#have a tiny itty bitty crush on

[adeleine-everyday]

day 27

look im not saying anything about kirby storytime #6 but

[animatronic-assistant]

Just another idea

Lord Hyades ( @malwaresilly )wakes up one day to find one of his more corrupt and troublesome advisers just straight up gone. No one knows where they are or what happened to them.

Mean while Lord Hyades' newest guest is making herself useful by cleaning out that missing adviser's rooms. Humming like she didn't have a hand in the disappearance.

[tsireyast]

It's time for another really fun game of "am i actually attracted to men and have a crush on this guy or does he treat me kinda alright and satisfy my need of male attention and feeling wanted by men to feel like i fit in with the people around me"

(pls help)

[fandomhopped]

first love/late spring

pairing: fwb!logan howlett x fem!reader; 2nd person pov

summary: logan and reader have been sleeping together for a while with an unspoken rule to keep it casual, but that goes to hell when logan catches feelings. however, reader is an independent boss bitch and hates men<3

warnings: heavy swearing, hella mentions of sexual situations, substance abuse, brief sexual content(nothing serious fr), creepy guy in a bar, blood, bar fight, mentions of sex trafficking and resulting trauma, daddy issues, fluff, angst asf, lowkey scott slander (i dont mean it i love him)

word count: 9.1k

a/n: reader has light manipulation abilities but theyre not mentioned that often lol, also reader takes a lotta shots at jean just cuz she pisses me off. side note: idk the true meaning of the song i used as the title, there are many different interpretations. i found the song after i had alr written the story and the lyrics resonated pls don’t jump down my throat if it doesn’t align <3

there’s not a millimeter of space between you and logan as he holds you against his body. you’re sleeping soundly, and he watches you breathe all night, not bothering to even think about sleep for himself. the sun came up three hours ago, he felt it on his back.

when you drink, you always wake up early the next morning. you two drank a lot together last night. and like every time you drink with logan, you ended up in his bed.

he tries to block the sun from your face with his body so it won’t wake you up. he knows when you finally do, this little illusion that you're his will all be over. everything you said last night won’t matter. you’ll go back to your room. he’ll stay in bed. you’ll both go back to acting like it never happened.

you always leave him swiftly. you always go downstairs and drink coffee from the same mug and act like nothing happened. without a stutter, it’s a routine.

since he moved into the mansion, he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that the female teachers were attractive. and, of course, he was first drawn to jean. he won’t deny that he still harbored some feelings for her when you came to his room all those months ago, but she made it abundantly clear that she loves scott.

then one night, you slipped a bottle of whiskey into the mansion and invited him to join you in drinking it. you said some things that made him sit closer to you. that was just the beginning. he woke up the next morning to an empty bed but distinctly remembers you falling asleep next to him, so he assumed you woke up and left.

logan is a pro at acting like some things never happen, but he wasn’t expecting you to act the same. he dismissed it as a one-off, drunken night.

then it happened again… and again and again, and you continued to act like it never happened.

which, he was fine with. this wouldn’t be the first time he’s had a with-benefits situation, but there’s something different about you. you’re badass. you’re beautiful. he really respects you. you fit him perfectly.

and you’re mean. you don’t smile all that much, really only when you’re drinking is what logan soon found out. you’re not always outright mean to people, it’s usually deserved. you don’t take anybody’s shit. you’ll let people know when they’re in the wrong or they’re pissing you off. you’re sarcastic and rudely witty.

that was just another thing that attracted him to you. but, God, were you the meanest in the mornings, especially when you’re hungover.

unfortunately for logan, he has developed a small, tiny, itty bitty, barely-there crush on you. just catching a scent of your perfume has him rolling his eyes in the back of his head and white-knuckling whatever is directly in front of him.

the thoughts of you under him, on top of him, in front of him, on your knees for him plague his mind all. day. long. then last night, you had him rock solid from just a few drunken words.

“you’ve ruined all men for me,” you said as he kissed down your neck.

“hmm?” he hummed as his hands roamed your body under your shirt.

“nobody could ever fuck me like you do,” you told him, pulling at his hair roughly. he lets out a deep groan at the feeling.

he’s never picked up his pace of getting someone’s clothes off so quickly. he ripped your favorite pair of pj shorts in the process, mumbling that he’ll buy you a new pair.

with him deeply inside you, one hand wrapped around your throat and the other sending you over the edge with his mouth leaving marks all over your chest, you say breathily, “fuck, you’re perfect for me.”

the moment hasn’t left his mind since.

“i’m hot,” you mutter, pushing the sheets from your legs. “you’re hot.”

“oh, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, his lips turned up.

“i’m about to have a heat stroke,” you return, squirming around and shoving his arms from around you.

he lets go of you and gives you some space, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. a deep sigh leaves him.

“i’m gonna throw up,” you tell him, groaning and curling up into the fetal position.

“are you serious? don’t puke in my bed,” he says, leaning up to look at you.

you roll your eyes. “no, i’m not serious,” you snap at him.

“‘you wanna take a shower?” he asks, his lip curling up at the thought of you ruining his sheets (and not in the way he usually prefers).

“i feel like shit right now, logan. i don’t want to fuck you in the shower,” you tell him roughly, sitting up and glaring over at him.

he watches you stand up out of his bed and put yout shirt on. “‘s not what i meant,” he grumbles, looking away from her. he throws the sheets off his body and grabs his jeans from the night before.

he runs his hands down his face and then looks up only to see the door closing behind you as you leave him. again.

“whew, late night?” ororo asks you as soon as you walk into the kitchen, changed into some presentable clothes rather than the ripped shorts and oversized tshirt you walked back to your room in.

you ignore the woman as you open the cabinet to grab your mug. the same one you use every morning.

but it’s not there.

“where’s my mug?” you ask, glancing around the kitchen to see it’s not just ororo but also jean and scott there.

“is this yours?” scott asks, holding up the mug in his hand.

your gaze darkens. “yes,” she grits out, tightening her jaw.

“that’s my bad. i didn’t know this was yours,” he says, standing up and walking over to the sink. “i’ll wash it and you can use it.”

you feel your skin crawl as he turns on the hot water. “stop,” you say lowly, walking to him and turning off the water. “you can’t—.” you stop yourself as you breathe heavily. you rip the cup from his hands.

“hey, it’s just a mug,” ororo says to you, “what’s up?”

“it’s not—,” you cut yourself off again and take a deep breath, shaking your head. you turn on the cold water from the sink and carefully wash the mug.

“seriously, what’s going on with you?” jean asks as scott rejoins her side.

you roll your neck. “i’ve been here for years, and you don’t know which one is my mug?” you ask scott, not looking anywhere but your mug until you’re sure it’s clean.

“i never noticed before, ‘sorry,” he says then turns to jean with a shrug.

the light beaming in through the window shines a little brighter as you continue to shake your head, muttering things under your breath that the others can’t make out.

“it really is just a mug,” ororo says carefully, looking over your figure in concern.

“except it’s not,” you retort, attentively drying off the ceramic with a towel. you then pour some coffee into the mug and hold it close to your chest, turning back to the other mutants.

“what—,” jean begins but logan walks into the kitchen just as she starts and she stops herself.

her surveys everyone’s demeanor then looks at you. “what’s wrong with you?” he asks, walking to the cabinet and grabbing whichever cup is closest to his hand when he reaches in. he pours himself some coffee and turns back to them expectantly.

“scott was using my mug,” you tell him, leaning against the counter.

“why?” he asks scott, eyeing the man.

“to drink coffee. why does it matter?” he asks in return, scoffing.

“it’s hers,” logan returns, his stare hardens and he looks at scott like he’s an idiot.

ororo laughs humorlessly. “what does that mean? it’s just a mug,” she asks, looking between you.

you glare at her. “it was my father’s and now it’s mine.”

“the same father that sold you?” jean asks, her face contorting. you shift your weight uncomfortably. “why would you want that?”

“why don’t you just back the fuck off, bitch?” you snap at her, stepping toward her.

“woah, girl, calm down,” ororo intervenes, holding her hand toward you like you’re a wild animal. you scoff. “we get it. it’s special to you. that’s all you had to say.”

you roll your eyes at them. you leave the group and return to your room. logan watches you go then turns back to the others with his eyebrows raised. “did you say sold her?” he asks jean.

“when he found out she was a mutant—,” she begins.

“jean,” ororo interrupts her, shaking her head at the girl.

jean continues, “—her father sold her into a mutant sex trafficking ring,” she reveals, looking only at logan, “that’s where we found her and then brought her here.”

his face contorts, and he looks down into his coffee. “shit,” he comments.

“she doesn’t talk about it to anybody, and, out of respect, we don’t talk about it either,” ororo says pointedly at the telepath.

logan is seething all day over the new information. he hates to think you went through that for God knows how long.

after the incident, logan doesn’t see you for a while. he doesn’t know how. you’re a teacher and you live down the hall from him, yet he still doesn’t even catch a whiff of your perfume.

“logan, meet me in my office,” he hears charles’ voice in his head. he obeys and within a minute, he’s standing before the professor. “you should leave her alone for a bit.”

her brow furrows. “come again?”

charles says your name and logan clenches his jaw. “she’s destructive right now. you should let her be.”

“is she okay?” the wolverine asks, concern growing in his stomach, and it makes him feel sick.

“she’ll be just fine. this happens from time to time,” he tells him, pressing his lips into a thin line. “you know of her circumstances.”

“her circumstances?” logan growls, scowling down at the old man, “you knew what she went through and didn’t think to tell me? you know what’s going on between us and didn’t think maybe i needed to know that? what if she had a breakdown when we were together? i wouldn’t have known what was happening.”

charles’ lips turn down into a small frown. “that’s not my information to tell.”

logan storms off in a huff, muttering under his breath.

that friday, he’s smoking a cigar in his bed, looking out the window at the moon, which is shining rather bright tonight. he hears a few quiet knocks on his door. he opens the door, expecting it to be a student.

“hey,” you say, waving a bottle of jack in his face before pushing past him into the room. “'hope you don’t mind, i got started without you.”

“you always do,” he comments, closing the door, putting out the cigar, and following you to sit on his bed. “listen —.”

“i think i like that vodka more than this. this one makes my mouth taste weird,” you tell him, taking another sip out of the bottle before handing it to him.

he holds it and sighs. “look, we should—.”

“—take our clothes off?” you finish his sentence, smiling darkly at him. “i mean, it’s a little early, but i agree.”

“that’s not what i—.”

“—was going to say?” you guess his words, cutting him off again. “look at us finishing each other’s…” you trail off, looking at him expectantly. he sends you a deadpanned glance. “this is the part where you say ‘sentences.’ i think i’m better at this game than you are.”

he takes a long sip from the bottle before he looks at you. “can you be serious for a second?” he asks.

you scoff and take the bottle from his hands. “i don’t come to you like this to be serious, logan,” you say, putting the whiskey to your lips again.

“why do you come to me at all?” he asks quietly and gruffly.

you take another sip and place the bottle on the floor, scooting closer to him. “because you’re hot,” you say in a sultry voice, putting a hand on his thigh and slowly dragging it up, “and you call me ‘princess’ and ‘darling’,” you continue, reaching for his belt buckle. he doesn’t do anything to stop you, “and your hands.” you push the buckle out the way and unbutton his pants, dragging down the zipper slowly. “and your tongue.” you reach your hand into his pants. “and this.”

he breathes heavily, completely lost in the euphoria that is you.

he forces himself to snap out of him and shakes his head. he pushes your hand away and stands up, taking a few steps away.

“what’s wrong?” you ask him, grabbing the bottle and standing also. “do you need some more?” you ask, holding the drink out for him, confusion written all over your face.

he holds his hands out in front of him as if to deny the offer. “it’s…,” he trails off, pushing a deep breath through his nose.

your shoulders drop along your face. you tilt your head in disbelief. “oh, my fuck. they told you,” you conclude. you turn around and sit back down on the bed. he stays silent, just looking at you. “okay, so what now? you don’t want me anymore ‘cause i’m used up?” you ask, slurring your words a little.

“no,” he denies without hesitation.

your sober personality is back even though you’re still drinking the whiskey like you’ve been in the dry desert for weeks without water.

“then what is it, logan? you don’t wanna do this ‘cause my hair isn’t blood red?” you ask next, raising your brow and looking at him expectantly.

his face contorts. “what’re you talking about?” he asks gruffly.

you chuckle at him. “i’m not a fucking idiot, old man. i know you want jean so bad, but she doesn’t want you so i'm second choice” you say, then you shrug with one shoulder. “i’d’a gone with ororo, to be honest. have you seen her? i’d show her a good time,” you add.

“that’s not what this is,” he tells you, taking a step forward but not within arm's length of you.

“then what is it? just fucking tell me,” you say loudly, the room lights up as the moon shines brighter. “d’you want me to tell you ‘bout how i was a good, little daddy’s girl until i almost blinded my brother when i first got my powers? how about how my dad gave me away like he didn’t love me? d’you want me to cry in your arms about how i was passed around by mean men like a blunt when i was 14? why do you think i can only let you fuck me when i’m drunk?” you ask him sarcastically, but your voice breaks on your last words. you let out an unsteady breath. logan watches you cautiously, unsure of what to do. “is that what you want, logan?! you wanna be the big, strong man here?!” you ask him, crying now as you yell at the man in front of you.

your body slumps forward as you let the tears drop from your eyes, and you grip the bottle in your hands like a lifeline. you feel the bed dip beside you and the bottle pulled from your hands. you move your hands to your face, trying to pull yourself together.

you feel his big arms envelope you and pull you into his chest. that’s when the waterworks really break out.

logan’s never been to best with tears. he hasn’t had to deal with them too much, but his first instinct was to hold you as close as you would let him. he hates to see you like this. in all honesty, he wants to hunt down every man that ever put a finger on you and rip them to shreds. but, for now, he’ll hold you. as long as you would let him.

you wake up with araging headache. you’re hot, burning up, actually. you kick the blankets from your legs and turn over in the arms of the incredibly attractive man in bed next to you. you look at his sleeping face and sigh.

this is the part where you leave, but this time, you just snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep.

logan wakes up later than he usually does after nights like the last one. it’s normally the sound of the door closing wakes him up. but, this time, he sees your cute face smushed against his pec. he doesn’t fight the smile on his face.

you stir quickly after he wakes up. you rub your eyes and look around the room, then to logan. “i’m gonna puke,” you tell him, the remnants of the smile fall from his face. you pull away from him as your face blanches. “seriously,” you add and sit up quickly.

he reaches for the trash can beside his bed and holds it in front of you just in time. he holds your hair back with a look of absolute disgust while you clutch the bin close to your face and your body jerks with each gag.

once you're done, you wipe your mouth with the bottom of your shirt. you groan loudly and stand up from the bed. “i’m gonna take this with me,” you tell him, holding the can in your arms and moving toward the door.

