately." He had a habit of calling you out on your bullshit, even if it made you uncomfortable.

Your cheeks flushed at that comment. You stuttered in protest, but Dallas just laughed, his voice rumbling with amusement. "Relax, kid, ain't no crime in having a crush. But who knows, maybe tonight's the night you finally make a move." He winked knowing that was a load of crap. You’d never make a move on Darry, wouldn’t even dream of it. In his eyes you were Dallas’ baby sister. He could never see you like that.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that bubbled in your chest at the mere thought of it. Darrel Curtis was everything you found attractive in a man - strong, dependable, and with a heart of gold hidden beneath his tough exterior. The idea that he might feel even a fraction of what you felt for him sent your pulse racing. But you knew better, knew better than to get your hopes up.

The two of you approached the bonfire, the familiar sight of your friends greeted you. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the sound of laughter, with the occasional burst of music from someone's battered radio. It felt like home. You and Dallas had finally found it after years of moving and running.

Dallas led you through the throngs of people, his boisterous laughter mingling with the chatter of the others. Until you finally caught sight of Darry standing by himself next to the fire. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a few beats. You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling acutely aware of every movement, every breath. Dallas nudged you playfully with his elbow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he gave you a not-so-subtle wink before sauntering off to join the other greasers.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you squared your shoulders and made your way over to where Darry stood, his eyes never leaving yours. And as you drew closer, the crackle of the fire seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears, “Hi.” You smiled up at him once you got within ear shot.

He smiled right back at you. His annoyed face melted away once you got close. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. What a treat.” He smirked loving the little game the two of you shared when it was just the two of you. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had developed a not so innocent crush on you. Dallas Winston’s little sister. Probably the worst girl to have a crush on. But how could he not? You stepped up and helped him in ways he could’ve never imagined after his parents passed. You pulled Pony and Soda along right with you instead of letting them drown in grief. You were an angel. His angel.

Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn’t shake off the chill that seeped into your bones. You cursed yourself for forgetting your jacket, but with the comforting heat of the fire so close, you hadn't noticed the cold until now. Darry glanced down at you once you were standing next to him, sensing your discomfort. "Are ya’ cold, Y/N?"

You nodded, teeth chattering slightly. "Yeah, just a bit."

Without a word, Darry shrugged off the leather jacket he had on. "Here," he said, draping it over your shoulders. "You shouldn't be freezing out here." While it fit him it was about three sizes too large for you. Not that you minded.

You blinked in surprise as Darry's jacket enveloped you, radiating warmth and carrying his distinct scent. Grateful, you offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Darry."

He nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, Y/N. Don't want you catching a cold."

As the night wore on, you huddled closer to the fire, Darry's jacket shielding you from the biting cold. Despite the flames eventually dying down and the group dispersing, the memory of Darry's protective gesture lingered, a comforting presence in the darkness of the night.

In the dim light, you caught Darry's eye and offered him a silent expression of gratitude. He returned it with a nod, silently promising to always look out for you. Feeling a warmth not just from the jacket but also from his concern, you find yourself drawn to him. "Thanks again, Darry. Dallas rushed me out of the apartment. You know I’m not usually so forgetful." you say softly, your voice carrying a hint of flirtation you can't quite suppress.

Darry's lips quirk up in a half-smile, his eyes holding a glint of amusement. "No problem, Y/N," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "I’m sure it’s not easy being Dally’s sister."

You chuckle at his teasing tone, enjoying the banter that flowed so effortless between the two of you. "You could say that again. Guess I owe you one though," you say playfully, nudging him with your elbow.

Darry's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer, the warmth of his presence sending a shiver down your spine for an entirely different reason. "Oh, I'll be sure to collect on that debt," he murmurs, his gaze intense yet tender.

Your heart nearly stops at his words, and you find yourself blushing despite the chill in the air. Maybe forgetting your jacket wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Just as you're about to respond to Darry's playful banter, a familiar voice interrupted you from behind. "Well, well, what do we have here? Little sis all blushy-cheeked and heart eyes on our very own Darrel Curtis?" Dallas's voice carries a teasing edge, his smirk evident even in the dim light. He knew how much you not so secretly liked the oldest Curtis brother. You may not have said anything to him, but it was evident in the way you looked at him. Dallas knew eyes couldn’t hide much. That’s how he also knew the oldest Curtis brother felt the same about you. So, he did what any older brother would do, tease the shit out of the both of you.

You turn to see Dallas walking over, his usual cocky demeanor in full force. But something about the way he looks at you, a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite place, makes you more nervous than ever. Darry stiffens slightly beside you, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. His jaw clenches, and you notice a subtle tension in his shoulders.

"Easy there, Darry," Dallas continues, his grin widening. "I'm just messing with my kid sister. No need to get all uptight Curtis." He had a full-on grin now not realizing the damage he was causing between the blooming relationship that had yet to begin.

You shoot Dallas a playful glare, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Ignore him, Darry. He's just being annoying, as usual." You turned back to the man standing beside you, closer than you remember from just moments ago.

But Darry's gaze remains fixed on Dallas, a silent warning in his eyes. "Nothing’s happened Dallas.” The joyful tone in his voice from moments ago had vanished sending you into a minor panic as the two most important men in your life stood there staring at each other.

Dallas raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. "Alright, alright, no need to get all serious," he says, taking a step back. "I'll leave you two alone. Doing whatever you were doing.”

As Dallas walks away, you feel a pang of disappointment wash over you knowing that something was suddenly amiss. You glance at Darry, hoping to see his usual warmth and playfulness, but instead, you find him distant, his gaze fixed on the ground. He was thinking and thinking hard at that.

"Hey, everything okay?" you ask, reaching out to touch his arm.

When he pulled away from you sharply you tried to hide the disappointment evident in your gaze on him. Darry looks up, his expression guarded. "I’m sorry. I just... I can't do this. Not with Dallas being your brother," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart sank as Darry's words hit you like a punch to the gut. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between the two of you. But now, faced with his rejection, you felt a wave of embarrassment and hurt wash over you. You tried to hide the sting of tears threatening to spill from your eyes, forcing a weak smile as you withdrew his jacket from your shoulders. "I understand," you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. "It's okay, Darry. I-I didn't mean to make things awkward." You handed him the too big leather jacket back. You didn’t miss the disappointed look in his eyes as he took it back from you.

