#honestly red is this band's color

[astrxealis]

merry christmas btw i kinda forgot to say it ere at all oopsies >_< i hope you all had/have a wonderful holiday season or week or day or month regardless of your religion and if you celebrate christmas !!!!!

i got 'the end of everything' by katie mack for xmas (i begged my parents lol) bcs i finally saw it in a bookstore after months of looking for it that i just Fell to the ground ..... i love astrophysics i love space i love science. i also love u all

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

[part ii] | [part iii] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

tags: asshole friend!wade, (sorta soft) roommate!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humor, a reference to while you were sleeping, wingman!wade and the worse way to meet someone, light angst, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, v. light ass play, unprotected PiV, appearance of The Claws, what’s a refractory period, sorta audible voyeurism (brief/humorous)

a/n: includes spoilers for deadpool & wolverine (which omg I loved - what was your fave cameo?)

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

“You gonna introduce me?”

You’ve cornered Wade in the apartment’s laundry room - the door to the front-loading washer hanging open as he holds a bundle of red fabric up to his chest.

“You think this will wash out?” 

The suit in question looks like it had been run over by a truck and then set on fire, with the rips criss-crossed in the leather and the numerous charred holes scattered across the chest.

“Definitely.” Your eyes flicker down, and then back up, “So, will you?”

He bundles the suit up - flinging into the back of the washer, the laundry basket still tucked under an arm.

“Really? Not even ‘hello, Wade’? ‘Looking good, Wade’?” His voice pitches up, imitating yours, “Does our friendship really mean nothing to you?”

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

In fact, he’s honestly the worst neighbor you’ve ever had. 

Loud, obnoxious. Persuasive - the first night you met you had been banging on his door at three in the morning, yelling at him to shut up as music and a caterwauling voice blared through the shared wall.

Ten minutes later you were playing the drums on his late night session of Rock Band, using a banana and a wooden spoon in place of sticks. Only for Althea to stomp out of her room and shut everything down, scaring both of you out of your skins.  

But sometimes, you think - remembering the times he came through for you, a shoulder to cry on, helping him this slump he’s been digging himself out of - he might just be the best, as well.

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

You sigh, leaning against the row of washers. Eyes flicking over him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You do look good, Wade,” There’s a tilt of your head, the smile widening, “Glad you lost the toupee, that really wasn’t your color.”

“Ah, ah. Repurposed,” He chides, cupping his crotch, “You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed-”

“Ew, stop.” Your face scrunches, a hand covering your eyes as you shield your vision, “Will you please just answer my question?”

He throws a handful of shirts in the washer, “Which was...?”

Your head shakes - a hand on his arm as you reach for a glint of gold in the pile of clothes. Cringing as a handgun appears, held gingerly between thumb and forefinger as you set it on the side table.

“Good call,” He nods, “Dry clean only.”

You can't help a laugh then, even as your hands brace on your hips, “I want to meet your roommate.”

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

“Jesus, Wade. Not Al." A hand waves, " I mean Mister Tall, Dark, and Brooding.”

You’ve seen the stranger in the hallways a few times in the month since he’s moved in. Scruffy and scowling the first time, a silent shadow behind Wade’s endless chatter. 

But in the weeks following, that look had softened. You’d stopped by twice with cookies to welcome him, but every time you’ve just gotten Al.

Not that you dislike Al, that’s not it at all. She’s sweet enough to you when it’s not 3 a.m. or if Wade doesn’t have her annoyed half to death.

But you certainly weren’t harboring a crush on her. Maybe even secretly hoping that maybe the new neighbor will get a little lost and end up at your door, instead of his new place.  

“Ooh,” The syllables draw out - detergent flung in, before he’s leaning against the washer too, facing you. “Yeah, Logan. He's great, got a mean ‘Hugh Jackman’ vibe, just without the singing. You’d like him.”

Something like hope flutters in your belly, but then he’s raising a finger - wiggling it at you, “Just one question though. What’s in it for me?”

That has you scowling, “What do you mean? You owe me. I covered for you when you had that barqueue in the stairwell.”

“God, that was great sausage.” Wade groans, thinking back, “Mmm, but I think Peter covered for me.”

“Who do you think got Peter?”

“Well, I don’t remember seeing you.” He shrugs.

“I was right-,” You pinch the bridge of your nose between thumb and forefinger, a sharp exhale of breath, “Fine. If you do this for me, I’ll do that thing you keep asking me to do.”

Wade gasps gleefully, “You mean you’ll make the triple decker-”

“-chocolate caramel cheesecake chimichangas. Yes.” You finish with him, arms crossing over your chest, “You’re lucky you heal fast because that should put you right into a food coma.”

“Right. Lucky me,” He smirks. A second as he thinks, before he snaps his fingers, “I’m having a little get-together tonight! You should come. Was gonna invite you anyway.”

The pounding in your head ratchets up at the thought that all this could’ve been avoided.

“Logan sleeps on the couch, though,” He adds, sagely, “So just letting you know that if the two of you decide to get your fuck on in my bed, according to the state of New York I am legally allowed to join you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” You grimace - even if you’re certain that cannot possibly be true, “But I do have my own apartment.”

“Oh, right.” There’s the faintest edge of disappointment in his tone, paired with a sigh.

You give him a sideways look, then.

“I saw Vanessa leaving yesterday. Things getting better?”

He sobers at that, eyes moving towards the sliver of a window. The glimpse of the street outside.

“Yeah.” Wade manages, “Yeah, I think so.”

There had once been a flicker of something. In-between your annoyance and exasperation, there were tendrils of tenderness. Long snuffed out, when you had seen just how banged up his heart was. How it’s always belonged to another. 

You had gotten over it. Gotten to a place where seeing him now, like this, makes you smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

“Hey, hold on.” Wade darts in front of his roommate, a leg kicked up high to block the doorway, “Where are you going? You can’t go out.”

Logan scowls, an arm already shoved into his leather jacket, “Sure I can.”

The blow against his shoulder might move a lesser man, but Wade’s fingers just grip the frame even tighter, “But I promised-, I got a friend that wants to meet you. There is some really important shit at stake here. I can’t let you go.”

An eyebrow cocks, “Can’t? I think we both know how that would go if you tried to stop me.”

It would be easy to get into this right here and now, but his suit is still in the dryer and he’s not about to spend another hour cleaning up blood.

“Wait, wait, wait,” He throws a hand up, “Aren’t you listening to me? A girl wants to meet you. She’s hot, she has a job, and she has an apartment. You’re only one outta three there. Can’t you see what a good opportunity this is? This is totally in your favor!”

Logan scoffs, his tongue tucking against his teeth. Hesitating for just a second, but it's enough that Wade knows he’s got him.

“I’ve met your friends,” He eventually acknowledges, “They’re good folk and all, but there isn’t anyone there I’d like to ‘get to know better’, yeah?”

“You haven’t met this one. She lives next door.”

The pause stretches longer this time. Dark eyes dart out into the hallway, and Wade can practically hear those rusted gears turning.

“Apartment 16 or 18?” Logan finally rasps, his arms crossing. 

Oh, he’s definitely got him. Just call him Wade Wilson, New York’s own personal Cupid. New life goal - get his friends laid. 

He nocks a mental arrow - aiming, and then firing with his answer. 

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

“Alright.” The leather sleeve slips from his arm, drooping in his fist.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m staying.”

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

The apartment is packed and it’s been well past the allotted five minutes. Logan’s been nursing a beer for the last fifteen, eyes flicking over the people he’s grown to know well.

Offering a tight, half-smile when the big man claps him on the back, followed by Opposites Attract. Almost tempted to find that damn dog, just to have something to do. 

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

Starting to think this was all an elaborate prank. Some fucked up aspect of this Earth, unknown to him until now.

He’s too old for this shit. If he heads for the bedroom now, he might make it out the fire escape before anyone notices.

Logan is still entertaining this new thread of thought until he hears his name - called out over whatever fuck-face bullshit boy-band music Wade’s been playing. 

Ambiance, his ass.

The muscles of his crossed arms flex. Catching the way his roommate hauls a girl across the floor - the look of panic on her face as she tosses a container onto the nearest surface.

Wade hadn’t been lying, after all. It was Apartment 18 - that was about as much as he knew about you.

Other than the color of your eyes. The smell of your perfume in the hall. Your hair, your schedule - waking in the mornings to hear your door opening at 5 a.m., five days a week.

A baker. A damn good one, from the bits of cookie he’s snuck when no one was home. 

Had never thought to introduce himself, because he’s been through all this before. Knows better than to reach out in the first place - still nursing the old wound of heartache, one that still flares to life in his chest.

Better not to hope, or even think, at all. 

You stumble when he lets go, and Logan’s hands only curl tighter. Afraid to touch, now that you’re so close. 

A pretty young thing compared to him. This was a fucking stupid idea, his eyes darting away as Wade claps, his hands spreading wide. 

“Logan,” Wade’s tone is cordial, as if discussing the weather, “This is our neighbor, Sugar. She bakes a mean penis cake and likes emotionally unavailable men.”

A dejected sigh as he regards you, “Which is why it’s never worked out between us. I am just too available.”

Penis cake?

Logan shoots you a sideways look, an eyebrow cocked. Caught off guard by this unexpected intro, and it seems you are the same - gauging by the way your mouth drops open. 

Your face swimming with regret, as you hiss, “Oh my god. Wade. It was one time. Why do you have to put it like that?”

Wade’s smile widens, his tone still innocent, “Just skipping over the ‘getting-to-know-you’s, so you can know if you’re compatible.”

Already pivoting to face Logan with a little wink, his own scowl already deepening. Something like nerves flickering to life - as he wonders if this will all be over before it ever begins.

“And this is Logan. He’s from another Earth, is two-hundred years old, and has a metal dong.”

Jesus Christ. 

Logan’s teeth grit, before he snarls, “It’s not made of metal-”

Out of the corner of his eye, catches the curious dip of your gaze. Past the folded twist of his arms, the flannel, down to his thick belt buckle.

A knock rings out then, interrupting him from any further clarification.

“Ooh! Door,” Wade thumbs over his shoulder, “Go on now, we’ve got some good energy going here. Sugar and spice, I love it.”

A spin on his heel, and he’s leaving them alone. Silence a lingering companion for a long moment, before Logan turns.

“Nice to meet you.” He seethes, jaw working as he shoots daggers at Wade’s back. A hand extended - he’d manage that much at least.

Waiting for you to make an excuse and run, but all you do is fit your hand into his. Soft and strong and a near perfect fit.

Logan doesn’t touch people much anymore unless it’s a hand around a throat, or claws buried deep into a chest. Had almost forgotten what it was like, even if this meeting is close to his own personal version of hell.

“Nice to finally meet you, too.” Your smile is wry. Hands still clasped a moment longer, until he’s withdrawing. 

Your hands shove into your back pockets. The tilt of a head as you regard him, and he lets his eyes meet yours. 

They’re pretty, like the rest of you. Captivating even, if he could use such a word, and Wade’s words ring out in his head. 

She wants to meet you.

He’s wondering if that’s still true. Maybe you’re wondering the same, with the way you look at him. 

“So,” You begin, awkwardly - another unconscious flick of your eyes,“How does-”

“Uh-uh.” Logan’s head shakes. He’s picked up a couple things living with Wade. Never used to be a bargaining man, but he has to admit it has its uses. 

“If you wanna know, you gotta go first.” 

He hates you.

He must, with the way he’s scowling. Thighs spread wide as he sits on the couch you had gestured to, fingers in a vice grip around the bottle. No doubt plotting a dozen ways to ditch you the second he can.

Who wouldn’t, with a meeting like this? You could kill Wade, cheeks burning as you sink into the worn cushions next to him.

That is, until your knee knocks against his. The muscles in his thigh flexing - but Logan lets it rest, instead of pulling away. 

“You gonna-?” His voice is gruff, a low rasp that makes goosebumps raise across your skin. 

“Uh, sure.” Your fingers twist, “Which part did you want to hear about?”

His eyebrows lift. Those dark eyes beneath, almost a hint of amusement in them.

“Right,” The little laugh that bubbles from you is self-conscious, “Well, I don’t really like emotionally unavailable men, they just have a habit of finding me.”

His voice is low, “How would Wade know that?”

“Mm, how would he know about your-?” Your eyes flicker down for the third time, and he shifts. 

“You first.”

“Alright.” You huff, but you’re smiling now. Some of your discomfort easing. 

Logan is even more handsome than you had thought. You like the way his eyes dart away, only to come back and linger. 

It’s starting to make you think that maybe it’s not dislike that has so much of him hidden away. Maybe it’s just been a long time since someone tried to peel any of him back. 

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

“Well, he’s had to scare an ex or two away.” You shrug, “He only knows because I told him. And the cake, oh-, that was him, too.”

You turn then, to face him. A shoulder brushing the arm he has thrown across the back of the couch, a flicker in his eyes as you get comfortable beside him.

“Well, Wade had gotten ripped in half a couple years ago,” You nose wrinkles, a wave of your hand, “And it all like, has to grow back, right? It’s so creepy.”

Logan grimaces at your explanation, and you wonder if he understands. You think he must - you had thought he was like Wade, in some ways. 

Different. Special.

“Well, he uh, finished growing everything in,” You make a sweeping gesture over your lower half, “And the next year to celebrate his dickiversary, he ordered a penis cake from my shop.”

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

The heat is back in your cheeks, but you nod, “Yeah, because it like, it came back and all. And he paid in cash, I couldn’t say no.”

There’s the smallest twitch of Logan’s lips, and it feels like a victory.

“Right. What flavor was it?”

Your smile widens with relief, “Strawberries and cream. It was so good. I’ll have to make it for you sometime.”

A second before you cringe, adding, “I mean, a normal one. Not…”

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

You smile, letting your shoulder bump his, “And with that… I think it’s your turn.”

The bit of humor in his expression flattens. A searching look thrown your way, before he inhales a breath.

