flirtlikeafrenchgirl · 11 months ago
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Sam's Sourdough Waffles Recipe This simple sourdough waffle recipe yields delicious waffles that are crispy and golden on the outside and incredibly fluffy on the inside!
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droiddraws · 1 year ago
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Sam's Sourdough Waffles Recipe This simple sourdough waffle recipe yields delicious waffles that are crispy and golden on the outside and incredibly fluffy on the inside! 2 eggs, 1.5 cups water, 2 tablespoons white sugar, 2 cups all-purpose flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 2 teaspoons salt, 1 tablespoon water, 1 cup sourdough starter, 1/2 cup vegetable oil
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icantalk710 · 1 year ago
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Had a get-together tonight, friend's bathroom lighting wasn't too shabby
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nnugatoryextravagance · 1 month ago
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As much as I genuinely hate to do it I really really need to close my inbox for now until further notice so I can try to get around to everything ive already been sent because it's gotten extremely overwhelming trying to find somewhere to start when more keep flooding in every day
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nochiquinn · 2 years ago
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my partner had to take an uber to the hospital this morning, we don't know how long he'll be there but we do know he and his wife are both missing at least one day of work, so if anybody wanted to toss a coin to ease the blow/help cover the uber costs that would be greatly appreciated
paypal: nochisan
ko-fi/venmo/cashapp: nochiquinn
kitten tax:
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emmauscentrett · 2 years ago
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It's almost here!
The Emmaus Prayer breakfast fundraiser is less than 2 weeks away. Have you gotten your tickets yet? Have you told a friend yet?
The Most Archbishop Charles Jason Gordon will be delivering what will no doubt be an unforgettable spiritual message to attendees. You do not want to miss this!
Call the team for tickets now. Anne Marie 868-379-8217, Mary 868-362-2325, Lesley 868-782-1663, Linda 868-720-9359, Marian 868-777-8433, Grace 868-720-9192, Sharron 868-491-0218.
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gate-city-schoolhouse · 4 months ago
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2024 ANNUAL BLUEBERRY PANCAKE BREAKFAST AND RAFFLE
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RAFFLE ITEMS AVAILABLE THIS YEAR - Thank you to local businesses supporting our Schoolhouse!
Stella-Jones - Cord of Firewood
Rochester Lumber - Jack, Pans, Window Shade
Grand Mound Starbucks - Coffee, Cups, Nuts
Fairfield Inn Grand Mound - 1 Night Stay
Nelson Furniture - Bench
Tractor Supply Grand Mound - Dog / Flag
Tacoma Rainiers - 4 Tickets
Rochester Fruit - 2 Boxes of Fruit
Scatter Creek Vet - Basket + $75 Certificate
Lael's Landscape and Stone Supply - 5 Yards of Bark
Skyzone - (5) 10 Tickets
South Sound Licensing - State Park Pass
Figaro's Pizza - 3 Pizza Dinners
VJ Bargain Barn - Door
Feed Bin - Chicken Start Kit, feed
JAGS - 5 Yards Bark
Scatter Creek Nursery - $50 Certificate
18 Dicks Sausage & Deli - $25 Certificate
NW Hardwood - (2) Board Ends
Holiday Inn Express Chehalis - (2) 1 Night Certificate
L&E Bottling - 10 cases Pop
Everett Aqua Sox (2) 4 Seat Packages
Hannah Airport Limo - 4 hr Ride
Country Corner Market - Steer Manure, Chicken Manure, Potting Soil
Brian Rikstad - Wooden Flag
Museum of Glass - 8 Tickets
Papa Diner - $25 Certificate
Flaming Pig BBQ - (2) $50 Certificate
Farrelli's Pizza (2) $50 Certificate, Hat, Shirt
Holy Lamb Organics - Pillow
Long Beach Breakers - 2 Night Stay (1 bedroom condo)
Tractor Supply Lacey - 8 Solar Lights
Papa Murphy's (2) Family Size Pizza, 1 Sides, 2 liter Soda
Holiday Inn Express Marysville - 1 Night Stay
O'Blarney's - (2) $25 Certificate
Les Schwab Centralia - Wheel Alignment
Ocean Shores Inn/Suites - 2 Night Stay
Holiday Inn Express Sequim - (2) 1 Night Stay
Lael's Moon Garden - $25 Certificate
Dutch Bro's Grand Mound - $50 Certificate, Coffee & Bottle Box
Apple Bee's - $25 Certificate
Hallmark Resort Cannon Beach - 2 Nights
Eagle's Landing Golf Portland - 4 Rounds
Spooner Berry's (2) Flat Berries
Emerald Downs - 4 Tickets, Parking, Program
Lucky Eagle Hotel - 1 Night, Dinner, Breakfast
The Power Shop - Cordless Pruner
OK Tire - Max Tire Repair Kit
Tractor Supply Chehalis - Rooster
Quizno's Grand Mound - 5 Small Sandwiches
Seattle Art Museum - 3 Tickets
O'Reilly Auto Parts - Car Wash Bucket / Supplies
The Barn Nursery - Garden Basket
Weyerhaeuser - Lot A: Large bag Soil; Lot B: Small Bags Soil; Lot C: Trees --- Several of each
Firehouse Subs - 3 Medium Subs
Starbucks Elma (2) Coffee / Cup Baskets
Satsop Nursery - 5 Blueberry Plants
Cascade Pizza Elma - 1 Large Pizza
Thriftway Elma - (2) 5 boxes Pop, 1 Case Water
Staybridge Beyond Hotel Elma - 1 Night, Jacuzzi, Suite
Big Foot BBQ - Rack of Ribs, 2 Large Sides
Alyn & Tia - Tea & Lavender Tart Basket
Alyn & Tia - Coffee & Cookie Basket
Bayview Elma - Large Crockpot & Liners
Hope to see you there!
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snoopysvalentine · 2 years ago
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I’m not religious but I’m experiencing divine providence today
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werewolfetone · 5 days ago
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As a student in the west one of the most sickening things in the entire world to me right now is the fact that every day I can wake up, eat breakfast, and work quietly on any schoolwork I might have for the day without any worries beyond academic and personal concerns, while Marah @freepaleatine95 can't, simply because she's from Gaza and I'm not. I know that many of yous are also students and I would urge yous to consider as well how maddeningly, infuriatingly unfair it is that Palestinian students in 2024 can't even peacefully study the way western students can. after all, how would you feel if you were forced to complete a computer science degree in a tent, during a genocide, without consistent access to food or water, constantly unsure if you were going to be killed the next day simply for daring to exist in an area which the local genocidal coloniser country has decided they want to annex? or, if you aren't currently a student, how you would have felt trying to complete what education you do have under those conditions? sit with those feelings for a minute and then channel them into donating to this vetted fundraiser to help Marah reach a place where she is afforded the basic right of being able to work, study, live, and thrive in peace:
As always, if helping an innocent family survive a genocide somehow isn't enough incentive to donate, remember that I'm offering commissions in return for donations to this fundraiser here.
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puckinghischier · 2 months ago
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Mornings
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quinn hughes x fem!reader
WARNING - SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, p in v, basically smut with no plot
summary - quinn wakes up with a need to go slow n steady
notes - i have officially launched into writing for quinn and there’s no turning back now. i hope this is at least decent bc when it comes to writing smut, i feel like i’m always being too repetitive and not descriptive enough, so don’t yell at me if it’s bad 🫣. anyways, i hope you enjoy, and as always, happy reading!! 🫶🏼
request - soft morning sex with quinn
[2.3k]
Quinn has always been a morning person. He loves the feeling of being up before the sun, feeling like he has the world to himself. He loves being able to sneak out for a quick run, getting back in time to cook breakfast and make your coffee before you wake up. Sometimes he even loves just sitting beside of you as you sleep, reading or going over plays that he knows they’ll be working on in practice that day.
