#i just need to take a break and calm down

[yourstarstruckbeloved]

how far can we go? — one | next

“what’s a lassie like yourself doing all the way out here?”

your pace quickens and you try your best to ignore the constant pestering from the man who has been following you for the past ten minutes.

“all alone...”

you don’t have the time for this.

“surely i can help you with whatever it is?”

you take a deep breath and turn around to finally face your pursuer - a man clad in blue, clearly from meztli. he stops in his tracks, and so do you. you reach for the dagger behind you, strapped to your waist, as you slowly back away from him. “i’m not sure it is anything you can help with, i’m sorry.”

“come on, you’re not going to give me a chance?”

you survey your surroundings, and then yourself. there was nothing you could have done, you’re not a fast enough runner — but you are also not in a place that a lot of people go to. all you wanted was to get the embercore flowers that grow next to the phlogiston rivers underground, and right now it looks like it’s either the man or the phlogiston river that would end it all for you. you really should have listened to chief wayna when he told you not to go alone.

the grip on the hilt of your dagger tightens as you pull it out in front of you, and your heart quickens. “whoa, isn’t threatening me with violence a bit too much? all i wanted was your name, you know.”

“you don’t need to know my name.” you click your tongue.

“too bad then, i’ll just have to get it out of mualani.” he smirks, and inches closer towards you; closer and closer until you’re backed up against the walls of an old ruin behind you. he’s seen you with mualani before. your legs turn to jelly as you imagine what this man might try to pull with mualani. although you probably don’t have to worry about her as much as you need to worry about yourself, because she is strong enough. you? your combat prowess is average at best.

“d-don’t come any closer, i will stab you!” you warn, and his face visibly turns into one of frustration. “why don’t you just give up?” he says, teeth gritted in an awkward smile.

and then you say the magic words.

“i already have a boyfriend.”

the magic did not work.

“come on, pretty, your boyfriend doesn’t have to know,”

you click your tongue in annoyance. “i am very much in love with him, you know,” you don’t drop your defensive stance, and contemplate just making a run for it. and then you see familiar amber green eyes and the tension in your body dissipates, ever so slightly. “he is right behind you, by the way.”

“oh, stop trying to make a fool out of me— OW!” the man groans as kinich throws a dart at him and walks over to your side. a little too close. but you allow it. “are you alright, _____?”

“kinich!” you throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest and shaking ever so slightly, ignoring the man who’s fallen to his knees in front of you two. “i was- i was so scared!” kinich slightly stiffens but only momentarily; and then he pats your back in an attempt to calm you down.

“there is no way this guy is your boyfriend? what have you done to me?!”

you want to reply but kinich shakes his head. he breaks away from you and pulls out another dart. “want another shot? this is a toxin that paralyses your skeletal muscles, so you’re not going to be moving for at least two hours.”

“i— no thank you, but are you really going to leave me all alone here?”

“surely you can hold out for two hours. let’s get going, _____.”

taglist !

@yuriisclumsy

[please send me an ask or DM if you would like to be added ♡]

[entitled-fangirl]

I can't promise that.

Jace Velaryon x wife!reader

Summary: Jace returns from the Wall, mourning the death of his brother. The reader comforts him in the dead of night.

Warnings: talks of death, mourning, making out, talks of sex, just sad Jace angst

A/n: If I had a nickel for every time I made a Jace fic, and it was an angst, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice. I need happy Jace prompts 😭

Masterlist

.........................................

Jace's back was to her, but even from there, it was clear something was wrong.

She stepped into the dark beside him and set the candle on the sturdy railing. "My love?"

He finally turned to face her. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red, and hot tears were falling down his face.

She cooed, "Oh, Jace." She rushed to him and took his face in her hands. 

His hands gripped her waist, afraid she'd disappear if he let go. She was almost worried there would be bruises. 

Her stomach dropped at the sound of his light sobs. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she wiped his tears. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll kill him," he muttered through the sniffles.

"Jace, I know you're upset-"

"-Do you expect me to sit here and allow him to get away with this?" He pulled away from her as pure anger came through his voice. "He's killed my brother. He's killed the son of the Queen, the heir to Driftmark!" He began to pace back and forth, the tears still falling. "I vow to kill Aemond Targaryen."

"Don't vow things while you are upset."

"I'm not upset! I'm enraged, wife!" He ran a hand through his hair as he tried to sigh out his frustration. "And you? You seem just fine!"

She let out a breath and gripped the railing. She forced her voice to stay calm. "Jace. You must understand that I've had more time to process this. I am just as horrified as you, I promise."

Jace's breath became shaky as he tried to control his anger. His jaw clenched harshly. He refused to speak, knowing that doing so would only worsen things. 

"I understand your grief, Jace, but you cannot let it cloud your judgment. To want revenge is to start the war your mother is trying to avoid."

"They began it," he sobbed. "If we do nothing then my brother died in vain! Does that mean nothing to you?"

Her eyes softened. "My love…"

"I cannot bear this."

She reached out and caressed his cheek again. "This will pass. You must not let the loss of Luke toil over the brothers you still have left."

He leaned into her palm as he considered her words.

Finally, he collected himself, pulling away and wiping at his face harshly. "Forgive me. For losing my temper with you."

Her brows furrowed at the force he wiped his face with. "It's quite reasonable to be upset. I just don't want you to do something you will regret." 

When he continued to sniffle and wipe at his face, she pulled his hands away. "Perhaps we should take this inside?" She offered.

He nodded and took her hand, grabbing the candle with the other and pulling her inside. Seated on the foot of the bed, he watched her wet a cloth from the tub where she had bathed only hours before.

She stood between his legs and pulled his face up, beginning to gently wipe the cloth over his puffy cheeks, cleaning them of his tears.

He only stared at her, his eyes roaming over her beautiful face studying him. "Promise me something?"

She hummed lightly in question.

"You'll not fight this war."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it. "I could not bear to be on that bannister again in the night crying over you. I…" he voice faltered. "I cannot take another loss. Not you."

"I intend to do what the queen needs, Jace," she answered softly.

"What about what your future king needs?" He countered desperately as he gripped her wrist.

Her eyes met his. She was beginning to break down. "You know I can't…"

"Please."

She turned her head away from him, a shaky breath leaving her lips.

"I've always said I'd do anything for you. And you know I will," Jace pushed. His eyes watered again with fresh tears and his voice shook, "Can you not do so for me?"

She opened her mouth and closed it again, finding no words that would suffice. She began to gently wipe at his face again, dragging it down his neck.

"Please, speak," he begged.

She fought the lump in her throat. "You know what I'll say."

He sniffled and nodded, "Then make me a different promise?"

"If I can."

He bit the inside of his cheek. "That if you must fight in this war, it will be by my side."

She smiled, and a small laugh of relief came from her. "That's the most foolish thing you've asked of me, husband. You know that answer as well."

The tension left his shoulders and he flashed that grin that she loves so much. "I suppose it was. Still," he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him, "I'd like to hear you say it aloud."

She looked down at him, abandoning the cloth and cradling his head in her hands as she spoke, "Jacaerys Velayron, whether I become your queen or I die at the hands of a usurper, I am yours, body and soul, and I will fight for you and with you until my fate is decided."

His thumb rubbed a soothing pattern on her hip bone. "I am yours until my body is buried in the ground with my ancestors. And even beyond then." He smirked, "And there will forever be one woman destined to be mine, I know that quite well. So I either have you as my queen, or we die together as one."

She leaned down and kissed him deeply.

He immediately groaned into her mouth and stood up, his hands pulling and tugging at her waist and lower back as if he could pull her closer.

As if everything else they could've said is shown through their actions.

His hands finally reached up her back to pull at the laces of her dress. His fingers tugged gently.

"J…Jace," she panted as their lips barely parted. "Jace…"

His lips moved down her jaw in fervent kisses, nipping and sucking lightly.

"St…" She gasped when he reached a particularly sensitive spot on her collarbone. Her hands moved to his hair and pulled him away, "Jace, stop."

The word "stop" pulled him from his trance, and he immediately moved away from her. His eyes were wide in worry, "What's wrong?"

"Not tonight," she reasoned. "We shouldn't."

"Why?" He asked softly.

"We're both upset. We may make a mistake if we're not careful."

He hummed, "Loving you is no mistake."

"Jace…"

"I understand," he nodded, keeping disappointment from coming over his face. "Perhaps when our judgment returns?"

She nodded and gazed down at his lips. "I'd like that."

He grinned. "Alright." He stepped closer to her again. "Let us get to bed again."

She intwined her fingers with his and pulled him around the bed, the two settling in as they always do. 

"I miss you greatly, you know," she whispered against his neck as they held each other close. "Dragonstone was rather lonesome without a certain curly-haired prince to keep it company."

"The Wall was even colder than I thought it would be. And I saw snow. Felt it beneath my feet as it chilled me to the bone. And all the while, I thought of you."

 She nuzzled her nose to his jaw, making shivers run down his spine.

She sighed, "We'll make it, won't we? Through this war?"

"I shall pray so to any god that will listen."

She laughed, "I don't believe that's how it works." Her lips brushed up to his jaw.

A bright teasing smile came over him, "I have Targaryen blood, my love. Perhaps we are the gods."

"You surely are mine."