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

Logan waits there, as if expecting something. You only nod, thinking of the ones you know. Colossus, Ellie, Yukio, Domino. Wade. 

“Wade said you were similar to him. I had assumed-” You encourage, waiting.

“Right,” He seems relieved, some of the tension ebbing, “My powers are regenerative, like his. But unlike him, I have these-”

There’s the jerk of his wrist, and three sharp metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. Your gasp is caught in your throat as you cling to his flannel shirt - the surprise bleeding into worry. 

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

“Adamantium instead of bones. All of me is like this.”

The claws sheath themselves inside him again. His wounds smoothing over seconds later, as he scrubs his knuckles across his jeans, wiping away blood. 

Offering out his hand, after. Letting your grip unwind from his shirt, and press against his skin instead. Feeling the tendons in his hand, his wrist. The skeleton beneath utterly unyielding, a weight to his limb that is so unlike your own.

“Metal…” You trail off, as pieces click into place, “I get it now. So does Wade really think there’s like, an actual bone-?”

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

You laugh then. A thought sobering you after, as a fingertip drifts up to the dip between his fingers. 

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

It makes you wince to even think about it. Much less how casually they sprung from him, no different than breathing. 

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

“And, the two hundred years,” Another facet you put together out loud, “You’re still alive because you keep healing? Will it be that way forever?”

His hand flexes in your grip.

“Not forever. Apparently my powers will run out, at some point.” His eyes meet yours, “The Logan in this world is dead. Wade pulled me from another.”

Your brow furrows - always trying to keep up with the snippets that Wade has told you across the years - stories about time-traveling and mutants and even how he came to be. But this seems too deep. Surely Logan must be joking.

“Another world, huh?” You ask, head tilting - trying your best to roll with it, “Won’t they miss you in yours?”

Only now does his face falter. That sharp mask cracking, as his hand pulls from yours. Resting again on the back edge of the couch - his answer low and rough. 

“No. I don’t think so.”

Another jolt racks through your heart. You don’t know him know him yet, but you already can’t believe that could possibly be true. Your fingers fan out, hovering - before it folds into a fist.

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

The room is darker now, dim with the setting of the sun. Street lights outside pouring in a golden beam that cuts across his face. 

His eyes are hazel, you can see that now. A fading rim of green spilling into the brown, beneath the near-permanent furrow of his eyebrows. 

Yours caught in the glow of the flamingo string lights that curl out from the kitchen, stapled to the walls.

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

“Sure. You know some of my worst secrets already.” You smile, a shoulder lifting.

His hand twitches, where it rests near your shoulder. The tip of a finger ghosting against skin.

Just the slightest brush but it feels like it radiates out, lingering after.

“Why’d you tell Wade you wanted to meet me?” 

His voice is still low, rough. But it’s lost that sharp edge. The combination has your stomach tied up in knots, suddenly more nervous that you’ve been the whole night.

Surely he must know? 

“Well…” You hedge. It’s your turn to look away, but then there’s the brush of his fingers again.

“Because I did want to meet you.” You admit, “You, you seemed like someone I wanted to get to know. In whatever capacity you’d like.”

“Is that right, Sugar?” Logan husks, and the nickname sounds even sweeter on his tongue, stealing your breath.

All you can do is nod, as his eyes darken. 

Voices rise behind you, ripping you out of this little bubble you’ve found yourself in. Nearly forgetting just how many people are here, how many eyes have been glancing your way since you’ve arrived.

“Not strip poker Wade, please.” The rough rumbling plea of Colossus’s voice rings out above the others, “You never wear anything under the suit-”

You didn’t even realize when he had changed, but he had - patches of bare skin on his ass showing through the holes. Your nose scrunches, before you turn back to realize that Logan’s eyes are still on you.

Dropping when your tongue peeks out to wet your lips - your words coming out in a soft hush. 

“You want to get out of here?”

You want him. You can only hope that he might just want you, too.

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s strange to have someone like Logan in your space. You can remember the last time you’ve wanted someone here.

His fingers still entwined with yours, from where you had reached back for him. Leading him through the dim corners of the room.

Thinking you had made it, only for the rousing cheers to rise when you had cracked the door open to slip through.

His grip tightening when you made to tug your hand free, in an urge to press it against burning cheeks. Letting you fumble with one hand, to open the lock next door.

It’s quieter here. A low echo of the music next door, as the darkness wraps around you again.

Here, his fingers move, but it’s only to skim up your wrist. To tug you between him and the front door, until your back presses against it. 

His nose brushes yours as he steps into your space, your lips already parting. Holding himself there for a moment, inhaling the scent of you as his arm braces above your head.

Leaving you to be the one that closes the gap. The tilt of your head and the press of your lips against his.

A rough hum when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers buried in his hair. His hand gripping at your waist, pulling your hips against his.

Tugging and pushing. A messy path from the front door through the small living room - a mirror-image of the apartment next door.

Through to the bedroom, wandering hands and the brush of his tongue against yours as he deepens the needy kiss. Until his knees are hitting the edge of your bed, and he’s letting you nudge him back onto the mattress.

He brings you with him - your hips cradling his as you settle yourself astride him. Hands flatten against his chest as you rock down - drawing a rough, mumbled “fuck”.

Grinding yourself down where he’s hard, the curve of his cock straining against his jeans. Letting your hands follow, as his own cup your ass. Squeezing, before slipping to press the heel of his hand against the seam at your clit.

You moan into his mouth, as your fingers curl around him. Eyes blown wide when you pull back, scooting your hips down. 

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

Going tense as you fit yourself between his thighs, fingers at this belt as the other still cups him.

“You shouldn’t want this.” He rasps, those eyes glinting in the dark, “A man like me. You know that, right?”

Propping himself up on an elbow, so he can see your expression. So you can see the way his jaw grits, nostrils flaring. 

It’s a warning, wrapped up in silk. A last ditch effort to scare you away - knowing that once he has you, he won’t want to stop.

Your fingers slow - his zipper half-undone, baring skin and a dark shadow of hair beneath. 

The other pulling away, “You want me to stop?” 

He catches your wrist, jerking your hand back. His hips bucking into your palm, grinding himself into your touch. 

“The last thing I want to fucking do is stop.” It’s almost a growl, “But on my Earth, I-”

You sigh then, impatient, “Logan, this Earth isn’t all that great either. I lost five years of my life to the blip.”

He frowns, not understanding - but your head shakes as you continue, “I’m tired of being too scared to take chances. I’ve been trying to live each day to the fullest, and I’d like to end this one with you.”

And out of everyone - Logan knows a little something about second chances.

“Yeah,” He manages - the grip of his fist leaves you, “Yeah, okay.”

"Thank you,” You answer primly, just as you finish yanking the zipper down. 

His hand beats you in the race to ease himself out, fingers curling around the base. You can’t help it - you inhale a breath at the sight of him.

Heavy, with the way the flushed tip bobs in his grip. Thick enough that you’re already wondering if you’re going to be able to take him. 

The huff he makes turns into a groan as you start small - engulfing the leaking head with your lips. The first inch turns into another as his hips lift, feeding his cock into your waiting mouth. 

Only when he’s halfway inside you, bumping against your throat, does his hand drop. Letting you replace it with your own - squeezing, as drool slicks up his shaft. Your head bobbing in time with the twist of your fist.

That brief hesitance is quickly forgotten. Fingers brush at your cheek, curling around the base of your head as he guides you.

Leaving you eager for more. Another hissed groan when your mouth leaves him, your hand loosening as you strip your clothes away.

“Oh fuck yes,” He coaxes, when he realizes what you’re doing, “Let me see you, baby.” 

Your shirt and pants left to pool on the floor. A second of boldness as you unclasp your bra next, leaving you in your panties as you focus on his cock again. 

A bitten-back moan when your tongue slips across his swollen shaft - an low throb between your thighs as you rub them together, clenching around nothing. Resisting the urge to slip your hand beneath the hem to ease the ache. 

Instead, your keep your hands on him. Goosebumps raising as your nails scratch against the deep v of muscle at his hips. The others working him into your mouth, as he slowly comes more undone. 

His hips flex with each bob of your head, lips parted as he pants. The words a rough mumble, becoming almost desperate. 

“That’s it sweetheart.”

Another moan when you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, “Oh fuck, gonna fill that pretty mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, holding you steady as he bucks into your mouth. Those dark eyes fixed on you in wonder, all that pretty skin bared for him to touch, to taste. He’s mesmerizing like this - the weight of gaze. Jaw slack with pleasure, eyes aflame.

You did this to him. 

It sends something warm flooding through you, as his eyelashes flutter. The tipping back of his head, muscles ticking in his cheek as his teeth ground down. 

A sound still slips between them, as he floods your mouth with the next flex of his hips. Pulsing between your lips as you swallow him down, a choked sound ripping from his chest when you cup his sack to gently squeeze out every last drop. 

Logan melts into the mattress after, an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath. His gaze focusing on you when he feels you squirm - dark, and hungry.

A lithe stretch of muscles as he moves - legs easing from beneath you. 

“Hands and knees,” He commands, head tipping towards the bed next to him, as he rolls off. Kicking off his jeans as you listen, watching over a shoulder as the flannel and white tank underneath joins your clothes on the floor.

Your eyes widen at how toned he is - muscles rippling, the bed dipping as he fits himself behind you.

His broad hand at the small of your back, pushing your torso down against the mattress. A pleased hum then, fingers trailing just along the elastic edge of your underwear.

“Could smell how much she needed this.” The tips of two press against the damp fabric between your thighs, making you gasp, “Even next door. You want it that bad?”

It should be embarrassing that he could tell how much you desired him, but at the moment all you can think about is him touching you more.

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

“So fuckin’ polite,” The fingers withdraw; but only so his nose can replace them. A ragged inhale, just before his tongue drags against your clothed slit.

A groan against your skin as you cry out, before a finger hooks around the fabric, baring you for him to taste.

The heat of his tongue flattens against you - lapping at where you drip with need, a rough rumble in his chest. 

“Sweet, too.” Another flick of his tongue, “Your name. ‘s fitting.”

You can’t manage words. Only his name, muffled against the sheets as your fists twist in them. Back arched as you resist the urge to grind yourself against his tongue, as it flicks against your clit.

It’s messy, how he eats you. You don’t think you’ve even had someone take you like this. Hungry, desperate even, as he devours you. The rumble of a groan against your cunt as his tongue delves inside you, stretching you open. Letting your slick smear into his beard, with how close he presses his mouth.

That need inside you thrumming. Winding tighter as he yanks your panties down your thighs. His palm flattening against your ass, holding you open as he licks you from clit to hole, then higher. Humming as you squeak, when his tongue flattens against your tight rim. 

A thick finger nudging against you then, as his tongue dips back to your clit. There’s no resistance as it slips deeper, into slick walls that clamp down around him.  It’s what you needed - that little bit more.

Unable to help rocking into the crook of his finger now. Whining when a second joins it, spearing deep and curling. Dragging against your walls, loud and wet and filthy with each plunge. 

Your whimpers only grow louder. Needier, as his lips wrap around your clit. Fingers pounding deep, stretching you out. Leaving you babbling, your words slipping together. 

“Don’t fucking stop.” Tears prick at your eyes, each breath a rattling gasp, “Oh my god you’re gonna make me come-”

He has you gushing, with the next flick of his tongue. A pleased groan as he feels your pussy tighten around his fingers, hearing the wail that is muffled into your pillows. That sharp pace slowing, his thumb replacing his tongue to draw your orgasm out until your legs are shaking. 

His fingers sticky when they pull from you, only to slip between his lips - tongue curling around his knuckles, sucking them clean.

It leaves you floating above yourself. You can’t remember ever coming this hard, even by yourself. Only the tintest thread of disappointment as you drift, and it’s only that you won’t get the pleasure of his cock filling you tonight.

You would’ve liked to see what he can do with the rest of him. 

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

But he moves behind you, instead. His knee pressing against yours, spreading your legs further. The rhythmic shuffle of skin against skin, as his hand slips from between his lips to fist around his cock. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.” It’s not a plea, not with the harsh rasp of his voice. But it’s as close as you’ve heard, as he swipes the tip against your leaking pussy.

Smearing your slick on him, teasing at your waiting hole.

You don’t know how he’s hard again, but at the moment you really don’t care. Not sure if you’ve ever felt a need like this, your back arching further as you present yourself to him. 

A twist of your neck, so your eyes can meet his. 

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

He groans, broad hands squeezing at your ass. Slipping up to sink his fingers into the flesh at your hips. Holding you steady as he lines himself up. 

Your breath held, when you feel his cock start to breach you - muscles stringing tight.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He grits out, though not unkindly, “You can take it.”

Trying to hold himself back from filling you with a single thrust, with the way you’re already gripping him.

Easing himself into your heat. Two inches forward and then one back, and with each one you think you’ll feel the press of his thighs against yours. A low whine as your cunt makes room for him, that sharp stretch as it feels like he’s reaching into your belly.

Feeling full when he finally is flush, the weight of his sack kissing against your clit. His shoulders following the curve of your back, as a hand slips up to plant next to your head.

“Feels fucking incredible,” It’s mumbled against your skin, almost as if it hadn’t meant to say it. 

“Mm,” You grin, your face tipping up to his, “Should’ve met you weeks ago.”

He smirks, a low sound in his throat as his mouth presses to yours. Starting a slow rhythm that drags his cock against your walls. Slipping until he’s halfway out, only to sheath himself again. Pushing the air from your lungs as he flattens himself, knees digging into the bed as your thigh spread wider - forcing him deeper.

It’s almost too much. 

You hand shoots out, reaching. Wrapping around his wrist, nails biting against his skin. 

It feels like he’s surrounding you. Each thrust a heavy weight that presses you into the bed. Splitting you open, until all you can do is squirm beneath him.

That pressure in your belly building again, as his hips pound. His breath, hot and panting in your ear as he chases his own end.