This morning? This morning he wants none of that. This morning he woke up to the sun peeking through the curtains of your shared room, way later than he intended, with one thing on his mind.
Forget a run, forget breakfast, forget hockey. All Quinn wanted this morning was you.
Last night the two of you attended a party hosted by the team at the rink. A fundraiser for some charity he can’t even remember at the moment.
What he can remember is the way you looked in your dress last night. From the second you walked out of your large walk-in closet yesterday, he wanted nothing more than to see the dress draped across the floor, but a few too many old fashions throughout the night caused an instant crash as soon as his head hit his pillow when the two of you got home last night.
His body very obviously didn’t forget how he felt last night, though. Which is very apparent right now.
Your body is slotted perfectly into his, his arms entrapping you and holding you as close to his body as he can. Even though you’re facing away from him, he can tell you’re not awake yet, your breaths steady and even. The observation made him think about having you just like that, slow and steady.
Readjusting his position, trying give a little relief to his aching dick, he hears your sharp inhale.
“Quinn, I haven’t even opened my eyes yet and you’re already horny and ready to go,” you grumble out, still half asleep.
Quinn lets out a low chuckle. “What can I say, baby? Can’t stop thinking about how good you looked last night.”
He brings his face down to give a light kiss to the back of your neck, bringing an arm up to move your sleep tousled hair over your shoulder.
You sigh at the feeling of his warm lips on your skin as they move away from your neck and down to your newly exposed shoulder.
Involuntarily, you scoot back to press your ass into him, causing a groan to ring out around you two.
“Don’t tease me now, baby, s’not nice,” he mumbles against your skin.
“Who says I’m teasing? Maybe I saw something I liked last night too,” you turn your body around to face him, hooking a leg over his hips, bringing your core closer to his.
His eyes lock onto yours, searching for any hint that you’re teasing him.
When he sees nothing but desire in your eyes, he closes the space between your lips, capturing yours in a searing kiss.
He grinds against you, tangling his hands in your hair. When he tries to deepen the kiss, you pull back in protest.
“I haven’t even brushed my teeth, let me go at least brush them before we do this,” you try to untangle yourself from his body, but his grip on you tightens, preventing you from moving further away.
“Not important,” he tells you, bringing you back in for another kiss.
This kiss was much slower than the first, the two of you simply savoring each other.
“Wanna take m’time with you,” Quinn mumbles against your lips, removing his hand from your hair to slip the strap of your silk tank top off of your shoulder.
Your response was a content sigh, feeling his hand slip under your tank top to fondle your breast.
“Just take it off, Q” you whisper, wanting the fabric gone.
He breaks the kiss long enough to remove your clothing, pressing his bare skin against your own.
You shift your position, laying your back flat on the bed and pulling him to hover over you.
Quinn lifts his head up, admiring your body, nothing but love in his eyes.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that? Don’t know how I ever got so lucky,” he speak softly, bringing a hand up to caress your stomach.
His words still make you blush, even after all this time. You move to bring your hands up to hide your flushed face.
“Nuh uh, no hiding that pretty face. Wanna see it always. Never wanna look at anything else,” he tells you, grabbing both of your hands in his large one, bringing them up to rest above your head. “Keep them there f’me, yeah?”
He trails the same hand down your body for a second time, this time letting it travel all the way down to the waistband of your shorts.
You gasp as he slides his hand under the waistband, his long fingers making contact with your clit.
“Especially wanna see your face when I’m doing this,” he slides his fingers down further, feeling the wetness coat his fingers. “God you’re soaking, baby. Guess I’m not the only one who woke up feeling needy.”
You inhale sharply, your mouth forming an ‘o’ when he slips a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out lazily.
“Can’t help it. You looked incredible in your suit last night. Even had a dream about it,” you gasped out, itching to thread your fingers through his hair, but keeping them above your head like he asked.
Quinn lets out a groan when he feels you clench around his fingers, bringing his thumb up to rub slow circles on your clit.
He notices your hands twitching as you squirm, deciding he wants to feel your hands on him.
“You can move your hands, pretty girl. Since you’re behaving so good,” he tells you as he adds another finger.
The second the words leave his mouth your hands are in his hair, tangling and twisting the strands around your fingers.
The strokes of his fingers are slow and steady, the pace driving you wild.
“Q, I need you. Need more,” you beg him.
“Uh-uh, told you I wanted to take my time with you. Need you to come nice and slow from my fingers before I give you anything else,” he picks up the pace just slightly.
You whine in protest, wanting to feel him.
Quinn circles your clit faster, but keeps the slow pace of his fingers. The contrast of the two paces causes the familiar knot to form deep in your stomach.
You remove one of your hands from Quinn’s hair to toy with your nipple, the added stimulation inching you closer and closer to your orgasm.
“There we go, get yourself there pretty girl,” Quinn rasps out, enjoying the sight of you underneath him.
His words aid in your impending release, always loving how vocal he is during sex.
He feels you clench around his fingers again, knowing you’re close to exploding.
“C’mon, just let go for me, baby. Show me how much you enjoy my fingers,” is all Quinn has to say before you’re seeing stars.
Your orgasm doesn’t match the slow motion of his fingers, your legs shaking as he rides you through the aftershocks.
Quinn removes his fingers from you, fully sitting up on his knees and bringing them up to his mouth and sucking them clean. The sight makes you fear another orgasm without even being touched.
As you lay there and recover for a few seconds, all you can think about is how badly you want to feel his dick inside of you.
“Please, Q, need to feel you inside of me,” you whine out, causing him to chuckle at your desperation.
“Well, who am I to deny a pretty girl what she wants?” he responds, lowering himself down to press a light kiss to your lips, moving a strand of hair out of your face.
You bring both hands up to rest on his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss, trying to show him just how badly you want him.
He meets your kiss with just as much enthusiasm, moving his hands to remove your shorts and underwear altogether.
You kick the pieces of clothing off of your feet, removing your hands from his neck to help him remove his own.
Once you’re both completely bare, you reach a hand down between the two of you, wrapping your hand around his hard dick, giving it a few strokes.
Quinn’s hips involuntarily buck forward, driving his cock further into your closed fist.
“Slow down, pretty girl. Told you I wanted to take my time with you. Won’t last if you keep touching me like this,” he grunts out, trying to keep some form of self-control.
He removes your hand from himself, replacing it with his own. He nudges your legs apart, bringing a finger to your entrance once again, collecting the arousal still dripping from you and spreading it around the tip of his dick, closing his eyes and shuddering at the feeling of your wetness on him.
“Remember, baby, slow and steady wins the race,” Quinn tells you as he guides himself into you inch by inch.
You cry out at the feeling, still sensitive from your first orgasm only minutes ago.
“Shit, you’re so tight. Always so tight,” Quinn hisses out, teeth clenched.
“Oh my god, Q, you feel so good. Needed this, needed you,” you whine, feeling every ridge and vein as he sets the torturous pace.
He brings his arms up to rest on either side of your head, going full missionary this morning.
Quinn pulls out completely each time before pushing back in, reminding himself with every stroke that he’s supposed to be going slow and savoring you.