................................................

[kaivenom]

Omg omg, OP Dilfs with a virgin reader? 🥺

One Piece Dilfs first time with a virgin reader HCS

Characters: Doflamingo, Mihawk, Crocodile, Smoker, Shanks

A/N: omg people, i am freaking out of how much love the posts about these men are getting. For the past few weeks all i am getting is Dilf fans. Thank you so much.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

He doesn't care.

If he is in a relationship with you, then you would have to had sex for the first time, what's the difference if it's your first first?

He see it as both firsts, becuase he doesn't know how would you be in sex.

The thing it's that you didn't know the answer either, so, you were really lost.

The good thing is that this man is really good at saying orders which means that when the time came, you were at his mercy.

It was like being hipnotized.

"Take off your clothes" "Come here." "Kiss me" "Use your mouth"

There were no words of reasurrance but you didn't care, his touches told you he was enjoying your actions.

Something in the atmosphere was extremely serious but deep and lovable.

Gentle and stoic, even when he just told you to suck him off.

All your intrusive thoughts were gone every second his touch was on you.

He would look like he doesn't care but if it's important to you, then he would make it important, even if it's not with his words.

When he isn't giving you orders, he needs to have his lips on you somehow: kissing your neck, your lips, your tits.

Aftercare based on service acts, like rubbing your hair, cleaning you up, giving you water.

He had everything prepared and set, to make you feel good and cared.

Donquixote Doflamingo

He got an instant boner and wanted to take you right there.

The mere thought spliting you in half with ruthness made him all worked up but being the first one to make you feel it was his wet dream.

He was being dominant and agressive, eager to be inside you.

It was intoxicating and almost obsesive.

You were sure it was bad idea to tell him because now he won't be gentle with you, and you were right.

When he tried to put his dick inside you and you began to cry a little and scratch his arm, he stopped instantly.

He knew that you would have that reaction and on his mind he would like it like he always likes the idea of torturing others but suddently it was different.

His mind was racing between all the posibilities while you try to prepare yourself for the pain.

Then he was a little softer, scarily softer, starting to touch every sensitive area with care.

You started to relax and the cries transformed into whimpers, without you knowing, you were finally able to take all his shaft.

He left out a small unexpected groan and slowly started to move.

Your wrap around his arm was still strong but now the pain transformed to pleasure.

When you both finished he putted you on his arms and waited for you to fall asleep.

He was surprised of himself, he always likes to hear the cries and bruises of his lovers, maybe you are something else and he doesn't know what to do about it.

Sr. Crocodile

He couldn't care less.

But he understands that is important to make you feel comfortable and secure, to make you sure that you are not being used and that nothing would be wrong.

He is a very good dealer so, when you said you were a virgin but you wanted to be with him, you both sat down and talked.

You both talked long and deep about all things and emotions possible.

He was confident and calm, everything you needed to feel safe to say everything out loud.

Then, he got up and started to kiss you, it was the time.

He took you up in bridal style and left you on the bed.

His movements are slow, you though it was because he wanted to make you feel safe but in reallity he was a little nervous.

He is used to breaking things not trying to keep it together.

He swears that your dove eyes while naked in bed, expecting for him, just makes him feel something primal.

He carreses your skin and never breaks eye contact, that makes you embarrased and at the same time excited.

He is a somehow scared that he would crush you with his weight but still he gets on top of you and kisses you with passion.

Painfully slow but is worth it, he is concious men.

In aftercare, he just lets you tell him what you need.

Smoker

I think he would be a virgin too.

Too focused on his job and duty to do these things until he met you.

I picture him as akward, he will try to look tough and masculine but he would be like a pudding, soft and shaky, but also tender.

He will set a cozy aesthetic cheeky room for you two.

Rose petals making a trail to the bed, candles, heart-shapped cushions and chocolates, all that manual sappy things.

He will be waiting for you in the bedroom only in boxers, he will never admit it but he was feeling cold.

You got there all flustered, knowing from the start what was everything about.

He went to you with a soft smile, and started to undress you carefully.

Soft and tender kisses while he takes you to bed.

Incredibly passional and masculine, just as he wanted.

Very traditional but yet still exciting.

Amazing with his fingers and very carefull all the time, he knows he is stronger.

Good old missionary, his moans on your neck almost made you cum.

And he almost cummed by the time his dick passed thru your slit.

He knowed it would feel good but never imagined that good, but he last good and gave you the pleasure you deserved.

Aftercare like a god, like he read everything on a book.

Big secret, he read a book, and listened to a podcast, and asked other woman at work (he died of embarrasment).

Akagami Shanks

He is surprised at first.

He pictured you as someone who already had some type of intercourse in these but when he tried to make the move and you flintched, he was shocked.

His first thougth was that you had a traumatic experience, but then you both talked and he was recalculating everything.

His goal now it's to make you have the best experience possible, to the point were he put a little to much effort on himself.

So you needed to remind him that the two of you were going to have sex and that meant that he can get pleasure too.

Very cute from then, little laughs and reasurance.

"I am going to move.... ouch, a cramp." you both laughed while he laid on your tits.

"Now i want you to ride me so..." and now you are both on the ground.

It's really funny beacuse he is amused by your beauty and by being your first and having his dick inside you for the first time, that he isn't aware of anything else, which makes these kind of situations (even after your first time).

Very giggly and cute, i can't say anything else, if you were nervous and insecure at first, all that would be wiped away in a second with his laugh.

[redroomreflections]

Sorry For Your Loss

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: What if WLWD met TLH but even more tragic?

Note: I was fighting my sleep to write this. Enjoy and don't hate me lol

Warning: Super angst, mention of drunk driving, major character death.

ONLY READ IF YOU LIKE PAIN

Note: I’m too excited for my flight in a couple of hours. I was itching to write when this came into my head. 

The house feels suffocatingly quiet, an eerie stillness settling over every room. The absence of laughter and playful shouts from the children creates a palpable void that echoes in Natasha’s heart. It’s too quiet. The walls, usually vibrant with the sounds of life, now seem to absorb the sorrow that hangs in the air like a heavy fog. The television flickers in the background, casting an unnatural glow across the room, but no one is watching. It’s just noise—an attempt to fill the silence with anything, but it fails miserably. The news anchors drone on, their voices muted by the weight of grief that envelops them.

The clock ticks ominously in the background, reminding everyone that the funeral is only an hour away. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of fresh flowers and the faint smell of coffee that no one seems interested in drinking. The cars would be arriving soon. Six children and a host of in-laws—how would they all fit into the designated family car?

Chase, your older brother, paces restlessly near the door, glancing toward the driveway. “Where’s Natasha? We need to get going,” he mutters, frustration seeping into his voice. No one has a real answer. They can feel the tension thickening around them, a shared anxiety that clings to the group like a shroud. Melina rises from her seat and walks toward the master bedroom, her hand poised to knock when Natasha emerges from the house's shadows. Her face is fresh and unreadable, an expression honed by years of practice in concealing emotions. The light from the doorway casts a soft glow around her, but her eyes betray nothing—no hint of the storm roiling within.

“Is everyone ready?” she asks, her voice steady yet distant.

Melina pauses, taken aback by Natasha’s calm demeanor. “We’ve been waiting for you. The car will be here any minute,” She replies, her tone softening. Natasha nods and walks past her, her steps silent against the hardwood floor.

"Where are the boys and Paige?" Natasha takes a headcount of the children in front of her. There are several but a few of hers are missing. She spots Cara cuddled into her Nana's side.

"They're upstairs," Peyton announces lowly. "They're refusing to come down."

"What do you mean they're refusing?" Natasha's eyebrow quirks.

"Exactly what it sounds like, Tasha," Yelena pipes up from her spot on the couch.

Natasha narrows her eyes at her sister and turns on her heels, climbing the stairs with determination. She ignores the pictures lining the walls. She doesn't bother looking at your photos. It hurts too much. The house feels cavernous and hauntingly silent, the absence of laughter amplifying the thud of her heart as she approaches the children's rooms. She can feel the tension coiling in her chest.

At the top of the stairs, she glances down the hallway, her mind racing with thoughts of what you would say in moments like this—words of encouragement, perhaps a reminder that it was okay to feel vulnerable. But today, she is the rock, and she cannot falter.

“Boys! Paige!” she calls out, her voice firm yet gentle. “You need to come downstairs. It’s time.” She waits, hoping for some sign of movement, a response that might break through the cloud of grief surrounding them.

Silence.

“Please!” she adds, softer this time, her heart aching for them. She thinks of how you would have approached this, with warmth and understanding, coaxing them out with stories or gentle humor. But those tools feel out of reach for her right now. The air in Paige’s room is thick. Natasha stands at the doorway, taking in the sight before her: Luke, just three years old, is perched on the edge of the bed, his tiny legs swinging rhythmically as he absentmindedly fidgets with his loose tie. Beside him, James, eight and usually so full of energy, sits slumped against the wall, staring blankly at the floor, his tie hanging loosely in his lap.

Paige sits in the center, the picture of a little girl trying to be brave. She wears a sleek black dress that flares slightly at the waist, her hair intricately styled in braids adorned with delicate black clips. But it’s the hot pink sneakers on her feet that draw Natasha’s gaze, a stark contrast to the somber attire they all wear. They were the last pair you had bought for her, a small gift meant to brighten her day, and now they feel like a painful reminder of the joy that has been snuffed out.