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

His tendons flex under your grip. Knuckles pressing flat against the sheets as he makes a rough sound in his throat. 

Those claws unsheathing with his next thrust. Punching down into your mattress. Anchoring as he loses himself to the feel of you beneath him.

How tight and wet and warm you are, your arousal still sweet on his tongue. Fighting the urge to sink his teeth into your throat, as everything tightens up inside him.

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, rasped out. 

“Come in me,” You whine, “Wanna feel you.”

He does growl then, at the thought of filling you to the brim, until he's leaking out of your pretty little pussy. Hips snapping faster, pinning you to the bed as he ruts into you. Each squeak of the bed paired with the sharp rip of fabric as his claws dig in. 

Feeling how your body strings tight beneath him, how you clench down in anticipation. Wanting to feel you once more, before he gives in to his own desires.

“Come on, baby,” It’s hushed, murmured against your skin, “Fuckin’ give it to me-”

The sharp point of a canine scraping against your skin, his groan rough and throaty in your ear. 

Your fingers work down to wedge themselves between your thighs. The tips brushing where you’re speared open, before circling your clit like his tongue had.

He has you mindless. Fucked out - that soft glow from your earlier orgasm shining bright as he tips you towards a second.

Burning at that tightly wound thread inside you, until the ends fray, and then snap. 

It has you coming with his next thrust. A wail ripped from you as he buries himself deep, feeling the way your pussy clenches down around him. 

Fingers still swirling, drawing out the deep pulses that fan out from your core as your toes curl, vision going hazy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He rasps, those sharp thrust slowing to a sloppy grind, “Make a fucking mess for me, there you go-”

Panting, as he groans. Another roll of his hips before he’s coming with you - teeth bruising skin as they sink into your shoulder. The sound he makes is broken as he spills into you, muscles clenching with each pulse that paints your walls.  

Marking you thoroughly with teeth and come, the saw of his hips slowing until you both finally go still. A breath finally caught. 

Blissed out, when he rolls you both to the side. His thighs still mapping yours, cock still notched deep. A thick arm thrown across your waist, his breath ragged in your ear as he catches his breath.

Your fingers drift, as you bask in your afterglow. Dipping into the rips in your mattress, knuckle deep.

There’s a grunt as you wiggle, the words low in your ear, “I’ll get you another, sweetheart. Just lost control for a moment.”

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as you’d think. In fact, you wouldn’t mind if happened again.

Only as your imagination runs wild, do you hear the muffled moan from the brick wall behind you.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

A beat - before you hear mumbled protesting. The voice of someone talking with their mouth full, “No. Back the fuck off Peter, I’m not going to share.” 

Eating. The fucker was eating his end of the bargain, ear pressed to the wall.

The next louder, “Alright, pay up everyone, Operation ‘Get Sugar Some Sugar’ was a success!”

You grimace, eyes rolling. Logan grunts behind you, the words mumbled out sleepily.

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

There’s a faint “they already tried that!” before Logan’s fist bangs on the wall, shutting him up.

But you can’t help the smile. Your fingers fitting between the ones that rest just below your breasts, squeezing.

“He’s not so bad,” You admit, “Wade, I mean.”

Logan groans, “Don’t say his name while I’m fucking you.”

“You’re-” You start - but then you can feel him.

Still hard - as his hips cant slowly against yours. Your joined hands slip up to cup a breast - as his lips press against your neck, stubble scraping you skin.

“Again?” You breathe, disbelieving that he’d be up for a third time - your hips rocking back to meet his. The sound lewd with how he drips from you - but it only has him grinding himself deeper, “You sure you’re two hundred?”

“Regenerative powers, sweetheart.” Logan husks, the flash of teeth with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t say it doesn’t come with perks.”

I used to have the biggest fucking crush on wolverine, haha - so fun to watch a new movie with him!! 👀💕 thank you so much for reading! And please me know if you'd like to read any more for him! (like more one-shots,etc!)

[avo-kat]

browsing r/engagementrings not because i want to get engaged at any point, but because i like looking at pretty rings and also equally enjoy shaking my head and internally making fun of people with huge and gaudy diamond rings

[doromoni]

Playing Offense | LN4

Last part of Off Time

Ships : Lando Norris x F1 Presenter! Reader

Genre : Angst, Fluff

Subtags : She fell first; He fell harder, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pinning, Groveling

A/N : Its hereeeeeee~ tell me what you think 🙏

Summary : You have pursued Lando's affection, yet he doesn't seem interested. Till your patience wavers and Lando realizes it too late. Will there be a right time for the two of you?

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Chaotic, confusing, and downright crazy are words you choose to use to describe what you’ve experienced so far. In your years working in f1, it has never been this crazy. Your romantic life has never been this convoluted — the drama, the butterflies, and the boy problems that you swore you were too old to be facing; and it all started with Lando and ended with Norris.

Your time spent apart from Lando put things into perspective about your feelings and standing as an individual. You realized that you have been greedy with Lando— not possessive, no, but you were selfish. You knew what you’d expected from the English driver was unfair to him. It was not right to expect or demand him to return your feelings just because his family and friends said so.

You now truly understood that Lando was his person and he could make his own decisions. If he chooses to be with another person? so be it and you shouldn’t hold it against him or anyone. It hurts like hell to think about, but your emotions are your own and Lando shouldn’t pay for it.

You put Lando on a pedestal that glorified him in your sight. You knew that there was a part of you that liked the idea of dating Lando Norris the F1 McLaren driver — you knew that your love for him was genuine but a small part of you knew that the expensive cars and his fame played a part in it.

And that kind of love led you to want to build a friendship with the driver first… because honestly you only knew Lando on a surface level.

With your epiphany, it was decided that you’ll no longer avoid Lando to forget your feelings. Facing Lando head-on was the right thing to do. You were happy to kindle a friendship with the English driver instead.

Amazingly, this new mindset has brought peace and happiness within you. Call it cliche but the expectations of others for you to catch Lando was heavy and crushing. But now it was slowly toning down, a sigh of relief you didn’t know you held was released.

With your new outlook, you breezed through the paddock a mic on hand as you went towards the Red Bull motorhome for an interview with Max and Checo.

Fate was testing you today because just as you crossed the McLaren Motorhome you had crossed paths with no other than Lando Norris.

“Y/N!” You hear Lando’s voice echo out. Your heartbeat shot up as you held your breath and stopped your stride, now facing the driver.

Lando was filled with delight as he noticed you stop, your face held the dazzling smile that he missed dearly. He had expected you to simply walk past him like usual but to his excitement, you acknowledged his existence.

Lando jogged towards you. You quickly examined Lando from head to toe, he was dressed so fashionably as usual. He was clad in cream-colored hues from head to toe, even his watch and bracelets were monotone so the bright red band on his arm caught your attention. Your eyes widened at the realization… it was the lost hair tie that Flo gave you!

You've been looking for that hair tie for ages! You pushed that thought aside as Lando stopped right in front of you, a grin permanent on him.

“Hi, Lando. What’s up?” You greeted, making sure your voice was steady and clear. You looked up to the English driver, holding his gaze.

“ I just wanted to talk to you, how have you been? Mom said you got a promotion, congrats by the way! ” Lando uttered, as he held on to every word you were saying.

“I did! thank you. “ You beamed excitedly - more so on the fact that Lando remembered something about you. If you only knew how much Lando cherished everything and every piece of information he could associate with you.

“Yeah, I’ve been so deep in work I haven’t been much in touch with your family. I should probably give them a call” You trailed mostly to yourself

“You should, they’ve beaten me to a pulp and said that it was my fault that you were distant with them” Lando was joking with you as he nudged your shoulder gently.

“Oh I’m so sorry! but It IS your fault though” You bantered back, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you laughed.

“Well then, I apologize for inconveniencing you Ms. L/N” You could only laugh further at his goofiness.

“Are you going somewhere now? “ Lando’s question made you realize that you were indeed needed at Red Bull!

You hastily held your watch to your face, as the mic you held felt heavier in your hand making its presence known. You needed to be there in 2 minutes.

“you are, aren’t ya?” You pursed your lips and nodded begrudgingly, disappointment was painted all over both of your faces as your light-hearted conversation was cut short.

“Yeah, I need to be with Max and Checo. But, hey. It was nice catching up with you~ I’ll see you later Lando” You said bidding goodbye to the driver.

Before you could walk away, Lando held your forearm gently stopping you.

“Y/N… how about coffee after your interviews today?” Lando’s offer was a shock. A pleasant one, but a shock nonetheless. Your eyes widened and your cheeks felt hot under Lando’s intense stare.

“I - uh… I have plans with Oscar.” You saw him physically deflate, his shoulders dropping a notch.

Panic instantly spread through you as Lando’s hand fell to his side. A small frown was evident on his face— although he tried his best to hide it.

“But you can join us if you’d like!” You blurted out, clearly not thinking things through… Well, your best friend can deal with it later.

“Could I?” Lando eagerly asked, to which you could only nod and smile.

“Great! I’ll text you ok? I’ll pick you up, yeah? Bye Y/N! Have fun with work~ ” Lando was all smiles and yaps that you couldn’t put another word in.

“uh, ok bye…” You could only blink at the retreating form of Lando who kept waving at you as he entered the motorhome once more.

You stood rooted from where Lando left you, staring blankly at the doors of McLaren.

What the hell did you just do? You just invited Lando into Charles’ Hotel Room. You and Oscar were supposed to look after Leo while Charles and Alex went on date night.

You can now imagine the laughing faces of Charles and Oscar and the amused faces of Alex when you do tell them what you’ve done.

The groan escaped your mouth as everything sank in. You just hoped that Lando liked High School Musical and Descendants… because you were having a marathon and neither of them complaining was going to stop you.

You were so engrossed with your thoughts that you did not see the dark blue-clad driver nearing you — only noticing when he nudged you to the side and you felt yourself tumble a bit.

Laughter that wasn’t yours followed soon after.

“What are you doing, little duck??” The driver asked still laughing, but now helping you steady yourself.

“MAX! You scared me you shit! “ You groaned, raising a hand and started slapping the Red Bull driver on the arm.

“Woman! That hurts, stop it” Max held your hand in his to stop your intrusions. You tsk-ed at him and pulled your hand away from his grip.

“I came looking for you, dummy! you’re late. What are you doing here just standing” Max lowered his head by bending his waist— leveling his eye with yours.

you only pouted and avoided his eyes, not offering a response. Max’s sight fell towards the McLaren motorhome and his mouth opened into an O shape.

“Oh, I see. It’s Lando again. Oh…Y/N. I wished you weren’t this blind. Others’d love to have you” Max said, only muttering the last parts — escaping your ears.

“ What?? speak up, dude! I don’t know how Kelly puts up with you.”

“Y/N. Kelly and I broke up months ago.” Max said as his face scrunched at you as if non-verbally asking if you were stupid.

“What?! how?! why?!” You could only ask startled by the revelation.

“ Never mind that you nosy little thing. We’re late!” Max didn’t answer your question, but he pulled you in the direction of their motorhome.

While unbeknownst to you, Lando saw the entire thing with Max. His mind was foggy and running at full speed. The driver that was interested in you couldn’t be Max, right? Not his closest friend on the grid. It couldn’t be….

Were you the reason that Max and Kelly broke up? His fists clenched on his side and his teeth gritted with force. Lando and Max’s friendship was already soaked in tension with how the races were unfolding. They were in the battle for the championship title, the two drivers are both notorious for taking their standings and performance in all races very seriously. And now that McLaren has given Lando a competitive car and his eagerness to win intensifies — the tension only grows thicker.

But even if it was Max, Lando was sure that he would die first before he stepped aside. He wouldn’t quit when it came to you, not when you were finally talking to him.

Lando sees John in his peripherals coming near him.

“John, clear my schedule for tomorrow please” Lando stated his eyesight never left the position where you and Max were.

“What for? you have a meeting with your engineers.” John looked confused

“Move that to later tomorrow night. I’m feeling up for a paddle game with Max” Lando replied calmly, a calm that held underlying danger.

***

The interview at Red Bull had just finished — it was fun yet draining at the same time. Max had been very cooperative, even eager to play the games! Much to your surprise, even the other staff of Red Bull was shocked.

It was established that Max Verstappen hated media day. So what changed now?

You had no time to ponder more about the World Champion as you had so much more on your plate… like calling Osc and Charles about Lando.

You held your phone to your face as you FaceTimed the group chat with you, Oscar, Charles and Alex.

The line rang and rang, till they finally picked up.

You saw the face of Charles with Alex by his side— they were probably in the Ferrari Motorhome.

And Oscar seemed to be out running on the track, oops.

“Hi Y/N~ I love the look!” Alex gushed as soon as she popped on the screen

“Thank you, Alex!” You gushed back.

“What is this about? — I’m kinda in the middle of something” Oscar panted as he kept running

“Ok, I’ll make this quick, and don’t judge me Ok?” You started.

“Lando is coming to Charles’ to babysit Leo,” You said in one breath.

“WHAT?!”

“HOW?!”

“OH MY!”

They all reacted with surprise.

“I thought that you were avoiding him? What happened to that, huh?” Oscar was now standing still. While The couple was sat there listening intently

“I know I know…. but it just happened ok? He asked me out for coffee and I said we had plans. He looked so disappointed and I panicked and I invited him to join us. I didn’t even say where and what we’re doing!”You explained. Just like you predicted before, the two men burst out laughing while Alex smiled amused by what you’ve done.

“ Y/N, I swear! you’re a mess ~ I love it! But before you could ask. Yes, he can come to our room” Charles whizzed out, now wiping the rouge tear from his eye.

“ Ughhhh, I’ll be a third wheel then??” Oscar groaned at the realization. You could only roll your eyes.

“Shut up, and as if! Bye, guys! see y’all later I guess. Osc don’t forget to bring snacks!” As soon as you said that you ended the call.

You just wished that Lando wouldn’t get bored or expect something big from you.