“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this. Swear I’d stay here forever. Spend every second of every day between your legs like this. With my dick, my fingers, my mouth,” he tells you, earning a moan from you when you feel him twitch inside of you.
The slow, languid pace of his thrusts allows him to feel you in a way he’s usually too impatient for. He finds the soft, spongy spot deep inside of you, earning a moan that almost causes him to lose his composure.
“God, baby, can’t be making those noises like that. Gonna make me lose it,” he tells you, bringing a hand down to toy with your clit once again.
“Can’t help it. Feels too good. Need you to move faster,” you plead, loving the slowness but aching for relief.
He lowers his head, placing hot, open mouth kisses to your neck, keeping his current rhythm.
“Can’t. Enjoying this too much,” he mumbles against your damp skin.
Despite his words, you can feel him lose himself a bit, his thrusts getting just a little faster and sloppier.
All of a sudden he pulls out of you completely, removing his body from over yours. Up until this moment your eyes had been closed, but they snap open at the loss of contact.
Quinn sees your wide eyes and can practically see the whine of protest on your tongue, but he quickly brings himself to lay beside of you, pulling your body back into his.
“Don’t worry, sweet girl, just switching positions for a second,” he explains, lining himself up to your entrance once again, thrusting into you from behind as you lay on your side, opening yourself up to him with a leg slung over his own.
He keeps his same, slow strokes, but the new angle causes him to hit a place you’ve never known to exist until this moment.
“Swear I can feel you in my stomach, Q. Don’t stop. I’m so close,” you tell him, already feeling the coil tighten for the second time this morning.
The clench of your walls around his dick from this angle causes his balls to tighten, his own orgasm quickly approaching.
“Need you to let go before I can, baby. Wanna feel you make a mess all over me, think you can get there again?” he kisses the back of your neck.
Meeting his thrusts, you reach behind you to grab his hand and bring it over to stimulate your clit, needing some relief on the throbbing bundle of nerves.
Quinn presses his fingers down on your clit, hard, causing the bubble to burst inside of you, coming harder than you even had the first time.
“Oh my god, Q, I-“ you get cut off by your own moans, unable to prevent your body from shaking, his fingers still moving on your clit, intensifying the release even further.
The clench of your spent pussy nearly prevents him from pulling his dick out of you to thrust back in, causing such a pleasurable feeling it trigger his own orgasm, hitting him harder than he think he’s ever come before.
His body goes rigid, freezing inside of you with a groan. As you start to come down from your own orgasm, the feeling of his release inside of you brings a new wave of pleasure, knowing you’re the only person that gets to experience this from him.
He stays lodged inside of you long after you’ve both come down from your highs, wanting to stay as close to you as he can possibly be.
You let your fingers stroke the arm that’s slung over your frame, his large hand resting against your stomach.
After a few more minutes he finally slides himself out of you, turning your body to face him, assuming your earlier positions.
He stares at you, admiring the post sex glow on your face with the sun shining through the curtains behind you.
“What are you thinking about?” you ask him, wrapping a piece of his hair around your finger, playing with the small curls around his ears.
“How much I love mornings,” he gives you the cheesy line, causing you to laugh so hard you shake the entire bed, causing a large grin to break out on his face, looking forward to spending every morning for the rest of his life with you.
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lamngen · 30 days ago
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Help a Palestinian mother aid her son's critical condition
A mother named Dima, from Palestine, has contacted me to share her story and help fund her fundraiser. She has a son, named Yousef, he is a small child from Gaza, he has a esophageal varices, that causes him to cough up blood & hurt immensely. He needs surgery to be saved and reach a healthy state, and as you know, healthcare in Gaza is difficult to reach due to hospitals being destroyed by the IOF.
Dima's campaign has been verified as seen here. Here is her own post on tumblr. Her blog is @diamyousef2 so you can get in contact with her if needed.
Here is her fundraiser campaign on GFM:
Theyre a bit past the halfway mark, please please support if you can, Please reblog, share elsewhere, PLEASE DONATE, if you have money to buy yourself a small breakfast in the morning you can donate to Dima, then make something at home for yourself. Please keep in mind their current conditions in Palestine, theyre in a dire state and Dima's young son needs this donation to survive. You can donate a small amount, please encourage to donate small amounts from a lot of people, so it can be magnified, but if you can donate a lot please do so. I believe we can save this family.
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iesuroo · 2 years ago
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*Rocking back and forth in a corner crying*
No more breakfast burritos…
…please god spare me…
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nerdy-novelist017 · 3 months ago
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Apologies (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader pt 6)
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Ahhh don't come at me for the lack of updates lately! 😅 I've been so distracted with watching the Olympics and my job. I'm not meant to work a ful-time job, your honor. I just wanna write silly fanfics all day and read all night pls and thanks ! Anyway, enjoy! 🩷
Benny x Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 3.4k+
Summary- The last person you expect to be there to dry your tears is that stubbornly persistent biker of yours.
******
Pete never showed up to your fundraiser. You had waited the whole afternoon in the hopes that you’d see him, but he wasn’t there for your event. He wasn’t there for the bake sale, or the picnic. He didn’t even show up for the auction which you were sure he’d be interested in that since one of the items to be sold was an expensive golf club set. He must have had other plans, you tried to tell yourself. He must have been too busy. 
You hadn’t seen Benny after that either, but you tried to find that as more of a relief than disappointment, after all, he was the reason you and Pete had a bit of a disagreement anyway. Part of you wondered if he only showed up for your tent since you hadn’t seen him anywhere else at the charity afterwards. Regardless, the hours passed at the picnic and you eventually helped everyone pack up before you left too, riding home on your bicycle. You tried to call Pete when you made it home, but his mother answered and told you he wasn’t home. You asked her to have him call you when he could. You ate dinner with your family and tried to not look too hopeful every time the phone rang because it was never Pete calling you back. You expected to go to bed with a sense of dejection, but instead you were surprised to feel something closer to  . . . relief. 
So the next two days went by quickly. You were too busy with work and household chores to notice that Pete hadn’t called you back. It was only when you had gotten up early to start on breakfast on the third day that he finally did ring you. 
“I’m sorry I haven’t seen you much,” he told you over the phone. “I miss you.”
“It’s okay, I’m sure you were busy,” you mumbled as you stirred the pancake batter, phone receiver balancing precariously between your cheek and shoulder. 
“I want to see you this weekend. I can pick you up around noon on Saturday if you’re free.” 
You agreed a bit reluctantly, but he didn’t seem to catch it. 
******
“Oh, are you going to teach me to golf?” you asked excitedly as Pete pulled into the country club parking lot. He’d been quiet to tell you where it was that he was taking you today, but you wanted to trust the spontaneity of the moment so you let him drive you to the mystery location. Out of all the places he could have surprised you with, this certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Part of you was confused because you hadn’t expressed a particular fondness for the sport, but another part of you felt warmth that he wanted to share his hobby with you. 
“Yeah, I thought you’d like to join me and the boys today.” He smiled at you as you both exited the car. “Sit in the cart and look pretty while you cheer us on.”