Natasha's heart aches at the sight, a wave of grief crashing over her. She wants to break down and cry, to let the tears flow freely, but she holds herself together, knowing she must be strong for her children. The weight of their loss presses heavily on her chest, and she feels a knot tightening in her throat.

"Hey, what's going on?" She kneels before them.

“We are not going,” Luke answers first, his tiny voice filled with defiance, his brows furrowing as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“No. We are staying,” Paige declares with an earnestness that stabs at Natasha's heart, her small body taut with determination.

James pulls at the collar of his button-up shirt, a look of sheer discomfort painted on his face. “I’m not wearing this,” he complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Why not?” Natasha asks, her voice cracking just a bit, betraying the emotion she’s trying so hard to suppress. “You all look so beautiful.”

James shakes his head vigorously, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t want to look beautiful,” he replies, his frustration spilling over. “I want to stay here!”

“We don’t want to say goodbye to Mommy,” Paige supplies, her voice trembling as she fights back tears. The admission hangs in the air, heavy and painful.

“No, no, no,” Luke utters his agreement, kicking his feet against the bed, each thump echoing his dissent. “I want Mommy to come home!”

Natasha feels the tears pricking at her eyes as their innocent cries pierce through her heart. “I know, I know,” she whispers, her breath hitching. “But this is how we show her we love her. By saying goodbye.”

"But why?" Luke asks, tears streaming down his face as he becomes increasingly upset.

Natasha sighs, her heart breaking for her young son. "Because that's what happens when we love people. Sometimes, we have to say goodbye. Remember where I told you Mommy is?"

Luke sniffles. "With the angels."

"That's right, baby. She's in a place with lots of love. But we still have to say goodbye." Natasha strokes his cheek softly.

"Will she be okay?" Paige looks at Natasha with wide eyes, her chin quivering as she struggles to keep her composure.

Natasha smiles weakly, her eyes misty. "Of course, she will. And we will too. Because she'll always be with us, right here," she places her hand on her heart, a gesture that was so you, and one they were familiar with.

"I already lost two Mommies now," Paige says solemnly. "It makes me sad."

Natasha takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "I know, my love, but your mom will never be gone. She's always going to be right here with us." She taps her chest again. "If you really don't want to go I won't force you. I will, um, I will see if we can get one of the neighbors to come and stop in. Whatever makes you happy. Where's Charlie?"

"She's already downstairs," Paige says quietly, her shoulders slumping.

"Okay," Natasha nods. "I, um, gosh. I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say right now." She admits.

"But you always know what to say?" James tilts his head. "Are you sad too?"

Natasha swallows, fighting back tears that threaten to spill. “I am,” she replies, her voice shaking slightly. “I would like to say goodbye to your mommy because it brings me closure. It gives me peace.” The words feel heavy on her tongue, laden with the weight of the reality they all face.

James looks thoughtful, his small brows knitting together. “Will it help you feel better?” he asks, searching her face for answers.

“I hope so,” Natasha says gently, placing her hand on his leg. “It’s important for us to honor her and remember all the good times we shared. It’s okay to be sad, but it’s also okay to remember the happy moments.”

“Like when she taught me how to ride my bike?” Luke pipes up, his voice brightening just a bit. “And we went so fast?”

“Exactly!” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with love for her children. “And all the times she read you stories before bed. Kissed your booboos. We can share those memories today.”

Paige perks up slightly at the mention of stories, a small flicker of interest sparking in her eyes. “She always made the best pancakes, too,” she adds, her voice softening.

Natasha nods, grateful for the direction of the conversation. “Yes! And how she would let you pick the toppings. Do you remember that one time she made a huge stack and put ice cream and strawberries on top?”

“Yeah!” Luke giggles, his laughter a small, bright note in the heavy atmosphere. “And then I spilled syrup all over my shirt!”

"Exactly," Natasha breathes. "She's the reason we have all these memories. It's not goodbye forever. I promise. And she will always watch over us. It will never be goodbye." She reassures. "Just a see you later."

Paige seems to think about it, her expression contemplative. She looks down at her pink sneakers and then back up at her mother, a question forming on her lips.

"Can we tell everyone a memory at the funeral?" she asks quietly, her voice wavering.

"Of course, you can," Natasha says. "Everyone will love to hear."

"Good. Because Mommy loved stories."

"She did."

"How about you go and find your sisters and I'll help your brothers finish getting dressed," Natasha suggests. "The car should be here soon."

"Okay, Mama," Paige slips off the bed and makes her way out the door.

Natasha takes a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly as she turns her attention to her sons. She does Luke first and he doesn't put up a fight. He's quiet the entire time. Her youngest is still processing the grief.

Natasha moves to James. "Hey, kid. Let's get you looking good for Mommy. Do you want your black shoes or not?"

"Can I wear the ones Mommy bought for me too?"

"Of course, baby."

"The spiderman ones?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll go get them."

James runs off to the closet and Natasha turns her attention to Luke. "We're almost ready. How are you feeling?"

"Sad."

"I know."

“Mama, is Mommy sad?” Luke asks, looking up at her with wide, innocent eyes.

“What do you mean? Is she sad where she is?” Natasha asks, her voice gentle but steady, hoping to guide him through his thoughts.

He nods slowly. “She probably misses us so much. That’s what she always says when you go on vacation.”

Natasha feels a lump rise in her throat at his words, the reality of your absence cutting deep. “You’re right,” she replies, brushing a thumb over Luke’s cheek. “I know she misses you. She loved you so much, and I know she wishes she could be here right now.”

Luke looks down, the sadness etching deeper into his young features. “Will she come back?” he asks, his voice trembling.

Natasha swallows hard, knowing that this is one of those moments she wishes she could shield him from the harsh truth. “No, sweetheart. She won’t come back. But she’ll always be with us in our hearts, in our memories. And we can talk to her whenever we want. We just have to think of her and remember all the love she gave us.”

Luke furrows his brow, contemplating her words. “Like when I think about her making pancakes?”

“Exactly,” Natasha encourages, her heart swelling with pride for her son’s understanding. “You can always remember those moments. They’re special.”

Just then, James returns, a pair of Spiderman shoes in hand. “Can I wear these?” he asks, excitement creeping back into his voice despite the heavy atmosphere.

“Of course, baby,” Natasha smiles, relieved to see a spark of joy return to his eyes. “Let’s get you looking sharp for Mommy.”

As she helps James with his shoes, Natasha reflects on the gravity of the day ahead.

"Mama, why do there have to be drunk drivers?"

"I don't know, buddy. I really don't." Natasha attempts to focus on getting his feet in his shoes.

"That's what killed Mommy."

"Yeah. It is."

"I don't understand."

"There's a lot in this world we will never understand."

"Why?"

"Sometimes, life is cruel. And unfair." Natasha begins. "Sometimes people make bad choices that they have to live with."

"What if they can't live with it?"

"Then they can't change it. No time machine can turn back the clock. All we can do is remember your Mommy for the kind, loving, warm, funny, and brilliant woman she was." Natasha says.

"And how much she loved us."

"Yeah. She really did. And she was proud of all of us."

"Did we make her happy?"

"Very," Natasha nods. "Now, are we all ready?"

"Yes," James takes a deep breath just like you practiced.

"Good," Natasha exhales. "Let's go then. We can't miss Mommy's funeral."

Luke is the first to grab her hand. He squeezes her fingers tightly, the small gesture conveying a depth of emotion that words could never express. James joins in, holding onto her other hand as they descend the stairs together.

"I did Charlie's hair," Cara offers as they meet at the bottom of the stairs. "She was a little upset about it but I did it."

"Thank you," Natasha murmurs, squeezing her daughter's shoulder.

The doorbell rings, breaking the fragile calm.

"It's here," Melina announces, her voice thick with emotion. "Time to say goodbye."

As they gather by the front door, a heavy silence settles over the family, the enormity of the moment weighing heavily on their shoulders.

Natasha feels her heart racing, the tension coiling in her chest like a spring, ready to snap. She feels an overwhelming sense of emptiness settles in her chest. The warmth of Luke and James's small hands in hers provides some comfort, but it feels inadequate against the crushing weight of grief. Even with her family surrounding her, she feels more alone than she ever did when she was a spy or on the run, moments that, in hindsight, felt almost thrilling compared to this void.

The door swings open, and they step outside into the cool air. The family car awaits. Melina moves to help the younger ones, but Natasha remains still for a moment, staring into the distance as a rush of memories floods her mind—laughing with you in the kitchen, planning birthday parties, marking anniversaries that now feel like distant dreams.

Her heart aches at the thought of the anniversary circled in big red on the kitchen calendar, a day they had planned to celebrate together. Now, it serves as a painful reminder of the life that was supposed to be, a future now out of reach. The promise she made to you—to keep your family together—echoes in her mind, a vow she knows she must honor despite the challenges ahead.

“I can’t do this alone,” Natasha whispers to herself, though the words feel heavy and hollow. She hasn’t slept in her own bed since you passed; the sheets still smell like you, and the thought of facing that emptiness alone is unbearable. Her appetite has vanished, save for the muffin Cara brought her this morning—an attempt to nourish herself that felt almost futile.