But before Darry could respond, you turned on your heel and began to walk away, the weight of his rejection heavy on your shoulders. You could feel the eyes of the other greasers on you as you made your way through the crowd, their whispers echoing in your ears like a cruel reminder of your own vulnerability. You were halfway down the street when you felt a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. Startled, you turned to find Dallas standing there, his expression unusually serious. "Y/N, wait," he said, his voice soft yet urgent. "What happened back there?"

You tried to brush off his concern, plastering on a fake smile. "It's nothing, Dallas. Just a misunderstanding, that's all."

But Dallas wasn't buying it, his gaze piercing through your facade. "Bullshit," he said bluntly. "I saw the way Darry was looking at you. And I saw the way you looked at him." He grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once again, unable to hold them back any longer. The floodgates opened, and all the pent-up emotions came pouring out, overwhelming you with their intensity. Dallas's grip on your arm softened, his expression shifting from skepticism to concern as he watched the tears stream down your cheeks.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked gently, his voice laced with worry. “What happened?"

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to speak. "It's Darry," you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion. "He doesn’t want me because... because he's worried about what you'll think or something."

Dallas's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his grip on your arm tightening ever so slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You swallowed hard, mustering the courage to explain. "I don’t know. It was fine then it wasn’t," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You were teasing us, and he... he thinks you don't approve. I don’t know Dallas he didn’t give me a reason. Just said he couldn’t do it."

Dallas's eyes widened in realization, a mixture of guilt and frustration flashing across his features. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was just messing around, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Dallas's distress. "I know, Dallas," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "But sometimes things don't turn out the way we expect them to."

Dallas's shoulders sagged as he let out a heavy sigh, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by an air of vulnerability. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he said sincerely, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you or Darry. You know that, right?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you fought to hold back the tears threatening to keep spilling from your eyes. "I know, Dal," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

Without hesitation, Dallas pulled you into a comforting brotherly hug, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. You felt a sense of warmth and security wash over you, knowing that no matter what happened, you had Dallas by your side, always ready to support you through thick and thin.As you leaned into his embrace, Dallas's protective instincts kicked in, his mind buzzing with thoughts of how to fix the situation. But before he could voice his intentions, you pulled away slightly, a pleading look in your eyes.

"Dallas, please," you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "Don't do anything rash. I don't want things to get any more complicated than they already are."

Dallas's expression softened as he registered your plea, his gaze filled with concern. "I just can't stand the thought of Darry hurting you like this," he admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "He's being so damn thick-headed, and it makes me want to sock him one right in the jaw."

You shook your head, a firmness in your voice. "No, Dallas, no fighting with your brothers," you insisted, your tone leaving no room for argument. "We'll figure this out without anyone throwing punches. Let's just leave it be for now, okay? I don't want anything to happen when everyone is emotional."

Dallas hesitated, his jaw tense with the effort of restraining himself. But as he looked into your eyes, seeing the conviction in them, he relented. "Alright, Y/N," he conceded, his voice quieter now, but still edged with frustration. "We'll do it your way. But I swear, if he keeps hurting you, I won't be able to hold back."

You gave him a grateful smile, appreciating his loyalty but relieved that he agreed to your terms. "Thank you, Dallas," you said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "For respecting my wishes."

Dallas nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Always, kid," he replied, his voice softening with affection. "Now, let's go inside and take a breather. We'll figure out our next move when we're all thinking straight."

As you followed Dallas into the apartment, a sense of relief washed over you, grateful for his support and understanding. Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders, and you couldn't fight the urge to collapse onto the couch, the events of the evening catching up with you all at once.

Dallas lingered nearby for a moment, watching over you with a protective gaze. He hesitated, torn between staying by your side and his burning desire to confront Darry. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, he made his decision.

Quietly, Dallas slipped out of the apartment once you were fast asleep on the couch, leaving you to rest, and made his way towards the Curtis house. Determination fueled his steps as he navigated the dimly lit streets, his mind focused on one goal: to talk some sense into Darry.

When he finally reached the Curtis house, he didn't bother with niceties. Instead, he pounded on the door with a forceful urgency, his knuckles rapping against the wood in a demanding rhythm. Soda was the one to answer the door, his expression shifting from surprise to concern as he took in Dallas's agitated demeanor. "Dallas? What's going on, man?"

But Dallas didn't waste any time with explanations. Without a word, he brushed past Soda, his eyes scanning the living room in search of Darry. He didn't care about being polite or waiting for an invitation. All he cared about was finding the one who made his sister cry. Soda called after him, his voice tinged with confusion and concern, but Dallas paid him no mind. His focus was singular, his determination unwavering as he sought out Darry, ready to have a long-overdue conversation that would hopefully set things right.

Dallas's footsteps echoed loudly as he made his way towards the backyard, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and concern. He found Darry leaning against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, while Ponyboy sat nearby, a troubled expression on his face. Without preamble, Dallas stormed over to Darry, his eyes blazing with intensity. "What the hell is wrong with you, Darry?" he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. "You made my sister cry, and for what? Because you're too damn stubborn to see what's right in front of you?"

Darry looked up, startled by Dallas's sudden outburst. "Dallas, what are you talking about?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.

Ponyboy, sensing the tension in the air, glanced nervously between his older brother and what felt like his second one. "Guys, what's going on?" he asked tentatively, his brow furrowing with concern.

"What's going on is that Darry's being a complete idiot," Dallas snapped, his frustration boiling over. "He's too blind to see that Y/N cares about him, and he's pushing her away because of it."

Darry's expression softened, his defenses crumbling under Dallas's relentless barrage. "Dallas, it's not that simple," he protested weakly, but Dallas wasn't having any of it.

"Not that simple?" Dallas echoed incredulously, his voice rising with every word. "You think you're doing her a favor by pushing her away? You're just hurting her, Darry. And you're too damn stubborn to see it."

Ponyboy watched the exchange in silence, his eyes darting between the two brothers with a mixture of concern and apprehension. He knew better than to intervene when Dallas was in one of his moods. Finally, Darry let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I didn't mean to hurt her, Dallas," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with regret. "I just... I don't know how to do this. I'm not good at this stuff."

Soda, who had been observing from the doorway, stepped forward with a smirk playing on his lips. "You got that right, Darry," he interjected, his tone teasing. "You're allergic to pretty girls."