Oh. So he wasn’t even teaching you his hobby. You wanted to say something back, to tell him that you were willing to learn if he taught you, but his friends came over then, interrupting your chance to speak. Pete introduced you to them, five in total and you struggled to remember their names. But it didn’t matter much since all chances of you speaking were thrown out the window when they bear hugged each other, and turned to go out onto the field. You followed behind, quietly trying to find a place in their obviously-tight friend group. And that’s how you spent the next three hours: awkwardly existing in their world, sitting on the cart and watching them play. You were the only girl, and it was clear that they didn’t know how to involve you much in their conversations. And when you were able to pull Pete to the side for a moment, you asked if he could let you take a swing once, just to try it out. He nodded but said, “Well, maybe in the next game, this one I’ve got a bet on and every shot counts.” You didn’t ask again. 
Even though you were still technically spending time with him, this didn’t feel in any way fun or exciting. You tried not to, but your mind drifted to your night spent at the bar with Benny and how fun that was, despite it being a bar full of bikers – a scenario you would have never thought you’d be in, let alone enjoy. As you sat in the golf cart, having nothing better to do than to watch Pete with his friends, you wondered if this was all he wanted you for. Were you really just a doll to him? A trophy? You didn’t get to play? 
After the next game ended, you asked Pete if he could take you somewhere for lunch and he seemed almost reluctant to leave his friends. But in the end, he did agree, and you said goodbye to the band of golfers. You walked back to the parking lot together and when you spotted his car in the distance, you figured this was your chance to actually talk with him, not just listen to him speak. 
“What do you want out of life, Pete?” you asked quietly as you slowed to a stop on the sidewalk.
“What?” He paused a few paces ahead of you, glancing back. “What kind of question is that?” 
“I mean,” you struggled to gather your jumbled thoughts. “What kind of life do you want?”
His brows pinched together in confusion. “Well, I’m going to school for engineering so I’m going to do that.”
You waited for him to continue, but he just shrugged and motioned for the car. “You coming?”
Not seeing the conversation over quite yet, your feet remained firmly planted in your spot. “But what do you want out of life? What do you want for me in your life?” 
“Geez, (Y/N),” he laughed humorlessly. “Where is this coming from?” His expression darkened suddenly. “Is this because of that dirty biker?”
It was your turn to look confused as you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “Have you seen him again, hmm?”
“I . . . he was at the fundraiser–”
“What did I tell you?” He asked rhetorically as he closed the distance between you. “I don’t want you around that deadbeat again.”
“It wasn’t like I sought him out,” you defended, trying to ignore the rush of agitation at his choice of description. “I had no clue he would be there. I thought you were going to be there.”
“Well, I couldn’t be. You can’t just expect me to drop everything for you at such a late notice.”
“What was more important that you needed to be at?” You frowned.
He rolled his eyes, turning back to the car. “I have my own life.”
That’s when you realized that he was so . . . disconnected, uninterested. He may have wanted you but not in the way of getting to know you. His want was selfish, only born out of lust. He didn’t care about your hobbies or interests. You weren’t even listened to when you spoke to him. The realization was painfully obvious and you felt like a fool, like he had played you. And maybe he wasn’t even aware of it himself, but you could see it now: he didn’t care for you, not in the way you longed for. 
You wrapped your arms around yourself, shaking your head as you watched him approach the driver’s side door. “I know that, but . . . I was just hoping to spend time with you.”
He turned back and threw his arms out dramatically. “I’m spending time with you now, aren't I? Will you just get in the car?” 
You took a deep breath, looking down at your shoes. “I think I’m gonna walk home.”
“Are you serious?” His voice grew colder as he yanked open his door. “Because I didn’t go to your bake sale?”
You shook your head. “No, I like walkin’ and I just want some time to think–”
“You’re going off to find that biker, aren’t you?” 
“What?” Your gaze shot back up to his. “No, I–”
“I knew this would happen.” He shook his head, an unamused smile flashing on his face. “He’s filling your head with all these dangerous ideas. He’s poisoning you against me. Me.”
“I’m not–” 
“Get in the car.” You didn’t realize that it wasn’t a request anymore. 
“Pete, I just don’t–”
“Get in the fucking car, (Y/N)!” He shouted, slamming his hand on the roof, and you jumped at the sound. 
You stared at him, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. You’d never seen any man act like this, especially not Pete. Panic turned the blood in your veins to ice and you were suddenly painfully aware of just how fast your heart was beating in your chest. Seconds ticked by, and he finally reacted to your speechlessness by rubbing a hand over his face, sighing loudly. 
“Look, just get in the car,” he tried again, his voice barely controlled. “We came here together and I don’t want people to talk about how I’m leaving without you, okay?”
No, it wasn’t okay, you wanted to say, but your throat was suddenly too tight to speak. All you could do was stare at this man who you thought you had a pretty good understanding of, who you never thought would raise his voice at you, who would never command you to do something you very obviously denied. You shook your head, hand holding over your chest in an attempt to even out your heart rate.
He called your name, but you turned and forced your legs to walk, to move away from him. You just wanted to get home to the safety of your bedroom. Behind you, you could hear his car door slam shut and the engine whine as it fired up. He drove over to you, nearly hitting the curb as he weaved.
“Fine, walk home then!” he yelled and revved the engine, tires peeling out on the blacktop as he zoomed away. 
That’s when the tears started falling. You sucked in a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and a sob choked into it. The sidewalk blurred from the stream of tears but you trudged on, wanting nothing more than to escape the prying eyes of the neighborhood. The action of Pete slamming his hand against the metal proof of his car replayed in your mind and something unpleasant gripped your heart at the realization that what you saw was his reaction to not getting what he wanted the first time. This was supposed to be the exciting moments of you relationship, the time when you were still discovering who each other were. If he could be so easily angered by you now, what would 5 years of marriage look like? What would 10? 
And as you approached the intersection, a thought came to you and you felt sick at the possibility that maybe this is what your mother felt before she married your father. And your grandmother before she married your grandmother. Like a chain, these women with hearts and ambitions and dreams all just got married and became something their husbands wanted, lived a dream their husbands had. And maybe that was their dream, but what if it wasn’t yours?
The revving of an engine broke you free from your all-consuming thoughts and fresh fear spiked through you. Was it Pete coming back? But no, you realized. The engine was coming from the gas station you were passing on the corner, and it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle. The rider pulled up to one of the free parking spots, cutting the engine and kicking out the kickstand. His back was turned to you, but you knew who it was already by the messy blonde hair and signature blue jacket lettered “Vandals” across the shoulder blades. You groaned because he was the last person you wanted to see right now but you needed to walk right by him to continue on your way home. And as ridiculous as it was, you wanted to cry harder at the thought of him seeing you crying. 
When he dismounted, you quickened your pace, putting your head down in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice you. But of course, you heard him call out, “Hey, Little Bunny.”
You sniffed hard, quickly swiping your fingers across your cheeks as you heard him approach. Even though you didn’t slow your pace, he caught up to you quickly. 
“You walkin’ home again?” His voice was light, teasing but you didn’t dare to look up at him. “You must really like–”
But he must have seen your tear-soaked face because he stopped, his hand gently grasping your upper arm. “What’s wrong?”
You bit your lip, and against your better judgment, you glanced up at him. That was all it took before his shoulders visibly stiffened, and his jaw locked tightly. “Who did this?”
“Nobody,” you muttered softly, voice cracking. “I’m fine.”
“Was it Pete?” his grip remained firm on your arm.
“Please, just leave it alone, Benny,” you whispered desperately, and his eyes softened as he released you. A painfully long beat played out between you as you watched him decide if he wanted to press you further for details. But to your surprise, he dropped it, instead, reaching out, his calloused thumb brushing away a solitary tear from the apple of your cheek. You flinched at the contact, not expecting him to touch you so intimately. As quick as he was to make contact, so was he able to let his hand fall back to his side, leaving you wide-eyed at the act. 