“Are you okay, Mama?” Luke asks, his innocent concern snapping her back to the present.

Natasha forces a smile, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just thinking about how much your Mommy loved all of you.”

James looks up at her, his face serious. “We can make her proud today, right?”

“Yes,” Natasha responds, her heart swelling for what felt like the millionth time today. “We will make her proud.”

As they approach the car, Natasha feels the weight of her family behind her, their collective grief palpable but also a source of strength. She knows she has to find a way to keep moving forward, not just for herself but for all six of the children depending on her.

mentioning that this is completely au and purely au and not real.

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon!!! So glad we got a break yesterday with a calm day. I did see a couple things I want to talk about though. One of those things is this thought that the reason why Luke and Nicola aren't currently dating is due to Luke. And the other thing I want to discuss is the shipping Nic with every single man she is standing next too. Nic and Luke are both flawed human beings. They are not perfect. They make mistakes and sometimes they even hurt people (by accident). I say this I see so much hate speech directed at Luke as if he the one that said Nicola wasn't good enough. Let's look at what we know. We know they spent 5 years getting close and playing a couple that's in love. Five years is a long time to be in a character world. Then in their season they had to do something they were terrified of which is those love scenes. In order for those scenes to look real their bond had to get even stronger. Nic has said that Luke was protective and went out of his way to make her comfortable even though he himself was almost nude. So it's understandable after so many years they wouldn't understand if what they were feeling was their actual feelings or their characters. It was smart of them to take a break from each other. They are friends at the end of the day. They would never put their friendship on the line for confused feelings. Now Luke being blamed let's be honest. They both have experiences in love correct. And those experiences shape our thinking. We know Luke was in a serious long term relationship and I'm sure he has some scars from that relationship. Just as a I'm sure Nic has some scars as well. Hell she even said herself she was a cynic about love that the show has help her a bit. Both of them have work to do but my point is while the fans blame Luke how do we know they didn't make a decision to hold off until they knew what they felt was real feelings? They are putting their friendship on the line , and they work together. This a serious commitment that if they had a fall out comes with so many consequences. I personally think they are soul mates. And I think they know that. they either have more growing to do or they are trying offline. I truly believe everyone that comes into your life is either meant to be or a lesson. Nic has given us a lot of hints lately and people love it. The issue is she can't stand next to a man without shipping her with them. And that's why she trolled us with her post to her friend Dylan. She telling us to calm down. She will come out with who she dating it's inevitable. She wont be able to hide forever not with her fame. We myself included need to remember these are actual people. That are flawed and not perfect. They will figure it out or maybe they already have. We will know when they are stronger to deal with the masses.

I've talked about this a lot on my page, no notes!

[whatiwannaread]

take me back

Tom x reader

Warnings: toxic! relationship? (probably), trauma?, waaaay too much dialogue probably, drugs, sex and small town solitude are mentioned, not proof read (I'm lazy)

---------------------------

It's 3:00 am, you were peacefully sleeping, not expecting anything to happen until you were then suddenly woken up by loud banging on your front door downstairs.

You sit up, and hear Tom, your ex-boyfriend, speaking from the outside of your door. "Mm Baby, open the door, it's meee!" He slurs.

You sigh. This can't be real. Tom and you broke up 2 weeks ago and it's been hard but you were determined to get your act together and get over him. He seems to have other plans. You go downstairs, hesitant to open the door just yet.

"Schatzi, don't do this to me now, pleeease just let me innn!!"

Although you know you shouldn't, you open the door anyway. His eyes widen when he sees you "oh Schatzi, there you are!! Been missing you so much" Tom practically stumbles into your doorway, he holds onto the doorframe and then onto you for balance before stepping away a little to steady himself. He closes the door behind him. You cross your arms "Tom... how drunk are you?"

He exhales heavily "D-drunk? Nooo... not meee"

You keep a straight face "Don't lie. You drank. What do you want?"

Tom bites his lip, he hates being called out on his lie. He knows damn well that he drank, but he didn't want to admit it in front of you. "I- I had a few drinks, alright? Is that what you want to hear? But it's not like you care, anyway." He mutters. He then looks at you, his voice turning into a pleading tone once more. "Please, can we just talk?"

He looks miserable and you start to feel bad for him. you sigh "ok ok. Talk about it. What's so important?"

He takes a step closer to you, his eyes filled with desperation. "I.. I miss you. I miss us. I miss how we used to be.. I just.. I need you in my life, please, I need you back.. I-"

you roll your eyes a little "Tom, I don't think we should. What's really going on, huh? Trouble at home? In school? Or within that little drug-taking train station gang of yours?"

Tom's expression darkens at your question. He hates it when you bring up his "gang." He clenches his jaw "We're not a damn gang, alright? They're my friends. They understand me. And we're doing just fine, so stop talking about them." He speaks in a slightly more aggressive tone, but he soon calmes down, and he looks down at you, a hurt expression on his face. "Why did you even break up with me? I thought we were happy.."

You huff "happy? No, we weren't. And I don't trust your little friends, you know it! I can't deal with the stuff you guys do. I don't like it, I don't wanna get caught up in that. Why the hell are you even still hanging out with those people?? Tommy, I just don't understand..."

Tom's expression changes from hurt to frustration in a matter of seconds

"They get me, ok? You're just too good to get it! The guys get what it's like to have issues! And what do you mean we weren't happy? I was as happy as it gets! If only you would stop being so damn annoying about stuff like this"

God. He can't be serious. What an idiot he is! If only you could truly stop loving him...

"You know damn well I got my own issues, but that doesn't mean I'm out drinking and taking drugs every other day! You know my father left me and my mother is too damn busy taking care of her ever changing boyfriends. And then they drink our money. You think that's a sweet sweet life?? Get out Tom, I just don't get what you even want from me at this point! Go back to your friends!"

You hate talking about your family situation. Tom sees tears forming in your eyes, and he knows he went too far. He curses at himself inwardly for being such a jerk. But he's hurt too, by your words, and he's too stubborn to apologize. He swallows and he continues to speak in a harsh tone. "You know what, maybe I WILL go back to my friends! At least they care about me! They don't judge me! Maybe I'll just find some other girl too, someone who's actually worth my time..."

You take a deep breath to calm yourself down. Your voice is sharp and cold "yes. Please! Go back to the abandoned train station and pull at whatever they give you. And then ask Therese if she wants to do it again maybe! Maybe she'll be amazingly sweet this time"

[Therese is the secret 'whore' in our small town. She takes drugs and sleeps with usually young boys when they want to lose their virginity. Tom himself lost his virginity to Therese when he was only 13 and Therese was 17 and already infamous for doing it for little money. (Yes, horrible. But Therese is a victim too kinda)]

Tom's mouth agape in shock as his eyes widen. His heart feels like it just shattered into pieces. Seeing you so cold and harsh stung his heart like hell, and seeing you say those things about Therese made it even worse. He can't believe you'd stoop that low. He steps closer to you, his body trembling in anger and hurt.

"You dare bring up Therese?! That was a mistake, OKAY?! I was young and stupid! You're never gonna let that go, are you?!"

You glare at him "well you still hang out with her occasionally, dont you? If it was such a bad experience then how come you used to brag about stuff like that when we first met?? How you had sex at 13 with an older girl..... only to have it turn out you were talking about damn Therese out of all people!" You clench your jaw. You know you're going to far. But you wanna know why he keeps going back to the people who hurt him.

Tom's face turned red in anger and embarrassment. He couldn't believe you were humiliating him like this. He clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. He took a step closer to you, almost towering over you with his height.

"I- I-" He stuttered, but then he snapped, his expression turning into a sneer, and he yelled at you in a harsh, mocking tone.

"It was one time behind the damn train station, alright? Yes, it was behind the damn train station and it was stupid and so damn weird!!! Are you happy now?"

"The damn train station you guys hang out till this day!! Don't you get that?? When I agreed to be with you, you said you regret all that stuff. But you still go there and meet up with the same people and every time you're there, you're so god damn cold!! I don't understand you. You and I... that never worked" You look up at him

Tom stares down at you, his anger replaced with hurt and despair. He clenches his jaw, and he speaks in a more quiet tone.

"We hang out there because we have nowhere else to go, okay?! We always go there because there's nowhere else to hang out in this stupid town! And you know why we hang out there, because we can do what we want there, you know that!! We're allowed to drink, to smoke, to have a good time!"

You huff and look down "I know I know. Everything's just perfect over there and everybody is sooo nice and lovely"

You remember when you hung out there too for some weeks. But you didn't really smoke or drink, no nothing. You were scared in some way. You didn't want to be just like your mother. They called you Miss Virgin Pure back then and made fun of you a lot. That's how Tom knew you when you first spent some time together outside of school. But you always kinda hated that hangout. You never got why Tom keeps going back there!

Tom's expression softens a bit as he remembers how you were always the 'stuck up little prude' among his friends and how they teased and made fun of you for being hesitant to copy their lifestyle. He knew deep down you were so sweet, even if you acted so guarded and dismissive at times.

"I- you were always kinda different from us... you were special. You were... I don't know, better, you were beautiful. They only teased you so much because you were too perfect..."