Ponyboy couldn't help but chuckle at Soda's remark, a small smile breaking through the tension that hung in the air. Darry sighed, shaking his head at Soda's comment, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Thanks for the reminder, Soda," he said wryly, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "But I guess I'll just have to figure it out."

Dallas leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips as he listened to Ponyboy's words. "Yeah, she's got a heart of literal gold, man," he chimed in, nodding in agreement. "I've seen it. She's too kind for this world sometimes."

Ponyboy nodded fervently, his eyes reflecting admiration. "Absolutely. Remember that time when she stood up for Johnny when those guys were picking on him? She didn't even hesitate. Just marched right over there and gave them a piece of her mind."

Soda grinned, his eyes sparkling with fondness. "And she's always nice to everyone, even those stuck-up Socs who don't deserve it," he added, his voice full of admiration.

Darry sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't help but smile at his brothers' words, despite himself. "Yeah, she's something else, that's for sure," he mused, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "But sometimes, I worry she's too good for her own good."

The room fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before Soda broke it with a chuckle. "Well, Darry, you might just have to deal with it," he teased, nudging his brother playfully. "After all, love's got its own way of figuring things out."

Darry rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. "Yeah, you're right Soda," he conceded, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he thought about you. "I just hope I can keep up."

The brothers shared a knowing look, a silent understanding passing between them as they contemplated the impact you had made on their lives. Dallas leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "You know, Darry, you gotta give yourself some credit too," he said, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "She sees something in you, man. She wouldn't stick around if she didn't believe in you."

Darry shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know, Dallas, but... I've messed up so many times," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've let her down more times than I can count."

Ponyboy reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Darry's shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes," he said softly, his eyes filled with empathy. "But what matters is how you learn from them."

Soda nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "You gotta show her, Darry," he chimed in, his voice firm. "You gotta show her that you're willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

Darry sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I know, I know," he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. "I just... I don't know if I'm capable of being the person she deserves."

Dallas shook his head, his eyes locking with Darry's. "You are, man," he insisted, his tone unwavering. "But you gotta start believing it yourself. You gotta start believing that you're worthy of her love."

The room fell into a contemplative silence as Darry let Dallas' words sink in. And as he sat there, surrounded by his brothers, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring deep within him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to make things right with you. Maybe there was still a chance for them after all.

Dallas let out a gruff laugh, a hint of his usual tough demeanor creeping back into his expression. "Alright, enough of this mushy crap," he declared, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. "I swear to God, if this gets back to her or you say some soft shit, I'll kick all your asses."

Ponyboy chuckled nervously, shooting a glance at Soda and Darry. "Got it, Dallas," he replied, trying to suppress a grin.

Soda raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, no worries, man," he said with a smirk. "Our lips are sealed."

Darry nodded in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Dallas," he said sincerely, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

Dallas gave them all a nod before pushing himself off the wall. "Alright, I’m out out of here before I start feeling like I need to hug it out or something," he quipped, striding towards the door with his usual gate. He hoped you had stayed sleeping on the couch as he made his way back to your shared apartment.

The next day, Darry found himself restless, pacing back and forth in his room as he wrestled with his overwhelming sense of guilt. Every step he took felt heavy, burdened by the weight of regret that had settled like a stone in his chest. He knew he had hurt you deeply, and the thought churned his stomach with unease. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Darry couldn't shake off the nervous fluttering in his chest as he clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly in his hand.

Darry found himself seized by a sudden determination to make things right with you. He knew that a simple apology wouldn't be enough – he needed to show her just how much she meant to him. And that's when he remembered the little details about her that he cherished.

With a sense of purpose driving him forward, Darry made his way to a nearby flower shop. The bustling streets seemed to blur around him as he searched for the perfect bouquet, his mind focused solely on one thing: your beautiful smile that brightened his day. He rifled through the colorful array of blooms, his heart racing with anticipation as he sought out the flowers that would convey his heartfelt apology and adoration.

And then, amidst the vibrant sea of petals, he found them – sunflowers. They stood tall and proud, their golden faces turned towards the sun, just like Y/N's radiant spirit. Darry's heart swelled with certainty as he reached out to carefully select the most beautiful blooms, knowing that they would bring a ray of sunshine to your day.

But as he stood at the checkout counter, a sudden doubt crept into his mind. How did he know that sunflowers were her favorite? Had she ever mentioned it to him before, in passing? Or was it just a gut feeling, a subconscious knowledge born from the countless hours they had spent together? For a moment, Darry hesitated, his brow furrowing in uncertainty. But then he remembered the way your eyes had lit up the last time you had passed a house that was growing them, how you had exclaimed with delight at the sight. And in that moment, he knew – sunflowers were your favorite, and he was determined to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

As he made his way to your apartment, each footfall echoed with the rhythm of his racing heart. The short journey felt like an eternity, his mind filled with worry and doubt. What if you were still upset with him? What if you didn't want to see him? The uncertainty gnawed at him, threatening to consume him with fear. He couldn't bear the thought of facing your disappointment, knowing that he was the cause of your pain.

With trembling hands, Darry finally reached your doorstep. He took a moment to steady his nerves, drawing in a deep breath to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. But no amount of preparation could ease the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he raised his hand to knock on the door. Each rap of his knuckles felt like a thunderclap, reverberating through the silence of the neighborhood, and echoing the tumultuous turmoil in his own heart.

For a fleeting moment, Darry hesitated, his hand hovering uncertainly in the air. He couldn't help but worry that you would be furious with him, that you would turn him away without a second thought. The thought made his pulse quicken with apprehension, his palms growing slick with sweat as he grappled with his fear of rejection. But deep down, he knew he couldn't let his fear hold him back. He had to face you, to confront the consequences of his actions and make amends for the pain he had caused. With a silent prayer on his lips, Darry squared his shoulders and knocked once more, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

As the door swung open, revealing your surprised expression, Darry felt his heart almost stop. He could see the shock flicker across your features as you took in the sight of him standing there, a bouquet of sunflowers clutched tightly in his hand. But then, to his relief, your expression softened, your eyes lighting up with warmth and affection.