“Let me give you a ride home, please,” he asked, his voice so quiet, so compassionate that you were honestly dumbfounded that this was a biker in a notoriously revered club standing before you. “I don’t want you to have to walk back when you’re upset like this.”
You glanced down the sidewalk, knowing you still had a few miles to go before you’d see your house in the distance. You sniffed again, “You won’t try to propose to me again, will you?”
“No strings attached, I promise,” he replied quietly. 
You relented, nodding slightly, and you didn’t protest when he slid his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together and gently tugged you back to his bike. 
******
Benny drove slowly back to your house, and you just buried your face against his jacket the entire ride, focusing on the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. It gave you time to settle your breathing, to dry your tears, and when he finally did pull up to your house, a disappointed wave surfaced over you. He put both feet down to balance you both, but he didn’t cut the engine, and you didn’t release your arms from around his torso.
“Can we . . . keep going?” you asked hesitantly, unsure of just how patient he was willing to be with you.
“You wanna keep going?” he questioned over his shoulder, and you responded with a brief nod. “Where?”
“Anywhere, just not here.”
He pushed off the ground, revving the engine slightly and the bike picked up speed as you left your neighborhood. You tightened your grip as he drove you out of the city, down the long country roads, past barns and farms, out by the lake and through the winding back roads which cut the woods. He drove until the sun began to make its descent over the far wheat fields, the last warmth of those golden rays catching the two of you like a spotlight, like you were the only two people on stage. And you realized that’s what riding with Benny felt like: solidarity together. You’ve felt a strange sense of loneliness most of your life, even when you were surrounded by others who loved you, but with Benny . . . it was like you were finally being seen. No, not just seen, it was like you were finally being heard. 
But reality came back too quickly when Benny pulled up to a stop light, hand moving to brush across yours as he asked, “You ready to go back now or d’you wanna keep going?”
Keep going, your heart wanted to shout, keep going and let’s drive until we hit the sandy beaches of California. But your head always won the battle in the end, and you only nodded mutely. 
When Benny pulled up in front of your house again, he cut the engine, but remained seated. He held his hand out for you as you dismounted, and he wanted to say something – anything– to make sure that you were okay, to help you. But Benny’s not known for his good communication skills so he clenched his jaw tightly, frustration building in his chest. You needed him, you needed to be consoled, and he was so pathetic that he wasn’t even sure how. 
Sure, he knew how to have someone’s back, especially in a fight. He knew how to throw punches and get back to his feet after getting knocked down. He could do that all day. But you staring at him with your Bambi eyes and heartbroken expression, he couldn’t take it. He just wanted to pull your tiny frame to him and kiss away the tears, to tell you that everything would be okay because he’s got your back. Then a horrible thought clouded his mind because what if he was the reason you were crying? A bitter taste filled his mouth at the possibility. And my god, how stupid could he be because of course he had to dig himself deeper into that hole when he had told you that he wouldn’t apologize for his conversation with your date. At the time he said it, he had no guilt or shame for his actions because he saw nothing wrong with it. He wanted you more than Pete did, he was sure of that. But now as he glanced at your sweet face, he realized that his actions could have hurt you. And all for what – his pride? That seemed so insignificant now.
“Thank you for the ride,” you said ever-so-politely. 
Before you could turn to walk to your front porch, Benny’s hand reached out to lightly touch your own, and he blurted out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did to Pete. That was wrong, and I see that now. I’m sorry if what I did has hurt you in any way, that was never my intention.”
Your frown deepened, and Benny’s heart sank. But then you said, “I’m not upset with you, Benny, but thank you. That . . . that means a lot to me.”
He was at a loss for words, struck by your angelic voice and unwavering benevolence. He could only watch as you slipped from his grasp and turned away. You were walking away from him, but Benny couldn’t help but feel it meant something more than just putting physical distance between you. His mind raced with thoughts, trying to find something he could say to get you to stop, to be able to see your face again. 
However, it seemed that fate had other plans because you halted in your tracks, hesitating a moment before spinning back around and approaching him again. He opened his mouth to ask if you were okay, but you cut him off as you leaned up and planted a quick kiss to his cheek. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle touch of your soft lips, and he widened his eyes as you pulled back, a shy smile on your face. He grinned because every time he thought he had you figured out, you continued to pull stunts on him. You were the most entertaining thing he knew. 
You took a few steps backwards, but maintained his eye contact as you spoke, “Maybe . . . next time we could go a little faster?”
He knew you were referring to the bike, but God help him because heat burned in his lower belly, and he wanted to pick you up over his shoulder and carry you into your house where he’d show you just what speed he was capable of. He wasn’t sure you even knew what effect your words had on him, or if you even knew the sexual implications, but he felt himself losing a battle of will. “You want there to be a next time?”
You nodded and that adorable rosy color tinted your cheeks. “Yeah, if-if you do.”
He shook his head in disbelief that you were finally giving him a chance. Though looking at your sweet smile now, he didn’t seem to mind the extra effort he had to put in. “You wanna go fast? Look who’s the trouble now.”
You fought to control your smile. “Goodnight, Benny.”
“Night,” he replied as he watched you walk back up the steps to your house, his fingers ghosting over the spot on his cheek that you kissed, wondering if apologies were really that easy. 
-Tag List-
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sunieepo · 3 months ago
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This is Eman a Biotechnologist from Gaza. Asking for help is not easy. It's not easy at all. You have no idea how mentally and emotionally tiring this is. But when thinking that the price is my family's life, getting out of here safely and achieve my doctoral degree dream, it just pushes me more and more to do this until we reach our goal. I'm here as I try to reach out to more people asking for their help to support our family's campaign so we can survive while all you have to do is literally donating even by just the price of your morning coffee or maybe a simple breakfast, So I think I'm not asking for so much. We're really tired of living under these catastrophic conditions for a whole 10 months. Your generosity will not only change our lives but also remind us that even in our darkest hour, we are not alone. https://gofund.me/d597b8e2
Hi there, Eman. I'm a biotechnologist just like you. I looked up your work and saw your research on identifying genetic risk factors for ischemic heart disease and celiac disease. That's really admirable work, and I hope you can one day achieve your dream of studying for your PhD in Malaysia. For now, I've donated what I can to try and keep you and your family safe.
Clickable URL to the page: https://gofund.me/d597b8e2
Note for my followers that I have checked this blog and can confirm this fundraiser is vetted.
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chronicallycouchbound · 1 year ago
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Let People On Food Stamps Eat Hot Meals
Particularly on cold, rainy days (like today), while unhoused, sometimes all I want is a hot meal but it’s so difficult (if not impossible) to cook outside in the rain.
On top of this, I’m physically disabled and chronically ill. Medically, I’m supposed to have assistance with making meals as part of in home care. But I can’t get in home care without a home.
I just finished making dinner for my partner and I, it took 2 hours (3 if you include clean up). My knees are burning, my back is aching in it’s core, I feel like I’m about to faint, and all my joints are screaming. But it’s the only way we could have a hot meal today and get some protein, which is vital for our health conditions.
People judge us for using what little funds we have on McDonald’s some days. Because sometimes, it’s the only hot meal we’ve had in days. And sometimes I’m physically unable to stand, move, and do all the actions needed to cook. Or I faint while cooking. Or the rain doesn’t let up. Or we don’t have access to a kitchen for the day. Or the fire danger outside is too high. The list goes on.