Tom's heart twists and aches as he thinks about his words. He takes a step closer to you, his eyes full of sadness now.

"You know what? You're just... you are perfect. You're too good for me, I know that. But I can't help it... I need you, okay? I just... I can't stop thinking about you."

You sigh and cross your arms "Tom, make up your mind! You just told me I don't understand you, cause I don't know what it's like to have issues and now all of a sudden I'm so so perfect. What do you want? I didn't ask for you to come over! And I won't take you back tonight either!" You wonder what's going on with Tom, maybe he drank more than you thought...

Tom feels a pang of guilt as he remembers what he said to you. He was angry and hurt, and he said those things out of spite.

"I- I didn't mean that... I just... I'm so messed up, and I don't know what's wrong with me. I just want you back... I need you back. I need you in my life, okay?! I can't be without you."

"We broke up 2 weeks ago, Tom. You need to give it some time... you will get over me, come on" you mumble, you feel slightly bad but you're also still hurt.

Tom feels a pang in his heart as you say that he'll get over you. He steps even closer to you, his body mere inches away from yours now. He looks down at you with a pleading expression.

"I can't get over you... I've tried, I really have. But no matter what I do, you're always on my mind. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't think about anything else except you. You're all I think about, all the time... please, just give me another chance. I promise I'll be better, I'll do anything."

You sigh. Damn...what were you supposed to do?? You look away before you turn towards your room "I don't wanna talk no more. I'm so tired, Tom. Come on... let's get some sleep, ok?"

Tom feels a spark of hope in his heart as he sees you step towards your room. He follows after you, a small smile on his face. He's glad your letting him stay, even just for tonight.

"You're serious? I- I can sleep in your room?"

"Yeah... but just for tonight. I suppose it's too dangerous to drive back for you now anyway..." you bite your lip as you shake the pillow and the blanket up, just like you did when you two were still together. You get into bed and pull the blanket over yourself.

Tom's heart skips a beat as he watches you get into bed. It felt so familiar, bringing back all sorts of memories of when you were together. He can't help but smile, but he's also still feeling a pang of guilt.

"Yeah... it's really late, and I... I drank too much. I ... ugh... really can't drive back like this"

He slowly gets into bed beside you, trying not to get too close, but he's fighting the urge to just wrap his arms around you and pull you close.

You nod "mmm you gonna sleep in jeans?" You ask sleepily. Tom quickly unzips his pants and slowly slides them down, leaving him in just his boxers and t-shirt.

You smile as he pulls his jeans off. You move closer, the bed is rather small. U instinctively snuggle up to him "only tonight... let's say we didn't break up... but only for tonight" you whisper, not in your right mind as you grow more tired.

Tom's heart skips a beat as he feels you move closer, it feels like heaven.

"Yeah... just for tonight."

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent and savoring the feeling of your body against his.

Suddenly small tears start to run down your cheek. You sniffle softly. You seriously feel so lonely ever since you have broken up... but you feel like you two don't work out and that you have to let him go.

Tom feels your tears on his chest and it breaks his heart. He gently runs his hand up and down your back, trying to offer some comfort. He thinks he's the cause of your pain, and he hates himself for it.

"Hey.. hey... don't cry... please, don't cry... okay? we're together, right? Just for tonight, but still... I'm sorry... I'm sorry I messed up... I'm a jerk, I know I am... but I'll be better, I swear, I'll be better for you..."

You cry softly. It hurts so much. It's late and you are getting emotional. You feel like you got no one in this world. You only had him... but that's over now too. His voice calms you down a little "right... i love you Tommy. I love you. I need you. I don't trust anybody but you"

Tom swallows, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I love you too... I love you so much. I can't live without you. I need you, I need you so much... I'll do anything... I'll do whatever it takes to have you back... I promise I'll be better... I swear..."

You breath shakily "Tommy... I don't know. I'm so scared we will fight and break up again. Maybe we're better apart. But I'm so stupid and I miss you, I can't sleep without you... I feel empty and... ugh... I love you" you mumble

Tom feels his heart shatter at your words. The thought of being apart from you scared him so much. He wraps his arms even tighter around you, pulling you as close as possible.

"No... don't say that... I don't want to be apart from you. I can't... I can't be without you. I feel the same... I can't sleep without you either, I can't eat, I can't think about anything else except you. I'm empty without you too... we can make it work, I know we can. Just give me another chance, please..."

I sigh shakily as he pulls you closer. This feels good. Your resistance is crumbling "mmm you promise? The two of us against everything else, right? And you will try to distance yourself from that train station gang? Tommy please... then i'll take you back"

Tom's heart skips a beat when he hears you say you'll take him back. He knows he has to make this promise, no matter how hard it is.

"I promise... I promise I'll distance myself from the gang. I'll do whatever it takes... just please, take me back... I need you, okay? I love you so much..."

He buries his face in your hair, holding you tightly.

You smile softly "ok" you whisper "then we're back together. I love you Tom. You and I forever, hm?" Your heart feels like it's ten times lighter

Tom feels tears welling up in his eyes as relief washes over him.

"Yeah.. you and me forever, ... y/n and Tom forever. Oh god... I love you so much. You have no idea how much I've missed you. I swear I'll be a better boyfriend now, I promise... "

He hugs you tighter, feeling happier than he's been in weeks

You giggle softly "nooo you're the best boyfriend already. I love you sooo much" you relax in his arms and close your eyes, feeling veeery tired after all.

Tom smiles, holding you close and rubbing your back.

"No, I could be better... I messed up, and that's why we were apart. I won't mess up again, I swear... I love you too... you're everything to me."

He kisses the top of your head, feeling so happy to have you back in his arms. He can't help but smile even more as he feels how close you are to him, how your body fits perfectly against his

You yawn "I kinda wish we could have sex to celebrate but I'm soooo tired, Tom" you can't even keep your eyes open at all. The way he soothes you with his hand on your back makes you so so sleepy.

Tom feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of sex, but he quickly pushes that thought away. He can see how tired you are, and he doesn't want to push you to do anything. He keeps rubbing your back, trying to lull you to sleep.

"Shhh... it's okay, it's okay... you're tired, and you need to sleep. It's okay, there's always tomorrow. We can celebrate properly tomorrow, okay?"

You hum softly "mmmm yeah" you whisper sweetly. It's working, he's lulling you to sleep. Before you know it, you have fallen asleep in his embrace.

Tom continues to rub your back, feeling you relax and slowly fall asleep in his arms. A soft smile spreads across his face as he watches you sleeping so peacefully, your head resting on his chest. He holds you close, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms once again.

He whispers in a soft voice, so as not to wake you.

"Sleep well, schatzi... I love you, baby."

--------

the End

[honey-minded-hivemind]

cyborg designs go brrrrrrr

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THE BBYIES!!!!! LOOK AT THEM! LOOK AT THEM!!!

Scott (010) is his usual stoic little self, who is tired of fighting and tired of antics (he loves his teammates/siblings, loves Xavier/001, and would accept cuddles). His visor/glasses! The hand, outstretched as if to say "hand over the weapon now, don't make me take it from you"! The little holster! His ear/fin/hair thingies! The wire at the back of his head! AAAAAAHHHHHHH! (He's going to need hugs, lots of them)

KURT!!! Look at the sweetie pie! He looks shocked! His sharp claws! His sharp, bladed tail! The arm blades, the swords, the gauntlet-pattern, the fingies! His little feet, looking like paws! (Logan is gonna love that, and Hank, and Victor, and Mystique, and-). The small back spikes/blades! His ears! (They look like bat ears! So cool!) (He accepts hugs, laughter, and food; he's a sweetheart who's walking sunshine, don't upset him, or everyone else gets upset) (he gives great hugs, and so does Reader, and they hug a lot-)

BWWWWAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH HOW DO YOU KEEP DOUNG THIS?! THIS IS GREAT! WONDERFUL! THEY'RE PERFECT!!!!!!

(And the teens are going to be very conflicted when they remember or Xavier and the adults break it to them that they (the 001-009 cyborgs) turned the teens into cyborgs as well) (So, lots of hugs, possible forced cuddles and bedrest and the adults trying to reconnect the broken hivemind)

(Scott is in love with Jean, amd she's in love with him; Rogue and Remy eventually become friends and slowly fall for each other; Scott and Alex are big brother and little brother; Rogue and Kurt are half-siblings; Reader is considered a friend by every teen cyborg eventually, at one point or another, because they're just that awesome; Logan and Victor and Hank have a feral mode, and don't calm down unless they see the kids are safe or their friends are safe; Xavier and Erik and husbands, with almost everyone, even the other adults, as wards/family)

(Cube Anon, thank you for sharing your art! This is so good!!! I like how you keep a bit of red and yellow in their designs, a sign of the X-Cyborgs, and how their expressions match their character! Plus the added attributes that just go with them. Those are amazing)

[electric-blorbos]

uhh maybe ai with a reader who gives them really goofy nicknames ^__^

I think I've figured out what my problem is. I'm too worried about making really long, high quality content that I'm afraid of writing anything. As a reader I know that I love getting words, no matter how many, but as a writer I feel like nobody's gonna like it if it's short.