"Darry?" Your voice was soft, filled with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

Darry swallowed hard. His throat suddenly dry. He extended the bouquet towards her, his hand trembling ever so slightly. "For you," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

A smile spread across your face, brightening his mood with its warmth. "These are my favorite! How did you know?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with delight as you reached out to accept the flowers. You pushed the door open letting him in as your searched for a vase for your sunflowers.

Darry felt a weightlifting off his shoulders at your reaction, a sense of relief flooding through him. Maybe he hadn't completely messed things up after all. "Just a lucky guess," he replied with a shy grin, though deep down, he knew it was more than just luck. He had been paying attention, learning the little things that made you happy, and he was determined to make it up to her.

Darry watched as your smile grew wider, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of happiness seeing you so pleased with the flowers. "I'm glad you like them," he said, his voice soft with sincerity.

You wrapped your arms around him in a spontaneous hug, and Darry felt his heart swell with warmth at the gesture. "Thank you, Darry," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

The embrace felt like a balm to Darry's soul, soothing the lingering doubts and fears that had plagued him since last night. But as he held you close, he knew there was still something he needed to address, something he couldn't ignore any longer.

"I need to apologize, Y/N," Darry began, his voice tinged with regret. "I was a jerk last night at the bonfire. I shouldn't have dismissed you like that."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. "Darry, it's okay," you reassured him, though there was a hint of hurt in your eyes.

But Darry shook his head, his gaze earnest. "No, it's not okay," he insisted, his voice firm. "You deserved better than that, and I'm sorry for treating you like you didn't matter."

Your expression softened as you listened to Darry's heartfelt apology, and a sense of understanding washed over you. "I forgive you, Darry," you replied, reaching out to gently caress his cheek. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Darry felt a wave of relief wash over him at your forgiveness, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to make it up to you somehow, to show you just how much you meant to him. As he looked into your eyes, he could see the depth of your care and affection reflected back at him, and it filled him with a sense of gratitude. He realized in that moment just how lucky he was to have you in his life.

A mischievous glint sparked in Darry's eyes as he felt a surge of confidence coursing through him. "You know, since we're both feeling so forgiving and all," he began, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "how about I make it up to you by taking you on a proper date?"

Your eyes widened in surprise at his suggestion, a smile spreading across your face. "A date?" you echoed, a hint of excitement in your voice.

Darry nodded, his grin widening. "Yeah, a date," he confirmed, his tone filled with determination. "How about we go to that fancy restaurant downtown? The one with the candlelit tables and that amazing carbonara dish you love. I know it's your favorite."

A delighted laugh bubbled up from your lips at his suggestion, and Darry felt a surge of pride knowing that he had guessed right. "You remembered," you said, your voice filled with warmth.

Darry shrugged nonchalantly, though his heart swelled with satisfaction at your reaction. "Of course, I remembered," he replied with a wink, his flirtatious side coming out to play. "I pay attention to the important stuff. You're the important stuff."

And as you laughed and agreed to the date, Darry couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within him. Maybe this was the start of something new, something wonderful – a chance to show you just how much you meant to him, and to make up for his past mistakes with little moments like these.

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rebelliousstories · 5 months

Text

What Did You Say?

Relationship: Norm McLean x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst, Pregnancy

Word Count: 1,406

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: The whole reason they got married was with the goal of repopulation. That is why anyone in the Vaults gets married. Being married to Norm is a challenge all on its own.

Norm was speechless. That alone was highly unusual for him as he did not get speechless, simply he did not voice every thought that pops into his head. But here he sat, without a thought to voice, and a mouth with which to do it. He did not process the fact that his wife was slowly loosing her smile, and instead of excitedly bouncing, she was shifting nervously.

“What’s going on in your head, sweetheart?” She asked, concerned for her husband’s wellbeing. In the entire time that they had been married, or even had known each other, she had never known him to be this paralyzed.

“Are you sure?” Sure, it was not the best thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to him.

“Of course I’m sure. The doctor checked me a couple days ago,” she moved to hold his hands. “Norm, we’re having a baby.” While she held out hope that at some point he would get excited with her, that hope was draining by the second.

“And it’s mine?” Again, it was not the best thing to come out of his mouth because her look turned sour really quick.

“Are you accusing me of something, Norman?” Her voice was no longer sweet; this was a dangerous growl.

“No, no. I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m just- we’re having a baby?” He was still not on the same plane of existence as her.

“Yes, Norm. We’re having a baby. I thought you’d be excited, or joyful, or even able to crack a darn smile. What is going on with you?” She was starting to tip over into yelling and their vault doors could only do so much sound proofing.

“No I’m- I mean, yes I… just,” he stammered, “I’m just not sure this is the best time.” He murmured, and began to fiddle with his hands.

“Well, it’s apparently a perfect time according to our bodies. Ever heard the expression, ‘it takes two to tango’? I didn’t make a baby by myself.” It felt like such an obvious observation, and yet, she felt like she was trying to talk to a child.

“I know that, I’m just. I’m not sure I’m fit to be a dad. I’m just gonna-” and he took off. Opening their door, Norm left their little humble home to go off to who knows where. Slouching to the floor, she held her stomach and cried. Sure people got scared to be parents but they did not run out on their pregnant wives while doing so? Thoughts ran wild in her head with Norm gone. Would she end up being a single mother? She knew that divorce was a thing but no one in the last two hundred years had one in the vaults. If someone was a single parent, it was because one parent had died.

Her sobs continued well into the night. Even when dinner time came, she ate alone; staring at the empty seat but a full plate where Norm would sit. She went on with her nightly routine as if nothing was wrong, as if half of her world was not missing. The bed felt too big now without her husband. As she lay in bed, she could not help but to let the tears come once again. She cried herself to sleep without even realizing it, and was only awoken by the morning bell. Her husband’s side was still together, even if she had taken his pillow to provide some comfort for herself.

She went about her breakfast routine, but was quickly sent to vomit when she smelled the eggs and bacon she had prepared. Coming out, nothing looked amiss, and she set about making toast. Toast would be safe to eat.

An executive decision was made for her, by her, to stay in for the day. She could afford a day off with the evening she had. A lot of her time was spent reading, or staring at the door. As much as she did not like him right now, she still loved her husband and wanted him by her side. The notification came through her pip-boy from the doctor about her ultrasound appointment today. It almost felt bittersweet. On one hand, she did not feel like inviting Norm to the appointment with how he was acting. But on the other hand,he was still her husband and the father of her child. He deserved the choice at least.