Without my own kitchen to use, I don’t get to sit down while I cook (right now, everything is wet from the rain), I can’t meal prep, I can’t stock up on freezer meals, I can’t use an oven or a microwave to reheat leftovers, I can’t just reach across the kitchen for a fridge item (we have a small amount of fridge space friends let us use), everything about cooking is exponentially harder.
And even if I had 24/7 access to an accessible, full kitchen, it’s not even physically safe to cook my own meals. Even then, having a pre-made, hot, ready-to-eat meal could keep me safe and give me independance.
And all the safety needs for hot meals aside, emotionally, hot meals are also life saving and comfort. Meals are a part of community, culture, love and art.
So many gatherings we have as communities center around food. Most people in the United States would think of ones that often hold great value to Western culture. Mother’s Day breakfast. Spaghetti fundraisers. Wedding cakes. Birthday dinners. Bake sales. Carnival treats. BBQs on weekends. Holiday roasts. Lunches with friends. Casseroles brought to grieving neighbors.
Our world revolves around food.
I firmly believe that no poor person could ever “take advantage” of a system designed to feed us by using food stamps on hot food. This restrictive rule serves no purpose but to punish the most vulnerable of poor people— unhoused, disabled, and those of us living in unsafe conditions.
It also serves to restrict our access to joy and comfort. The joy can sometimes come from the food itself, but also the joy from having shared experiences solidified by the sounds of laughter and forks clinking on plates. The comfort can sometimes also be from the food itself, but also the experience of being loved and cared for while your close friend brings you pizza from your favorite restaurant because you lost your drive to eat three weeks ago and they worry about you. They know you. Those slices of pizza bring color back into your world.
Poor people deserve to be able to have the comfort, joy, and care that goes into a hot meal. We deserve the autonomy to choose foods that are best for us ourselves. We deserve to be able to eat in ways that are accessible to us.
Above all, we deserve access to hot meals.
Originally posted to my blog on 6.3.22
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mrs-dr-reid · 2 months ago
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Scary Dog Privilege
(A Wolverine Fic)
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Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader
Summary: The reader practically begs Logan to be her fake boyfriend at a gala, but ends up getting more than she bargained for
Genre: Fluffy throughout, a teensy bit angsty near the end, and a dash of "oh my god, just KISS ALREADY!!!" sprinkled in pretty much everywhere
Warnings: Swearing, suggestive language, fake boyfriend trope, friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, more than platonic touches, tw food/alcohol, crying, protective!Logan, the image of Logan in a tux (yes, that's a warning), Tony Stark being... himself, a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine and an average/small reader (size difference, yaaaaay)
A/N: Big thanks to @snixkers for being my designated Wolvie Beta Reader, as well as a handful of buddies in my writers discord for helping me turn the head words into page words (you know who you are).
Word Count: 4419
———————————————————————
This is going to be a disaster, Y/N thought as she stared hopelessly at the event notification on her phone: Superhero Gala tonight!!!
It was her least favorite day of the year, even though on paper it was a good thing. All of the Avengers and all the X-Men getting together and hosting a gala fundraiser to raise money for a different cause every year, as well as “celebrate the spirit of collaboration among heroes” or whatever preachy bullshit Charles is always on about.
She just knew that she’d inevitably be stuck getting hit on by drunken aristocratic strangers in a dress she didn’t want to be wearing, just like every other year. She’d much rather be honing her abilities or reading a book, but attendance was mandatory for every adult living at the mansion, much to her chagrin.
Y/N paced the length of her bedroom, worrying about her certain doom, when she got an idea. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was better than no idea at all. She stuffed her phone in her back pocket, then ventured down to the kitchen where she was hoping she’d find who she was looking for, and she was right.
Logan was sitting at the island munching on a piece of toast and nursing a flask of what she assumed was whiskey, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She said, “Howlett, I need to talk to you in private.”
Logan looked up from his breakfast and said, “Good morning to you too, L/N,” mostly unbothered by her request.
Y/N rolled her eyes and said, “NOW, please.”
He raised a hand in surrender and said, “Alright, Bossy Pants,” before following her into the other room away from the prying ears of Jean, Scott, and Ororo.
Once they were out of earshot, Y/N said, “Okay, I’m gonna ask you to do something kinda weird, but I promise if you do it, I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”
Logan raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Okay?”
She took a deep breath. “I need you to be my scary dog privilege tonight at the gala.”
The request hung in the air between them as Logan tried to process what the hell she just said to him. “You need me to be your what?”
Y/N sighed exasperatedly, then elaborated. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so the sleazy rich assholes leave me alone!” before steepling her hands and giving him her best puppy dog pout.
Logan wasn’t swayed, and he crossed his arms. “Why me? Couldn’t you ask McCoy?” Y/N glared at him, annoyed that he was being so difficult.
“Yes, I could ask Hank, but Hank is a teddy bear! You’re tall, you’re intimidating, it’s somewhat believable that we’d be together, and you have claws. And if you don’t do this, I promise you that if even one slimeball approaches me, I will use the ‘what not to do’ section of the Geneva Convention as a to-do list! So will you be my fake boyfriend or not?!”
Both of Logan’s eyebrows went up at this, and he said, “As entertainin’ as that would be, Chuck would probably ground you for committin’ war crimes against a civilian,” before starting to walk back to the kitchen.
In a panic, Y/N blabbed, “I’ll smuggle in cigars and booze for you for a month!” which stopped him in his tracks. Gotcha, Wolvie.
He turned back around, let out a groan in the back of his throat at the hopeful smile on Y/N’s face, then said, “Fine. But just this once,” before sticking out a hand to shake. She grinned, then shook his hand, trying her best to not think about how his hand completely engulfed hers or how warm and rough it was.
That evening, Logan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs alongside Scott for Jean and Y/N to come down, both men in sharp black tuxedos.
Scott said, “So, you’re L/N’s date tonight, huh?” with a shit-eating grin on his face, so Logan rolled his eyes, tugging at the collar of her dress clothes slightly. “She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Literally. If I refused, she was gonna kill the first stranger who told her she was pretty.”
Scott chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Then he fell silent, so Logan followed his gaze and tried to ignore the weird tug in the pit of his stomach when he saw Y/N trailing behind Jean. She looked like a completely different person than the woman he bantered with every day.
Her hair fell in a halo of perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup was done to perfection, diamond studs decorated her ears, and her dress… oh, that dress.
While its rhinestone-encrusted fabric covered every inch of her body except her collarbone and her hands, it hugged every curve like it was made especially for her (and it probably was). The slight padding of the shoulders and the emerald green hue made her look almost ethereal, and the matching shoes he could see peeking out from under the hem with every step she took added to the effect, though he wasn’t sure why.
Y/N stopped in front of him. “Well, you clean up nice, Howlett,” and adjusted his tie (which just so happened to match her dress). That snapped him out of his reverie before he cleared his throat. “You too, L/N. Shall we?”
He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Let’s get this over with,” before letting him lead her into the ballroom.
After he had initially agreed to this admittedly crazy scheme, Logan and Y/N had gone over different forms of PDA that they were each comfortable with. Y/N had told Logan that he could do whatever he needed to do to sell it, whereas he was more hesitant to give her carte blanche, only allowing lingering arm and shoulder touches or a kiss on the cheek if the situation desperately called for it.
Logan instantly clocked the bar the second they stepped foot inside, and before he could say anything, Y/N quipped, “I need to be drunk half an hour ago, let’s move,” and started pulling him towards the bar, causing him to let out a snort as he allowed her to drag him along.