“keep it,” he remarks, his lip curled up.

monday morning rolls around quicker than anybody wants. you walk into the kitchen and grab your mug, pouring coffee and looking around at others in the kitchen.

they’re talking amongst themselves, mentions of grading papers and some stupid answer a kid put as their answer on an assignment.

you just listen and sip your coffee peacefully. that is, until logan walks in. you move from in front of the coffee pot for him to get some. he nods in thanks as he joins your side.

“this coffee is awful,” you comment, pouring it out in the sink next to you. he chuckles at your comment but doesn’t say anything. “scott, did you make the coffee this morning?” you ask him. the three look over to you, almost as if they didn’t see you come in.

“yeah,” he answers.

“don’t do it again,” you tell him, filling the mug with water and leaving the kitchen.

as you watch a group of students take a test, you see logan walk back in his jacket he usually only wears when leaving campus.

“hey,” you call out. all the students look up at you. “keep taking your tests. i’m going to the hallway for a second,” you tell them and move into the hallway. “logan,” you call and he turns around, walking back toward you. “where are you going?”

“to pick up some more cigars,” he answers, gesturing over his shoulder.

“will you pick me up a pack of cigarettes?” you ask him, reaching into your pocket for some money.

his brow furrows. “you smoke?” he asks.

“sometimes, yeah,” you reply, handing him $20.

he shakes his head. “i’ll cover it,” he answers.

“thanks,” you reply, placing a hand on his forearm before returning to your classroom.

he looks down to his arm and blinks. that’s new.

“brad, i know you’re not talking during a test. are you begging for a failing grade?” he hears you say before he turns back toward the front door of the mansion.

logan returns a while later, after the school day is over and the students are training. he finds you in your classroom, grading papers.

“hey,” he greets. you look up at him.

“hey,” you return, eyes dancing all over his body.

“these are for you,” he says, holding out the page of cigarettes.

“right, thanks,” you say and reach for them, your fingers brushing his as you grab them.

“‘you need any help?” he asks, looking at the papers before you.

“do you know anything about math?” you ask him, pursing your lips.

“uh, no,” he answers, shaking his head. “don’t you have an answer key or something?”

“i have to check their work to make sure they didn’t just get the answer from the person beside them,” you reply, looking back down to the papers. “some of these kids are dumbasses.”

he chuckles. “no kid wants to do math,” he comments.

“how would you know? weren’t you born before there were schools?” you ask him without looking up. there’s a beat of silence before you eventually glance up at him. “was that insensitive?” you ask instead.

he just shrugs. “i’m not that old,” he says, sitting in the desk in front of yours.

“sure,” you respond and go back to grading.

the two of you sit in without a word as you grade, and he watches you in complete admiration. after a while, he stands up and walks toward the door.

“you’re leaving?” you question.

“‘didn’t think you wanted your room smelling like cigars,” he replies.

“i’ll join you,” you say, grabbing the pack he bought you and putting the tests in a drawer. he doesn’t object and you two walk outside, to a bench in the gardens, away from the students.

the two of you sit in silence as you inhale smoke and slowly release it from your lungs.

“i’ve never seen you smoke before,” he comments after a while.

“i only smoke when i give up drinking, i only drink when i give up smoking,” you answer, tossing the burnt cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it, then picking another one from the pack.

you pick up your lighter and flick it a few times but it won’t light. you put your head and lighter inside your shirt to block the wind, trying again and failing again.

“motherfucker,” you mutter as you try to cover the lighter.

“here,” he offers his lighter with the fire shining brightly above it. with the cigarette between your lips, lean toward the lighter, looking up into his eyes as you do. he meets your eyes and clears his throat, closing the flame into the top of the lighter and shifting his eyes to the cigar between his fingers. you let a small smile rest on your face afterward.

“so you’re not drinking anymore?” he asks you.

“figured i should go on a sobriety cleanse for a bit,” you reply, “‘t’s probably for the best.”

“probably,” he adds and silence takes over again.

he glances over at her for a second and he sees you bite at the skin of your bottom lip the way you always do when you’re thinking, contemplating. he’s tempted to ask what’s on your mind but before he can break the silence, you let out a hard sigh.

“i don’t apologize for things,” you begin and pause, biting at your lip again.

“okay…?”

“i don’t apologize for my actions or words because i stand by every decision i make,” you continue and pause again. he’s looking at you and you’re looking directly ahead of you. “i’m not good at apologizing,” you sigh again, “but i’m…sorry for some of the things i said the other night. there’s no excuse. i apologize. take that how you will.”

“you don’t have to apologize,” he replies.

you huff. “so i just said all that for nothing? you could at least accept the damn apology,” she snaps at him then rubs the crease between her eyebrows out.

“you called me an old man. i don’t know if i want to accept your apology,” he teases with a crooked smile. you send him a look that turns into a hint of a smile before turning your head away.

“i need to get back to grading those tests. i’ll see you later, logan.” you stomp out another cigarette and stand up from the bench.

“see ya, sweetheart,” he says lowly but you still hear it.

as you look over tests, ororo enters your classroom. “ooh, what’s got you all smiley?” she asks as she strolls in.

the previous smile you didn’t even realize you were wearing falls when you look up at the mutant. “huh?”

“don’t try to deny it. i saw that smile,” she says teasingly. you just roll your eyes lightheartedly. ororo’s brow furrows as she sniffs the air. “are you smoking again?”

“yeah, i quit drinking,” you answer, “what’s up?”

“i was coming in here to ask you if you wanted to go out with the rest of us friday night. we’re planning on going that bar we always go to,” she says, “but if you’re not drinking, i don’t wanna make you go.”

“yeah, no. that’s okay,” you decline the offer.

“alright, if you change your mind, you’re welcome to join us. sober or not,” she adds before leaving out.

the week drags on painfully slow. it’s a week of tests and starting new units in all your classes and you really just want to bang your head against a wall and tell the kids class is canceled.

by the end of it, you actually do want to join your colleagues in going out to that bar in town that they love so much. you offer to be the designated driver, not trusting anyone but yourself to drive you anywhere.

“are you going with us to the bar?” you ask logan as he rummages around the cabinets for something to eat.

“no,” he answers, opening the fridge, “are you?”

“yeah, i’m driving,” you tell him. there’s a beat of silence before you add, “you should come.”

he turns toward you at your words with a crooked smile. “oh yeah?” he questions, “why? ‘you want me there?”

you scoff with no heat behind it. “i was just trying to be nice,” you say.

“you? nice?” he asks, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“what? you don’t think i’m nice?” you ask him defensively, crossing your arms.

“no,” he replies, not skipping a beat.

“i’m very nice,” you counter.

“no, you’re not,” he denies again, also crossing his arms.

in his white beater, crossing his arms makes his arms flex and you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the veins of his biceps.

“you have nice hair. there, nice,” you compliment, then add right after, “you’re not balding or anything, which is quite common for men your age.”

“you’re not good at this,” he tells you, looking at your plate to see what you're eating.

“do you want some?” you ask him. you hold your plate across the counter for him to pick off of. he grabs one of your chips and eats it.

“thanks,” he mutters.

“look at me being nice,” you comment and he chuckles deeply.

“shut up,” he returns playfully.

the five of you go to the bar that night, logan joining at your request. he sits at the bar, ordering drink after drink and scanning the bar every so often to make sure you’re alright.

you spend most of your time at ororo’s side. before long, you’re accompanied by a couple of men. you and ororo share side-eyes as they continue to tell stupid jokes. ororo excuses the both of you to go to the bathroom only to move next to logan at the bar.

“having fun?” he asks sarcastically, looking at you then glancing to ororo.

“they could’ve at least been funny, but they weren’t. there terribly unfunny,” you tell him, sitting next to him on a barstool and ororo laughs.

“yeah, that was awful,” she comments and sips her drink. “oh, i see jean and scott. i’ll be back later.” she leaves the two of you. you order a club soda and turn to logan, who is hunched over his drink.

“you have really bad posture,” you tell him as the bartender hands you your drink. he just shrugs and refills his glass with the bottle the bartender left in front of him. you dig your finger into his spine and he straightens up, looking at you wildly.

“why?” is all he asks.

“it’ll help you look more presentable. you’re not looking for anybody tonight?” you ask and glance around the bar for women.

“no, i’m not,” he answers and slumps back down. you dig your finger into his back again and he looks down at you. “stop,” he says seriously.

“oh, what’re you gonna do? stab me?” she asks him challengingly. he looks back down to his drink and shakes his head dismissively. “oh, come on. you’re good-looking, you’re good in bed, you’ve got this hot, animalistic thing going on. why not look for somebody?”

“‘cause i don’t want anybody,” he answers. “did you say i’m good in bed?”

“well, yeah,” you confirm with a one-shouldered shrug.

he stares at you for a beat. this is the first time you’ve ever mentioned it before. you don’t talk about the things you two have done. ever.

“i would know,” you add after he stays quiet.

“you would know what?” ororo asks as she rejoins you, along with scott and jean. they all stand directly behind the man, looking at you expectantly. logan’s waiting for you to make up a lie.

“that logan’s good in bed,” you answer, gesturing to the man next to you. his eyebrows raise and he looks directly in front of him, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks down all of what’s left in his glass and refills it again. you surprise him more and more every day.

“he’s what?” ororo questions, shock written all over her.

you roll your eyes. “you don’t have to do the clueless bit. jean reads minds and i know she’s told you two,” you state, pointing between ororo and scott.

“what? i haven’t—i didn’t—,” jean stutters over her words, laughing through them.

“liar,” you clock it in a high-pitched tone, sipping your drink. “i’ve heard you talk about it before. i’m just surprised you haven’t mentioned it yet.”

the three of them exchange glances. “okay, yeah, we knew. we thought you would deny it anyway so we didn’t bring it up,” ororo admits.

logan stays silent, drinking like he’s been thirsting for days. why are you doing this? “so…you two are…,” scott trails off. you shrug as your answer. “hmm.”

“hey, sweetheart, you never came back,” the guy from early comes up behind you and wraps an around your shoulders. you tense up at the feeling.

you remove his hand from you. “don’t touch me, and don’t call me sweetheart,” you tell him. he laughs and looks at your colleagues.

“why not? looks like everybody’s got a matchup here but you. let me help you fix that,” he says and runs the knuckles of his finger across your collarbone. he points at scott and jean, then logan and ororo. “i can make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“seriously, don’t touch me,” you tell him firmly, pushing his hand off your shoulder and shifting your seat away from him.

logan doesn’t watch the encounter but he’s squeezing the glass in his hand so hard it’s about to shatter. he feels the red-hot rage crawl up his neck as he does every time he encounters some asshole in a bar.

“don’t be like that, sweetheart,” the man continues and reaches for the strap over your shoulder. chills cover your arms and legs and a shiver runs down your spine. you grab his hand roughly and shove it away from you.

“touch me again and i’m gonna break your fucking nose,” you tell him.

“ooh, i got a feisty one,” he comments to the rest of your group, laughing. “i like that.”

scott takes a step forward. “you need to lay off, man,” he tells him, trying to keep this civil and contained.

the man only laughs harder. “what are you gonna do, glasses?” he asks him and slings his arm over your shoulders. “come on, baby, let’s get out of here. i got a real nice spot for you in my bed.”

“she already told you not to touch her, bub,” logan chimes in, still looking straight ahead and not sparing the boy a glance. there’s a tightness in his shoulders as he uses all his self control to stay in his seat.

“woah, tell your bodyguards to stand down,” he says to you but your only response is to rear back and deck him directly in the nose.

he stumbles back, holding his nose as blood drips into his hand. “you dumb bitch—,” he lunges toward you but logan whips around and grabs him by the front of his shirt, shoving him up against a wall.

“what’d you say?” the mutant asks him lowly, a growl deep in his throat.

“hey, take it outside!” the bartender yells at the man.

“why don’t we do that? you wanna take it outside?” logan asks the scared man in his grasp, shoving him harder into the wall.

“logan, let’s go,” ororo tells him as she walks with you toward the door. he doesn’t move. “logan!”

he drops his hold on the man and turns his back to him. he doesn’t even take a step before the dumbass says, “yeah, listen to your bitch.”

logan turns back around and absolutely socks him in the jaw. the man falls to the ground. logan walks after his friends, rolling his shoulders.

when logan gets out to the car, he sees you in the driver's seat, holding your hand closely to his body. he sits in the passenger seat and looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks you carefully.

“did you kill him?” you ask him flatly without meeting his gaze, and he shakes his head. “you should’ve,” you say coldly and start the engine, driving out of the parking lot and back to the mansion as quickly as possible.

when you arrive, logan accompanies you to the lab for jean to look at your hand. he wasn’t going to say anything but watching you cradle your hand makes him change his mind. “are you alright?” he asks you.

“fine,” you reply sharply, clenching your jaw tightly. he watches you bite at your lip.

“speak your mind,” he tells you, just outside the hidden elevator. you just shake your head at him. “if you don’t, you’ll take it out on jean.”

“why can’t i just do that?” you ask lowly.