The forwarded message came across the gear that was on Norm’s arm, and he was shocked. After he ran away last night like a coward, he did not expect this from his wife. Norm saved the appointment onto his pip-boy for later use and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“You alright, son?” Hank asked of his boy, bringing over two mugs. The one with tea was set in front of the younger MacLean, while his dad drank his allotted amount of coffee.

“Just grappling my thoughts. She sent me a notification of a doctor’s appointment this evening, but I don’t even know if she really wants me there.” Norm admitted, fiddling with his hands underneath the table.

“If I remember one thing about your mother, is that during both of her pregnancies, her hormones made her a ball of emotions. You could say the grass was green and she would burst out crying.” Hank chuckled, and took another sip while his son just sat there.

“There was a time where she was so angry with me that I didn’t like the name that she picked for her top name for you, that I was kicked to the couch for two days.” This made Norm perk up.

“So what did you do? How did you fix things with her?” He asked, eager to hear the rest of the story.

“I went with her to your final ultrasound. Didn’t hold her hand or anything, but once we say you fully formed, she reached for my hand and said, ‘Norman, that’s what we’ll call him.’” His dad chuckled as he finished the story, and gained a sad look in his eyes.

“So what should I do?” Norm asked, finally taking a sip of his tea.

“If it were me, I’d go to the appointment. No matter how mad she is now, she’ll be worse if you miss that.” A timer dinged and as they looked for the source of the sound, they realized it was Norm’s pip-boy. Hs reminder for the appointment came up and he dashed out of the door without another word. Norm walked briskly to the doctor’s office, and tried not to run; no matter how much he wanted to.

By the time he got there, he saw her head dip into a room, that he somehow managed to catch. Norm saw her unzipping her vault suit, and rolling up her white shirt when he opened the door. He let out a breath that he did not realize he was holding and came over to help her.

“You came.” She stated, resting her hands on his face.

“I came.” He repeated, holding her body close to his in a crushing hug.

“I’m ready to be a dad.” Norm whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. It made her heart swell to hear those six little words come from his lips. The couple pulled away right as the doctor came in.

“Oh, hello Norm. Here to see the missus and the kiddo?” She spoke jovially, setting down her equipment to get started. Rubbing the cold gel on the mom-to-be’s belly, she held the wand against it to start looking inside. norm remained silent as he stared at the screen with a little black and white mage starting to emerge.

“There they are. That’s their leg, and arm. The beginnings of their head and organs and, oh wait. There’s their head. No, wait.” The doctor spent a minute looking intensely at the screen which freak the MacLean’s out just a little bit.

“Oh, okay. Not to worry.” She spoke finally.

“Why? What’s going on?” Mrs. Maclean was confused and concerned as she tried to sit up, only to be held down gently by her doctor.

“No, everything is okay. There are two heads. You’re having twins. Congratulations.” Once more, she held a happy tone as she went back to the screen. Yet again, Norm spoke without thinking it through.

“What did you say?”

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #norm maclean imagine #norman maclean x reader #norm maclean x reader #norman maclean x oc #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean

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jolapeno · 2 months

Text

i wasn’t sure if I wanted to say something or not. but, I saw the post that @moonlitbirdie did here with the addition from @tonysopranosrobe and I guess it inspired me to be a little braver with my honesty.

because at the end of the day, this is my blog? it’s my thing I’ve taken and nurtured, and watered and made my own.

so lemme start with I’m aware it is humanly impossible to be everyone’s cup of tea, and I do not expect to be. but before the last week or so, I’d naively thought that if I wasn’t, those people would bow out politely from my life/space.

but that blog showed me that isn’t the case, and that sucked.

there are far more adjectives and words I’d love to say to describe my feelings on that blog and that situation. to describe the hurt and the sadness I’ve felt, not just for the words said about me but about moots, friends and others I see in the community I love being in. but I think I would never stop talking and we all have lives.

so I’ll get to the point of what this is.

normally, I wouldn’t address things publicly, but this time I want to put my foot down, to say a few things.

I might seem more confident in recc’ing myself, but that isn’t because I was faking it before. instead, it’s because I have good people in my life, and good friends who I might not have had before taking the time to let me hold some space in my life. who have reminded me that it’s okay to toot my fucking horn sometimes, and it doesn’t make me a bad person even if it feels bad.

they remind me that it’s okay to celebrate with cake when I finish a series I’ve worked really, really hard on. and those same good people are also ones who politely and virtually slap me when I begin talking shit on myself, who have helped me begin to forge a better relationship with the warring voices in my head—the writer who wishes to write and the girl with no self esteem who wishes to crawl into a ball each time she posts.

next, I know for some, it may have seemed like I was okay. that the normal posting on here was it running off my back like water. but it wasn’t. it was hard to come into a space where it felt like people hated me, and where people would send in asks about other people I’m friends with or care for or know. because even if it’s only a few asks, it feels like more, because I don’t know who is screenshotting and agreeing with it. and once you begin tumbling down that thought-cliff there’s no stopping you.

again, I’m aware I’m not perfect. i make mistakes, I try to learn from them, and I do not expect to be everyone’s fave person. but anon hate is not a thing I’d wish even on the people I personally dislike, and I’ve had it on and off pre that blog appearing. I’ve deleted and deleted, blocked and reported, and then that blog came and then it was out there, and I could do nothing. I just had to stare and read it, had to hope that people knew who I was.

and look, I say none of this for sympathy, but more an acknowledgment that not everything that stands past the ground shaking is stable. that people don’t always know or feel able to ask or share that they’re hurting. and then it’s isolating, it’s dark and it’s fucking lonely.

which is what leads me to my final thing, which is thank you. thank you to every single person who has reached out to check if I’m okay, to offer the option of a vent or a thot, and the ones that have even just sent love hearts. and also thank you to those who have thought about sending something to me or instead disputed or reported that blog.