He ordered a whiskey on the rocks while she stuck with a vodka soda, and after they were given their drinks, Logan said, “Say what you want about Stark. At least he has the decency to spring for an open bar, and it’s the good shit,” while swirling the liquid in his glass.
Y/N snickered and said, “I’ll drink to that.” She held her glass up for cheers, and Logan clinked his glass against hers, then downed about half of his whiskey in one swig.
Y/N had to blink to rid the image of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed from her mind, then she downed her drink as well. “Well, we better go find Charles and the others.”
He nodded in agreement, then put a hand at the small of her back as they ventured into the center of the room. Y/N spotted Charles amongst a circle of Avengers and X-Men including Captain America, Black Widow, and Iron Man as well as Hank, Scott, Jean, and Rogue. The two of them approached the circle, and Y/N said, “Partying hard or hardly partying?”
Charles looked away from the tall, blond man Y/N recognized from last year as Steve Rogers at the sound of her voice, then said, “Ah! There you two are! Logan, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff, and Mr. Stark from last year’s benefit,” and gestured between them.
Y/N smiled and said, “Of course. It’s great to see you again,” while shaking each of their hands, earning a “Likewise” from Steve, a nod from Natasha, and a smirk from Tony. He was surely about to say something lewd, but Logan stuck his hand out to shake just in time. “Mighty nice of ya to foot the bill on some decent booze, Stark,” his arm snaking protectively around Y/N’s waist.
If Charles and the other X-Men didn’t clock it, which was highly unlikely, they thankfully said nothing about it, but Tony recovered quickly enough that it wasn’t necessary anyway. He shook Logan’s hand and said, “Of course. Only the best for the best, amiright?” before shooting a wink in Y/N’s direction.
Logan bristled slightly, so Y/N took that as an opportunity to place a hand on his chest and say, “Lo, I believe I was promised a dance?” raising her eyebrows pointedly at him.
He said, “Right, yeah, absolutely, Doll Face. Nice seeing you again, but duty calls. Boyfriend duty, that is,” nodded at Steve and Natasha, then shot an almost gloating wink in Tony’s direction before giving Y/N his arm and whisking her off to the dance floor.
As they left, Y/N swore she heard Scott whisper incredulously, “‘Boyfriend’’?!” and Jean smack him in the chest, which made her stomach flip slightly at the thought that only Scott questioned the arrangement.
As they reached the dance floor, Y/N took note of the string quartet a few paces from the floor. “Open bar, and live entertainment? That Stark sure knows how to throw a party.”
Logan rolled his eyes and huffed, “If he took hints as good as he threw parties, then we’d be in business,” before he remembered that he wasn’t actually Y/N’s boyfriend, and there was no reason for him to be that pissed. So why was he?
Y/N said, “He’s the outlier in this situation. I’ve clocked at least eight different guys that have made to come talk to me, but immediately backtracked once they noticed you standing right next to me. I should bribe you to be my scary dog privilege more often!”
He just scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, don’t hold your breath,” but there was still a hint of a smile on his face as they joined the other couples waiting for the next song.
The musicians took up their instruments and began playing again, so Logan extended a hand to Y/N and said, “May I have this dance?” while raising a teasing eyebrow at her. She smiled, then took it and replied, “You may.”
He grinned before spinning her into his arms, a peal of laughter escaping her as she collided with his solid chest in a very ungraceful manner.
She giggled, “Logan!” He shrugged and said, “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?” neither of them acknowledging that she used his first name.
They kept dancing, Logan periodically making comments about the people around them just to hear her melodic laughter, and to any outsider, they looked just like any other couple; young (or seemingly young in Logan’s case) and in love, even though that wasn’t the case.
When the song ended, Y/N let out a breathless sigh and said, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?”
Logan held up a hand and said, “Nah, I’ve got all night to drink Stark outta house and home. Thank you, though.” Y/N nodded with a smile, then went to head for the bar, but Logan stopped her with a hand on her waist.
He said, “Hang on a sec, Doll,” then held her chin in place with his first two fingers and brushed some rogue strands of hair away from her face before murmuring, “There we go. Perfect.”
Y/N fought to keep a blush from staining her cheeks as she thanked him, then she scampered away to the bar after telling him she’d be back soon, hoping to god he didn’t notice the spike in her heart rate.
She reached the bar and ordered another vodka soda, somewhat breathlessly. As she waited, she ended up overanalyzing all that had transpired thus far, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Logan’s protectiveness around someone he knew wasn’t a threat? Going out of his way to play the Boyfriend Card in front of their teammates and collaborators? The pet names? The way he’s been looking at her since they stepped foot inside the ballroom?
As she was going through all of this, an unfamiliar man sidled up next to her at the bar and tried to strike up a conversation, much to Y/N’s dismay.
“Hey there, I’m Jeffrey. Did they give you a name to go with that pretty face?” and she just barely contained a gag/cringe combo before telling him her name. He smiled a bit too wide to be genuine, then said, “Can I order you a drink?” so she said, “I already ordered. And I promised my boyfriend I’d come find him as soon as I got it, so…,” and craned her neck to search for the bartender.
Jeffrey scoffed.“Some boyfriend he is, letting a lady like you wander off by herself.” That made Y/N inhale sharply. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and he’s well aware of that,” she said curtly, silently daring him to say one more stupid thing so she could knock him into next month.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice faltered and his eyes trailed up to someone much taller than her. She didn’t have the chance to turn around before the familiar scent of pine, whiskey, and tobacco filled her nostrils and a pair of lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.
Logan husked out right next to her ear, “Hey, Baby. Thought you were gonna come find me once you got your drink. Dinner’s about to start.” One of his hands slid around to rest against her stomach protectively, so she placed a hand on his arm and said, “I was! It just got busy, I guess. We had the home-front advantage earlier,” trying to pretend like she wasn’t silently losing her mind over what he’d just done and praying to whatever deity existed that he couldn’t smell her body’s reaction to what had just occurred.
She turned her head to look at him, and he smiled at her before nodding his head in Jeffrey’s direction and saying, “Who’s this punk?”
She shot a quick glare at the man in question, then looked back up at Logan. “Just someone who is very lucky you showed up when you did,” she said with a smile before going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
The bartender arrived with her drink not a moment too soon, and as she grabbed it, said, “It was nice to meet you, Jeffrey,” and then let Logan lead her back to their designated table, choosing to ignore how Logan looked over his shoulder and snarled at the man as they walked away.
Dinner thankfully went off without any hitches, but since Y/N and Logan were seated next to each other, the constant whiffs she got of Logan's unique (and intoxicating) musk whenever he so much as shifted in his chair were driving her insane. Not to mention the absentminded circles he was drawing on her leg under the table, which he didn’t need to do since nobody could see.
Just as she thought she’d be able to beeline it to somebody’s office or the bathroom or anywhere else to hide, Jean pulled her aside while asking to talk to her in private, making her think a string of expletives that she was well aware Jean could still hear as she allowed herself to be dragged to an unoccupied corner of the ballroom.
Once they were away from listening ears, Jean said, “Okay, what is going on between you and Logan? Yesterday you were threatening to shove him off the roof, and now you two are all over each other! And don’t even try to lie,” while raising a questioning eyebrow. Y/N let out a petulant whine, but Jean shot her a look that Y/N liked to call “The Mom Glare”, so she let out a loud sigh and explained everything, her voice growing more hysterical with every word:
“Okay, I bribed Logan into being my fake boyfriend for the night to keep the creeps away, and I told him to do whatever he needed to do so people would believe it, but I realized that I like what he’s been doing way too much for us to be just friends, and I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jean!”