And Funny enough, Lando did enjoy your cozy hangout with Oscar in Charles’ Hotel room. He was now like a magnet to you, and you welcomed it with a smile. Lando was sweet and caring and a blast to have around. Lando and Oscar’s relationship had also strengthened— much to McLaren’s joy.

Your duo with Oscar now became a trio with Lando. Oscar argues that Lando was only there because of you — but you begged to differ.

As you spent more time with the English driver, you uncovered more of his habits and quirks that only close friends knew. But of course, Lando had his flaws, ones that you were too blind to notice before — the flaws that solidified his humanity to you.

Lando Norris was not perfect and that was more than ok because you were far from it yourself. At the end of the day, you got the know the real Lando Norris, not the Formula 1 driver, but the kid who grew up in Glastonbury who loved gaming with his dad and watching his mom cook.

Surprisingly, You had fallen easily into a routine with Lando. Your life now was once again filled with Lando Norris’ presence. Lando would pick you up and drop you off every race weekend. Then you’d spend off days together either with Oscar, his family or just the two of you lounging around or going out.

True enough your relationship with Lando had started to bloom into something in the line between friends and something more.

“Lan, could you please set the table up? Dinner’s almost ready” You shouted for Lando to hear.

It was after a particularly not-so-great race for Lando. He and Max had a collision that ended badly for the both of them — but more on Lando. You could feel the anger radiating out of the English driver when you saw him earlier.

He begged you to come to his unit and spend the night. He said he wanted comfort and your company today.

You were finishing up the dish you were making on the counter when you felt strong arms caging you in from the back.

You suddenly grew tense and your heart skipped beats, as you felt Lando’s heat permeating in your back. His cologne smelled divine when you got a whiff of it when he leaned his chin on your shoulder.

“Lan? Are you ok?” You started speaking carefully, not entirely sure what to do. Lando’s arms then went to encircle your waist, clutching you closer.

“Y/N…. you’d choose me right?” Lando’s question startled you and at the same time confused you.

You turned yourself in his arms, you were now facing each other. Your faces were so close that the thought of kissing him senselessly fogged your brain.

“W-what do you mean?” you asked.

“You’d choose me over Max right?” Lando asked his eyes traveling from your eyes then to your lips— lingering there.

“Over Max? What does he ha-“ you asked very confused, his proximity not helping you think at all.

“Please say It’s me, Y/N… please” Lando begged, his hand now cradling your jaw.

“I-, yes. It’s you, Lando. Always” You finally relented.

And at your answer, Lando hastily crashes his lips on yours like a man starving and you were there happily taking it.

You knew that you shouldn’t get your hopes up and assume that this was Lando telling you that he loved you or held feelings for you. It wasn’t a done deal till you heard the words right out of Lando’s mouth.

You’re waiting for the words “ Would you be my girlfriend” out of his mouth.

But alas, you were just a girl and you couldn’t help yourself to yearn for affection and attention from the boy that held your heart. And you weren’t going to lie either

No matter how much you tried to maintain your friendship with Lando Norris — you were helpless to his charms. And now that he was showing some semblance of returning your affections… well you were doomed.

Yet life is still a bitch, it can never be sunshine and rainbows all the time. Because the time came when some lines between friendships were crossed. Can you be just friends when you know each other’s tastes?

You and Lando were tiptoeing on the status of your relationship. Are you just friends??

Rumors regarding relationships in the world of F1 are brutal. One minute everything is quiet and peaceful and the next second you get the media all up in your face and you’ve gotten a call from your supervisor asking wtf is going on and why is your name trending.

Well, how could it not? It was only free practice When you were live on air in the paddock walking through the pit lane and you and your cameraman breezed through the McLaren garage and captured Lando’s most recent fling, all up in his face. The two were making a scene, as the mechanics tapped their feet and Andrea Stella fuming on the sideline. The entire situation screamed drama.

You felt moronic. You felt stupid that you thought that you had something special with Lando. Turns out you were just a game to him. Now that He’s got you at arm's length once again, it’s time to toss you out for a new side piece.

You eyed the pair up and down, an eyebrow raised- hurt and anger ebbed in your heart. But you knew how to be professional and kept your emotions and expressions in check. Smiling your most dazzling smile as you tried to recover and lead the audience and camera away. Just as you gave them one last glance, your eyes caught the eyeline of Lando.

His entire body grew tense at the sight of your presence. Your face was blank and your eyes held disbelief and hurt. Lando knew that what you saw was bad.

And it did look bad. Magiu was pushing herself into Lando’s embrace catching him off guard, her hands held his face as she beamed up at him and bid him good luck. He was in shock! how come that girl was even in here?! He knew for sure that he cut ties with her and left everything at that.

He knew that you would think that he was back to his old ways. Panic struck in Lando as he saw you walking away from him. Not thinking things through, he pushed Magui to the side as he sprinted past every mechanic and engineer on the way towards you. It didn’t sink into his mind that you were live on TV.

“So, anyway Crofty back to what you were asking. You asked th—“ You said into the mic that was in your hand as you walked towards Max’s garage in Red Bull when suddenly your path was blocked by no other than Lando Norris.

Your eyes shoot wide as you see him approach you directly. What is he doing?! Even your cameraman didn’t know whether to pan to another frame or just keep rolling… and to everyone’s relief, he chose the latter.

“Y/N! It wasn’t what you think it was! please believe me” Lando begged, still not caring for the camera.

“Lando! What are you doing?! we’re on air! Stop it. You’re being childish!” You hissed lowly at the English driver. You signaled the cameraman to pan to another commentator, which he thankfully followed.

“No! Y/N. I need to know that you believe me. I didn’t bring her here! She was just there and it caught me off guard. Y/N, I swear … Please look at me” Lando continued to beg you to look at him as you avoided meeting his eyes.

You could sense that a lot of people were watching you and a lot were questioning what the hell was happening.

“Lando. Not now! I’m working. If you have any ounce of respect for me, you’ll leave and we’ll talk later.” your teeth gritted

“I swear, it was all a mistake! Y/N! I Love you!” Lando pleaded with you.

“Prove it” Your voice held Ice as you stared down at Lando — anger still consuming your system.

***

“Delivery for Ms. L/N!” Your hands instantly stopped typing on your laptop as you looked up and away from the screen.

There stood a delivery guy holding the biggest bouquet of White Gardenias and Baby breaths you have ever laid your eyes on. You couldn’t help but catch your breath at its beauty. It was magnificent— almost ethereal even.

“Wow, that’s big” You were suddenly startled by the voice that came from inside your office. You forgot that Oscar was there on your couch.

“Holy Sh- I forgot you were here!” You exclaimed at your appointed best friend. You stood up and went towards the delivery guy thanking him before he left.

The flowers weighed heavy in your arms. Even so, you ducked down and gave it a sniff and It smelled heavenly. You placed the flowers inside the vase that resided in your office — a new piece of furniture that you were “forced” to acquire given the amount of flowers you were suddenly receiving.

“How many has it been?” Oscar asked as he stretched his arms, now standing up and was all over your flowers.

“Stop! Get your gremlin hands off” You quickly swatted the Australian’s hand. Oscar only pouted as he returned to his seat

“ That’s every weekend for every race week so far,” Oscar said, answering his question.

Your smile widened as your eyes caught sight of the card that usually came with it.

“ Hoping this brightens your day, just as you brighten mine 🤍 I love you” - L

You swore that your lips were going to burst at the seams with the size of the smile that was on it. You feel the butterflies making their way to your stomach. You felt the heat inching its way to your cheeks and down your neck.

Lovesick as you may be, you were not foolish enough to make things easier for the English McLaren Driver. With everything you went through? He could sweat a little… or that’s what you say.

“Is it from Lando?” Oscar asked once more.

“it just says L. So I'm not sure… “ You trailed, obviously acting dumb.

“Uhuh, who else could it be?” The Australian deadpanned, giving you a playful glare.

“Hey! It could be from Lewis” You joked back. This only earned a scoff from Oscar.

“Yeah! like you could get Lewis” Oscar sassed

.You were about to rebut when a knock was heard from the door.

Then suddenly popped in a mop of curly brown hair that you would kill to run your hand through.

“Osc, Zac wanted a word with you. Like right now, he doesn’t look happy” Lando spoke, which prompted the Australian to bolt out of your office.

You felt your heart beating in your throat, as your eyes set on Lando’s bewitching green eyes.

Swallowing a breath, you tried to casually talk to the driver who was now smiling brightly at you. You could swear that you see Lando’s gaze soften as he looked at you.

“Hi,” You spoke softly, almost a bit shy. Your eyes never leave Lando’s.

“Hi” He spoke just as softly— his smile never breaking and it only grew sweeter by the second. Right there and then, you could tell that you fell for him even more.

After the issue of Magui had subsided a month ago, Lando had set his heart to finally court you officially — much to your glee. Lando has more than proved himself worthy of the affection you’ve had for him.

“Uhm, what did Oscar do?” You were the first to back down and break eye contact — because you knew any longer, you’d jump him.

“Nothing, I just needed him to leave. I wanted to talk to you. ” Lando uttered, his smile growing sheepish. His hand fidgeted his nape.

“Oh! Did you want to talk to me? What for?” You asked with hidden giddiness. Your fingers twisting in front of you with nervousness.

“Mom and Dad are throwing a party and I know you’re already invited… but I was hoping that you’d go with me” The British driver trailed, self-doubt and unease evident in his voice, yet he was still determined and he stood his ground. His emerald eyes never fell.

Slowly, a smile spread on your face as you slowly went near the driver and took his hand in yours — practically catching the both of you off guard. You with your bravery and Lando with your sudden contact after weeks of avoiding his touch.

You could physically see the weight lifting off Lando’s shoulders from your touch — A grin appears on his face. You feel him clutch your hand tighter - almost as if checking if it were real. His thumb glided softly against your skin, sending goosebumps up your nape. Making the butterflies in your stomach crazier than ever.

“You mean like as your date?” You uttered coyly, your hand now entangled with Lando’s. Your eyes drifted to where he held you — the sight fascinated you. You always knew that his hand was big, but now as it covered yours entirely— you understood just how much his dwarfed yours.

Yet suddenly, you feel your face slowly being tilted up, as you feel Lando’s fingers guiding your eyes to meet his.

“I meant as my girlfriend” You were speechless once again, you knew that this was coming but that didn’t make it any easier to process.

“Y/N is that a yes? Hmm?” Lando’s hand then found its way to tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt yourself freeze under his intimate action, this smooth fucker knew what he was doing!

“ I would love to be your girlfriend,” You said softly as you went on your tip toes reaching for his lips with yours in a soft kiss. His arms instantly wrapped around your waist — pulling you further into him.

“Fucking Finally. Y/N L/N, I love you.” Lando whispered in between your kisses.

“Oh, yeah… I got you another present” Lando uttered as he glanced at the table behind you.

You reluctantly followed his eyesight.

“ Lando Norris … you did not. That's a fucking Birkin!” You exclaimed as you set your eyes on the Orange and Neon Green stitched handbag worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. And the one he got you just screamed: “Made by Lando Norris”. Your eyes remained wide and mouth gaping… you knew what a Birkin Bag meant when given by a man, it meant to symbolize a mark. Lando Norris was marking you and showing to the world that you were his.

“Happy first day to us, Baby” Lando whispered mischievously, as he captured your lips once more.

Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 : open for tag request

Series Taglist : @f1fantasys @chezmardybum @hwalllllllelujah @qzmef @bingussthirdtoe @lilypat @cmleitora @willowpains @wobblymug @dramallama9 @gigicisneros @yawn-zi @vickykazuya @loloekie @radiator101 @poppyflower-22 @dessxoxsworld @bingussthirdtoe @zoeyjadetice2010 @f1fantasys @bethanymccauley @lyfewma @yvbe99 @hurtblossom @styl1shl1v @isla-finke-blog @unknownmystery22 @sinfully-yoursss @hellowgoodbye @xines16 @chaoticprincesself @tastebaldwin @imboredway2much @thehufflepuffavenger1 @merchelsea @qxeenjen @splzq @theyluvflynn @ln4author @mrosales16 @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs @il0vereadingstuff @xjval @dontworryboutitokie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @mayusaatma @idgasb @fefa-la-printcessa @alana4610 @koalalafications : closed for tag request

[thecherrygod]

i told this guy what i dreamt about last night, bc once we had conversations about dreams and i told him id tell him the next one i have, and we are psychology students who happen to be dumbasses so he asked me if i thought i could interpret it bc of all the stuff that happened in it and i thought he was joking and i went “well its possible haha”. he asked me if i was comfortable doing so and telling him what i thought, but if i wasnt i could like. not tell him. my guy you have to tell me how much you actually wanna know about me as a person first

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 2: What A Great Freakin’ Way To Start The Day

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy,

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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The morning begins the same way it always does, with your neighbor Mike blasting "I Will Always Love You" in his apartment at exactly 8 am just as he had each day since you met two years ago. It was the only constant in your life, but at least you didn't have to use an alarm clock anymore. The sound of Mike belting out the lyrics at the top of his lungs was enough to wake everyone in the whole building, including the people on the eighth floor, five stories above him.

But because Mike bought the super’s probably illegally made cologne and because the super was dating Mike’s mother, something that made you regret supe hearing very much, it never stopped despite the numerous complaints.

Then again it was Annie's favorite thing about sleeping over, she liked to scream the lyrics back at the wall and jump on your bed like a crazy banshee. Honestly you hoped that it would stop after Ben had pretended to be your boyfriend, that Mike would finally figure it out and give up.

Guess not.

You sit up in your bed, stretching your hands over your head while humming the chorus under your breath, but you were more of an ABBA fan. If Mike had decided to serenade you with "Take A Chance On Me" or even Aretha Franklin's "You're All I Need to Get By," you might have looked at him differently.

The memory of the dream of his mullet smothering you in your sleep momentarily passes over your mind, causing a shudder to travel down your spine. Or maybe not.