“‘cause she doesn’t deserve it,” he reasons.

you take a deep, frustrated breath. “what happened tonight was stupid,” you say, “dumb fucking men thinking they can get whatever they want whenever they want. now my hand might be broken because i couldn’t—,” you cut yourself off and take another deep breath to steady yourself. “i’m done talking about this,” you say and open the door to the hidden elevator.

he blocks your path. “no, you’re not,” he says and waits for you to continue. that’s when the dam really breaks and you last out at him.

“it’s stupid. all of this is fucking stupid. i could’ve handled myself back there. i didn’t need you to step up and be my big, strong savior,” you tell him angrily, voice rising.

“i know,” he returns.

you’re shouting now, “then why couldn’t you just let me do it? i could’ve stopped him. i’m stronger now. i know how to fight now. i don’t need anybody to save me. i can save myself. i don’t need you. i don’t need any of you.” your voice cracks as the anger starts to shift into the feelings you hate to feel. “i’m not gonna let anyone take advantage of me ever again. and i’ll break every bone in my body before i let some drunk narcissistic man ever put his hands on me again,” you say your peace and breathe heavily and unsteadily.

there’s a long pause, the weight of your words hanging between you. logan doesn’t interrupt, giving you the floor to get it all out.

“i know,” he repeats himself deeply, “but you shouldn't have to.”

you feel that familiar ache in the back of your throat as tears threaten to spill out. you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, pushing all the emotions back down. “my hand really hurts,” you tell him quietly, not trusting your voice. he puts his hand gently on your back and leads you into the elevator then into the lab.

by the time you’re in front of jean, you’ve pulled yourself together and let her examine your hand. you did break your hand. she wraps it up for you and sends you to your room with some pain meds.

logan doesn’t leave your side until you’re at your bedroom door. “i don’t want you to come inside,” you tell him quietly. he stays silent. “it’s just that you’ve never seen my room before and this is mostly where i use my abilities and it’s messy right now and—.”

“‘t’s fine,” he interrupts your rambling. “i don’t have to come inside.”

“right,” you mumble, hand gripping the doorknob. “good night.”

“‘night.” he doesn’t make his way to his room until you slip into yours, locking the door behind you.

the next mid-morning, logan walks into the kitchen to see jean scolding you like a child. he’s surprised you’re just sitting there and taking it without a word.

“i’m serious,” jean says, finishing her tongue lashing.

“i know,” you mumble before jean offers logan a soft ‘good morning’ as she leaves.

“what was that about?” he asks you, moving over to the table where you sit with paper spread in front of you.

“i need to grade these papers but my hand is broken and dr grey told me it would only cause more damage,” you explain, sighing heavily and holding the pen in your healthy hand.

“let me help,” he says, snatching the pen from your fingers and the paper from in front of you. the numbers on the sheet are all greek to him. he doesn’t know what the hell he’s looking at.

“you can’t,” you tell him, pulling the paper from his hands. “you don’t know how to do it.”

“then tell me,” he offers, moving his chair next to yours. “tell me what’s wrong and i’ll write it down.”

you shake your head a few times before giving in. “fine,” you cave and look over the student’s work. you place the page in front of the man and point a certain part of a problem. “okay, so he should’ve foil’d here but he didn’t so the rest of the work is wrong. put a line through it and write ‘foil’,” you instruct him and he follows your orders.

“like that?” he asks, showing you. you nod in approval.

“your handwriting actually isn’t that bad. i was expecting a lot worse,” you comment, leaning into him as you look over the next problem. “that one’s right, so put a check,” you tell him and he follows.

the process continues on. every time there’s a gap of silence as you examine the math that he would never even try to understand, he watches you in complete admiration. there are practically hearts in his eyes while the gears turn in your brain.

as the next few days progress, you and logan spend more time together than you ever have. whether he’s in your classroom during your free period or you watch whatever movie’s on tv together on the couch, if someone’s looking for logan, you’re right beside him and vice versa.

of course, the others have taken notice of it. it’s new and after you confirmed you had been sleeping together, they draw their own conclusions about the two of you.

“‘y’know what i would like to see?” you prompt logan as you watch a show with a lumberjack in it.

“what’s that, darlin’?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“you chop wood,” you tell him, looking up at him from your spot under his arm.

“chop wood?” he questions.

“yeah, like, axe, wood, outside, shirtless, sweaty, and muscly, chopping wood,” you tell him, “lumberjack style.”

“lumberj—.”

“with the cigar,” you add excitedly, cutting him off. “maybe add in a little dehydration too.”

“i think you’re drooling a little bit,” he tells you, pointing at your mouth as a lazy smile rests on his face.

“probably, that’s hot,” you tell him, looking back at the screen.

as the credits roll, logan looks down to see you sound asleep with your head resting on his chest. he carefully picks you up in his arms and carries you to your room.

he opens the door and pauses his movements, eyes dancing across your room. there are no personal touches on the walls or shelves. it looks exactly like his did when he first got to the mansion. well, except for one obvious difference.

your room looks completely dilapidated, like an abandoned home that the sun and time have destroyed. the dark color of the wooden floors and furniture has faded, every surface dry and brittle. in some parts, mostly near the window, the wood is completely bleached of its color.

he lays you in your bed and covers you up, taking in the room once more before he leaves.

“why don’t you have another name like everyone else?” he asks as you sit next to him on the bench where you now regularly take your smoke breaks on.

“like a last name? i do have one,” you answer, flicking the butt of your cigarette onto the pavement.

“scott has cyclops, marie’s got rogue,” he elaborates, glancing over at you. you’re sitting right beside him, his arm thrown over the back of the bench in a way that your head rests on it.

“i don’t know. i guess i never understood why i have to change my name just because i’m a mutant. i am who i am, human or mutant,” you answer, messing with a loose thread on your pants. “plus, seeing the way you made fun of the others when you first got here for their names—i’d never even try to think of one now,” you tell him, making him chuckle. you smile proudly at making him laugh. “you looked so cute when you first got here.”

“are you saying i’m not cute anymore?” he asks in mock offense, looking at you sideways.

“i mean, when i first saw you, you had that big jacket on and you were so clueless. a little less muscle too,” you recount, poking his toned stomach to which he curls to the side. your jaw drops. “are you ticklish?” you ask him, a smile growing on your face.

“no,” he replies sharply and gruffly, straightening his posture.

“oh, my fuck. you so are ticklish,” you accuse and dig your fingers into his ribs, attempting to tickle him.

a deep laugh leaves him, and he grabs your hand in his, his facial expression dropping quickly. “stop,” he tells you in warning. you just laugh in his face, reaching toward him with your other hand, cigarette still between your fingers. he grabs your other hand before you touch him, cigar between his fingers. “no,” he denies you.

you look toward the mansion and see the sun reflecting off a window. you bend the light so it’s shining directly in his eyes, almost burning them. he shuts his eyes tightly and brings one of his hands up to his face. as quickly as you can, you reach back into his side.

he quickly stands up and looks down at you. “enough,” he says and points a finger in your face.

you stand up also, but you’re shorter than him so he’s still looking down at you. you decide to stand on the bench, now a little taller than he is. you don’t say anything, just look down on him with a straight face.

logan can’t help the smile that breaks his scowl. “you’re an idiot,” he tells you, raising his eyebrows at you.

you mimic his gesture then flick the cigarette butt onto the ground. “you are cute, wolvie,” you say and ruffle his hair. “i get the whole towering over people know. this is a power trip for sure,” you comment.

“oh, really?” he questions and puts the cigar between his lips. he grabs you around your waist and throws you over his shoulder like you’re as light as a feather.

you let out a surprised squeal as he walks away from your bench with you in his hold. “put me down. bad boy, bad dog,” you chastise him hitting his lower back. he doesn’t listen so you just hang over his shoulder as he drags you into the mansion.

you grab his ass abruptly and he stops in his tracks. he places you on the floor and tilts his head as he looks into your eyes, taking the cigar from his mouth. “‘bad dog’?”

“yeah, wolverine,” you say, gesturing to him.

“a wolverine’s not a dog,” he tells you, smiling down at you.

your brow furrows. “yeah, it’s like a small wolf, right?” you wonder and feel like an idiot when he laughs at you.

“no,” he answers, shaking his head.

“liar,” you accuse.

he tells you, “go to the zoo. there’s some there.”

you look up at him in disbelief. “you’re fucking with me,” she states and he shakes his head in complete amusement. “if you’re lying to me, i’ll—.”

“what? try to blind me again?” he asks, cutting you off.

“maybe i will,” you challenge, crossing your arms.

he pauses for a moment, considering. “maybe i want you to,” he says and his tone drops, like, two octaves when he says it.

you’re suddenly aware of how close the two of you are, how his hands gripped your waist just a moment before, how effortlessly he carried you. the playful atmosphere shifts and you feel heat creep up your neck and across your cheeks. you don’t blush, especially not around him.

“logan,” is all you say softly. he notices the change in tone. he notices everything about you, every detail, every flaw, every perfection.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the air between you is charged. your eyes travel all over his face. he really is such an attractive guy. and when you peel back the tough guy layer, he’s a sweetheart.

“thanks for the ride,” you say lightly, trying to break the tension.

he nods, gaze still locked on you. “anytime,” he remarks, his voice rougher than it was a moment before.

you both stand there for a few more seconds, not really sure where to go from here. his eyes shift from yours to your lip as you chew on it. his jaw tightens and he looks away from you, taking a step back to give you some space.

your heart pounds against your chest unfamiliarly. everything about this feels so new to you.

“see you around, pup,” you say, your voice back to its teasing tone.

“yeah,” he adds, watching as you turn away and walk back toward the mansion.

more days pass and you spend more time with logan. he notices that you make fun of him more, teasing him for small stuff.

it’s only when he’s in the laundry room that ororo catches him alone. “hey, logan,” she greets. he mumbles something of the same. “so…you look pretty cozy with a certain mutant.”

“huh?”

“you know what i’m talking about,” she says, leaning against a washing machine.

“it’s nothing,” he tells her, starting the machine he threw his clothes into haphazardly.

“‘doesn’t look like nothing,” she returns.

“leave it alone,” he grumbles, turning to leave the room.

ororo steps in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. “please, don’t hurt her, logan,” she requests.

“she doesn’t want me the way you think,” he tells her.

“you can’t seriously believe that,” she says, looking back and forth between his eyes.

at that very moment, you turn the corner and your eyes widen. you ignore the sting in your chest as you let out a loud “woah.” ororo quickly turns around and takes a step away from logan. “i didn’t mean to interrupt,” you tell them with your hands up in surrender, but that was exactly your intention when you spoke up.

“you weren’t interrupting anything,” logan tells you, watching you move past him to grab a laundry basket.

“i’m not judging,” you reply, walking back to the door. you turn back last second and look at ororo. “hey, if he asks you to wear a red wig, say no,” you tell her with a wink before leaving.

“i never—,” logan cuts himself off, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. “i never did that,” he says to her.

“God, i hope not. what the hell,” she remarks, shoving his arm. “she was jealous. you need to go tell her nothing happened.” he sighs deeply and takes a step forward. “‘you really still think she doesn’t want you?”

he doesn’t reply and follows after you. you’re walking as quickly as you can up the stairs when he catches up to you. “hey,” he calls after you.

“don’t worry, buddy. secret’s safe with me,” you tell him, picking up your pace as you reach the top of the stairs but he keeps in step with you.

“there’s not a secret. we were just talking,” he says.

you place a hand on your bedroom doorknob. “really, you don’t have to defend yourself to me,” you say and open your door, slipping inside. before you can shut it, logan stops the door with his hand. you look at him through the crack in the door, pushing your lips into a thin line. “uhm…”

“there’s nothing going on between me and storm,” he tells you.

“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” you return, frustration rising in your tone. you push against the door but your strength is in no way comparable to his.

“i’m serious,” he tries again, almost pleading. “i don’t want her, i want—.”

“jean? look at that, finishing each other’s sentences again,” you cut him off with a false laugh.

“come on, darlin‘,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

you groan. “i just thought—,” you stop yourself, sighing. “it doesn’t matter what i thought.”

“it does matter,” he tells you, pushing the door a little wider. you move into the space between the doorway and the door, trying to block his view into the room. “tell me,” he encourages, getting closer to you.

“i thought you weren’t a whore,” you retort, giving him a hardened look.

“that’s not what you were gonna say,” he states lowly, looking deeply into your eyes. “what was it?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting into the skin. he reaches his hand to your jaw, his thumb pulling the lip from between your teeth. “don’t do that. you know it drives me crazy.”

“i thought maybe you wanted me for more than sex,” you admit, feeling embarrassed as the words slip out. you clench your jaw, preparing for the rejection. a smirk slide onto his face and you drop your head. “okay, bye.”

you move back and push against the door again, but this time he pushes the door all the way open. your eyes widen as he takes a long stride toward you and pulls you back to him by the back of your neck. he presses his lips against yours feverishly to which you obviously reciprocate.

he pulls away and rests his forehead against yourself, breathing heavily. “i want you in every way possible, sweetheart,” he says.

you swallow thickly, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “you don’t want me,” you tell him. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back into him, your chest pushing against his.

“i do,” he counters.

“you don’t,” you respond.

there’s a beat of silence. “i do,” he says again. you just look up into his eyes. “i want you. i’m not the best person for you, i know that. i’m older and unhappy and i probably can’t be there for you emotionally,” he lists then shakes his head at you, looking at you like you make the world go round. “but i want you, i want every part of you—the good, the bad, the hot and sexy, and the rude and snappy. everything.”

you’re quiet. you don’t know what to say, what is there to even say? in your head, he’s always wanted jean and you were just a place filler. you’ve been under the impression that you caught feelings and he didn’t reciprocate them at all. maybe you’re wrong just this once.

“i want you too,” you tell him in a whisper. he watches your brow furrow as you look away from his eyes. his face falls. “but—.”

“no ‘but.’ don’t say ‘but’,” he begs, loosening his grip on your waist.