Jean put her hands on Y/N’s arms to ground her and said, “Whoa, calm down. What exactly has he done that’s got you so worked up?” Y/N let out a mildly panicked laugh, then said, “For starters, if he was within arms reach of me, his hands were on me. He was being super protective of me in front of Tony even though we all know he could snap the Tin Man like a toothpick if he wanted to. He kissed me on the jaw earlier when some sleazeball was hitting on me by the bar, then snarled at him as we walked away. And to top it off, he was drawing circles on my leg under the table at dinner, and I’m not convinced he realized he was doing it, because I did nothing to stop him. Ugh, this is so complicated!”
Jean made a confused face at this. “Why does it have to be complicated? You two clearly have feelings for each other that are more than platonic. And if I may, he agreed to this crazy scheme of yours, didn’t he? At least some part of him feels the same way about you.” This earned another whine from Y/N.
She started rambling, “I don’t want this to change our relationship! I mean, yeah, I’ve had a crush on him for years because I’m not blind, but we’re just friends! And we’ve always been just friends! We bust each other's chops, we affectionately threaten each other with violence, we smuggle contraband into the school for each other even though Charles absolutely knows we’re doing it, so there’s literally no reason for us to be so secretive about it. I can’t just throw that away because I’m in love with him!”
Unfortunately, she didn’t notice Jean’s face pale or her attempts to get her to stop talking until a familiar deep voice said, “You’re in love with me?”
Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she turned around to see Logan standing there with a confused expression on his face. Her stomach clenched, and she said meekly, “How much of that did you hear?” hoping he wouldn’t say what she thought he was going to say, and bracing herself for the worst.
“Everything after ‘complicated’.” Fuck.
A whimper escaped her throat, and she heard Jean scamper off behind her. She sighed and whispered, “Shit,” squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Logan made to move towards her, but Y/N recoiled from him and said, “Don’t!”, before side-stepping him and sprinting out of the ballroom as fast as her wildly impractical attire would allow her, ignoring the concerned calls of her name from her fellow X-Men.
Y/N knew Logan would catch up to her eventually, but for the moment, the only thing on her mind was getting as far away from the ballroom and him as possible. She ended up in the hedge maze, and she fell onto a stone bench to catch her breath, but all too soon she heard Logan yelling her name.
She ignored him, then proceeded to bury her face in her hands and cry due to the sheer irony of the situation: She was hiding in a stupid hedge maze from the only man she’s ever wanted because she can’t bring herself to face him.
Logan rounded the corner a few moments later, and the second he saw her on the bench and heard her sniffling, he knelt before her. “Hey, don’t cry, Sweetheart.” He gently pulled her hands away from her face.
Y/N just shook her head and whispered, “I can’t do this, Logan,” through her tears, making Logan’s eyebrows furrow before he said, “Can’t do what, Darlin’?” and went to wipe her cheek with his thumb, but it was too much for her to take.
Y/N flinched away from his touch and sobbed out, “This! The pet names, the tender touches, you looking at me like that! I can’t go back to just friends after everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t! If you’re gonna let me down, please just let me down gently because it’s the only way I can bear losing you!”
A fresh flood of tears blurred her vision enough that she couldn’t see his face, and she tried to get up to run back to her room or anywhere else where she could lock the door and try to pretend like this whole night was just a bad dream, but Logan’s hands shot out to hold her in place. “Y/N, who said anything about letting anybody down or losing me?”
Y/N startled at the sound of her first name coming out of his mouth, and she blinked back her tears to find him looking at her so tenderly she thought she was going to melt into the grass below her. Logan cupped her face in his hand and said,
“From the day that I met you, I knew I needed to find a way to keep you in my life. For a while, that was by being your friend. But only being your friend isn’t enough for me anymore. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life.” His thumb stroked her cheek comfortingly as he spoke.
Y/N giggled through her tears, and she said, “That’s a long ass time, Wolvie.”
He chuckled back and said, “My point exactly, Doll,” squeezing her knee for emphasis. Y/N looked down at the ground and said, “You’re gonna get grass stains on your pants.”
Logan raised an eyebrow challengingly before bracing his hands on the bench on either side of her and purposely grinding his knees into the grass, pulling a shocked laugh from her. “Logan Howlett!”
He chuckled at her admonishing tone, then leaned in to press his forehead against hers and murmured, “It stopped being pretend for me the moment you came downstairs in this dress,” as he ran a hand down her leg to fiddle with the hem of her dress.
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she whispered, “You had me at ‘hey, baby’.” For a moment they just stared at each other, but Logan’s resolve broke when she breathed his name, and he surged forward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss that said everything words couldn’t then.
His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she let him in without hesitation as she gripped the back of his jacket and he held her against his chest like she’d disappear if he let go. Y/N could have stayed in his embrace forever, and Logan could have kept her like that indefinitely.
Unfortunately, humans need oxygen to live, so Y/n pulled her lips away to at least attempt to catch her breath, but Logan had other plans.
He trailed his kisses down her jaw to her neck, and his hand started roaming around her back to find the zipper of her dress, but Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “You better take me on a real date before you try something like that, Howlett.” He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned disappointedly.
Y/N giggled, then said, “As far as I know, the gala doesn’t end for another few hours,” to which Logan leaned back so he was sitting on his heels.
“I think I like where your head's at, Princess,” a smirk crossing his face before he jumped to his feet, scooped her up bridal style, and started jogging back to the mansion, his heart swelling at her squeal of laughter and how her arms tightened around his neck.
Logan set Y/N down outside of the ballroom, then held out his hand and said, “Ready, Darlin’?”
She smiled and said, “Always, Big Guy,” before lacing her fingers with his and walking into the room, where seemingly every Avenger and X-Man was standing and waiting with bated breath.
Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Logan, who let out a resigned sigh and said, “Ahhhh, fuck it,” before sweeping her into a dip and kissing the life out of her, an eruption of shocked laughter, wolf whistles, and applause coming from the gathering of heroes, making Y/N smile against his lips and cup his face in her hand.
When he pulled his lips away, Logan murmured, “I’m in love with you, too. Didn’t get to say it earlier,” making Y/N snark, “Oh, really? I never would have guessed,” before giggling and reconnecting their lips, Logan chuckling as he held her even closer.
Scott hollered teasingly, “Hey, lovebirds! Mind wrapping it up?! We’ve got places to be!”
Both Logan and Y/N simultaneously flipped him off while they stayed engrossed in each other.
“Yeah, fair enough,” Scott said, making Jean laugh at him. Logan eventually stood Y/N up again, then said, “Hey, Stark, is there any good shit left? I don’t know about you, but I finally got the girl, and I feel like celebrating.” As he spoke, he shot a wink at Y/N solely to make her blush.
Tony said, “Absolutely!” A waiter came over with two glasses of champagne, and even Y/N could tell that it was high-quality stuff just from the smell.
Logan held his glass towards her, then said, “To you and me, Darlin’.” Y/N clinked her glass against his in cheers and said, “You and me, Bubba,” everyone cheering as Logan kissed her temple.
As an avid romance novel reader, she probably should have seen this coming, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about anything else besides the comforting feeling of Logan’s arm around her waist and the knowledge that he was all hers for as long as she wanted him, which was forever.
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