Your bedroom was similar to your living room, covered in plants. Trailing jasmine and bougainvillea blanketed the wall behind your bed in deep red and white, budding lavender, lilac, and honeysuckle sat in pots along the top of your dresser, and a blush colored rose bush, that never went out of bloom, stood proudly in the corner. The only difference was that there were two large piles of books almost as tall as your ceiling, some old some new, braced beside the rose bush like Roman columns. You kept trying to remember to buy a bookshelf, but each time you thought about going to pick one up, Butcher usually called and asked you to help out. Both piles were covered almost completely in pothos and more hung from the brick walls above your only window, that opened the floor length pale yellow curtains with a flick of your hand.

An annoyed purring sound greets your ears as the honeyed light from the now open window wisps over your covers. Bean, your cat, stalks up from the end of the bed, his yellowed eyes narrowed with annoyance at being woken up so early while his charcoal gray coat turns lighter in the brilliant sunlight. Last night he had been in your bedroom when you got home, which meant that he hadn't been around Ben when he came in.

A good thing, because Bean hated just about everyone except Butcher, which you thought was weird. But whenever Butcher dropped by to talk to you Bean always came over to look for rubs, while hissing at anyone who tried to interrupt them. Hughie was actually afraid of Bean, and because Bean was a cat he immediately picked up on this and purposely would jump on the couch next to Annie so Hughie couldn't sit there, Bean also followed after Hughie to the bathroom and waited outside the door to swipe at his ankles whenever he would come out.

But you didn't love him any less.

He puts his paw on your thigh lightly extending his claws to get your attention.

"Oh are you talking to me now?" You smile, rubbing him behind the ears. "I thought you were angry because I woke you up?"

He purrs and pushes his chunky gray head against your hand, but startles when the song switches to "My Heart Will Go On" which causes Mike's mother to join in to his karaoke session.

I'd move if my apartment wasn't so damn cheap.

"Maybe they should take the show on the road. Huh buddy?"

Bean purrs his response while pushing his head further into your hand.

His mom wasn't that bad of a singer, in fact, you thought that you remembered eavesdropping on a conversation between her and the super when she talked about a career as a cabaret singer a while ago.

"Come on, let's see if Gramps killed any of my plants." You smile down at your cat. "If he did I'm going to turn him into a tree."

Bean purrs in agreement.

You get out of bed, adjusting your shirt back down over your shorts before walking to the door with Bean following behind you. You step out into the cool hallway, with more enthusiasm than usual as you try to escape the butchering of the Titanic's soundtrack and collide into something warm and wet.

It takes you exactly seven seconds to realize that the warm, wet, thing that your face is currently stuck to, is in-fact Ben's chest, his shirtless chest. Why he's standing in the hallway outside your door, soaking wet and wearing a towel you have no idea. All you know is that your face is physically laying against the warm flesh of his pectoral muscles.

"Why are you NAKED?" You scream as you peel yourself off of him and turn your gaze away. Your face felt so warm that it was like you'd been standing in front of a volcano for too long and you were sure that you had blushed to the roots of your hair.

You'd only seen him without his shirt on once, when the door to his bedroom was cracked at the apartment he shared with the rest of the group. But it was from the back and you had been walking by to go to the bathroom, and you hadn't looked…

Well, you may have stopped for a second to admire the powerful muscles on his muscular back and maybe thought about waiting for him to turn around so you could see if the front was as good as the back… but you hadn't.

And he certainly hadn't been soaking wet then, and it made you hate him more now, because no one should look as good as he does soaking wet. You personally knew that you looked like a drowned poodle whenever you stepped out of the shower, but him? Soldier Boy looks like he just finished filming a shampoo commercial.

You could see it in your head, him standing under a crystal blue waterfall with the water splashing against weathered rocks before running through his soft brown hair, curving around his broad shoulders, down his toned stomach straight down to his-

NO. Not gonna go there. You could feel your skin heating in embarrassment, almost as if you thought he could read your mind.

"I'm not naked doll, I mean I could be if you wanted me to." He smirks as he hears your heartbeat begin to pick up and reaches for the end of his towel. The towel that was almost too small to wrap around his waist and left very little to the imagination.

"NO!" You shout holding up a hand to stop him, but again brush the front of his chest.

Fuck, you could zest a lemon on those abs.

"Are you sure?" Ben smiles wider, taking a step forward. He's so close that you can smell your grapefruit mint shampoo on him and feel the humidity and warmth of his body as he stands there. For some reason the fact that he used your shampoo, and smelled like your soap, made you feel warm and tingly. It was almost hypnotic. You hated how much you liked it. "Because you're turning that cute little red color you always do whenever I'm around, and your heartbeat is kinda fast."

"No. I don't." You grit your teeth together. "Why are you standing outside of my door naked?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you to come out." His hand presses against the doorway next to your head. "You know, I already took a shower, but if you wanted I'd be happy to get back in with you."

"No thanks. I don't need a shower and I wouldn't shower with you if it was the last shower on earth and I hadn't bathed in forty years." You purse your lips. "Oh right, that happened to you."

Ben frowns at your mention of his time in Russia. You didn't often tease him about being trapped in a lab, you knew that it was a sore spot for him. Plus you'd seen the footage of exactly what those doctors did to him and it was enough to make you want to book a one way ticket to Russia and personally show them what happened when a tree got shoved up your ass.

You open your mouth to apologize.

"I was going to ask if you have any other clothes here. Mine are still wet from last night." He raises an eyebrow, but the humor is gone from his eyes.

"Oh. Um. I can take a look." You turn and walk into your bedroom, trying not to feel awkward about bringing up the lab.

He was a jerk, but he didn't deserve a reminder of how shitty the last forty years have been.

Truthfully, you weren't sure if you had anything that would fit him. Ben was a lot bigger than you, taller and broader. You usually did wear things that were a little big for you, but you didn't think that Ben would fit in any of them.

Maybe I have something from when my brother was here last time.

Darren often dropped by when he was in the city visiting his friends or had a new "business" venture. The ones that never seemed to last and the friends that always seemed happy to spend the moan you "loaned" him for his "best idea yet" as he always phrased it. But he hadn't been by in at least a year.

"It's really green in here too." You hear Ben say under his breath.

You didn't think that he was going to follow you into your room, you thought he was going to stay in the hallway, but no, he had followed you. And he made the room feel even smaller than it was with his broad shoulders and over six foot stature.

The sunlight from the window glinted off his still wet chest and it made your throat uncomfortably tight. For the love of chocolate pudding, WHY does he look so good all the time?

"You can wait in the hall-"

"Wanted to see your bedroom." He smirks. "Though I think that you wanted to show it to me last night-"

You ignore him and turn back to your chest of drawers while Mike and his mother switch to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction. You wince as they begin.

"Do they always do that?" Ben asks.

"Yep. Since I moved in." You sigh, shuffling through your t-shirts.

"He's really got it bad Sweetheart. Maybe you should throw him a bone. Kinda seems like the poor guy needs to get some ass-"

"If it's any of your business- which it's not- I do not like him that way."

"Well they're a little loud." You feel Ben take a step closer to you. "But I bet you and I could give them a run for their money. We are in your bedroom after all, might as well make the most of it."

"I didn't know that you liked Karaoke. I'll keep that in mind for you 105th birthday party."

"What? No I meant-"

Bean purrs loudly from his position on your bed and you wait for the telltale sound of Ben shooing him away when Bean tries to puncture Ben's impenetrable skin with his claws, but it doesn't come.

You glance over your shoulder. Are you kidding me?

Bean is sitting on your white plush comforter, rubbing up against Ben's hand, purring while Ben scratches him behind the ears.

Traitor.

"Didn't know you had a cat." Ben says continuing to stroke his hand down Bean's spine, who stands up and turns so Ben can have a better angle.

"I didn't peg you for a cat person. Kinda ruins the whole all-American Man image you have going on."

He shrugs. "I like dogs more, but I don't hate cats. Usually they don't like me very much."

"I wonder why that is." You grumble watching Bean lean into Ben's hand again. "His name is Bean."

"Bean? Why?"

"Because when I got him I was trying to grow green beans in the linen closet and he would sit outside the door and screech until I gave him a green bean to play with."

"You were trying to grow green beans in the linen closet?"

"Yeah. Seemed like a good idea, but they like the bathroom more-" You finally find the oversized Led Zeppelin shirt your brother left the last time he crashed at your apartment and a pair of jeans. "A lot of my plants like the bathroom more actually."

"I was going to ask you why the bathroom floor and wall was squishy."

"It's moss. It thrives in humid environments." You hold out the clothes for him.

"Uh-huh." He frowns at the clothes for a minute. "So you're saying you wouldn't want a guy to serenade you like that?" Ben nods his head towards your bedroom wall, just as Mike and his mother begin to belt out the chorus. "Thought girls liked sappy shit."

"I'm not a fan of One Direction."

"Right. You like ABBA more." Ben turns towards your door to go back to the bathroom to change.

Shock momentarily spikes in your chest. "How did you know that?"

He freezes as if you caught him doing something bad, turning slightly towards you. "Um- well, you hum their songs a lot."

"When?" You cross your arms over your chest.

"Whenever you're on stake outs. Sometimes when you're reading those files or waiting for Annie at the apartment." He shrugs. “When you were walking last night you were humming ‘Fernando.’"

He noticed that?

"How long exactly were you following me?"

"Long enough." He raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to keep me talking because you want me to change in here? Because I would be more than happy to drop this towel and show you what a real man looks like Sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself Gramps. If you drop that towel the only thing that'll happen is Bean will think you brought him a green bean to play with." You roll your eyes. "Now get out of my room. I have to change."

Ben begins to say something, but the vines hanging above the door push him out into the hall and shut the door behind him.

That felt good.

After you put on a white t-shirt, your favorite pair of jean overalls and your dark green converse, you make your way out into the living room. Ben is there, lounging on your couch like he owns it. He’s wearing the jeans and t-shirt you gave him, but you can't help but notice how the clothes are just a little too small for him. The way his muscles pull at the t-shirt, the way the jeans hug his thighs and butt-

He's getting way too comfortable here. You think to yourself to avoid the thought of how good he looks on your couch. How it almost feels natural that he's sitting here in your living room, inhabiting your space.

"So what's for breakfast doll face?" He leans his head back to gaze at you with a mischievous smile that makes a warm tingle travel down the length of your spine.

"Well, I'm going to have oatmeal and you're going to have whatever you want I guess?"

His eyes darken. "Whatever I want?"

"Calm down Gramps I meant that there's cereal in the cabinet." You roll your eyes to avoid thinking about the kiss last night and then thinking about how it felt for your body to be pressed against his in the hallway when you ran into him.  Which inevitably leads back to the waterfall fantasy and-

No. No. Not going to do that. Not with him. He's just good at getting women into bed, he doesn't care about you. You think about how he remembered that you liked ABBA. That doesn't mean anything. He doesn't see me as anything more than a conquest and he probably remembered that because he's changing tactics and trying not to act like a creep.

“You’re not going to pour me a bowl?” His smirk pulls down in an attractive pout.

“I think it’s simple enough for your little brain to do.” You don’t turn around from the kitchen cabinets, grabbing a raspberry from the refrigerator and popping it in your mouth. For some reason you noticed that whatever you grew tasted better than anything you bought at the grocery store. You hoped that it didn’t mean that your powers supercharged whatever you grew and that it was actually radioactive or something. 

Because that’s exactly what I need, to turn bright green. 

“There’s nothing little about me doll.” 

“Can’t you ever have a conversation with someone without it revolving around sex?” You grumble banging around in your cabinets to find your instant oatmeal. 

It was a valid point and you were tired of getting whiplash every time Ben acted caring and then flipping back to horny manchild.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ben laughs. He stands from the couch and makes his way into your kitchen.

It was hard not to notice how small each room in your apartment looked with him in it. His head was only a foot below the ceiling, not to mention the kitchen was only composed of six cabinets, a small sink, a microwave shoved into a corner, a stove top, and a refrigerator that only came up to Ben’s shoulders. Your bathroom was worse, sometimes the shower was small even for you and you didn’t know how Ben fit in there. 

He probably had to duck down to stand under the shower head. 

And then as you thought that, the image of Ben standing under a waterfall comes creeping back, making the strawberry plant on top of the fridge, the raspberry vines, and the blackberry vines covering your refridgerator burst into bloom.

Thankfully Ben didn’t notice, because he was rooting through the white top cabinet in the corner for one of the cereal boxes. 

I’d never hear the end of it if he saw that happen. 

You glare at the plants in question, eyes shifting to a deep green as the flowers develop into fresh fruit to cover your slip. 

Ben pulls out a box of Lucky Charms, but frowns at Lucky on the front cover, who is throwing a handful of marshmallow charms into the air around him. 

Guess he's not a fan.

 “If I’d known you were going to sleep on my couch I would have gotten Bran flakes and prunes for you.” You smirk as you pour water over the oats in the bowl before placing it in the microwave to cook. “I know people your age need that kind of thing sometimes. Gets the bowel moving.”

“Make fun of my age all you want.” Ben steps around you to grab the almost empty bottle of milk from your refrigerator. “One day you’ll be happy to find out just how experienced I am.”

“Keep dreaming.”

His dark eyes meet yours. “You’re all I dream about baby.”

You can feel his breath on the side of your neck from how close he is to you, the kitchen seems smaller than it ever has, and he leans forward, sensing your hesitation. One of his hands goes on the kitchen counter to your right, the other places the milk down and then braces on the counter to your left caging you against him. 

“Do any of your lines actually work?” You say, throat tight.

“You’d be surprised.” He smirks wider, green eyes sliding up and down your body. 

 The air in the kitchen electrifies, something passing through the air between the two of you that makes you feel like your heart is going to burst out of your chest. His eyes are softer green now, reminding you of the color of fresh leaves on an oak tree in spring, bright, strong, and full of life. His body is pressed gently against yours, the strong muscles of his abdomen laying on your hips, muscular arms making sure that you don't walk away.