“logan, i can live with you not being there for me emotionally, but i don’t know if you can live with me not being for you sexually,” you tell him. dread takes over your body. this beautiful, morally grey, perfect-for-you man is in the palm of your hand and you’re letting him slip through your fingers.

her visible confusion deepens. “you’ve been perfect for the past few months,” he tells you, misinterpreting your words as insecurity.

you shake your head. “i meant it when i said i can’t fuck you sober,” you tell him slowly, avoiding his gaze completely. you feel his hands move from his loosened grip to a hover over your hips. you can’t read his mind like you usually can. logan wears his thoughts on his face, perfectly readable when he’s mad or happy or just his normal grumpy. but now, it’s like trying to read a book in a language you didn’t know existed. “i’m sorry,” you add when his silence becomes too much.

“i don’t care,” he tells you as soon as you finish the last syllable.

“you know i don’t apologize for shit and you don’t care that i’m sorry?” you ask him. you go to push him off again but he pulls you back in, this time wrapping his around your neck, smothering your face in his burly chest.

“i don’t care about sex,” he tells you as he rests his head atop yours. you return the embrace and hold him around his ribs. “i don’t care if you never touch me again. i love you.” your eyes widen and he feels your body tense up. he chuckles, pulling away and smiling at you. “too soon?”

“a little,” you tell him, nodding. you then smile back at him.

———

a/n: i haven’t written in a long time . pls don’t rip me up if u hate this🙏

[ezgurple]

I'm that drawing where you drew renet I say Donnie looking away nervous, does he not like her?

oh no no no don does like her :] !!! but erm… he may have a tiny little itty bitty crush on herNO HE DOESNT?!?! HE LITERALLY HAS A COMPUTER WIFE AND KID AT HOME..🙅he must stay focused

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 188

Pariah stares down his muzzle at the scrap of a ghostling hissing up at him, still waking up from an eternity of sleep. Something he honestly hadn’t expected to awaken from any time soon, even if it had been several thousands of years. 

But that was not important at the moment. No, what was concerning him was the fact that there was a ghostling, practically a fetus really, with itty bitty fangs bared and tiny wings puffed up in an obvious attempt to make themself look bigger. 

Not to mention the fact another ghostling tried to attack him from behind the moment he leaned down to get a better look. Which meant moving very carefully to not accidentally crush said ghostling while dislodging them from the spikes across his spine. 

Ugh, he’d just woken up, why was there a pair of ghostlings in front of his prison? Where was whoever had decided to free him? …

…

Please don’t tell him that the sarcophagus was opened by a pair of ghostlings that shouldn’t even be out of their caretaker’s nest yet. Alright. How did they even get- Why is his Keep in this location? Where is, ah, there Fright Knight is. 

Please do tell him you at least know what’s going on, because while feeling quite better than before his mandated nap, he’s also not up for active conquering or anything close at the moment. Actually he still feels exhausted and- would you stop trying to bite him tiny ghostlings-

Oh Realms, why are there two hatchlings this sick?! One had one of the worst infections he’s ever seen, and he became an adult in the middle of the Zone’s warring days! The other- dear Flame, what is he even looking at?! Why are their cores like that?! What in the Realms’ Name has happened while he was imprisoned that there are ghostlings with cores looking like that?

No no no, he has eternity to continue conquering if he wishes to attempt that again, but he has to fix this immediately. If there is something wrong with the Nesting sites where ghostlings arrive and form to the realms then there is something very wrong. 

…

Why is there a literal tear in the Zone?! Ow, stop trying to bite him you tiny ghostlings, he’s not setting either of you down until he can figure out how to deal with this and get you medical care! Fright Knight, you’re in charge of investigating this portal-tear, he’s going to see what the fuck has happened. 

Heroes and civilians alike are very concerned about the multitude of literal dragons suddenly going all across the midwest and would really like answers now. Perhaps also answers as to why several government buildings have been (seemingly accidentally… maybe) wrecked? Maybe? Please? 

[httpsserene]

𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐬 (𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠!) - 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. idiots in love. mild angst. fluff. happy ending. attempt at humor. plot with a side of porn. the timeline is mostly accurate. max verstappen is an oblivious idiot. daniel ricciardo is an obvious idiot. 5+1 things (in a way). the three musketeers: charles, pierre, and lando. light praise kink. light dom/sub undertones. mild orgasm delay/denial. 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 9.5k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x daniel ricciardo

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: so....how's life been treating y'all while i disappeared for two months :) ? no, um, sorry for ghosting you guys; i know, i'm surprised that i didn't forget my login info. life started being life for a good amount of time and i got really sucked into school and work. aside from the boring everyday stuff, i've got an internship this summer (yay!), i'm pretty sure i have a bit of a mutual-crush with this boy in my morning lecture, and i've started playing final fantasy sixteen.

anyways, this is my longest work ever! and i'm dedicating it to one of my sweetest betas, bianca. you requested this long before my disappearing act in december, and i told you i was nearly finished with a 6k-word fic for your request. to make up for my unexplained absence, i rewrote the entire thing into a near ten-thousand word feel-good masterpiece.

i hope this fic is of good enough quality for all of you wonderful f1-stans to forgive me because, i'm back, and hopefuily here to stay lol. enjoy reading, loves &lt; 3.

requested & written by/for @biancathecool

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milton keynes, red bull racing headquarters, pre-season 2023

daniel looks happy. max doesn’t know why that surprises him—maybe he’s projecting his emotions (his therapist says he does that quite often) onto the man. the surprise makes sense though, max thinks, as he watches the australian chatter away with the engineers, the largest toothy smile spread across his face like he never left red bull behind in 2018. if it were max who had gone through the mclaren bullshit along with not having a guaranteed seat for the upcoming 2023 season, and he had to settle for a third driver position: he would scourge the world with his fury.

but: it’s not max, it’s daniel. it’s daniel, who was warmly welcomed back into navy blue (papaya did not suit him), it’s daniel, who doesn’t snap at the marketing team when they ask how he’s “coping” with not being on the grid. it’s daniel, who becomes friends with checo easily. it’s daniel, who’s scheduled to fulfill the pr activities that the two red bull drivers refuse to complete. it’s daniel, who has clocked in insane hours in the sim and factory while max has been enjoying his off-season. 

it’s daniel, who hasn’t shown any signs of disappointment about not having a seat this year.

if he won’t show or admit it, max will. having a race weekend without daniel doesn’t feel right. max knows this, even though the season hasn’t started yet: he’s going to be miserable. it’s like when daniel left him the team. of course, max had pushed daniel away after he signed with renault. what was he supposed to do? react calmly with the emotional intelligence he didn’t have? max thought the man hated him when he didn’t tell him that he was leaving before the news was released. 

regardless, instead of the australian leaving, this time around he’s coming back, which max had originally believed was the best thing to ever happen. he’s not so sure of that anymore. daniel belongs in the car chasing him with the smell of burning rubber and petrol surrounding them. max doesn’t appreciate how the smell of race tracks has already disappeared from him. he could tell it was missing when daniel made a show of giving max the biggest hug as soon as he stepped foot in the factory.

maybe this time, the natural distance between them concerning their now different job requirements would help max get over his small, miniscule, tiny, fractional, microscopic, miniature, little, itty-bitty crush on daniel. it didn’t work the first time, when younger-max had avoided his ex-teammate like the plague after his move to a different team—if anything that absence made his heart ache for daniel more, even though he tried his hardest to hate him. so now, maybe that max isn’t the one causing the growing gap between him and daniel, this space might dissolve max’s fondness.

“max, kid,” christian waves a hand in front of max’s face with an unimpressed look, “did you hear a single thing i said or were you too distracted by the sight of daniel in red bull gear again?”

the tips of max’s ears redden, and he snaps his head away from where it was turned to watch daniel’s constant smile, to face his team principal. max doesn’t know what he was thinking; his crush is going nowhere.

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑.

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35

© httpsserene 2023

[wheneverfeasible]

~Wiggly 🧠 🪱 Wednesday~

Eeee thank you for the tag @hotluncheddie, this is my first brain worm tag and that’s super exciting, buuuttttttt…

So I actually just realized that I’ve recently hit the anniversary time of when I went No Contact with my family, and I know that that I’ve began kinning Steve more since then due to his own terrible family.

So then I was thinking about Steve, who it’s been years since he walked away from his family, since he found his true family, and he’s doing okay for himself. Maybe not an amazing career or anything, but he’s found something that he’s relatively happy with and he’s got people who love him in his corner and yeah, sometimes it still hurts, but he’s moved past it all.

Until one day, completely unexpectedly, his mom comes into his place of business.

Maybe they threw him out, maybe he left of his own choice because he realized that they would never be what he wanted or needed them to be. They never truly knew him and never cared about him, at least not enough to ever choose him over anything else, so it hurt but ultimately it wasn’t hard to leave them, only hard to leave the life he used to know.

He and Robin were roommates now, because obviously, and it was a shitty little place, but it was theirs, and they’re happy, and their friends are over all the time to the point that Eddie practically lives there too, which is…nice.

Really nice.

Steve has come to accept the fact that he isn’t entirely straight, and part of that is the reason he no longer speaks to his family, and he’s even come to terms with the fact that he might have a teensy tiny itty bitty little crush on his best friend, Eddie Munson. Which is fine. He’s used to having crushes on friends and having them be unreciprocated.

Except Eddie has been sending him some signals that maybe it’s not entirely unreciprocated. And he’s starting to feel confident, starting to feel like maybe he could actually be genuinely happy with someone…

And that’s when he sees his mom. It’s been years since he last saw her, but suddenly all that pain and hurt he thought he had grown past is tearing through his chest and up his throat and he feels his heart rate accelerating and his breathing is growing choppy and he can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t breathe—

He’s thought about, before, what he would tell his parents if he ever saw them again. About how he would call them out for being terrible people who never cared about him, only saw what he could offer them, about the image they wanted to show the world. Wanted to tell them of all the times he’s almost died and they never knew because they never cared enough to ask why he’d come home bruised and bloodied, or why he avoided the pool, or why he woke up screaming from nightmares. He thought about how good it would feel to say how he never needed them.

But he can’t say any of that now. All he can do is try not to pass out from hyperventilating because they were his family, his parents, and they should have loved him unconditionally but they never did. They never chose him over their friends, their jobs, their image. They never loved him and never would. They would never truly know him or accept him and all he wanted was for them to say that they were sorry and they never would.

Steve would like to think he could face his mother, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t he just couldn’t. So he hides, he runs, he disappears into the back and he can’t stop the tears because why was he never good enough for her or his dad? What was so wrong with him that they couldn’t love their own son?

And there’s no sort of resolution for him, no closure.

He finishes his shift, he goes home, and Robin and Eddie are there just like they were when he left that morning, and their immediate smiles at him being home slowly drops because even though he tries to hide it, they know.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, can’t talk about it, not yet. He does tell them that he saw his mom that day and he loves them because they get it, they understand, and they don’t make him talk about it. Robin makes him his favorite snack and drink, Eddie finds that movie he knows is Steve’s comfort movie and puts it on, and they don’t talk about it but they’re there.

And, curled against Eddie’s side with silent tears dripping off his nose and onto Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s arm around him while Robin keeps him grounded with a hand caressing his leg on his other side, they let him mourn not what he lost, because he never had it to begin with, but what could have been.

And maybe, maybe one day Steve will be brave and tell Eddie what he means to him, but he’s too fragile at the moment. It will remain unspoken for now because he’s not ready. But maybe one day. And maybe that day is sooner, maybe that day is later, but there in his friends’ unconditional love, he knows that they’ll both wait for him to be ready.

Because his parents should have been his family but they’re not. They never were. And maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but one day he would be able to let them go because he knew that what he had with him right now was his real family, and that love was forever.

Yeah anyways the song Matilda by Harry Styles hits a little too close to home for me, and I think it’s fitting for Steve too.

no obligation tags since Wednesday is over but there’s always next week lololol: @derythcorvinus @stervrucht @katyawriteswhump

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Things that drive Bucky insane,

Steve's itty bitty waist, his plump lips that buck wants to bite like a strawberry, Steve's inability to shut up while watching TV

Oh, ho, ho, do not tempt Bucky to list the things about Steve that drive him insane sexually and generally because Steve's a little shit because you will be there for literal days if not years.

This is a nonehaustive list that you have begun, and we can add so many things:

Steve's itty bitty, teeny tiny waist that his fingers can't help but dig into while they're fucking doggy style, Bucky pulling Steve back onto his cock at the same time that he shoves as deep into him as possible. He wants Steve to wear a bruised-in corset of his handprints across his waist at all times, healing factor of the serum be damned.

Steve's plump lips that he wants to bite until they're puffy, hot, and glistening wet from the abuse.

Steve's inability to shut the fuck up during TV episodes and movies meaning that Bucky has to have subtitles on so he doesn't miss critical plot points. The only thing already supersized about Steve before the serum was his mouth--the fuckin' loudest mouth in Brooklyn. Bucky hates to love that mouth so much.

Steve's blush. Enough said.

Actually, no, not enough said about Steve's blush. There can never be enough said about that pretty, baby pink to dark, deep red color. Bucky gets unspeakably hot seeing the flushed, burning red shells of his ears when he's fucking Steve from behind. Bucky could watch the way his blush spreads in slow motion for hours, days, weeks--he could watch it on loop if Steve would let him video it. It starts high on his cheeks as blotches of color, spreads over the crooked bridge of his nose, floods his entire face from his hairline down to his cut jaw, leaks down his throat, finds its way to his chest, crests the hills of his tits, surrounding his perky, pink nipples, and fades down to the lower part of his flat, smooth stomach. If Bucky's lucky, he can get Steve to blush so hard, so feverishly hot with embarrassment, that the small of his back gets colored, too.

Steve's whole hobby of running off into alleys to get into fights. No longer getting into it with men three times his size, mostly because that's physically very hard to do these days, yet all the same in principle and ego.

Steve's golden hair fresh from a lay--sticking up in tufts from having Bucky pull at it, hands in his hair, directing Steve's empty-headed, glazed-over stare wherever he wants it or pulling his whole head onto his dick, fucking his fucked-out face. That look makes Bucky feral. The dumb look in his eyes and the dumber look of his gaped-open lips, all his muscles gone slack in his face save for the carved-in depression between his drawn-together eyebrows. Sprawling pleasure.