I know on the post above by birdee and commented on by han mentions about checking in with people, and I just want to echo that point so loud. if you’re unsure what to do it this happens again (maybe not even now - god I hope - or in this fandom, but in the future) from someone who was mentioned, it’s check in.

similar to han (you worded it perfectly and I’m going to butcher it) it validated how shitty I was feeling, it allowed me to feel okay taking space to be mad and to be sad, because someone else was agreeing it was wrong. those things seem easy on the surface until your North Star has gone, until your upside down and topsy turvy. and if you’re reading this and thinking “bit fucking dramatic jo” then I ask you to kindly unfollow me, no hard feelings, or anything.

because in my eyes, anyone would feel a little disconcerted when their hobby doesn’t feel safe or provide the same comfort it did. when your hobby is the thing you look forward to, and then you can’t enjoy it because there’s a thousand thoughts running around and it feels so anxiety provoking. and yeah, I know there will be people who will go “it’s just tumblr” but I’ve been here a while, this isn’t my first rodeo here, and I just never wish for anyone else to feel like this. ever. no one deserves the hobby they love to be tarnished by shadows that shout and spew things, that you can’t fight back against, because you don’t know who they are.

but kind voices eventually break through and smother the unkind ones. they do. they have.

and I know for me, those check ins and messages brought me comfort when I needed it. they helped.

so if you’re unsure what to do, take comfort that a little love does help. it isn’t magic, it doesn’t fix it all, but it does make a difference, and that matters too.

#jo’s thoughts #tw discourse

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copperbadge · 2 years

Text

Having ADHD and Being A Little Punk Rock

So....a huge amount of the discourse on Tumblr around neurodiversity generally is just venting. Which is good, it’s good to vent and Tumblr is a good place for it. And I know that often, when venting, the LAST thing you want to hear is someone trying to offer help or solutions. So generally I keep my mouth shut unless someone is speaking to me specifically.

But a while back I saw someone asking (rhetorically) about what people with ADHD wish their parents had known, and I had a lot of thoughts about that which I started jotting down. Reading the various ADHD tags, I also see a lot of teens and twentysomethings with ADHD who visibly have no coping mechanisms and no way of creating them. I don’t blame the kids, and it’s not some kind of personal failing on their part; they’re young, and nobody has taught them. But I look at them and I think, A little sideways thinking would help you out so much. Then, recently, I got an ask (thank you for the permission not to respond directly) that was full of feelings about not being able to process or communicate well, and feeling a lot of negative emotions because of it.

So, maybe it’s time to just throw this out there. I want to offer some advice as Fandom Dad with forty-three years of being neurodiverse and exactly seven months of actually being aware I was neurodiverse. Which for once is actually going to be pretty helpful! Because I looked at the world and I assumed my own neurotypicality and I thought, well, okay, but fuck all that.

Allow me to explain.

I think this can apply to a number of ways in which people are neurodiverse, but I have ADHD so that’s what I’m really speaking to here. With ADHD, there’s medication, and I strongly urge people to explore that option because medication is awesome when it works. But there’s also a lot out there about how to try harder, or trick yourself into doing something in a very neurotypical way, or use systems that may not work for you. I know; I tried some too, and the sense of failure, the sense of being an ongoing failure, is terrible. So I want to offer an alternative which has helped me a great deal, and may help other people with ADHD, particularly younger people.

People of any age, but especially young people who have ADHD, should be made aware that it’s okay to suck at things, to struggle, and to fail. Even if you think you should be good at something, even if everyone around you thinks so too, it’s okay to just be garbage at it and to acknowledge that fact. But just saying “well I’m dumb and can’t do this” of course isn’t actually helpful, and harms you a great deal, because you are a living person with feelings and if you’re self-aware enough to notice, you’re also too smart to be calling yourself dumb. Acknowledging that you’re bad at something, and even acknowledging that you’d like to succeed at it, is only part one of figuring life out.

Part two is deciding what to do about it, and more importantly, how.

I was always told I was smart, but I was told “You’re smart so you should be able to do this”, not “You’re smart, so let’s come up with a way around this.” I don’t think many people are encouraged to explore why they are bad at something, to understand their own brains and thought processes which cause them to struggle.

Decades before I knew I had ADHD, I had to figure out that one of life’s most important skills is not being able to creatively solve problems but to recognize when you have to. Anyone can sit around and come up with three or four ways to solve a problem, but it’s not actually often taught that you should also be aware of when this is needed. Often, when faced with a problem that is difficult to solve, we’re taught that our reaction should be the socially approved “I just need to try harder”. Sometimes that’s true, but usually it’s not.

More often, when we feel that instinct, especially as people with ADHD, we should say instead, “I’m not going to try harder, that’s bullshit. I’m trying already. I’m going to find another way to solve this problem.” Trying harder doesn’t work, after all, when your own brain is fighting you.

So you stop and think, if there were no rules to the world, how could I do this? You don’t have to work smarter; a lot of my solutions could reasonably be described as “work dumber”. The point is to work differently in a way that helps you specifically.

Stop trying to remember to take your keys when you leave the house and get a lanyard and hang them on the doorknob; if you lose them a lot, hang the lanyard around your neck when you leave the house.

Stop pretending you’ll remember to scoop the litterbox every night and set an alarm that tells you to do it. Or don’t, that works for me but might not for you! Maybe you have to put the litterbox somewhere you’ll see it right before bed (I ALSO do this for the days I turn off the alarm and then promptly forget it happened).

There are phone charging cords in every room of my home so that I never run down my phone battery, something that is mildly inconvenient to have happen but deeply anxiety-inducing to think about for me. And now I never worry.

The point is, don’t ask how you can do better at something, ask how you can make something easier for you.

Even rewiring your brain to ask the question is a learned skill, though. You have to consciously stop when you find something is fighting you and consciously think, how can this be easier for my specific brain? If we assume I am not stupid but am in fact fighting an invisible monster, how do I make the monster visible?

Life became roughly 60% easier for me when I started thinking this way. Of all the tips for time management and list making and organizing and de-organizing you can try and implement, none of that is necessary if you know how to ask yourself, “How do I do this differently?” and come up with alternatives that suit your brain.

Especially with neurodivergence, there’s no “one size fits all” when it comes to handling it, neurologically or emotionally. So I think that it’s important to be a little bit punk rock. Not necessarily in the way of defying authority but in the way of defying convention -- the ability to say “fuck you” to the Way Things Are Done and do one’s own thing is very liberating and healthy. You lose a lot of the benefits of creative problem solving if you’re also ashamed of the solutions. So I think the best trick I know of to succeed despite unmedicated ADHD is just to say “fuck you, there must be an easier way to do this.”