You try not to think again about how good he looks in your apartment, how calm and relaxed he seems when he’s away from Butcher and not wearing his uniform. 

Standing here in your apartment, he looked normal, human. Sometimes it was hard to remember that you were, when you could do what you did, when you saw him get hit with a car and shove it away with one hand. 

He was still ridiculously attractive, the kind of attractive that you’d read in romance novels and in classic Roman literature, the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, the kind of ruggedly handsome that made smart girls stupid. 

You were really feeling that last one. Because you were desperately trying to hold on to your dream of being with someone that understood every part of you, but Ben was making it hard.

It wasn’t that the idea of sleeping with him was terrible. It wasn’t. It was far from terrible it was the idea of having sex without feelings that you didn’t like. You didn’t want to sleep with him because you knew that he only saw you as something to be possessed not as an equal or someone he cared about. Soldier Boy only cared about himself, that was apparent.

He’s only interested in you because you haven’t given in. You think to yourself. It's all about the thrill of the chase, nothing else. I'm worth more than that. I'm worth more than one night.

“In fact, I think it’s working on you doll.” Ben leans down towards you so close you can feel his words in the air between your faces, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for you to say no.

That made you pause. Ben didn’t seem to be the type of man who was patient. You’d walked in on him making out with numerous women on the couch back at the apartment he shared with the rest of the team, saw how he took control, saw how he didn’t seem to wait for them to say no or really say anything at all. Not to mention one time when you walked into the shared apartment and could hear Ben with one of his "dates" in his bedroom. Nothing about that seemed patient at all.

But this Ben standing in your kitchen was different. He was almost smiling, dark hair still damp from the shower curling on his forehead, the t-shirt damp around the collar, jeans a dark blue, and the smell of your shampoo fills your senses again all over again. It made you wish for this person all the time. The one that you could see yourself falling in love with, not the racist, sexist, and inappropriate jerk that seemed to dominate his persona at all other parts of the day.

Funny, the only time you’d ever seen Ben like this, was when the two of you were alone- well sometimes- other times he annoyed you without end and made you want to jump out a window. 

But why? Why only around me?

The feeling in your chest grows. It jumps from synapse to synapse, pulses along your skin, buzzes in your blood, tangles through your hair, and radiates through the air like a sound wave. Your eyes drift down to his lips remembering exactly what it was like to kiss him last night. How he seemed to consume you whole, how everything else fell away, how Ben curled himself around you, how he-

Your cell phone rings, breaking through the moment, and making you remember exactly why you didn’t want to give in to Ben and remember the kind of person he was. 

You push him away and pull your cellphone out of your pocket. Butcher's photo and name appear on the screen.

Shit.

"Hey Butch, what's up?" You look away from Ben, forcing yourself to calm your racing heart.

Ben perks up at the mention of Butcher’s name.

“Do you have any idea where Soldier Boy is?”

“Soldier Boy?”

“Seems like our blunt smoking man out of time has vanished. Been trying to text him all bloody morning.”

At least he doesn’t know that Ben is here. That’s good. I’d never hear the end of it if-

Ben snatches the phone from your hand and holds it up to his ear. “What the fuck do you want?”

The softness was gone, his eyes had hardened again, and the spell was broken. Ben was no longer relaxed, his shoulders were tensed and guarded, jaw set.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ben didn’t like Butcher. Sometimes you wondered why Ben decided to stay.

Probably because the alternative was being frozen like Han Solo next to his son.

When Ben had knocked Homelander out, you hadn’t believed it, and despite Ben’s arguing Butcher wanted to keep Homelander a supe, and just put him on ice. You had no idea why, especially since Butcher had been gunning for him forever, but had the sneakiest suspicion that it was because of Ryan.

But you didn't blame Butcher for that, watching your father get killed in front of you seemed traumatic, not to mention Ryan was still reeling from watching his mother die.

You turn back to your microwave to pull out your bowl of oatmeal with a groan.

Now Butcher’s going to mock me endlessly about going home with Soldier Boy. We didn’t do anything! Well…

Your mind flits back to the searing kiss you shared and to five seconds ago when whatever the hell just happened.

“You want me to meet you in fucking Jersey?” Ben laughs.

You choose not to eavesdrop on the conversation, instead you busy yourself with sprinkling brown sugar onto your breakfast and plucking a few more raspberries from the vines.

“Fine.” Ben almost growls before holding out the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.”

Of course he does. Maybe I can pretend to lose the signal with a piece of paper or a candy wrapper.

“Hello-“

“You crazy wanker.” Butcher chuckles into the phone. “Guess your night was a little more exciting than mine eh? Oi Hughie, you owe me a tener!” He shouts to Hughie who you can guess is sitting nearby.

“What? He’s with y/n! No way!” You hear Hughie shout back, muffled but there.

Damn it he’s gonna tell Annie. She's going to start sending me pictures of babies photoshopped in supe suits.

“You guys were betting that he was here?!” You shout making eye contact with Ben who only smirks before he busies himself with getting a bowl for his cereal.

“He left about two minutes after you did. Said some bullshit about a smoke break.” Butcher is smiling and you know it. “How was he? Was he as good as all the girls say?" Butcher coos on the other side of the line.

“Nothing happened-“

“Sure it didn’t Cherie!” You hear Frenchie crow. “Hopefully you got to relieve some of that tension no?”

“I hate all of you.” You grumble, and before Butcher can say anything else you hang up the phone and glare at Ben. “This is your fault.”

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“You just had to follow me home!”

“You shouldn’t have been walking out there alone.”

“I do it all the time!”

“Not anymore.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not going to let you walk around alone in the middle of the night.”

"Like hell. I don't need a babysitter!"

"I think you do-"

"No I don't. In fact why are you still here? Why haven't you left?" You shout, snatching your bowl of oatmeal before moving to the wobbly kitchen table that you smooshed up against a window that looks out onto your fire escape.

"Because I tend to like morning sex. It's a great way to start the day. Thought you'd be interested." Ben winks as he sits across from you, barely fitting in the wooden chair.

Your phone buzzes where it sits on the table beside your bowl. When you flip it over, you see the text from Annie.

Annie: YOU SLEPT WITH SOLDIER BOY?!!!!

You: I'm not going to dignify that with a response.

Annie: That's a yes. TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!

You sigh and shovel a spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, eyes drifting up to the top of your phone screen focusing on the time.

"SHIT! I'm late for work!" You shout before shoving as much oatmeal as you can into your mouth.

"Work?" Ben looks up from his bowl of cereal confused as you begin to run around the room.

The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal falls into the sink with a resounding crash, Bean's cat food lands haphazardly in his bright green food dish, and you practically run to your tote bag that hangs on a peg by your front door.

"I told you. I work at a plant shop." You glance back at your barren coffee maker mournfully. The thought of trying to get through the day without coffee seemed impossible, not to mention you didn’t have time to grab one on the way to work from your favorite shop just around the corner.

"I thought you were joking."

"No. Some of us have to work for a living." You run your fingers through your hair quickly pulling it back in a loose ponytail.

"You should leave your hair down." Ben says from the table watching you.

"What?"

"It's prettier when it's down."

"I don't have time for your misogynistic comments. Come on let's go."

"What?"

"I'm not going to leave you here in my apartment alone. You don't have a key."

"You could give me yours-"

"HA. No that's not going to happen. Come on." You tug on his muscular arm, trying to get him up out of the chair, but he barely moves.

“You know you could call out of work and we could spend the day in bed.” He smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “I mean you look good baby, but I think you'd look even better naked. Plus, Butcher and the rest of those fuckers already think we slept together so we might as well-“

“Not a chance Gramps. Either get up out of the chair and leave through the door or leave through the window. It’s your choice and I have no qualms with throwing you down to the street. But please don't make me do that because I can't afford a new window."

Ben rolls his eyes, but finally gets up to follow you. He actually tries to open the door for you, but you place your hand on his chest.

“Nah uh uh. Bowl in the sink. I’m not going to clean up after you.”

Ben sighs and mumbles something under his breath that’s lost in Mike’s inhuman screech of “Love on Top.”

Yeah. What a great fucking way to start the day.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series let me know :)

(Photos for series picture found on Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro

[reddpenn]

I’m back from my rock show! I got some Cool Rocks!

First, the agates.

Another Turkish stick agate to join my collection! I can't get enough of this stuff. These form as pseudomorphs of selenite. A bunch of criss-crossing selenite crystals grow inside an empty pocket in the rock, and then the space around them fills in with agate. Eventually, the selenite crystals dissolve, and the hollows they leave behind are also filled with agate, preserving a record of their shapes!

Bonus! This pair has a nice green fluorescence.

Here is another Turkish agate. (Almost all of today's agates are from Turkey; Turkey produces some beautiful agate specimens.) This one has a really interesting pattern to its banding.

I actually picked this one out for its fluorescence, which is a stunning bright green.

Also from Turkey! Growing inside a super cool crust of volcanic rhyolite, this agate is called sagenite. Sagenite agate has a fibrous appearance because it is a pseudomorph of a fibrous zeolite mineral.

The last two from Turkey: a pretty red specimen with a sparkly central vug, and a weirdo with squiggles of yellow. What’s going on with that guy?

This one is from China! The red and orange agates from this locale are called "Fighting Blood" agate. I already have a Fighting Blood in my collection, but I thought this one was neat because its vug is full of amethyst!

Here are some things which are not agate!

This one is a lead mineral called plumbogummite! Specifically, these crystals are a pseudomorph of another lead mineral called pyromorphite. Over time, the lime green pyromorphite crystals were slowly replaced by the tealy plumbogummite. In a few of the broken crystals, you can still see a green pyromorphite core!

Hyalite opal! This rock has been on my bucket list, I am so excited. This form of opal is known for its water-clear, jelly-like globule formations. Though typically a colorless mineral, this specimen is tinted yellow due to iron staining. It’s also a mineral famous for its bright fluorescence… but this specimen’s glow is utterly unimpressive. :c I will be on the lookout for a more glowy specimen at future shows. Honestly, I’m just happy to finally own some at all!

This year, I also got some high-end mineral specimens! Take a look at these beauties.

Roselite! This rare, toxic mineral is full of arsenic. If I ate it I would probably die! Roselite’s deep red color comes from the cobalt in its chemical structure, and makes it highly sought after by collectors. This specimen is showing off a well defined lenticular crystal habit! Again, I cannot overstress how rare this stuff is. I spent… an inadvisable amount of money on it.

Oh, the best and most sparkly boy. This is wulfenite! I have wanted a piece in my collection for so long, and I’ve been waiting for just the right specimen to come along. It's a lead mineral, and it forms the coolest square, tabular crystals! This mineral is extremely brittle, which makes large, intact crystals of it very hard to find. But check out the huge tabular crystal on the right side of this specimen, it’s bigger than my thumbnail!!

And finally, I could not resist buying something silly.

This is Tully. He's a plush Tully Monster, which is my state fossil!

[astralis-ortus]

beyond forever and eternity

✱ husband!bc x fem!reader

— love cannot survive on luck alone.

w.count → 0.8k genre → fluff warning → chan referred to as chris, quite the amount of kisses, mild cussing, and the usual very ew-you're-so-in-love behavior. also, reader is addressed as wifey twice! a.n → based on this request! but friends, i think you need to stop me from all this domestic chan thing because i!! am!! dying!! from!! all!! the!! cuteness!!ㅠ /j ⋆ see masterlist

the past year had felt like the best time of your life.

sure, the first 6 months were filled with one heck of an emotional rollercoaster—a bunch of final wedding preparations, taking care of all the confusing legal papers, making sure your new home with chris was up to both your expectations, and actually having the wedding within the span of 180 days made you wonder if everything was real.

the latter part of the year is when your new reality starts to sink in. some days, it happened when you woke up next to a softly snoring chris—curls as messy as a bird’s nest, yet you couldn’t help but tread your fingers through those dark locks. some others, it happened when you watch his back while he showed off his newly acquired cooking skill, giggling away while chris convinces you—though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself—that eveything’s going exactly to plan.

other days, however, it happens simply when you caught a glance of the stack of beautiful silver bands on your ring finger, gleaming softly under the light of your cozy living room. you’d then look at your husband sitting next to you, faint crease decorating his forehead as his gaze focuses on a project he’d been working on for the past hour or so. you’d gently bring your finger to tap on those crease, immediately erasing its existence as chris shifted his focus towards you, gaze softening along the appearance of his dimpled smile.

being married to chris had felt like coming home—like he has always been everything you’ve been looking for and more.

“has it started?”

chris’ soft voice along with the warmth of his arm snaking around your waist swiftly snapped you out of your trance, gaze returning to your husband’s smile. you silently shook your head, instead wrapping your arms around his waist and gave into his warmth while allowing a content sigh to slip past your lips. “wasn’t paying attention, honestly,” you admitted, to which he immediately returned with chuckle.

“you’re sleepy?” he gently planted his lips on your forehead while running his palm on your side. “wanna call it a night?”

“no!” you whined, lips pursing in protest. “i’m not sleepy. besides, it’s only like 2 minutes till new year, and i want to spend the first seconds awake with my husband,” you playfully emphasized—and there it was. the rosy bloom across his face quietly surfaces despite chris’ attempt to play it cool, and it never fails to amuse you.

guess it won’t be hard for you to bet that you’ll never be the only one in love in this relationship.

“gosh, wifey,” looking at you with a scrunched nose, chris finally let the adoration bubbling in his chest win when he playfully ruffles your hair—which, of course, earns a string of protests from you, “do you really love me that much?”