Not just after they fuck, though, Steve's golden hair when he wakes up in the morning. Ruffled like a baby chick. That look never fails to make Bucky crush him into a full-body hug, cuddle session because he's out of his mind with affection. There's something about all those achingly familiar cowlicks.

Steve's golden hair darkened after a shower, seeping rivers of water that eagerly streak down his squeaky-clean, hot-water-red skin, conforming to every curve and dip of his body. Bucky will never stop wanting to lick every drop of water off of him when he's fresh out of the shower or bath or pool or--you get it.

Steve's body.

Steve's tits. Bucky is a caveman, thinking about Steve's tits. They're ripe and so fucking grabbable, leaving Bucky with no words, just a low, hungry growl in the back of his throat, and if he keeps going on about them, if he keeps thinking about them, he's going to seek out his man like a predator stalking prey. Then, Steve won't be able to peel his teeth off of him for hours, being gnawed at like a bone to a wild dog.

Steve's whole goody-two-shoes, golden-boy act around people who don't know him but know Captain America. It always gets under his skin, frustrating him, making him huffy and wanting to start cracking jokes that would make army boys from back in the day do a dull spit take with how disgustingly dirty they are.

Steve's waist deserves a second mention.

And if his waist gets two mentions, then maybe his ass needs three. He looks ripe there, too, a work of art designed to leave everyone who admires it drooling, full of primal hunger. He's sculpted like a Roman statue. A young God.

Steve's stubbornness, a fucking donkey, an ass, gets a hundred mentions if his waist gets two and his ass has three. Bucky can't believe he volunteers to run after him on the regular.

Jesus wept, Steve's stomach. Bucky wants to kiss his stomach and feel the way it clenches and contracts under his mouth. Reacting so beautifully to the force of overwhelming pleasure, squirming until he's shaking, spasming on Bucky's cock shoved deep inside him.

Those miiiiiiiile long legs. Strong and smooth and carrying him with determination that's dragged them both outta hell.

Those legs drive Bucky insane for another reason, too, not just how shapely they are--that determination. If Steve would learn to walk away from a single fucking fight, Bucky would be saved another lifetimes worth of years in stress alone. Steve's legs always seem to propel him toward danger. Steve's legs, tender and vulnerable, with Steve's penchant for only using his shield to protect his upper half.

Steve's ability to, without fail, misplace his phone and then make them late out the door when they need to leave because he can't find it. He always has to resort to pouting until Bucky calls it, unveiling the fact that it's right where Bucky told him to look but he didn't. Obstinate fuck.

The fat, soft little pillow of his perineum, obscenely cute and pink and oh-so sensitive, between his legs, tucked behind his balls but before his hole. Hidden from prying eyes other than Bucky's. And pry Bucky does--

Steve's cheeks. Bucky has to pull his cheeks apart, spreading him until he squeaks with embarrassment, his cute, tight little hole clenching, winking at Bucky like a hidden treasure between his fat asscheeks. Bucky wants nothing more than to pry that sweet hole open. He wants to lick it, to finger it, to fuck it. He knows he owns it, and that drives him insane. He wants to own it again and again and again. He wants to overpower the serum that knits Steve back up tight after ever fuck and leave him ruined and gaping.

Steve's dick always gets him to that feral intensity, whether Bucky's just looking at it in all its objective beauty--its girthy thickness, its length with that slight curve, its dusky-pink color, its eagerness, twitching, leaking, swelling, its veins, its fat head, all of it--or whether Bucky is feeling it, tasting it, using it, whatever. Anything. Everything. Everything about that dick is insane. Bucky's insane for it.

Steve's balls. Bucky slurps at them and teases Steve when he goes without an orgasm for a day, two, three, or maybe even a whole week when the missions get nasty, for how swollen and full they must feel. He's a fucking spiller. He overflows with cum when he orgasms. It's the hottest shit.

Steve's feet, even. The handsome, high arches of his feet, the skin surprisingly soft like a baby's. Sweet and vulnerable. Bucky can't help but want to dig his thumb into the soles of his feet to make Steve moan with relaxation, reflexively kicking his leg out like he has since he was a kid. Foot rubs that turn into tickle fights are totally worth the accidental kicks to his chin that Bucky suffers.

Steve's never present survival instincts. Bucky will always be a little angry after he pulls a stunt where his self-sacrificial bullshit is on display. It doesn't matter if it's a grenade, a lacking parachute, or whatever else, it always drives Bucky up the fucking wall. Goddamnit, Rogers.

Steve's seeming need to crawl out of his own skin with an orgasm--arching his back, shaking from head to toe, screaming through his teeth or gasping in a silent, open-mouthed scream, clawing at Bucky or at anything within his reach, acting like it's bigger than him. Bigger and enough to give Bucky an ego, fueling his fire, making him want to do it again and again and again until there is no way Steve can keep going, so he collapses. Crumbled. Overwhelmed.

To cut this short, shorter than the hours, days, weeks, months, years long list Bucky has for each bit of Steve that makes him turn into a mad man: everything. It's everything about Steve. The man's too much.

I blacked out and wrote this. I was just moving some asks around, saving them as drafts, and, uh, got carried away, I guess, lol. I hope you enjoyed 😘

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Hey There Jealousy.

You're part of Hellfire with a big crush on Eddie, he doesn't feel the same and you deal with unrequited feelings until a date with someone else triggers unexpected reactions. ✨

Warnings; Angst, jealousy, fighting, fluffy goodness. Not S4 compliant.

Please like or reblog, etc if you enjoyed this ❤️🌸

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

❤️❤️

You had been in Hellfire for the last two years, it was your senior year and things were going pretty great.

When you first joined the group you didn't know what to expect, Gareth was the one who had found out that you were a huge dnd fan and always played with the kids you were babysitting at the time.

One of them happened to be his younger cousin Dave who raved about you to Gareth, it was then decided you would tag along to Hellfire.

None of your friends could understand why you wanted to join but you ignored their doom-filled predictions of it being a cult or whatever bullshit they heard from Jason.

Eddie was hesitant at first until you played your first campaign and knocked everyone's expectations out of the water.

Now you were one of Eddie's valued teammates and the tiny itty bitty crush you had on Eddie when you first met? Now it was full-blown feelings and you were screwed.

Because he didn't think of you like that, he had crushes on Chrissy Cunningham, other cheerleaders, hookups with girls in bands and at The Hideout where he would play with his band Corroded Coffin.

It hurt, seeing him with those girls hurt, it was expected though. You were just his friend, he was older and in a cool band and despite what Jason and his Neanderthal friends thought and called him- "the freak" garnered a lot of intrigue.

He was also gorgeous, with beautiful brown doe eyes, shaggy brown hair, tattoos and dimples. Eddie was fucking hot.

So yeah, you were screwed.

❤️❤️

Dustin never thought he would be speaking one and one with Chrissy Cunningham. He knew you were friends with her and Eddie a little bit too but it still felt surreal.

You and Eddie. That was the reason the two of them were conspiring together in the first place.

"Look, I like Eddie, he's a sweet guy but the fact that he doesn't notice how gone my girl is for him is frustrating" Dustin nods.

"What do you want to do about it? If he's not interested then you can't force him to be Chrissy" she nods.

"I know. Eddie Munson despite what yn seems to think isn't the only guy in the whole universe, others have noticed how cute she is"

This intrigues Dustin. Was it Steve? He knew Steve thought you were hot.

"You know Matt? He's on the basketball team? One of Jason's friends. He's one of them" Dustins eyes widen.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Chrissy smiles.

"We don't have to do anything. Matt is going to ask her out. Either Eddie feels something or he doesn't, either way..."

Either way, you would either get your dream guy or a chance to move on for good. Dustin liked you a lot and wanted you to find happiness, whether it was with Eddie, Matt or whoever you wanted to be with.

He was nervous but ready to see what happened.

❤️❤️

"Hey" You're shocked into silence as Matt comes over, he's like one of the most popular guys in school besides Jason and yeah you're meant to be tutoring him tonight but you didn't expect him to want to hang out beyond that.

Did he want to hang out with Hellfire? Immediately you notice Eddie tense, defences up and you don't blame him, the basketball team has a few jerks in it.

Besides Lucas of course. You adored Lucas as well as Mike and Dustin.

Matt has never been hostile though so you smile encouragingly while Eddie glares at the newcomer.

"Hey, I know we were meant to be studying tonight but I saw on your bag that you like horror movies, there's a showing of some classic horror movies tonight. You wanna go?"

Okay, this you weren't expecting. He rests his hand on your arm and his thumb strokes over your shoulder, it tingles and you feel flustered and also acutely aware of Eddie's raised eyebrow as he watches you both.

Chrissy is watching too giving you a thumbs-up gesture and you make a decision.

"I'd love to" you find yourself saying and Matt grins.

"Cool, I'll see you after class" You watch him go feeling like you're in some strange dream.

"Did that really just happen?" you ask the others who look between you and then Eddie.

"You've been swayed to the dark side. Yeah, it did" Eddie huffs and you roll your eyes.

"I have not. He is cute though" You sigh dreamily, it's nice having someone notice you.

"He was all over you in Ms O'Donnell's class. Someone's got a crush" Jeff teases and the others join in on the light hearted teasing.

Except for Eddie, who's quiet and munching on a bag of pretzels while he glares in the direction of the Jock table.

"We were just talking, he was asking me for help studying. I help Eddie so why not?" Gareth grins.

"Mmm and now you're off to the movies, a horror movie. That you'll not be watching because of all the... He makes a kissy face and you giggle.

"Dingus" would that happen though? Your belly flutters.

"Shut up! " Eddie snaps and the others quieten and your heart rate spikes because he looks so annoyed and you wonder if it's about you and Matt.

"We were discussing the campaign" he points out and your heart sinks, right Hellfire. It was silly of you to think he might be jealous. Why would he be?

After school, you meet up with Matt to head to the cinema.

Maybe this will be a good thing and you will be able to finally move on from Eddie?

❤️❤️

Eddie was invited to tag along with Robin and Steve to see The Blob.

How was he supposed to know that you would be at this movie with Matt? He felt like an idiot for staying and semi-spying on your date.

He tried to leave but the harsh twist of his heart when you laughed at Matt's jokes kept him rooted to the spot as well as Steve and Robin who wanted to see the movie.

Eddie didn't know why the sight of you and Matt together made his stomach bottom out but he was beginning to get a good idea.

He couldn't concentrate on the movie. It felt like that time that you were crushing on Steve for weeks and that kick started Eddie's dislike of the dude.

Until he got to know him and realized he was a pretty cool guy, Dustin's hero-worshipping of Steve too had stuck in his brain.

"Dude you didn't tell me that yn was looking to date someone. Could have asked her myself" Steve nudges him and nods to you and Matt.

Wait so Steve liked you as well? The urge to dislike Steve comes racing back. He kinda wants to hit something.

"You like her?" he asks Steve who shrugs.

"Dude, she's hot. You've never noticed?" he thinks about this and he's always known that you're beautiful, he's never liked anyone noticing you but assumed it was just him being protective.

Eddie doesn't think the pain in his chest could get any worse until Matt kisses you and he finally understands what it feels like to get his heart ripped out.

Stumbling out of the cinema he's joined by Robin and Steve, he feels like he can't breathe and the image of Matt kissing you won't go away.

"What's wrong with him?" Robin panics and Steve pats his back.

"Think he just realised he's in love Robin"

Love? he was in love with you? At first, he's like when the fuck did that happen.

Then be thought about it and maybe it was every time you smiled or you laughed or when you would fall asleep on his bed after helping him study and look so beautiful he was mesmerized.

Maybe it was your kindness, the way you played a kickass game of Hellfire or the way you looked at him on nights when it was just the two of you in his bedroom while he strummed on the guitar and taught you how to play.

Jesus Christ, he was an idiot.

❤️❤️

Eddie had been weird for the whole week and that was all you could think about tonight.

Your date with Matt had turned into a second and now this third date.

It was nice you kept telling yourself along with the fact that Matt was a lovely guy.

That's why you were at this party instead of at Hellfire, though you'd rather be with the boys and Erica in the middle of a campaign.

Despite Chrissy being here which made you feel more relaxed you knew this wasn't your thing at all.

It didn't help that after half an hour Matt was already drunk and he kept trying to feel you up even you told him no.

Your good opinion of him was rapidly fading with him acting more and more like a douche bag.

You had said no three times now and you were pissed.

"Come on babe" you shake your head and when he almost knocks you over and you hit your side on the table creating a rip in your dress you decide you've had enough of the party.

And of Matt.

"I said no! God, we are so done" You snap and tug out of his arms, you ignore him and stalk away, you're so upset that you don't realise how far you've walked into the woods until you can't hear anything from the party.

Shit.

❤️❤️

You hadn't shown up for Hellfire and that was Eddie's first distraction of the night, many more were to come but this was the first and all he could think about was you with Matt.

Jealousy coils around his gut and once again he curses his stupidity for not realizing his feelings sooner. It made him pissed off, it was hard to concentrate and he wasn't happy.

Eddie startles out of his DM mode as Lucas comes running into the drama room, he's just about to unload on him for missing half an hour of Hellfire but the look on his face stops him.

"Sinclair what's wrong?'' that's when Lucas tells him you were at a party with Matt, he's drunk and you're missing.

Then Chrissy comes in and rushes over to Dustin, it's like he's in some episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Dustin! Big mistake with Matt, he's an asshole he kept trying to grope yn at the party and she left and I can't find her" Chrissy was panicking and Dustin looks to Eddie freaked out.

Trying to tamper down the thoughts of beating the shit out of Matt he assures Chrissy, Dustin and Lucas that he will find you.

"Jordan said that she ran into the woods, Eddie" Lucas tells him and Eddie high-tails it to his van.