I’m garbage at cleaning my home (I can say that because I’m not only calling myself garbage, I’m using “I’m bad at this” as a stepping stone to solving the problem, and then I no longer feel like garbage and can joke about it with a healthy ego). I vacuum regularly and do the dishes and such but like...I don’t scrub the floors or dust or wash out the bathtub. That’s part of why I do November Cleaning -- so that at least once a year those things, that I never want to do but always think I should do, get done, but only have to be done once and at a specific designated time. So now if the bathroom floor is a bit grimy in the corners I just think, “Ah -- that’s for November” and add it to my November Cleaning list.

For my friend who struggles with communication, which is something I also used to really struggle with (and still do in some ways), one of my “make stuff easier” techniques for this was simply to...tell people.

“Hey, I tend to talk really fast when I get excited, so please tell me if I need to slow down.”

“Sorry, I have some hearing issues, I may ask you to repeat something -- it’s fine just to do it slower, I don’t need louder.”

“I’m upset and struggling, I need a minute.” (or even just “Hey where’s the bathroom?” so you can sit quietly for a moment and gather your thoughts. If you’re too upset to talk, it also helps to type them out, which I often do.)

If someone tells me something I want to remember, I’ll get out my phone and say “Sorry, I’m still listening, but I want to write that down so I won’t forget it.” I do all my writing-things-down in Google Tasks, then once I’m somewhere quiet and private I review the notes and move stuff that isn’t actually “to do” to another list. Sometimes I’ll tell someone “I’m so sorry, you just said something and I totally missed it, but it’s important to me -- can you repeat it?”

Most people find that kind of honesty, where you’re open about why you’re maybe talking at cross-purposes, really charming. It indicates that you think they are important, and you’re putting in effort to hear what they’re saying and respond to it thoughtfully.

I hope this is helpful in finding ways around some basic problems, rather than through them -- that being able to stop and think “This could be easier -- how?” is something that people can internalize and make use of. Going around a mountain rather than through it might look like it’ll take more time and energy, but it beats trying to punch through granite the whole way there.

#sam has adhd

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celaenaeiln · 11 months

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C: Hi there! Even if I've been reading dick Grayson(and in turn batfamily) fics for a few weeks now, I've never actually watched/read DC stuff because even if I liked superheroes, I'm not invested enough to read the actual comics. The most I watched was the Teen Titans 2003 cartoon(which I love). I was brought into interest cause I was brought in through crossovers of other fandoms (which may be hated by some/many😅)

To give myself context, I tried to read around for Robin, and imagine my surprise there's more than one? Which, okay mantle thing I guess. But in the end, Dick Grayson caught my attention(not rlly for his looks and design, but more of his heroism and entire personality and affect in the DC world). Which leads to looking at other tumblrs and I love reading yours and when you answer the asks cause it's so much easier for me to understand the kind of person Dick is and how he interacts with the world.

Sorry for this long context, but I just want maybe your opinion, what if your opinion in the combination of how Dick Grayson should be written for him to Thrive

- Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?

- what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married...a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)

- What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)

Tbf, I do think is a little bit of all is what makes Dick, Dick. Haha

Sorry for the long ask, feel free to not answer because i just needed to get this out😅. I know it's actually bad I'm reading fics without canon knowledge for personality, but your posts makes me understand him more that I understand what's real and what's fanon in fics (that makes me..ugh.. but I read anyway for plot cause i don't know better)

But thank you anyway for reading this and I love your content!

(last one for this ask I swear: I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true) :C

First of all, thank you so much!! I'm so happy to hear you like my stuff <333!!

I think it's fine that you started in the fandom since I sort of started out that way too lol. I had only watched Teen Titans Animated show and Young Justice before I got into fanfics and my first comic I ever read was actually Teen Titans (2011) which was Tim's run. It's been a journey.

Dick's personality was also what captivated me so here I am!

"Should he stay in Gotham, being in with the batfamily more? Soloing in Bludhaven? Staying with the titans? Or others?"

That's a really good question and a complex one. Ironically, for being such a people person, Dick seems to be doing best when he's by himself. When he's soloing, he has a sense of freedom and independence that he's been craving for a long time. The whole reason he left Bruce was because he felt like Bruce was suddenly treating him like a kid, like someone to look after, when he had been treating Dick like a partner the whole time. When Dick feels like his independence is being stepped on, it unsettles him. This is another reason why the Tom Taylor run and Dick's relationship pisses me off but that's for another time. As much as he likes Gotham, he loves Bludhaven. He thinks it's a dirty, crime-filled city, sure, but he loves it there.

He's a little crazy like that.

He doesn't have the same attachment to Gotham that Bruce does. Instead he feels that for Bludhaven.

The only reason I'm saying Dick is better off staying alone than with the Titans is because of his leadership mentality. There's a comic that I forgot the name of but Dick teams up with members of the Justice League and they trapeze through a jungle under the orders of this corrupt military general. He teams up with Arthur and automatically starts commanding people to which Aquaman tells him off, saying this isn't the Titans. Dick is genuinely sorry and backs off. For a minute. But immediately goes right back into command mode but Arthur lets it go, realizing that Dick's not conscious of it and that his behaviour is automatic. "Too many leaders" he calls the situation in his head. For Dick, the Titans have become a responsibility now. He loves them like crazy but they look up at him automatically for directions and order and he's gotten so used to leading them that it's his go to mode.

He just likes doing stuff without someone hovering over his shoulder or having to take care of others.

"what about his romantic relationships? Who should be is one true one(based on canon gfs), or maybe stay single? (Just gonna be biased, but I've only knew about dickbabs and dickkory (but I heard he has other girlfriends and I've remember reading he was almost married…a few times??) but dickkory had always been for me)"

Yeah, I've actually loved almost all of his romantic relationships. I hate Dickbabs but every other one has been fantastic. Kori was great for him.

Action Comics (1938) Issue #618

Dick says it again here. He used to envy Roy's freedom. He's also said in another comic that he fell in love with Kori for her freedom.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

You're right, he has gotten almost married a few times

The first time was with Kori

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

But then

The New Titans (1988) Issue #100

their pastor gets vaporised and body-controlled Raven feeds the soul of one of Trigon's children into Kori and she goes crazy but she recovers but it's a whole ordeal. In the end they don't get a chance to complete their marriage. They were spectacular together though. The only reason their wedding didn't go through is because the Batfam writers wanted Dick back so they took him from the Titans' writers and they needed a big dramatic scene to cut him off from the Titans. Another reason why Barbara was deaged and created as a love interest- to gatekeep him in the family.