“think so,” you stuck out your tongue, eyes twinkling as you decide to further tease your now-red-as-a-tomato husband. “i think i love you so so so much to the point i might pass out. i mean, how can i not? you’re charming, you’re adorable, you’re handsome, you’re hot as fuck—how do you expect me not to? i’m just—“

you haven’t been paying attention—but again, how could you? your gaze had been fixated on chris’ beautiful features, taking notes on every minuscule scar and freckles painted across his blooming face; but as the plush of his lips shuts off your rambling ones, warm hands cradling your equally warm cheeks,

you could hear the fireworks within you harmonize with the colorful blasts outside the window of your hotel room.

you know you’re lucky—despite believing in the concept of soulmates, you know there are universes where your path with chris’ remains as distant, separated parallel lines. you know that nurturing your relationship with chris will have its ups and downs. you know what you have now with chris will forever be both unbreakable and fragile,

and you’re determined to turn your every day with chris as special as it could be.

“happy new year, wifey,” he mumbled quietly, lips fixed into a smile as it grazed against yours when he finally pulled away. pads of fingers tucking the stray strands off your face, chris followed the kisses across your face—on your forehead, your closed eyelids, your rosy cheeks, your soft jaw, before he returned his lips home onto yours.

“thank you for staying with me—for promising­ your forever to me, and i’m looking forward to spending my eternity with you,” with a smile apparent on his lips, his gaze were soft as he tenderly peered into your glossy ones.

“i love you—more than words could ever explain.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[risuola]

I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions

It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it’s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.

cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words

kissmas masterlist

There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.

And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.

“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.

“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.

“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”

“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”

If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.

“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”

“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”

“It’s a mistletoe!”

“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”

“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.

The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.

The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.

“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.

“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”

“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.

“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”

“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.

Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.

“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?

“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.

As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.

That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.

“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.

There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.

You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.

As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.

“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”

“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.

“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”

“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.

[poisonous-seas-and-knives]

PROMO: The Trouble Trio

(This takes place when the Nijiue siblings are in their teens aka before the killing game Iroha enters. This means you can have your characters from the future or them in their teens/youth as well, or anything you can think of. Have fun!)

Warning: Also mentions of Pedophilia. It won't be long don't worry.

-----

You were minding your own business when someone was thrown to the wall hard right in front of you. Someone yelling-

"I SAID FUCK OFF PEDO!"

-was heard right before the man was thrown. It sound like a teenage girl, a pissed one as well. When you look to see who threw him, you saw a teenage girl alone.

She was fair skinned, muted teal eyes, and slightly muscular figure. She had wild long brown hair that fades to a slight bright red color. She had four strains of blonde hair. Two on the front and two in the back. She had her hair pulled into a ponytail. It was tied back with a red scarf.

She was wearing a cropped tank top that had spaghetti straps and was low cut, allowing people to see at most, ⅕ of her red bra. She had a black plated short skirt with a white trim and band. She also had white thigh high socks and black school girl shoes. She had black holster that was attached to a black choker and stopped right under her breast as well to black holsters on her thighs and attached to her socks. She had fingerless red gloves, dark red lipstick, eye shadow, and nail polish on too. She was also wearing a black jacket.

It was mostly definitely against any school dress code. In fact, school should still be open right now, why isn't she at school? The girl then looked at you and then at the grown man she threw. The man might be dead or alive, It's hard to tell honestly. She then looked back at you, not saying a thing as she dropped a sweat.

Tags: @mikado-sannoji @chaoticblogofmuses @the-sxrens-sxng @the-real-kokichi-ouma @human-monokuma @unknown-ultimates @ult-aikido-princess @ultimate-rider @ask-emma-magorobi @ask-the-journalist @ask-the-otonokoji-twins @scarred-smiles @anyone else

[crystallizsch]

"The Royal Vizier. That would be me."

"My most abject and humblest apologies."

jamil viper my beloved

(full body versions below the cut + my (rambly) thought process about his outfits. if you’re curious,,,)

as a jamil enjoyer, i'm going to have to admit that i'm personally not a big fan of his overblot design.

but i took a closer look at his outfit AND HELLO????

i'm a sucker for off shoulder outfits and his top half is just that. and the fact that the bottom half is fitted on his top legs and then flows out at the bottom ,,, i'm obsessed 😔

i also just implemented aspects from jasmine's red outfit from the animated movie (the crown and the snake bands on the arms).

(and the cape was kind of a last-minute decision and honestly i'm still unsure about it)

overall, just a lot of inspiration from the overblot design but i simplified it to an extent.

this is essentially just my take if i were to unblot the overblot outfit.

then for this one,,,

i thought that if jamil can pull off a dress, of course he can always pull off a suit.

i'm less happy with this one because i'm not great at doing my own masculine outfits in general ;;;

it's (kind of) inspired by his platinum outfit and then i just used the scarabia dorm colors.

anyways, these ideas hit me with mach speed and i did it in less than a day. and also (shameless plug) this is honestly just a sequel to my initial jamil post.

[snek-panini]

Today's completed book is a bind of Glimmer, by @tawnyontumblr (hi, it's me, the person who asked to bind your story way back in April). This story is a Good Omens human au about sex workers in the Regency era, and it's gorgeous and lush and fantastic. Sexy and vulnerable and all the good adjectives. Go read it if you haven't yet, it's wonderful.

This is another legal-size quarto, my second (of 4; more are on the way). It really is an addictive size, and perfect for fics this length. The cover is done in this really pretty red damask lokta paper that highlights different parts of the image depending on the angle of the light. I was toying with the idea of binding this fic, and when I found this paper I immediately bumped it up the list because it's so perfect. The spine is dark gray lineco book cloth that I simply cannot resist putting on spines. I realize this is a pattern and I do not care. It's softer visually than black and it coordinates with everything and I will not stop.

More photos under the cut!

What did I tell you, it coordinates with everything. I used silver foil HTV for the title, and I elected to put it just on the spine so as not to cover up any of the floral patterns on the cover. Honestly, I thought about it but just couldn't bring myself to cover it up. The interior of this one has some very fancy fonts and I wanted one for the spine but they were all too spindly. But this one's a good compromise, I think. Delicate but straightforward.

Top view. I really wanted to do custom end bands for this one, for maximum luxury, but it was too thin, so it has pre-made black ones. They sort of disappear in the photos but make a nice contrast in person. I am totally in love with the starry endpapers even though they are only scrapbook paper from Joann's. It was surprisingly difficult to find something that looked good with the red cover, because plain solid colors looked too lackluster and most prints were too bold with the floral, not to mention a lot of colors clashed with the red. But I love these gray-on-gray stars. They're perfect. And a lot of the fic takes place under cover of darkness, and stars are a symbol of hope, and this fic's about wanting to escape your current circumstances, so it's kind of thematically appropriate. I'm going to say it is, anyway XD

So I think the title page is my favorite part of the bind again. I found this vintage valentine graphic on rawpixel for free and it's probably the most opulent thing in the whole typeset. The sort of uneven ink distribution is on purpose and adds to the vintage feel. I remember thinking about a year ago that my title pages were too plain and I needed to level them up somehow, and with the batch of binds I've been posting for the last week or two I think I've done it. The fonts here are called Annabel (the one with the trailing ends) and Victorian Decade (the swirly one that my bindery name is in). Both are available for free from DaFont. I did have to get a little tricky with the line spacing to get them to print correctly, but it was worth it. I wanted opulence for this one.

And that's that! I hope I did the fic justice, because I couldn't be more pleased with the outcome.

[xanticore]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

Genre: fluff

Note: this is my first metallica fic so pleaseee keep that in mind. I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Setting: late 90s ~ early 2000s..ish

Summary: Kirk is on tour and he decides to stop by the local guitar store. He ends up staying longer than expected when he overhears a riff that sounded impressive. Assuming it was a guy, but was taken aback when it was a girl...a girl who doesn't seem to know who he is.

It was the weekend and I was starting my weekend off, our next show being on Thursday and Friday of next week. This gave me time to myself to find local comic stores and guitar shops. I was honestly in my own little world as time passed by quickly; I didn't mind at all because I was going to do the whole process again on Sunday. I left the comic book store with a new manga and some new released volumes. All Junji Ito works, no surprise there.

The next stop of the day was the guitar shop. The air was cool and the store was just so fucking huge, It was heaven to me. The store had a variety of items. Vinlys, cassettes, cds, and even some band posters...but my main focus was the guitar wall. All different types of styles and colors, different collaborations of pop culture, anything you could think of-this store probably had it.

A guitar that has been newly stock was the black and red Les Paul. It looked so gothic and vampiric. Younger me was just screaming at me to get it...which It was my plan. I asked a worker to take it off the shelf so I could practice some riffs on it. Just as I imagine; it was a smooth and crisp sound. A sound I was looking feel and I probably would make this guitar debut when I head to Japan.

It was already 5 pm and James was just blowing up my phone. I forgot all about our band dinner. I sighed packing up my things and unhooked the guitar from the amp. On my way towards the front to ring up my guitar, I overheard a riff coming from a room that was being occupied. It looked like it was a guitar lesson in session.

I continued to listen and soon heard a solo. It was definitely in the metal genre. Whoever that dude was; shredding that guitar like it was the last thing on earth. It intimidated me how good it sounded. Almost making me jealous of how I didn't think to use this type of style in a song.

I heard them stop and minor shuffling going on in the room. I quickly walked away and acted like I was looking at the vinyls. I glanced over at the door and saw a tall beautiful girl. She nearly took my breath away. The way she played really matched her style of clothing. She was a goth but it was familiar style I've seen in Japan. Her hair was dyed a dark red and her make up was flawless.

I needed to compliment her and asked her about that solo of hers. I was stupidly stuck in my place but managed to get to her with a sudden boost of confidence. "H-Hey, nice guitar. I heard you playing in that room. You sounded amazing." I complimented her with a smile in admiration.

She smiled back and looked somewhat excited. Did she recognize me? Did she not expect a guitarist from the most known metal band of all time-

"Thank you so much! Are you also a fan of Malice Mizer? I was playing one of their songs."

"Malice Mizer? never heard of them.."

The girl frowned but soon lit up when she started to explain the band to me. "It's a rock band from Japan. Visual Kei style of music over there. I'm really into bands like X Japan and Dir En Grey."

I've never heard any X Japan songs but I definitely seen posters of them in Shibuya. I know they are well loved and idolized in the era of rock music over there.

"There's actually a Malice Mizer cassette next to you of their new album. You should buy it and give them a listen? They won't disappoint." She giggled. I eyed her movements when she moved closer to me, only to pick up the packaged cassette tape. The cover had a silver cross and the band's name in black in the middle. But enough about them, her little giggle was just so cute. If only I could hear that from her more often.

"I'm Kirk."

"(name)"

A beautiful name as well. I didn't want to add anymore details of my name because I knew it wouldn't matter and honestly...i'm really enjoying that. It felt more natural to speak with a non fan. Nothing was forced and she genuinely seemed to enjoy just talking about her favorite music; unlike some girls i'd meet at clubs.

"Well Kirk, I hope to see you around?"

I didn't say a word but I just nodded. I tried to stay positive but it was a pain I wasn't gonna see her again. I bought my guitar and cassette watching the cashier put it in a case. I left the store happy and somewhat sad, but, seeing that girl smile just brighten up my mood...

I hope to see her again.

a/n: so what we thinking?? yay or nay?

gif from: @ba11ltongue

dividers: cr to owners

[slut4bill]

Can you make a Tom x reader of them being childhood friends and they like each other but is to scared to tell each other and reader is apart of the band.

this is literally so cute stop I love these storylines

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 - 𝐓.𝐊𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐙

synopsis- what the request says pretty much

content- fluff + slight angst

a/n- if u saw what I did with the title I love u.

I squinted my eyes as the bright flashes of cameras and the loud screaming of hundreds of teenage girls came into view.

Tokio Hotel

That was us. We were like a family, even before we got big, and it was just devilish. Personally, I liked our other band name better but it worked out so what am I complaining about.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I felt someone nudging my shoulder. As I looked over, I was met by a pair of brown honey-colored eyes and a bright smile accompanied by a silver lip piercing that glinted in the sun's reflection. "Nervous?" he asked with a teasing smirk on his lips, as he studied my now annoyed expression. "Please I'm not the one who's about to be trampled by a thousand girls Tom. " He frowned before laughing "At least I'll die happy."

I was about to make another remark when the car stopped, signaling we were at the venue, as if the hundreds of cameras hadn't already hinted at that. I took a deep breath in before stepping out of the car and putting on my best smile. The flashes from the paparazzi were almost blinding and the screams of the fans were almost deafening as the rest of the boys stepped out onto the red carpet behind me. I almost gagged at some of the signs they were holding, how could anyone be that desperate honestly sometimes these girls scared me.

We did the usual routine, answering questions as we walked down the carpet, signing random things fans had brought, smiling and posing for the cameras even as the heat of the sun glared down on us, making me feel like I was about to melt into a puddle.

I sighed in relief as we finally entered the air-conditioned building, following our manager to our dressing room. As soon as we entered the room I immediately flopped onto a couch in the corner of the room, resting my sweaty, aching body.

TOMS POV

I looked over at her resting figure on the couch. She looked adorable. All I wanted to do was hold her and tell her how much she means to me, the way she makes me feel, I just wanted to pour my heart out to her, but I couldn't. I don't want to ruin the friendship we have over something as petty as a crush. "You're staring at her like a creep." I whipped my head around, met with my brothers gaze as he tried to hold back a laugh. "Shut up no I'm not I'm just-" I said trailing off trying to come up with some sort of excuse. "Dude just ask her out, you've liked her forever and honestly this is getting kinda sad to watch" I widened my eyes at his words "Shhh what are you mental or something?! she's right there what if she heard you" I turned around to check for any signs that she had heard what Bill said. She stayed in the same sprawled out position.

phew

Y/N POV

I opened my heavy eyelids and sat up still spent from the red carpet. I looked over towards the other end of the room to see Tom and Bill whisper arguing.

weirdos

My gaze shifted to Tom. The way his baggy clothes fit his toned physic, the way he played with his lip piercing, the way his dreads hung perfectly against his shoulders. He was hot to say the least. I mean it's Tom fucking Kaulitz what girl wouldn't want him? I've had a crush on him since forever but he's my best friend. I don't want to ruin that.