He had to find you. It was starting to rain and you could get sick or anything. What if you got lost? What if you tripped and injured yourself or you... He freezes.

What if the monster that stalked Hawkins Woods got to you? Normally he would have said that it was a load of rumours and shit but everyone knew Hawkins was one strange little town.

All the deaths. He couldn't risk you being hurt and he drove even faster. Desperate to get to you.

❤️❤️

You're shivering and chilled to the bone but you manage to find a clearing in the woods that leads back to the party.

It feels like you've been lost for hours but it probably hasn't been that long and you're relieved when you see a bunch of parties goers

That's when you also see Eddie, flashlight in hand and he shouts your name in relief.

He runs to you and you stumble into his arms sobbing in relief. The feeling of familiarity of Eddie's arms around you immediately makes you feel safe.

"It's okay princess. I've got you, you're safe" he checks you over and you assure him you're fine.

"You're soaked and look at all the rips on your clothes," he says worriedly and shrugs off his jacket placing it around you. The rain is fiercer now, a storm is brewing and you look anxiously at him.

He will catch a cold just standing in his Hellfire shirt and jeans, you try to tell him that but he stubbornely refuses to take his jacket back.

"Chrissy and Lucas explained everything. If I see that douchebag Matt he better run the other way" Eddie seethes, you've never seen him this angry before. It's not like him.

Well, that's a lie you tell yourself as you know how protective he is of you. How many scrapes he's gotten himself in for you, even if he had no chance in winning, he would defend you.

Even when he knew you could take care of yourself he still protected you.

At that point, possibly in the worst timing ever Matt stumbles over to you.

Eddie stiffens and Matt glares at you.

"You finally decided to have a go after all huh? Instead of acting like a frigid bit... He didn't get a chance to finish that sentence as Eddie socked him in the mouth.

He wines flexing his hand which is now bruised and sore.

"Fucking worth it" he announces, puts his arm around you and leads you to the van.

❤️❤️

You had never been so glad to see Eddie's Uncle Wayne in your life. He takes in the rips on your outfit and the bruise on your arm and scowls.

"What boy is my nephew beating up this time honey?" you would smile if you weren't so cold.

Eddie comes in and you immediately take his hands in yours and inspect his bruised knuckles.

"Are you okay?" you ask him and he nods still looking pissed off. He softens as you clean and bandage up the knuckles.

"Never mind me, sweetheart. Are you okay?" he asks you and you nod still a bit shivery. Uncle Wayne gets you a blanket and you cuddle into it.

"I'm better now. Should have never gone to that party. The whole time I was there I just wanted to be at Hellfire but I thought Matt was a nice guy and wanted to stick around for a bit, then he got drunk and acted like a dick"

Tears fall down your cheeks, frustration and just total exhaustion from the night's events.

Eddie deftly leads you to his room and shuts the door. Once you are inside he holds you close to him.

"I thought I had found a great guy and that he liked me when all he wanted to do was get in my pants. He didn't want to get to know me, not really" Eddie rubs your arm soothingly

"Maybe the next guy will be better huh?" you say hopefully and Eddie goes still which confused you.

"Eddie?" he swallows as he stares at you and you clasp his hand in yours.

"I don't want there to be another guy sweetheart. I want there to be just one guy. I want to be that guy"

What? He continues speaking and you can't believe what's happening.

"I know it took forever for me to realise and I've been so fucking jealous all week of Matt because he doesn't get how special and kind and beautiful you are and how lucky he was to be with you and the dude messed it up? What a douchebag"

"Eddie," you say again and he looks at you with those pretty brown eyes all wide and nervous.

"You don't feel the same right? Shit, forget I said anything and.." you call his name again and this time he quietens.

"Kiss me" He doesn't need to be told twice his lips are on yours and he grins as you kiss him back, he pulls away briefly.

"I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner princess" You rest your head on his chest as he pulls you into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around you as you sit on his knee.

"Hey less apologizing and more kisses" He laughs and kisses you again, his thumb stroking your cheek as he presses tender kisses to your lips.

"I'm an idiot. Should have been kissing you like this for weeks, feels so good sweetheart, it's never felt like this, just so right"

You smile on cloud nine knowing what he means, kissing Matt while nice and all never felt like this. However all thoughts are wiped from your mind when you straddle Eddie and his breathy moans cause the ache in your core to deepen.

"I love you and I'm gonna be kissing you forever sweetheart, hope you know that," he tells you and the thought of forever with the man you love sounds heavenly.

"I love you Eds, and that sounds perfect to me"

❤️

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Love is a Dagger: I

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader/Dagger

Warnings: Angst. Loki Pining. Soft!Loki. Steve has a little tiny itty bitty crush. Slow-Burn. Dagger is oblivious. Slight Fluff. Definitely some Steve x Reader in this chapter. Jealous!Loki.

Wordcount: 1,951

Summary: Wanda approaches Tony and Cap with a problem, Steve’s innermost feelings are revealed (and so are Loki’s), you still have a problem repressing most of yours. 

A/N: Please please please (okay Sabrina Carpenter) read the Prologue to the story here! It will provide some much needed context as to what is going on in the story. 

You had spent much of the following weeks avoiding Loki like the plague. You were no longer interested in entertaining the meals with the rest of the Avengers, for fear that he would be present. You had to expel your energy still, which is where training was difficult. The training rooms were by no means very private, meaning that you were apt to run into the other members of the team, and potentially Loki. You could detect that his presence was near fairly easily by whether your daggers started to veer off course, craving to electrify him.

You would then pack up your belongings, and make a swift exit to your bedroom. Somewhere along the way, you would likely see Thor and Loki bantering on their walk down the hallway, Loki catching your gaze and giving a respectful smile. Thor would oftentimes try to waltz towards you, in search of a hug, but you would deflect away from the affection.

When you were out of earshot, they would commonly discuss Loki’s feverish feelings that plagued him in regards to you. “Brother, just talk to her.” Thor would prompt, leading to an agonizing list of reasons from Loki as to why that wasn’t an option. “Brother, you told me she’s in mourning” Loki would reply, among other things. “Yes, yes! But clearly, you are made for each other to some extent. Y/N’s daggers have never been able to do anything but inflict pain. But they revitalized you! Don’t you think that’s something special?” 

“I do, of course I do.” 

“Then why don’t you jump on the opportunity?” Thor prodded once more, but to no avail. “I don’t want to force her into anything, Thor. I hardly know the woman.” 

“I hardly knew Jane, and I-” with a whiff of magic, Loki shushed his brother, removing his mouth completely. Training proceeded, without another word of you from Thor. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\〰

It was somewhere in the midst of these events that Wanda spoke with Tony and Steve. She was quite worried for you, to say the least. You hadn’t been partaking in team meetings or dinners for a couple weeks now. You had become a loner, much more than normal. You had been seclusive in the months following Cloak’s passing, but things had slowly gotten better. Now, she feared, they had taken a turn for the worse. 

“I’m just worried for her, ever since-”

“Yeah, yeah, Maximoff. Reindeer Games doesn’t have the greatest effect on people, I know.” Tony replied. “Listen, Y/N’s a great girl. She’d be an excellent asset to this team. Maybe she needs some mandatory training with him-” Tony was cut off with an aghast response from Steve. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, we can’t just throw her in there with him. Maybe if she had some additional practice with someone, but definitely not him. I would personally be willing-” 

“No offense, Cap. But your little crush is showing a bit too much for this old man’s liking.” 

“Whoa wait. Steve?” Wanda questioned. She hadn’t picked up on this until now. A reddened hue formed Steve’s cheeks, revealing the feelings that hid behind his eyes and stoic figure. “Wow.” Wanda spoke again, in awe. 

“Y/N will be taking on lessons with Loki and Thor. That’s final. Fighting with a lady is no way to win her anyway Steve. I’ll go let her know. Or you can? Maybe try to interest her in a dinner?” Tony smirked, throwing a subtle wink the captain’s way. 

〰//  ▬ʃ════▻   ⋆༺𓆩⚔️𓆪༻⋆   ◅════ʅ▬  \\ 〰

It wasn’t until later that day that Steve approached your door, with a hardy few knocks. “Y/N?” Your name fell softly from his lips, as if he was trying not to step on your toes. You opened the door in a near instant, met with Steve’s pleasant gaze. 

“Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You spoke, a quiet anxiety between your words. For the most part, the other members of the team had left you alone during this time, save for a few words between yourself and Wanda or Natasha. 

Steve had to stop his gaze from traveling across your body more than once. He gave a curt nod, which enabled his eyes to pursue your stature, from your slippers to your cute pajamas, all the way up to the bun atop your head. “I have something to discuss with you.” He spoke suddenly, breaking the silence, as well as distracted himself from your ravishing looks. 

“Yes, would you like to come in?” 

Steve nodded, sliding the door open with his fingertips, allowing you to lead him into your space. admiring the room around him. It was very clean. Since you had so much time to yourself lately, you were able to keep a tidy environment for yourself. Anything else would feed your negativity, leading you to a worsening depression. 

You plopped yourself on the bed, padding the space besides you. “Here, sit.” You offered, and Steve’s heart fluttered. He obliged, taking the seat next to you. You looked at him with curiosity, and with admiration. There was a slight fear in your eyes. You hadn’t provided much to the team as of late, besides doing dishes in the later hours of the evening, when everyone else had retired for the night and you felt comfortable enough to retrieve your own sustenance. 

“So, Tony, Wanda and I had a discussion earlier.” He opened up, and with fleeting action, you placed your forehead in your hands. He took the opportunity to comfort you, placing a hand on your back. “Nothing bad, sold- Y/N. We’re just worried for you.”

“I won’t lie, I’m worried too. I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.” 

“I know, you’re still mourning. It was hard for me to see Bucky brain-”

“Yes, but he’s here now, Steve. Cloak- he’s-” 

“Gone, I know. And there’s nothing you, or I, or anyone else can do about that. I’m sorry Y/N.” His fingers tread across your back in an attempt to comfort you. You leaned into his touch ever so slightly. It didn’t feel bad, if anything. 

From the opposite end of the hallway, Loki lurked. Jealousy stirred as he watched Steve’s hand tracing on your back. He wished to be the one to comfort you. To touch you. To feel you. He hardly knew you, and yet- 

Loki was practically addicted. 

He didn’t want to force you into anything, nor did he want to press any of your boundaries on the subject. If a simple smile was all he could get from you as you retreated from the practice room, then so be it. But every day was harder and harder to stay away. Which is how he ended up hidden opposite your door, eavesdropping on yours and Rogers’s conversation. 

“Listen, Tony thinks it would be a good idea to learn how to use your powers alongside Loki and Thor.” Wait, what? You and Loki both thought. Both of your immediate reactions were completely contrasted. 

Yes, prodded Loki’s mind, ecstatic with the thought of spending more time with you. 

No, called yours, begging to stay away. Everything within your reserve prompted you to be around him, but you knew you couldn’t. 

You had trusted Cloak for years, he was your coverage in every battle you had. You bonded, and yet, here you were. Without him, for the first time. Suddenly, tears were prodding at your eyes, as you tried feverishly to blink them away. At this, Loki himself frowned, retreating ever so slightly. He didn’t want to hurt you. 

Neither did Steve: “I’m sorry if I hit a sore spot. I tried to convince him that you could train with me-” 

“No, no. It’s okay. I’m just scared, you know? Cloak was always my coverage. I don’t know if I can trust anyone to ever be that for me again.”

“In the Avengers, we all cover each other.” Steve responded. “Thank you, Cap.” You leaned into Steve’s touch further, and he wrapped his arms around you snuggly. You settled your head on his heavily muscled shoulder. 

Outside, Loki writhed. Out of possessive, obsessive rage. He needed to step away. He was glad you were being comforted, but how he wished it was by him instead. For a split second, he thought of transforming himself in order to charm you. He quickly shook away the thought, skillfully escaping back down the hallway to his own corridors. 

After a moment, you pulled away from Steve. “I appreciated this. I’ll do my best to wrangle my feelings and to start practicing with Thor and Loki. I do want to contribute more, I promise. I just-”

“Don’t apologize Y/N. And hey, we’d love to have you join us at dinners again. Eating as late as you must probably isn’t the best for you.” He smiled brilliantly, chuckling slightly. You nodded, following him as he stood. “And, if you ever do want to practice,” Steve started, repressing Tony’s comment from earlier “just let me know okay?”

“Of course, although, I think I’m probably not any match for a super soldier.”

“But you’re a match for two Gods?” 

“Good point.” 

You and Rogers walked down the hallway into the main common rooms, where dinner was waiting. Wanda and Nat both gave you a gentle smile, as did Thor. The primary person who you anticipated seeing, however, was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure if that was a positive or negative quite yet. 

“Where’s Reindeer Games? Not that I really care, but I do care about the structural integrity of this tower, which he has been known to threaten in the past-”

You felt his presence in a near instant, as he slid through the space between you and the doorway. “Pardon me darling,” he spoke, taking the small of your back in his hand, similarly to how Steve had earlier. Your breath hitched, feeling a slight amount of the fountain of your life force pulse against your skin, begging for you to release it to him. You stepped out of the way, allowing his fingers to linger for only a moment, which he cherished. 

You tried to not let the feeling drive you away from Loki. You fought the urge to reclude back into your room, taking a deep breath. 

At last, you were all gathered across the dining table, and you found yourself enjoying the company of the rest of the Avengers. It was slightly awkward at first, but it soon grew to be an enhanced version of the conversations you once had with them all. Loki was incredibly knowledgeable on a multitude of topics, including literature, which you loved. 

No, no no. You said to yourself. You can’t do this. What about Cloak? You tried to push your pleasant thoughts of Loki to the side, although it was difficult to do so. 

Little did you know how much Loki himself was struggling. As the conversation flowed, he listened to every time you laughed, making a mental note on what was said to make the beautiful flutter of sound come from your lips. He wanted nothing more than to sit next to you. The mere feeling of his hand on your torso nearly drove him to madness. 