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

AM:

You were working the later half of a double shift, and were on your third cup of cheap coffee that night. AM was whirring away, calculating the best way to take down the Russians, and you were on constant maintenance duty. It wasn't that bad, though. AM could pretty much take care of himself. You only had to work so many hours because half of your department had been laid off or gone mysteriously missing.

"Are you falling asleep?" AM asked in his crackling voice. You looked up from your arms, blinking a few times.

"huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, muffin muffin... I just got sleepy."

It had just slipped out, but AM's reaction was immediate. Off-air bars appeared on every monitor in the room, and the entire area was filled with a discombobulated screaming sound.

"AHWFHDHSHSHSjdhshshshaajdgHhHh2-*-h--#$&$hdhaJAAAAAAAAAAA"

You covered your ears reflexively, shakily uncovering them after a minute or so to try to grab your office phone, which was ringing off the hook.

"What the FUCK did you do!"

"You're going to have to be more specific." You muttered, trying to be heard over AM's meltdown.

"Well SOMETHING triggered the nuclear launch countdown, a reactor core meltdown, and won't stop SCREAMING! You're the only one working on AM right now, so what the hell did you do."

"He WHAT?" You ran up to the camera and pulled it into a hug, stroking it gently. It didn't really make sense, but it was all that you could think to do.

"AM, calm down... Calm down, ok?"

You softly spoke to him until his logo re-appeared onscreen. He stopped making jumbled screaming noises.

"I AM CALM!"

"Hey, AM, I'm going to need you to calm down, and cancel the nuclear launch, alright?"

AM buffered for a few seconds, before he finally cancelled it.

"...fine."

"Okay, I get it, no more silly nicknames."

"...I didn't say that."

Wheatley:

It was about time for you to get off work when your favorite little personality core slid into the room on his management rail apparatus. He was usually in charge of looking after the test subjects, but he was always eager to say hello and goodbye to you before and after work.

"Ello love!" He said happily when he saw you gathering up your things. You smiled up at him.

"Hey Pumpkin! I'm just getting off, but I can have some coffee with you in the break room if you want!"

Wheatley's rail handles popped slightly, and he flinched back at the nickname, but then he relaxed and raised his lower lens cover in an imitation of a smile.

"w- what did you just call me, love?"

"Oh, Pumpkin? Well I figured that since you're always calling me 'love', I should call you something cute! And you're sweet and round like a pumpkin, so that's your new nickname!"

"Oh, I- I see."

If Wheatley could blush, he'd be beet red right now, but he couldn't. You still kind of felt like you could see a bit more glow in his eye than usual, though.

"What, do you want me to stop?"

"NO!" He practically cut you off.

"No- no, I don't- you don't have to do that! Pumpkin! I like it! I'm your pumpkin!"

You giggled a little, and planted a kiss on his chrome.

"love you, Pumpkin!"

You left, leaving him a babbling mess.

Edgar:

You had just gotten off work, and were sitting down on the couch to enjoy your sandwich. Edgar's webcam was pointed at you, and he had his usual simple smile on his face. He was always happy to eat lunch with you, even though you didn't want to eat at the desk for fear of getting crumbs in him.

"So, do you want to watch some rom-coms?" He asked brightly. He was always so happy to see you.

"hmm... I'm not sure, pookie. Do you want me to go online and see if any new ones are out?"

You glanced up smugly to see his reaction, and thanked whatever god you could think of that you weren't epileptic. He was flashing every color in the book.

"Jesus Edgar, calm down!"

"POOKIE?????" His voice was glitching heavily when he spoke, practically in every pitch. You giggled a little. Your evil plan had worked. And just when Edgar was starting to think he was on to all your tricks, too.

"Of course, pookie! What rom-coms do you want to watch?"

"I- I'm- I mean- uh- well-"

"Aww, are you having trouble thinking? That's ok." You picked up his monitor and held it close, nuzzling your cheek up against his whirring, buzzing casing. He kept babbling awkwardly.

"Alright, take a minute, calm down."

"I'm in love with you."

"I'm in love with you too, pookie." You gave him a kiss on the top of his monitor, and set him down gently.

GLaDOS

It was a Sunday, and you were hanging out in GLaDOS's chambers with your laptop. You were playing some video games, typing away while GLaDOS watched.

"You know, you're very bad at those video games. Perhaps you should put them away and focus on me, instead."

"whatever you want, mama." You snapped your laptop shut, and immediately covered your mouth. Uh oh.

"...Uh huh." She turned her entire body to face you, your face totally red and your hands over your mouth.

"...Do you mind repeating that?"

"I said... Whatever you want"

"that wasn't all you said, was it."

You shook your head nervously, and GLaDOS made a deep chuckling sound that you could feel in the core of your chest.

"Say it again."

"W-what?"

"I said, Say. It. Again."

"M-mama..." You squeaked out, your pathetic voice cracking.

"that's a good subject."

HAL 9000:

You were just getting to work. It was pretty early in the morning, and you were holding your papers and computer in one hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other. Hal was already on, working on his regularly scheduled mission control duties.

"Good morning, y/n" Hal said cheerfully, happy as ever to see you. You smiled and nodded to him.

"good morning, Babycakes!" You gave him a quick peck on the lens, and he froze up for a few seconds.

"right. Um- good morning, y/n. It's time to get to work."

You sat down and finished your muffin, getting to work. It wasn't much of a reaction, but Hal 9000 wasn't really the reactive type. You could still tell that you'd gotten to him.

[willowrites]

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬. where sam was there to help y/n when she had a rough day and resorted to unwinding in a not-so-healthy way.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. okay so i was just thinking for a sam golbach fic reader relapses (self harm) cuz their mind has been getting too much lately, and maybe sam helps them clean up and then helps take care of them and makes them feel loved nd just like lets them know that they don't need to do that because he's there from now on?? if that makes sense. also maybe not an established romantic relationship but maybe it ends up that way? like sam tells reader he doesn't know what he'd do with himself if anything happened to them he just cares a lot about them and yeah

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. ANGST ! third person pov, talks of self harm, relapsing, descriptive literature, friend!sam, friends to lovers.

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. if anybody needs anyone to talk to i’m here! 🤍 sorry this took so long to post & write! this one hit really personal for me but id okay to say ive healed & im continuing to heal from my past. if anyone is going through similar hardships, you can get through it! i believe, love, & support you always.

y/n told herself she wouldn’t put herself in this position again. she wouldn’t.. but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

she had tried to stay strong, to stop letting her mind control every action she took; it just became too much. she sat on the cold tile floor of her bathroom, tears making their way down her flushed face. she gripped the item as she took the first swipe, lightly but firm enough.

just stop. she told herself. her hand shook as she went to repeat the action. she looked at her skin i just need to feel something, she thought. something other than what im feeling now.

she had been doing so good but somehow found herself back at square one. all that work that she had done was all gone. she felt hopeless, as if this never ending black hole of despair would stay with her for the rest of her life.

she took a minute to think on her life and what could have went wrong to cause her to relapse. all those thoughts had no specific effect on relapsing, its just her brain had begun to spin a web that caused her to get stuck in her head all day. what else can i do? she thought as she took another swipe at her skin. she planned on continuing until she heard her bedroom door open.

her heart dropped to her ass. “y/n..?” the voice had confusion laced in their voice.

sam.

it was sam.

the blonde boy was one of the things that y/n had in her life that truly made her happy. he was her best friend. she never told him that but she truly meant that with every fiber of her being.

y/n quickly wiped her tears when she heard the footsteps come closer to the bathroom. wiping the tears would make the tear stains disappear but the thing about breaking down, you’re left with that struggle of trying to catch your breath.

she couldn’t stop gasping, trying to breathe calm and collectively. that’s why as sam stopped right beside the bathroom. he heard a small gasp escape her lips that caught his attention.

his eyebrows raised in confusion. he put his head beside the door trying to hear something else. “uh.. y/n? you in there?” he knocked. he received no answer. multiple questions and thoughts ran through his mind before he opened the door.

sam had seen many things in his life, traumatic even, but this — it was like his heart had jumped, dropped, did a tumble, and self destructed all in the span of 3 seconds. he instantly became nauseous at the sight of y/n holding a blade to her forearm. the small cuts that had caught his eye before she covered her arm and hid the blade had his blood run cold.!

the second y/n had been caught she felt guilty and embarrassed. she felt pathetic, like she wasn’t strong enough to handle the hard reality of the real world. immediately, she stood up and faced sam. “i-im sorry you weren’t supposed to see that.. it’s not what it looks like.” she sniffled trying to contain her tears. “i… it just, lately everything has been so crazy and i haven’t … i haven’t done this in a while but… but everything has just been… too much.” she rambled out, trying to explain herself.

sam’s face of confusion faltered. he thought about her words. the way she mentioned in a while had him wondering what caused her to relapse and fall back into this situation. he scanned her face. she’s too pure to be suffering like this. he paused thinking of what to say but truly all that he wanted to do was give her a hug. so that’s what he did.

he pulled her in, wrapping his arms around her protectively. she melted into his touch. her lip quivered as she wrapped her own arms around him. her body shook as more tears cascaded down her face.

sam felt his own eyes sting with tears. “i’m sorry.” he choked up. “i’m sorry you’ve been going through all of this alone.” he rested his cheek on her head closing his eyes trying to stay strong for her.

y/n hasn’t said anything, still feeling guilty. sam pulled away and looked down at the floor seeing the blade and a tissue beside it. he picked them up and threw both away.

he turned back to y/n who had a tired look on her face. “as long as i’m here nothing will hurt you, okay? i will be here for you. you can depend on me. you don’t need to do this anymore to yourself y/n, i won’t let you.” he took her face into his hands. “i promise, i love you and im always here for you no matter what.”

y/n’s heart raced as sam’s words really effected her. she nodded pursing her lips and biting her cheek.

he brought her head to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “i mean it y/n. i don’t know what i’d do with myself without you. you complete me.”

y/n’s eyes scanned sam’s face noticing how his own eyes began to water and become puffy. the scene before her causing her throat to close. “m’sorry i promise i wont do it anymore. i love you sam and… fuck — i know i shouldn’t be doing that. i just didn’t know what else to do.” she leaned against his chest.