He's also gotten married to Barbara before the retcon though.

Batman Family Issue #11

But here they were forced to by Maze and they went along with it and tricked him. At the end though, they just grab a bite to eat.

Ngl I actually would've supported this marriage. I really love this Barbara. Yes the age difference is a bit much but whatever, I still like them.

Dick and Barbara have gotten married in an alternate timeline.

Convergence: Nightwing/Oracle Issue #2

yeah, definitely didn't like this one.

Dick's also gotten fake married to a woman because Batman and Dick thought she was killing her husbands after marrying them so Dick married her to see if it was true.

Nightwing (1996) Annual #1

I liked her. She wasn't the killer and Dick did a fantastic job raising her son but even though she loved him, he didn't love her and they divorced amicably. I wish I could see more of her and her son though.

To be completely honest, my favorites for Dick are Kori and Bea.

Bea was a fantastic partner. She was understanding, loving, caring, and responsible. She was there when he was Ric Grayson and just loved him for who he was.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #53

If Kori's truly out of the picture, then Dick really should've settled down with her.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #57

She and Kori, they don't tell Dick what to do or who to be. They let him be free which is why I loved them an extraordinary amount. I'm a sucker for soft moments and Bea and Dick are couple goals.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #62

They give him the freedom he craves.

"What about mentally wise? (Of course, I do think Dick needs a long vacation because of all the trauma that he has to go through), but even if I like the idea of Dick being admired for his looks because he deserves it, but I do rmbr posts that he is uncomfy with this(sexualisation, Def only staying true to the person he loves (then there's the whole...Tarantula and more thing)"

I think Dick does need a break. His life has been a series of unfortunate events but despite all that, I think he loves it that way. Dick loves the thrill of adventure. It's the heart of who he is and why he became robin. The excitement he gets when fighting or doing crazy stunts - he loves all of it and that is his coping mechanism. I guess in order for him to thrive, Bruce needs to stop dumping all his trauma and stop expecting him to be there for him at all times of the day. Dick keeps getting dragged back to Gotham to take care of Bruce and his problems and he would go in a heartbeat but he's much happier wacking his own goons in Bludhaven. But since Bruce is so codependent on Dick, this pattern's not gonna stop anytime soon.

Truth be told I also like Dick being admired for his looks. I don't like him being called out by it though. First of all why would you comment "hot booty" to someone? It's degrading and humiliating even if you think it's a compliment. Some things are better left untold. But regardless of what people think, Dick will always be pretty and everyone in the DC universe knows this. Heroes, civilians, villains - they're all attracted to him on some level because he's so beautiful. And honestly? I'm all for it! Because that boy is the prettiest human in existence and he deserves that recognition. Just not vocally or physically.

The best thing is that Dick's beauty has no bearing on his mentality toward people. This man will choose one person and stick with them forever. He values intimacy and trust and love in his relationships which is why he's so attached to each one. This plays a massive role in his relationship with Kori. He would never cheat. Actually in all the future comics, after his spouse passes away or leaves, he never remarries. The only one exception was Batman Beyond (2016). The only one and he remarries Barbara after his wife passes away. Aside from that he remains a single parent. That's how dedicated he is.

"I've been seeing stuff where Robin name is actually Dick's mom calling Dick that. Then it's passed down as a mantle starting from Jason without Dick consenting. I tried to read at wiki, maybe I missed out but I can't find anything. Is it true? Does the other bats (except Bruce and Alfred?) know the actual meaning? Because as much as I love Dami, the whole bloodson, birthright to take the mantle of Robin beside Batman give me ugh feelings if it's true)"

Yup Dick's mother called Dick Robin.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #0

Robin (1993) Annual #4

Here's a couple but there are more instances of his mom calling him Robin.

Dick had no idea Bruce passed on the Robin costume. He finds out through the newspaper because Bruce is pissed at Dick. Like he's so mad that when he told Dick to leave, Dick actually left.

You know how there's a saying about not being able to take back words of anger? Bruce is feeling that heavily. He already had suspicions that Dick wanted to leave but before Dick could tell him, he fired him so he wouldn't have to hear those words. But Bruce is super mad that Dick left anyway. So what does he do? He makes the first boy he sees Robin.

And Jason finds out Dick was Robin when he confronts Bruce why Nightwing knows Bruce's identity. And that gets Bruce more mad because he's now feeling guilty which is when Dick comes to confront Bruce.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But instead of meeting anger for anger, Dick expresses his hurt. About how they were partners and then talks about his life after leaving Bruce.

And Bruce loves Dick. His best friend, son, brother, and partner for nearly 11 years. They raised each other and despite his anger, he smiles in pride and love.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Look at his smile!! He's so proud of his son.

And that's when Dick stops pulling his punches.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Bruce looks so wrecked. The guilt and sorrow is tantamount to his pain.

Then Dick asks Bruce why he choose someone new.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

So Bruce tells him. But Dick and Bruce's relationship go way deeper than just friends or family. They know each other. They revolve around each other so Dick calls him out.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And out comes the truth

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But Dick has always been the bigger man and instead of letting Jason become some sort of spite move, he turns Robin into a legacy.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He passes it down like it was meant to be passed down. Because let's be honest here. The Robin name and costume is Dick's. If he wanted to, he could've taken it back, Bruce be damned. And that was one of Jason's fears.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But despite Bruce's words to Jason

Batman (1940) Issue #416

He's not sure himself.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

But it's only with Dick's approval that he becomes Robin which is what Bruce is thanking at the end.

Batman (1940) Issue #416

And this has been a sort of tradition.

Dick approved of Jason being Robin, he endorsed Tim, and he made Damian Robin. The only exception being Stephanie. This is why Dick feels a heavy sense of responsibility over the robin predicament. He created the tradition. He approved, supported, and mentored every robin that walked in his colors and name. That's why he feels the burden of it.

I don't think any of the other robins know the meaning behind the name. Maybe they do. But ironically, the one who wasn't robin is the one who knows the meaning of it.

Duke.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #koriand'r #barbara gordon #bea bennett #dickkory #beadick #jason todd #robin jason todd #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!#I'm always happy to receive asks or comments so don't feel worried about sending me more! I loved reading this <33!#cl asks

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