Tony notified Thor and Loki of the new arrangement regarding training practice, and Thor bellowed with glee at the proposition of a new training buddy. Loki simply smiled, trying his best to repress any intense emotions. 

You retired early to bed, knowing that tomorrow would certainly be interesting with your new training buddies. Especially the one who drew your life force out of you with mere proximity.

>>> Chapter II

Taglist: @lotrefcp

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Fatal Attraction

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: Mentions of sexual stuff.

Summary: Natasha gets hurt during a mission with Wanda, and Wanda for some reason found herself more attracted to Nat. Yes, in her state on injury. (Featuring Y/n, Natasha's dumbass little brother and Wanda's wingman)

"Incoming!" The young super soldier yelled as he jumped into the Quinjet with his best friend. Wanda groaned at his antics, wanting nothing more than to go home and continue watching her shows.

Y/n had insisted Wanda that they flew into the back of the Quinjet instead of entering like a normal person. It's not that Wanda didn't have the heart to say no, Y/n simply doesn't take no for an answer. "So long fuckers!" He gave the middle finger as the door closes.

"Will you stop using my powers for your little attractions?" Wanda asked.

"Gosh you train with Nat too much you're starting to sound like her." Y/n rolled his eyes.

"That's not a bad thing! She get things done."

"I get shit done too! But, I make it fun."

"Not when we're-"

"Ugh quiet you two, you're being too loud." They heard Natasha complained. The two young Avengers glanced at her and their face twisted into concern when they finally noticed her injury.

Before Y/n could approach his sister, Wanda was quick to be at her side. "Natasha! What happened?"

Natasha shook it off with a faint smirk, "Don't worry about it Wanda. It's just a scratch."

"This is not just a scratch."

"I've had worse."

"You need to go to the med bay."

The former Russian spy rolled her eyes, "No doctors."

"Wands, there's no point. One time she got a broken rib and she still wouldn't go." Y/n snickered, he was concerned for Nat, but he knew she had went through worse. A flesh wound on the side of her stomach was nothing... To the Black Widow I mean.

Meanwhile Wanda's eyes grew wide at the new information. "Just take a seat, little witch. I'll handle this." Natasha said gently. Natasha was normally sarcastic to everyone, yet she had a soft spot for the young witch. Wanda blushed slightly at the nickname.

Wanda took a seat across from Natasha, Y/n approached his sister and handed her a medkit. "You good?"

"Just a normal flesh-wound-Friday, I'm good." She responded with a flat face. Her little brother rolled his eyes and took a seat next to her.

"You're always so mean to me. Wanda doesn't get this kind of treatment." He grumbled.

"Because she's kind and cute, meanwhile you're a pain in my ass." Wanda's heart skipped a beat, she thinks I'm cute? She heard her best friend groaned again.

Wanda and Natasha had been growing closer each day, especially now that Natasha was mentoring her. Wanda was close to Y/n first, as they were closer to age and not to mention he was the first to welcome her into the Avengers. Natasha took a little while longer, not that she had any resentment towards the young girl, she just wasn't exactly a people person.

Now that Steve had assigned Natasha to mentor Wanda in hand-to-hand combat, the two women are now closer than they were before. And also caused Wanda's itty bitty tiny crush on Natasha to grew. Y/n knew of course, Wanda was not subtle, at ALL.

The way her gaze would follow Nat at the gym, or how Wanda would blush whenever Natasha gave her compliments. Honestly, he might've been the one who gave Steve the idea to assign them to train together. You'll never know.

It seems like Wanda was too deep in thought as she failed to notice that Natasha had unzipped her suit in order to stitch the flesh wound on her stomach. She only looked up when she heard Natasha saying, "Keep it steady Steve."

Holyfuck, Wanda turned as red as her powers. The widow had her suit partially unzipped from the waist up, she had the sleeves of her suit take off as well to give her more flexibility. Showing off her toned bicep and of fuck her rock hard abs. Wanda let in a sharp breath.

Natasha, who has ears like a hawk, looks up at Wanda and gave her a wink. "Like what you see?"

Wanda knows Natasha is a flirt, but damn you don't gotta do her like that. Wanda quickly averted her gaze. She swore she tried to maintain her eyes elsewhere but with Natasha grunting as she tended her wounds, it's pretty fucking difficult.

She used alcohol to clean up the wound, and winced. "Agh shit-" Natasha cursed. Well that twisted something in Wanda's stomach. Y/n who had been playing on his phone, internally scoffed at his sister. She was doing this on purpose. He decided to pull out his earbuds, I'm hearin none of that.

The widow was more than capable of not making any sounds when her injuries are being cleaned. Y/n knew damn well Natasha was just teasing Wanda.

"Do you uh... need any help?" Wanda asked timidly.

"It's alright, little witch. It's nothing I can't handle." Natasha winked again. Christ, Wanda is a mess right now.

Natasha grunted again, "Ugh fuck-" she rested her head back and purposely tightened her abs. Wanda's mind raced again at the thought of hearing Natasha curse while they're in bed as she rides her abs-

No- nooope no no no

Wanda quickly shook to the thought again. The whole ride to the compound felt excruciatingly long. Natasha had opted to wear a tank top that she kept hidden somewhere in the Quinjet. (Don't question her-)

When the quinjet door flew open Y/n was the first to dart out, Steve followed after him. He look back at the two women, "Wanda, make sure she goes to the med bay. The wound still needs a proper cleaning."

"Leave it, fossil." Natasha said flatly as the two walked beside each other. Steve merely gave them a kind smile and continue his way inside the compound.

"Do you need any assistance?" Wanda asked.

"In what terms?" The widow teasingly asked. Wanda turned bright red again.

"I- you know what I mean." Natasha let out a soft laugh, she sounds so beautiful. Wanda could listen to Natasha laughing all day.

"It's alright, little witch. I can walk to my own room."

"Nu uh! Steve said-"

"Wands, I've had wounds like these many times in my life. I can handle it." Natasha said gently with a smile.

Wanda huffed slightly like a little child, shit she's so adorable. "At least let me walk you back to your room then?"

Natasha chuckles, "Alright, lead the way." The two women made their way in a comfortable silence. They reached their shared floor and soon enough they reached Natasha's room. "Well, here we are."

Natasha opened the door to her room and look back at Wanda who was standing outside awkwardly, "Are you sure you don't need to get to the med bay?" Wanda asked again. Her face showed concerns for the other woman.

Natasha gave her a gentle smile again, fuck her smile she's absolutely gorgeous. "I'm sure." Natasha retreats further back into her room. "I'll see you around, Wanda." She closes the door. Wanda lets out the breath she had been holding.

Fuck everything about this woman drives her crazy. Even as simple as Natasha saying her name. She wonders how her name sound if Natasha moaned it-

"I swear how many seasons do I have to wait til you guys get together." Wanda heard a voice beside her and yelped in surprise. She turned to find her best friend standing in the hallway leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. He had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What are you talking about?" She asked Y/n.

"You like her, she likes you. Seriously, stop with the tension and just kiss already-" Wanda quickly shut his mouth with her hand.

"SHHHHH-"

Y/n's face cringes in confusion, "Hmpf?!"

"You can't just say things like that!"

"Like what??" He asked as Wanda let go of her hand over his mouth. "That you like her?"

Wanda glared and shut his mouth again. Y/n being the dumb best friend decided to stick their tongue out causing Wanda to pull her hand back and wipe it on his face. "EW!"

"Noo!!! I'll get a breakout-"

"Then don't lick my fucking hand!" She yelled in hushed whisper.

"Wanda, as your friend, and her brother, I'm telling you just ask her out or something."

"What if she says no?" Wanda asked, "Beside I don't want to ask her out until I'm sure she's into women."

With that Y/n gave a very, very, extremely, disappointed look. "You really did not just say that." Did she not hear the part where I said, 'she likes you'?

"What?"

"I-" Y/n shook his head. "Never mind." He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Y/n? What does that mean?!!" She chased after her friend.

These dumb lesbians I swear.

I just wanted an excuse to use that pic of Nat, teheeeeee. Hope you guys liked this! I'm still not sure whether or not to make this into a series or nah, butt i love me sum Nat x Sibling!reader shenanigans.

[my-moo-moo]

waist training

The entire time he’s known her she’s been obsessed with modifying her body appearance to the extreme. Specifically, she’s been zeroed in on the narrowness of her waist, graduating from sizes of corsets quicker than you can keep track of. She would meticulously measure her waist everyday, seemingly never satisfied with the results she’s achieved. Even when she possessed the perfect hourglass look every model would envy, she pushed further into extremes. Envy eventually turned into legitimate concern with people wondering if she had removed a couple ribs, or how crushed her organs were. It did not help that her extremely tiny waist was only exacerbated by the bountiful breasts and wide hips she’s always maintained. 

Of course, he loves her and finds her beautiful throughout all phases of her body change. But sometimes, when he wraps his hands easily around her itty bitty waist, he can’t help to think it’s such a shame that her natural child bearing hips are wasted on triviality. 

When her friends come to him in desperation to start an intervention to stop her from getting even smaller than she already is, he was vindicated to enact his desires.

For months you watch her continue to pull her laces tighter, so tiny a gust a wind could snap her in half. He wonders if his plan has worked at all, suspecting maybe her reproductive system wasn’t functioning at full capacity with such body modification. Her situation has gotten so dire, he began to slip more herbs in her drink. 

One morning he hears her yell out loud as her maid tightens her laces for the day. It’s a peculiar scene as she is normally unfazed by the painful process— and that’s when he knew the tide was turning. Still her stubborn self has her assistant brace her knee on her back and pull hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. She puts the blame on the cooks for making unhealthy meals. 

She puts herself on a strict diet ever since so that her month's worth of tightlacing progress wouldn’t be reversed. All of his attempts to convince her that she was making a health-endangering decision went ignored. 

He watches quietly in the corner as the back panels of her corset drifts further apart, lacing growing looser and looser, despite being pulled to the max. He maintains that he doesn’t notice any changes in her appearance whilst knowing the numbers on her logs show her the harsh truth. Her poor maid receives the brunt of her anger, being scolded that her arms have gotten too weak. 

A short few weeks later, the maid was fired and she refused to take her corset off for sleep like she should be doing. Her futile attempts to stop the inevitable had barely slowed down the millimeters she was gaining to her waist every day. Her breasts are already spilling out of her dresses with its enlargened areolas peaking out the hem, if that’s any indication of how the rest of her body is changing beneath the restraints. All she was doing was compressing her organs further— barely able to catch a shallow breath and only able to nibble a bite before feeling full.

He was concerned about the health of the life squished inside the tight space, but it turns out they’re stubborn just like their mother. Instead of her usual flat stomach, the rigid lower bonings of her corset start to flare outwards with the pressure. The laces at the back are pulled completely taut and thin, straining the eyelets that he’s sure are about to snap at any moment. 

With the permanent grimace on her face, it’s clear that she knows her body is growing rapidly, however she’s still in denial as to the reason why. Any suggestion to visit the doctor would result into full blown fits, so he resolves to let her discover the hard truth on her own.

She held out longer than he expected. It took one unexpected sneeze, that led to a loud rip of a seam. Her hands immediately fly behind her to keep her corset secure, but it only exacerbates the tear in the construction.

Tears are flowing down her cheeks as if she knew her bubble is about to burst. There’s no way they could lace her back again.

“It’s time to let it go, darling,” he tells her gently. He distracts her with pecks on her cheek as he slowly removes her fingers away from the corset. With some help loosening the rest of the laces, the crusty corset falls off her body, and her body is set free. She watches in horror as her gut spills out of her like a landslide. It’s a wonder she had been holding all that in for so long. Her sobs become louder and forlorn, especially now that her lungs were able to properly expand once again.

It took plenty of effort to calm her anguish down. He repeats in her head that a few short months the baby will be out of her and she can start her tightlacing ambitions over again. Her hand clutches the pronounced bump settling in her lower abdomen, hanging onto the reassurance that her rib cage remains narrow, and her curves are still pronounced. 

Unfortunately, she only began to accept the damage one baby would do to her pristine body, and would’ve never expected the bombshell the doctor was going to drop— or rather a total of four bombshells. 

She fainted at the announcement and he couldn’t blame her. She’s spent her lifetime training her body to be the record smallest, and it’s about to be utterly and irreversibly ruined in under a year’s time. He doesn’t dare to let out his part in this.

A quadruplet pregnancy was practically unheard of— no one around her, not even her doctors could confidently tell her what to anticipate. Clinging onto her delusions, she tried to exercise and minimize her intake to limit her growth. Incontestably, none of the efforts she has known to be true could halt the growth of the babies. Without any restraints, her belly shot outward, gaining inches frustratingly quicker than she’s ever managed to squeeze out in a year. It looked especially ridiculous, like a sore thumb, given her narrowed torso. And then her belly began to spread to fill out her waist, pushing her unnaturally bent rib cage back outward.

Her doctor had been concerned her spine might split in half, let alone be able to carry four fetuses, but defying expectations, her body was highly adaptable because of her long experience with waist training. Her organs were used to functioning with limited space. The same lower ribs that were susceptible to molding are even more easily pried apart to make room for the growing babies. And just like he had clocked, her hips were made for childbearing and only continuing to widen with the rushing hormones.

When she had finally lost complete definition at her waist, she broke down, giving up entirely on the strict regimens she had always followed. And yet she still clung onto her obsession with numbers. Every single day when she measures her circumference, the measuring tape slips a couple notches, and her despair slips even further. He tells her how proud he was that she was gaining weight. He tells her how beautiful she was, glowing more than ever. 

He wasn’t sure if she was internalizing what you were saying, when he would catch her examining her rapidly changing body in front of the mirror. One morning she comes waddling to you to share the news she had gained ten whole centimeters around in a single day. It is then he could identify the exhilaration behind her timid expression and encourages it, whispering praises in her ear. A small smile slips out and it slowly grows more confident with time. 

She started eating beyond her fill, and would be noticeably disappointed when her daily measurements were stagnant. The obsessiveness that used to fuel her extreme waist cinching was now redirected to expanding her midsection. She was seeing results quicker than ever which only fueled her brain’s addictive reward system. 