After a few minutes a staff member came in and told us it was time to take our seats for the awards. I messed with my hair a bit making sure it looked decent before walking down the long corridor heading to where the awards were hosted. I pushed open the doors, met with a huge room full of seats and A list celebrities. I turned to see the boys wearing mirrored expressions of awe and shock. I snickered to myself before walking down to our seats.

TIME SKIP

The loud music of the after party boomed in my ears. My mind was hazy; I think the alcohol was getting to me. I looked around to see Tom shoving his tongue down some girls throat. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. I wish that was me. Whether it was the alcohol or just my emotions getting to me, I felt tears start to form against my waterline, threatening to spill out. I tried to look for anything to distract me when my eyes landed on a tipsy dancing Bill. I smiled to myself and made my way to him, pushing past the drunken sweaty bodies. "Hey Bill" his eyes lit up and he flashed me a toothy grin "Y/N! CMON LETS DANCE" I laughed at his drunken excitement and started to sway my hips to the rhythm of the music. Bill moved his hands to my waist, moving his body against mine. I felt someone's eyes burning into my skull. I assumed it was all the alcohol making my brain fuzzy until I turned my head to see a very angry Tom staring at me and Bill from across the room. "Bill something's wrong with your brother" I yelled over the booming music. He frowned and turned his head before letting out a loud laugh. "Bill what's so-" I was cut off by someone grabbing my arm and dragging me away from Bill. "Tom what the hell?" He stayed silent and dragged me outside, still fuming. "What was that" he said glaring at me once we were outside. "What?" He scoffed and took a step closer closing the distance between us "What do you like Bill or something? Cause you were all over him." I furrowed my eyebrows and looked up at him "No Bill's my best friend we were just dancing." " It didn't look like 'just dancing' " he said using his fingers to make air quotes. "Tom just drop it what does it matter to you" I scoffed. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me. "WHAT DOES IT MATTER TO ME?!" he snapped. "IT FUCKING MATTERS BECAUSE I LO-" his eyes widened as he cut himself off.

How fucking drunk am I

Did Tom Kaulitz just try to say he loved me? The Tom I've had a crush on since we were 13? My mind was spiraling and all I could do was just stare at him. "Shit look um- I meant-No wait-" he stuttered tripping over his words. "Do you actually?" I said as his gaze softened "Of course I do" he mumbled. "I've loved you since we were 13", he said as he pressed his forehead against mine. I looked into his chocolate-colored eyes and leaned closer as he did the same, connecting our lips. The kiss was soft and sweet, not lustful but loving. We both pulled away looking at each other's flushed faces. "I've been wanting to do that for forever" he mumbled against my lips. "Me too" I smiled, cupping his cheeks with my hands. "It's you." he whispered. "It'll always be you."

Not a lot, just forever... Intertwined, sewn together...

a/n- I lowk don't really like this but it was 3am and I was bored so oh well

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Feeling a little (a lot) soft, have this visual. So here y’all go 💚💛

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, pregnancy, mentions Steve with a breast milk kink, and mild smut.

It’s nearing sundown now, Indiana weather deciding to slack off on humidity for most of the day. You’ve been outside with your family for hours. Chlorine, pb&j for lunch, sun lotion, scattered towels and hats, naps, making bets that one could do a cannon ball better than the other. You’d had your shower first when the evening fell, your oldest helping you bathe your toddler afterwards, Steve having his time to clean up following suit, finishing off the Harrington brood by bathing the twins. Everyone was tired, muscles aching, sleep wearing you all down.

Still, you all loaded into the brand new minivan Steve was excited to buy, parked right next to the BMW in your garage — and ventured to the new diner in town. Burgers, hot dogs, fries, and milkshakes galore. It all ended in time for the kids to catch their nightly cartoons and flood the backyard with various toys. Your firstborn child - recently having turned seven, she wanted to do pedicures tonight, as promised. But what you didn’t expect was for her to ask if she could please paint your toes first.

And here you are, reclining back on an old quilt Steve owned as a teenager, yellow sundress swaying with the evening summer breeze, your left hand resting atop your swollen belly, enjoying each little kick baby Harrington number five gives to your palm, with your daughter focussed intently on painting your toenails a nice cherry red. What you could make out of her over your stomach, she’s got her tongue poked in concentration, just like her dad. Speaking of which, you catch his golden wedding band hitting the light, his bare feet moving through freshly cut grass, and he’s standing at your side, the twins walking beside him, your toddler holding hands in the middle. Three girls and one boy — every single child having Steve’s eye color. Everyone is currently taking bets on what this next baby will be, but Steve doesn’t care either way, neither do you.

He’s wear tight denim Levi’s and a white tank top, his silver chain nestled in his chest hair. He’s got a little bit of a beard growing out, glasses resting on his face, highlighted hair overgrown and curling at the ends. His never fading beauty. Not to mention the life he’s provided you with, the growing family. Protector was in Steve’s blood, so it’s made more and more sense to you as the years went, how much of a hands on dad he is, even with the girls interests.

He never pressured you to have a child, let alone this many. But it’s what you found yourself wanting the first several months into your marriage. You could pursue life goals and have a family if you battled dangerous underworlds. Having careers as a balance, it wasn’t easy. Arguments, tears, fears, only to come out stronger.

The twins - dressed in bibbed overalls, they let your toddler go as she toddles over to Steve and clings to his leg. He scoops her up and takes his place near your ankles, watching your daughter work. Your twin girl (her’s and her brother’s fifth birthday party looming), asks if she can paint too. Not long after, your son also questions. It’s going to be a canvas kinda mess on your feet, and you honestly can’t wait.

“Everybody grab a color. Let’s make mommy feel super special, alright?” Steve’s deep voice sounds, making you smile softly, eyes raising to look at the peach sky, pink streaking across, mixing in with blue hues - sundown.

~*~

You’ve just finished putting the last kid down for bed, most of them already out. By the time you shut the door your oldest is snoring… just like Steve. He surprises you in the hallway outside of your bedroom door, admiring the pictures Jonathan has taken throughout the past seven years; the first one, Steve’s massive hand print on your swollen belly, photo two, Steve’s hand print and a new, tinier little set of fingers, photograph three, Steve’s print and the print of two growing little hands, plus another small hand, and the last/current photo, your tummy is covered in four different sizes of tiny handprints, Steve’s huge print beside. He slides in beside you and wraps his arms around your swollen torso, his chin on your shoulder. You relax into his scent immediately, your hands clasping through his own.

“You ready for bed, honey? We were pretty busy today.”

You’re ready for a lot more than bed. Your evaporating energy being charged into a live wire, open and sparking. You turn in Steve’s arms and reach for his hand, leading him into your double door master, securing it behind you. He’d checked on all the kids, baby monitors up. Now he wants to take care of you, his wife.

The sight of you in your sundress, how it flares out from your being pregnant, to your full breasts sitting inside. Steve’s hand finds its way up your thigh, fabric following, his nose dipping into the crease of your breasts, his mouth sucking at whatever cleavage he can find. It’s always been a secret kink of his, your breast milk. And he’s the best at getting a duct unclogged for you, helping you when you’re too sore. You tilt your head back, letting him work the zipper, dress gliding off your body and pooling at your feet.

One spare hand of his finds your growing stomach, thumb at your navel. You’re practically mush, body heavy, head light. He kisses each swell, nosing up your collar bone until he’s meeting your shoulder, to your neck, and finally, your lips. On the wet break away, he’s speaking lowly, reserved.

“Go get on the bed, honey. Let me clean up your feet a little first. I’m afraid our merry band of artists can’t quite stay in the lines yet.”

“You, or the kids, Steve?”

He briefly pauses on his way to the bathroom, hands on his hips. Some things never change. You roll your eyes and discard your undergarments, climbing into the comfort of the covers. He’s back in seconds with polish remover and a Q tip, but stops short at your naked form, propped and running your fingers over the stretch of skin. He forgets how to breathe, what to say.

Thoughts of worshipping every mark, how you’re changing, the way he could never thank you for being you, for giving this family, and just the sheer thought that he misses your body, what you two have, alone — kids aside, it has him swallowing harshly. You can sense him watching you and you turn to your husband. He clambers into bed, still fully clothed, breathing choppy. You coo him into calming down, and he begins his work on your feet, massaging them once he’s done, shedding his own clothing after washing his hands. You’re waiting for him on your back, upper half propped by pillows.

Steve slowly descends beside you, already half hard, knuckles gently dragging up your arm and over your breasts, before they path down your stomach and ultimately find you between your legs. “All these years and you never stop getting this wet for me, honey.”

You cup him by the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the curls there, his necklace swaying as he uses muscular arms to keep himself from resting his weight on you. You grab it, trying to keep a hold of it as he helps you onto your side. At eight months, this is the most comfortable position for you right now. By the time Steve is sliding into you, you’re both giving into whining sighs, to the point of near tears. You’ve missed him, even if it’s only been a few nights.

You’ve been like this every single pregnancy, that never changing in spite of their differences. Once approved by the doctor, you rarely want to leave his side during these overly intense feelings. Steve rolls with whatever is happening, there when you want him to be, giving you space when you don’t. Nothing is the same, life is always interesting for the Harrington’s.

[zy4nyaa]

Random Chuuya headcanons

I honestly feel like he wouldn’t date anybody since he is in the mafia and he wouldn’t want anybody to be in danger because of that, he would probably date someone if they’re in the mafia with him

But if he were to date somebody then he would most definitely keep his eyes on his significant other, like he would stay loyal to that person and make them his top priority

Even though he is rich, I don’t think he would be buying unnecessary things, like I just feel like he wouldn’t go around buying hundreds of things just bc he’s rich

He has a YouTube channel of him doing skincare and hauls and a bunch of other stuff

He DEFINITELY knows how to cook and draw/paint😍😍

He hates when other people struggle, he feels like he struggled a lot and went through so much pain and he doesn’t want anybody else to experience that either. As soon as someone opens up to him he’s right by their side

Even after that if the person is doing fine he would still keep an eye out and look out for that person to make sure that they’re actually okay

He’s insecure about himself so he absolutely loves when other people compliment him even if it’s a small one

Even though he is insecure about himself people still come up with him, he doesn’t know how attractive he really is. He doesn’t realize when people are trying to flirt with him he just thinks they’re complimenting them or referring to something else

I feel like since he works at the mafia that he wakes up early for work, he either wakes up at 5:00 or 5:30. He is probably won’t get a chance to sleep sometimes since he works late

If you’re his lover, be prepared because you won’t really see him that much since he has a strict schedule and will mostly come home at midnight, even then he would still find time to spend with you

He has social media like TikTok and instagram but he doesn’t post that much, the least that he would post is a picture of wine on his story

I don’t know if it’s just me but I feel like he has Heterochromia since his eyes are blue in the anime but brown in the manga.

He knows multiple languages like Japanese, English, French, Italian, and Spanish. He is fluent in Japanese (obviously) and Spanish, probably French too because of Verlaine.

He also likes to curse in French

Sometimes he paints his nails red or black if he’s bored

He definitely has light freckles on his face that are too light to see, he also has 2-3 scars from fighting.

He probably has piercings like his lip or eyebrow, maybe even his nose

His style is soo good, I picture him most likely wearing black, red, gray, white, or just any colors that go good with each other.

Along with the hat and wine collection, he also loves to collect shoes and gloves although he will continue to wear the same pair of shoes and gloves even if he has hundreds of them in different colors

Whenever he tries to put his hair in a ponytail he can NEVER get it right, it’s either too far up, too far back, not straight, or there’s a huge lump

His hands are so freaking nice, and they are literally bigger than dazais (this isn’t a headcanon this is true look it up)

Absolutely LOVESS music, In my opinion I think he listens to a lot of bands and hard rock. He is over 10 hours on Spotify and has playlists for different purposes

If he has a crush and they mention their favorite music artist or song he will go home and listen to that all day

Whenever a person betrays him I feel like he wouldn’t hate that person completely, he would still care about them but not as much as he used to

He likes hot showers especially if he is stressed out, he loves the feeling of it on his scalp

He has a few bottles of cologne but he wears one specific one most of the time, it’s like his signature smell

Since he is insecure about his appearance he wears like makeup like concealer on his scars and marks

He likes to invite some of the other pm members to the bar every Friday if he has free time

There was one time where he got so sad to the point where he didn’t want to do anything, he didn’t feel like getting out of bed, eating, or cleaning his room

He did really well in school, he didn’t have a big friend group he really only had 2-3 close friends and the rest were people he just talks too

Everyday before going to work he looks in the mirror and winks at himself and does random cringey poses

If he catches you staying up too late on your phone he will snatch it away from you and cuddle you to sleep

He likes to buy his friends things, like if they’re at a coffee shop then he will buy them something or pay for their coffee

He would genuinely love his significant other a lot, he’d call them when he has time to at work and text them just to check up on them

He sometimes takes a trip to the store after work to buy unnecessary snacks that he won’t eat

He REALLY cares about his hygiene, he always smells good even without cologne. You will never catch this man stinking

He has a few posters of dogs on his wall, when he was OBSESSED with dogs he bought a lapel pin with a brown chihuahua on it and he would wear it to work every single day

His sleep schedule is kind of messed up since of his work but it’s not as bad as Dazai’s

His body is soo AJAKSSHSJHS like his waist is snatched and his legs are muscular like omg😍

He either types with a bunch of emojis or is just dry, it depends on the person because he could be like “Ok!😜💕❤️😘😁☺️😍🥳🐒🦅🎣😍📝” or he could be like “k”. It depends on his mood and who he’s texting

On mondays he would telll himself that he only has to make to Friday (he’s been telling himself that for years, he honestly never makes it to Friday)

That’s all for now but I will most likely be adding more headcanons to this list :D