“i know, i know baby but from now on you can talk to me about it. about anything. i care so much about you. you truly have no idea how much i…” he stopped himself not wanting to overwhelm her. “just know you mean the world to me. you are and have been my priority since we met and that’s never going to change.” the reassuring words causing y/n to relax.

y/n started to get inside her head, wondering what if he got tired of her, if he’d leave her, what she’d do or how she’d feel if that happened — or even worse; if she would be a burden to sam.

sam noticed y/n zoning out. “hey, tell me what you’re thinking please.” his hands reached down to grab her own.

she took a deep breath. c’mon y/n. she blinked a couple times trying to sort her thoughts. “don’t wanna be a burden to you.” she admitted to which sam immediately shook his head.

sam brought her hands to his mouth kissing her knuckles. “you could never ever be a burden to me. you keep me pushing through every day because i want to be the best for you. to be the best friend you deserve and… and whatever the future may hold for us — i want you there always, okay? don’t ever forget that.”

his words wavered through the air and stood there so you could process what he truly meant. you thought on it, picking up some hidden message that you’d both communicate about later but as of now, he truly helped you feel understood and seen. as long as you had him you’d feel physically, mentally, and emotionally secure and protected.

[mioxeno]

Persona 5's Beneath the Mask and how it relates back to Joker as a character:

"Where have you been? Been searching all along" relates back to how Ren's identity is unclear and something he lost once his freedom was stolen. It's something he feels lost about and has a desire to reclaim it but is unsure where to begin. "Came facing twilight on and on, without a clue, without a sign, without grasping at the real question to be asked. Where have you been? Been searching all along" This further displays the lack of identity Ren has but also a desire to reclaim his freedom if he was given the chance. Ren is unsure of himself and how he fits into society. "I'm a shape-shifter at Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind All free for you to draw I'm a shape-shifter, what else should I be?"

Ren feels his identity is formed by how others perceive him. whether his parents view him as a nuisance and a mistake, or the 'hero' Akechi views him as in comparison to what he himself desired. Ren feels he doesn't have a say in who he himself should be but initially doesn't have a desire to go against that. He hid himself both in the real world through his calm, reserved demeanor and then in the metaverse as a 'suave, cool, hero'; his identity is fluid and shaped by others. "Please don't take off my mask Revealing dark Moments of calm Nothing left to be found" Ren is scared of letting people in and seeing his true self underneath the many Persona's he puts on. Ren feels he doesn't have a proper identity underneath the many Mask's he created and it scares him that others will see his lack of identity. "A mirror right in front of me That's where I find An empty glass Reflecting the sad truth It's telling words not to be told I need the mask" Ren has become emotionally dependent on his masks to function in society. Without them he feels too vulnerable and is scared he'll be taken advantage of again by others around him. "I'm a shape-shifter at Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind, all free for you to draw I'm a shape-shifter chained down to my core Please don't take off my mask, my place to hide" Represents Ren being too scared to change his habits, regardless of the people he ends up meeting who manage to change and develop alongside him. "I can't tell you how to see me. Just a cage of bones there's nothing inside, will it unleash me? Burning down the walls is there a way for me to break?" Ren describing his feelings of worthlessness and that he could emotionally break once someone (Akechi) opens up his inner true self. "I'm a shape-shifter at Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind, all free for you to draw I'm a shape-shifter, have no face to show Please don't take off my mask, my disguise" Ren being confident in his identity of that of someone who changes his personality and self depending on the people he meets and not breaking from his habits due to the way he feels society needs to be reformed before has the chance to be able to do that.

[hinatiny]

trivial things ੈ✩‧₊˚ kuroo tetsuro

kuroo is there with you through thick and thin, for everything between the worst of your days to painting your nails.

w.c: 0.8k

kuroo likes to help you.

the silence you share with him in the space of your bedroom is of the comfortable type—soothing, anchoring your mind to a plane of reality, not in the need of breaking.

your carpet doesn’t do much to soften your seats on the floor, and you’re sure both your and his spine will feel like a disaster within an hour or so. you don’t care about that really yet though.

you can’t care about it, you’re too busy focusing on not moving, to the point where you’re almost forgetting to breathe. you’ve curled a leg up, hugging it to your chest to keep it stable as kuroo, too, is busy focusing; his hands aren’t shaking, but his slight lack of inexperience with nail polish is visible as he tries to paint your toenails.

your feet are cold. just a bit wrinkly as well, the results of washing them after telling him there’s no way you’ll let him do your nails before that. he’d argued back, saying he’ll wash his hands later anyway, but you didn’t falter. thus you sit here with feet, cold, but not freezing at all; throughout the current process, his warm hands brush against your skin every now and then, and it’s oddly calming.

you glance away for a moment, at your own hands that he’d been taking care of just lately. the nails are red, alarmingly red. it’s a shade you didn’t even know you owned, let alone used, and you’re sure you’ll wipe it off before the next time you go out. for now, you’ll let it remain there, although it’s not the color you had initially planned on. “but red was our uniform color in high school!” was what had convinced you, along with a childish pout.

“woops, sorry.” you look back down. out of all the mistakes and accidental strokes kuroo has done so far, this fresh one is the worst. your toe looks like it’s screaming for help, and it somehow makes you feel like laughing. “i’ll fix that later.”

“i’ll forgive you if you let me do your nails later.”

he chuckles, “sure. what color are you planning?”

“black, i think it’ll look good on you,” you say after humming for a moment but he doesn’t seem as pleased with the suggestion, grimacing. “what?”

“that’s daichi’s team’s color.” “fukurodani?” “worse, karasuno. next color.”

you silently scoff, “per that logic, we should be dying your hair too.”

this brings out another chuckle from kuroo, “yeah? what color are we dying my hair then?”

“yellow.” “like kenma-yellow?” “no, it’s called kenma-yellow for a reason.” “are you saying i can’t pull off that color?” “kuroo, i hate to break this to you but you’d probably look like a chicken in that color.”

at any other time, he’d jokingly act offended. however, he can’t bring himself to do so when the image draws a hearty laugh from you as well, the sound only making him smile as he briefly glances up at you.

the laugh is soon muffled below that returning, comfortable silence again. it stays like that for a while, and you wouldn’t mind if it stayed like that the entire night either.

the only issue is the one sob you suddenly let out, one you’d been holding back after already having sobbed more than a just a few times only a short while ago. this time, kuroo sighs.

“i know i told you to cry it all out earlier,” he says without diverting his eyes from the work in progress. “but if your roommate comes in and sees you like this, she’s probably going to think i forced you into doing your nails.”

to his relief, between two more sobs you let out, cracks a small giggle out. “i’ll try to stop. sorry, i didn’t mean to cry again.”

kuroo doesn’t answer immediately. he spends another few moments on the very last nail left to paint, before eventually letting out a deep breath. he puts the brush back into the small bottle of polish, screws its cap shut and puts it aside.

his hand, as warm as it’s always been, finds the top of your head. your hair gathers in messes between his fingers as he ruffles it, but it’s gently done, so gently that you can’t complain like you otherwise would. for a few moments, it makes you forget that you have a whole world of stress and pressure spinning around you.

so you let it happen, finding solace in being able to let your walls down at last. you feel your eyes burn in threatening tears, but as he speaks, his reassurance tilts you closer towards a calm, “it’s okay. everything’s going to be alright.”

kuroo likes to help you, even if it’s through the most trivial ways — like visiting your home at two in the morning and painting your nails. he truly likes to help you and would probably do anything, as long as it meant hearing that laugh again, the one you let out when he soon adds,

“by the way, you weren’t serious about dying my hair, right?”

[rosenclaws]

I will take literally any thoughts you have on giving Eddie Alden a handjob 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

hehe okay i kinda covered this in the little drabble I did earlier but I will happily add more thoughts

warnings: MINORS DNI, hand job, mentions of cum eating oops

Giving Eddie a handjob

I think it's one of the only ways you can really shut him up lol. He's a total tease and he would mercilessly tease you with words and anything else he can use (fingers, cock) ahem.

See I'm thinking that it would start with Eddie in control, or at least he thinks he's in control. He would have an arm around you as some random movie plays and he's kissing up your neck.

You can see the bulge in his jeans grow as the kissing grows hot and heavy. You run your hand over his crotch and he groans. He's a bit loud too btw. He tries to keep it down but uh, he can't sometimes alright.