As a result of her body’s hard work, her transformation was so drastic, family members barely recognized her. 

His fingers used to touch when he wrapped his hands around her teensy tiny waist, but now he’s not even sure his arms would make it all the way around. Gone are her concave curves, her gravid belly has gotten so enormous that one could see it bulging out, even from the back. The mass stuck out far in front of her, until it got so heavy it drooped against her thigh. Her breasts and buttock have received similar treatment of getting even more plump and bountiful, like they were meant to be.

His vision from the start has been more than realized. His instincts were right. This wasn't the figure she had always lusted for, but she suited this version of curvy. With all this extra padding enveloping her bones, she looked extra youthful yet sexy. He will savour these last weeks of pregnancy until she got her body back.

Everyone assumed that she would rebind herself in a corset immediately after birth. The babies have left her body, but her ribs remained flared outward, bones jutting out from her sides. Her hips have been widened and fat still clung onto her body. He doubts she could get back to the extreme state her body was in pre-pregnancy, but even after her doctor cleared her for regular physical activity again, she seems to have none of her old drive to slim down. He catches her grabbing and pulling at her loose, stretch mark ladened skin, and wonders if she despises what the pregnancy (what he) did to her body.

“Are you sad that you lost all your progress?” he asks with guilt weighing heavy in his heart.

“Yes,” she admits, but he doesn’t expect what she follows with. “I… I miss my belly. Do you think my belly could get larger next time?”

He smiles. His little push has not only irrevocably changed her body, but her mindset. She would always have an innate desire for waist training— just now in the other direction.

[tangledinink]

Hi, I really love your AUs, can't wait to see more!

eEEEE THANK YOU ; w ; this all so sweet and makes me so happy aaaAAAAAA

ask dump below~

he was 5'3" previously, he's now more like five feet maybe a little bit less. if you were to measure him and mikey back to back, mikey would be a tiny bit taller. you can't really tell yet, though, since donnie currently can't stand, and up until now he was constantly on tip-toes. he's also just very underweight right now, which makes him seem even smaller. as he recovers and gains some weight back, he'll seem a bit less itty-bitty.

thank you! ; w ; also while i don't think he's ever, like, straight up wiggled his fingers at a boy, i do think he occasionally gets a little fidgety/twitchy with his hands and fingers when he has a crush. maybe also tends to do little arm/shoulder touches with his outstretched fingers as well when he's flirting. u w u

It's completely gone! his tummy and hips are now just like the other exposed parts of his body, like his arms and legs-- just skin and scales. I don't think it ever actually came up in the main part of the comic, but is illustrated in his reference image in the masterpost! Also don't worry, no ill-effects from being crop-topped. It'll just take a bit of getting used to. (If anything, it's a bit of a boon at the moment for the rest of the fam. A lot of medical care is a lot easier without plastron blocking the patient's entire torso.)

HEHEHE, thank you <3 i love making them wag their tails I think it's so cute and silly... <3 I think Raph (across all AU's, lol) has definitely accidentally hurt himself wagging his tail in excitement on at least one occasion.

Oh gosh. It's hard to say because it's such a spectrum... It would have to be a pretty nasty injury for the witchdoctors to not be able to do something about it. But assuming they can't... Big Mama would never outright ask the Gems to perform on a serious injury, but the twins would definitely feel pressure to continue performing for as long as they possibly could, and to keep recovery time as short as possible. If they had to take time off to heal, they would, (and have in the past,) but they'd definitely be impatient to get back on the field. If the injury is truly so bad that one or both of them can no longer perform, they'd probably both retire, (though extremely reluctantly, and doing so would be incredibly heartbreaking for them and cause them a lot of grief and guilt,) because neither would want to go on without the other. There might be some pushback from Big Mama, though, and the uninjured party could potentially be convinced, with enough time and enough conversations, to make a comeback...

Poorly. It'd probably go about the same way it did for Donnie, except worse the second time around. They'd probably both be in trouble for it-- Leo for keeping things for her, and Donnie because she (correctly) assumes that he's 'influenced' Leo somehow, since he did the same thing first.

he is being SOOOO brave right now... but he can't NOT. not when his kids are on the line :< though I will say, you're being quite optimistic about how his conversation with Big Mama is gonna go... 👀

lmao april is maybe in a TEENSY bit over her head, bless her. splinter definitely struggled over whether or not to bring her with him to see big mama. he tried to convince her to let him escort her back home once he realized where he had to go, but of course she wouldn't hear of it. thought about having her wait outside, but... is so reluctant to leave her alone in the hidden city... knew she would probably pushback anyway, too, so...

the twins will definitely have a ton of therapy and healing to tackle in the future <3 my poor sweet baby boys....

THANK YOU <3 <3 <3

@11bountyhunters @oh-my-muffins @oneshortlove @khlegacynexus @animal-lover-forever @wings-of-sapphire @devious-little-creature @riseleon

[etherealyoungk]

light a flame - hoshi

summary: you and hoshi get paired together for a dance competition. the only problem was that you find him annoyingly attractive and may or may not have a small (fat) crush on him.

pairing: hoshi x fem!reader

warnings: kissing

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: yeah this was a random brain rot idea i had bc light a flame is too good of a song. and thank you so much to em @gyuswhore for reading this over for me and giving me feedback!

taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @joshuaahong @kangtaehyunzzz @icyminghao

‘don’t forget, practice at 5 pm’, read the text from hoshi.

you internally groaned. hoshi and you had somehow ended up competing in a dance competition together. you never intended to enter the competition, nope, not in a million years. you steered right clear of it when the applications were open but your teacher convinced you that you should enter the partner dance category. “but i don’t even have a partner," you told the teacher. the very next day you were presented with hoshi.

your teacher told me he was to be my dance partner and that hoshi already applied to us in the competition. your jaw almost dropped to the floor upon hearing the news and you went home freaking out that night because 1) you were scared and 2) you may or may not have an itty bitty tiny crush on him. so,this was bad, really bad.

you only danced as a hobby really, something to distract you and get you moving. but your teacher told you that you were really good, and that encouraged you. but still, you were scared and nervous about performing on stage, especially in front of a ton of people. so, here you were, learning how to dance with a partner, and with the competition right around the corner, the nerves were getting starting to get to you. it didn't help how you found hoshi infuriatingly good-looking and attractive and how annoyingly good he was at picking up the dance, unlike you. you probably stepped on his feet a million times during the practice. but you were slowly getting used to the moves and dance once you memorized and practiced them.

you reach the dance studio and open the door to the practice room. hoshi’s already there, doing some warm-ups. he glances at you, acknowledging your presence. why did he look so attractive today, god. I swear he wore that sleeveless shirt on purpose. you mentally smack yourself and peel your eyes off him. this is not the time to be thinking ridiculous things, get yourself together.

you do my warmups as well and soon we’re standing together, facing each other. right when you're about to ask him something, the room goes dark. “what the hell?”, you mutter. hoshi is quick to use his phone and turn on the torchlight. he says something about going out to check what’s going on but is out the door before you have any chance of replying. so, now you were left standing alone in the dark room, all alone. you see a faint light source heading toward the door and it opens. “there’s been a power cut, so power won’t come back till 10 pm”, hoshi says.

“then how are we supposed to practice?”, you ask. “should we just cancel today and do it tomorrow”, you add. “trying to skip practice see", he taunts. "what no! i was just suggesting", you defend and he smirks softly. "there’s no need for that, i have a solution”, he states, walking past me and that’s when you realize he's holding something as well.

you see the spark of flame and realize that he’s lighting candles. “that's your solution?”, you ask, stepping closer to him. "it works”, he says, looking at me. once he’s lit a bunch of candles, placing them around the room, it’s illuminated enough for us to see each other. “this is weirdly romantic”, you mumble. “guess we need a little romance for our dance right?”, he says, giving me a wink. you would be lying if that didn’t make my heart do a little. why was he affecting me so much today?

“ready?”, he asks once he’s done, standing before me. you gulp and nodded. ready as I’ll ever be i guess.

you're wearing my heels because the dance requires them and with them, you almost match Hoshi’s height. but still, he’s tall and well-built. he's confident and takes pride in his dancing and he’s insanely good as well. you on the other hand? you seemed like a mess right now.

the music starts. he opens his hand out for me to take and you do, his palm closing around yours gently. suddenly you're so aware of his hands on your body. you rest my hand on his shoulder and his other arm holds your waist, and you're hyper-conscious about how his hand feels around your waist. we follow the music and dance together, doing the moves as we practiced. but on the twirling part, you lost your footing and stumble. hoshi is quick to catch you, his hand wrapping around my waist tighter as he pulls you into him. we’re so close and he studies my eyes and face.

“why are you so tense”, he asks. "i'm not”, you defend, taking a step back and his hands leave your body. “you are”, he states again. “what’s going on that pretty little mind of yours”, he asks. “n-nothing”, i say, avoiding his eye and looking down but i can still feel his intense gaze on me. “i’m just nervous okay”, you quickly say, your eyes finding his again. “about the competition day?”, he prompts and you nod slowly. and you, you’re making me nervous.

you're suddenly grateful that the room is dimly lit, hoping he can’t see how nervous i actually am. the music continued playing, but none of us bothered to restart it. “remove your heels”, he tells. “why? i should practice with them on”, you respond. “you can wear them later, i don’t want you hurting your ankles or feet”, he adds. you look at him but remove your heels nonetheless, putting them to one side and you slip into your sneakers again. once you're back in front of him, he reaches for my hand again and he gently moves my body along his, guiding me and dancing to whatever part the music is playing. “don’t think about the moves too much, just relax”, he says guiding me. without you wearing heels, he stands gorgeously tall in front of you.

“you’re doing great you know”, he says after a few moments of silence. “thanks”, i say softly. “you’re incredible by the way, the way you dance is so…alluring. you really have a natural talent for it”, you say, complimenting him. the darkness and you two alone suddenly makes you bring out your innermost thoughts about him. you can make out the faint whisper of a smile on his lips.

“you’re still tense”, he says. “i’m not”, i say. “well, the death grip you have on my hand says something else”, he adds, raising an eyebrow. shit. “sorry, i didn’t realize”, you quickly say, loosening your grip on his hand. you look down, mentally cursing myself.

we’re slow dancing now, not really how it was supposed to be but he said to relax so you guess we were just going with the flow. “still nervous?”, he prompts. you mumble a soft yeah as you look up at him. he signals me to twirl, and right before i turn around, he stops me, holding me back so that you're caged in front of him, your back against his chest. his hands are wrapped around me, not letting you move, and you're confused.

“hoshi what are you-“, you ask but you don't get to complete your sentence.

“look at yourself”, he simply says as i look at him through the mirror, his entrancing gaze meeting yours.  “you’re beautiful and even more so when you dance. you’re confident and know what you’re good at.”, he says to me, not breaking eye contact with me as the words leave his lips.

“i’ve seen you dance before”, he adds, his hand encompassing mine tighter. “don’t be nervous about the performance, just think of it as me and you”, he tells and you turn to jelly in his arms and you're pretty sure that you're heart is beating a million miles per hour. his grip on you loosens and he lets me go. you twirl out and back in so we’re face to face again and once again.

you clear my throat before speaking. "am i really good?", you ask, somehow still unsure. "you're amazing", is all he says with a genuine smile. “thank you for that”, you say shyly as you look up at him after a few seconds.

“but i'm sure you were wishing for a partner who didn’t step on your feet as much as I did”, you say jokingly as we dance around, his hand feeling warm around your waist. “no actually. i don’t think i would have done it if you weren’t my partner”, he replies, making your heart skip yet another beat. “really?”, you ask, in denial. “yeah…you’re really good as well and i think we connect well, don’t you think?”, he asks, staring deep into your eyes and you're starting to feel your heart pick up its pace again. you numbly nod because yo're not thinking straight. you glance at his lips and you swear that you saw his lips curl into a small smirk when you did that.

we’re getting to the bridge of the song and he pulls me closer as we continue to dance, not bothering about the actual moves anymore. “you look beautiful when you dance”, he says once again softly against your ear, and you almost miss a step. the music is coming to an end now and you step back, he pulls you into a fancy dip, which catches you slightly off guard but he's careful to hold you tight as he pulls me back up, his hands around your waist tight and you’re flush against him, your cheeks heating up. your hands are resting on his shoulders and you’re so so close god. his lips look so soft. maybe it was the candlelight or the fact that you two were dancing alone in a dark room. or the fact that you were slow dancing, but that brought out some courage in you that you didn’t know you had and you leaned in ever so slightly and placed the softest peck on his lips. you pulled away after five seconds, horrified because what the fuck did you just do.

“shit hoshi im-“, you start but don’t get to complete as his lips crash into yours and you literally melt into his arms when his lips gently move against yours. his grip around your waist tightened in an attempt to pull you closer as one of his hands goes up to hold your cheek. he pulls away and we both stare at each other.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been wanting to do that”, he says, his words reverberating through the empty room. “me too”, i admit softly.

“knew you had an eye for me”, he says with a smug smirk. “what no i don’t”, you say, trying to deny it but he just raises his eyebrow at you. “i couldn’t have been that obvious”, you say unbelievably. “you were baby. i’ve seen you staring at me from the mirror when i practice and not to mention your heart rate always goes up when you’re around me”, he says it like a fact.

“excuse me?”, you say but you don’t have anything to defend myself with. “why do you think you wore this sleeveless shirt today, i know it drives you crazy”, he says. “i really hate you”, you say. “i knew you wore that on purpose, you and your stupid muscles”, you mumble.  he opens his mouth to say something but i stop him. “say another embarrassing thing and i’ll step on your feet on purpose”, you say, making him chuckle.

“let’s go from the top again”, he says, leaning in. “and don’t worry, we’re going to win”, he whispers against you lips before kissing you again.

rebblogs/comments are always appreciated <3

[cupiidzbow]

ermmm everyone I have a secret………… i have a little tiny itty bitty little crush on him ………………