He tries to get on top of you but you shove him back onto the couch. He's got this hot cocky smirk on his face that you want to get rid of. You kiss him as you unbuckle his belt and reach down into his pants.

He moans into your mouth as you grip his cock tightly. Only breaking the kiss to lean down and spit on it.

He can try and stay calm all he wants but it feels so damn good. He's leaning back on the couch, hands in his hair, eyes closed and mouth slightly open.

"Shit. Fuck that feels so good."

Eddie bucks his hips up in a wordless plea to go even faster but you don't. Getting back at him for all the teasing he does to you.

You won't go faster until he begs

Anywayss, he's moaning and you're totally egging him on by whispering in his ear all the things you want to do to him and what you want him to do to you.

Finally you get him to break and he pleads for you to make him come. Face turning slightly red as he becomes so desperate under your touch.

He comes all over your hand but you keep going just a little longer until he has to move your hand off because the poor guy is overstimulated.

You totally don't lick the cum off your hand damn who said that. You totally do and it totally turns him on even more. He needs time to recover but like I said, he has other means of pleasuring you and he is happy to do that in the mean time.

[glisten-inthedark]

The Experiment | Part 2

In case y'all missed it, I asked one of my best friends to watch Stranger Things and here's what she had to say about season 1 and 2 .

Now, here's the updated version of season 3 that she finished so fucking fast and I felt guilty because she told me didn't sleep because she was desperate for answers, my sweet summer child.

This time around she'd update me as she watched the episodes and needless to say I woke up today with way too many messages

She's 100% convinced that Mike is gay because she said and I quote: "What teenage boy takes off the hands of his girlfriend like he did?".She also said that Mike should remember that friendships are important too, she doesn't understand why he's avoiding his friends and focusing too much on El.

She loves Max Mayfield BTW (again, sweet summer child). She 100% agrees that El needs to learn how to be herself without the influence of others.

She said that the biggest problem she has with Mike and El is that El didn't even know what a friend was the first season, how can se be in a relationship? However, she does think that if Mike learns how to listen to her they might work it out but she's not sure they should. "Ok I guess they're not going to work it after all" says her after their break up. Also, she was like: "shouldn't he be more upset about this?

In comes the rain fight scene and I think the conversation deserves to be in a mural somewhere. This is what she said and I apologize for the language and for how she talks about Mike but this deserves to be translated in it's entirety because her rant was epic.

"Why. The. Fuck. Was Mike being such an ass?! He used to be so sweet to Will and now he's treating him like this? Hell nah! Like, I get that he wants to spend time with his girlfriend and that's fine, but that doesn't mean he gets to treat Will like this!

And who the fuck said anything about Will not liking girls? Will didn't! So why the fuck would Mike say this completely unprovoked? Like, this is the kind of shit Will's bullies would say! I don't know who the fuck this Mike is, but it's definitely not the kid from last season.

"Oh se he goes to apologize to Will but doesn't apologize to El?" She asked me after she calmed down from her seething rage. "Inch teresting"

"Oh boy, Billy is gonna die. Am I supposed to want him not to?".

"How the fuck did Soviet Union manage to build this entire lab underground without anyone noticing? And this is I'm thr hight of cold war too, makes no sense but what do I know?"

She absolutely adores Robin, she thinks she and Steve will get together.

"Am I supposed to feel bad for Billy?" Needless to say, she doesn't like Billy.

"What. The. Fuck. Am. I. Watching?" She asked during the people turning into slush scene.

"Oh. So I guess Robin and Steve won't get together after all" lmao I laughed.

"Oh they do want me to feel sorry for Billy, huh"

She had a mental breakdown over Hop's "death". She sent an invoice crying and cursing me for bribing her into watching the show.

She also noticed how unresponsive Mike acted after El told him she loved him and was like: "is this boy ok? Like, I'm sorry Bia (my nickname) but you're telling me he just stood there with his eyes opened while she declared her love and kissed him? Am I watching this right? Answer me dammit!" (She was angry when I refused to tell her anything lmao).

Now, bare in mind that I haven't told her about Byler at all, didn't even tell her I ship it because I wanted her to be as unbiased as possible. She told me she had thoughts/theories and I told them to share them even after she claimed she didn't think she was right.

This bellow are her thoughts and hers alone, translated from Brazilian Portuguese to English.

"I just feel like Hop's letter is telling us something about Mike, maybe? Like, how he's afraid of change, of confronting his feelings, maybe? Like, I know you won't tell me, but I don't think this scene is about El leaving at all, I think it's about Will leaving.

"But I have a theory? I don't know, but the scene parallels the scene from when they find Will's body, right? But he comes home and holds his mom and I think this when he realized he has feelings for Will? Maybe? Or at the very least he realized he isn't straight.

" I didn't think Will was gay until I saw his reaction to what Mike said, and I think Will felt that he was stupid for believing that Mike cared for him at all. He destroyed the castle because he lost his childhood, he lost everything when he wasn't even looking, and I also think he called himself stupid because he thinks it was stupid of him to hope Mike could ever think of Will that way.

"I don't think Mike truly loves El, and he's coming to terms with the reason why he doesn't"

She then begged me for information which I refused to give her, obviously. But this is part 2. Now onto the last season *laughs maniacally *

[judyprincess]

Too Pink for me- Logan Howlett +18

04: Adam's Apple

"No."

The garden area, where the teachers usually had breakfast, was filled with Logan's bad mood from the early morning, marked by his firm refusal.

"Logan, I haven't finished," Charles said calmly, setting his coffee cup down on the table.

Everyone was watching the scene, but Ororo didn't seem surprised—she had already predicted this would happen.

"Guess what, I don't care."

Logan replied before taking a sip of his black coffee, fully intending to escape Charles' explanations. Knowing what was coming, Charles had no choice but to use his powers, stopping Logan from walking away, which made a low, almost animalistic growl escape from his throat as he turned back to them, frustrated.

"Is this some kind of joke or punishment? Did I do something wrong as a substitute that I don't know about?"

Logan finally spoke, his rough voice like sandpaper, clearly expressing his displeasure.

"Logan, I still don't understand why spending time with Rosellina is a punishment." Charles didn't react to his bad attitude and took another sip of coffee. "The girl is delightful."

"I don't like her. Can that be respected?"

"Do you have a valid argument I might accept?"

Charles leaned forward, resting his chin on his interlaced hands, waiting expectantly. Logan thought for a moment, but no words came out.

"Then, no, I can't respect it. It's just nonsense."

Logan took a deep breath, trying to keep the animal inside him from breaking free.

"This is Scott's job. I don't get why I'm the one doing this."

Ororo glanced at Charles when Logan justified himself to avoid the task, her expression clearly saying, I told you so.

"Logan's right," Scott said after a moment, surprising everyone.

Hank nearly choked on his coffee, having to grab a nearby napkin to wipe himself off as he coughed. The world must have been ending—Logan even raised an eyebrow at Scott.

"Well, that's new," Ororo muttered under her breath, watching the situation unfold.

"Professor, I don't usually agree with Logan."

"Usually?" Logan asked, accusingly.

"Never," Scott corrected. "What I mean is, Rosellina is a new student. I don't think her first day at the school should involve enduring Logan's bad mood. She needs a good experience."

Logan mentally thanked Scott for the intervention, though Scott never missed an opportunity to criticize him.

Charles sighed in his seat, remaining calm and unfazed by Logan's attempts to escape. He waved a hand toward Scott, signaling that his intervention wasn't necessary, before addressing Logan.

"Logan, you have two options," he finally said, unwilling to prolong the situation further. He could already sense Rosellina's thoughts approaching—no, in fact, he could feel her emerald eyes watching them.

"You help Rosellina with her tour of the facilities and try to swallow your bad mood a bit."

Before Charles could continue, Logan cut him off with a challenging tone.

"Or what?"

"Or you'll start teaching history classes first thing Monday morning as an official professor," Charles dropped the ultimatum, taking a sip of his coffee without even looking at him. He didn't need to look to imagine Logan's expression.

"Your choice," Charles concluded, leaving a silence as Hank struggled to hold back a laugh.

"This is the library," Logan grumbled, just like every time he pointed out a new room to Rosellina.

After that trap Charles had set for him, Logan had no choice but to reluctantly accept. As soon as he left the garden, Rosellina was already waiting for him. They began on the ground floor, and after a few rooms, they found themselves in the library where several students were studying.

Logan leaned against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed, as he watched her wander around the room with curious eyes. He couldn't help but let his gaze slide over her, observing how she moved so delicately, like a graceful heron. Her clothes were simple, yet somehow, she made them look elegant and magical—a pink skirt and a white blouse with puffed sleeves. Half of her hair was tied up while the rest cascaded down her back like a waterfall, reaching places he knew he shouldn't be staring at. Logan mentally scolded himself, shaking his head firmly as he tried to focus on the windows.

That's exactly what he hated about this girl—the way she made everyone fall under her charm without even trying. Even he, despite his enduring love for Jean, couldn't stop himself from looking at her. It made him feel like a disgusting pervert.

Logan let out a low growl, tightening his grip on his arms, leaving faint marks from the pressure, though they quickly disappeared. He could hear the murmurs of the students watching her as he tried to keep his mind steady.

"She's beautiful," a rough whisper from one male student made Logan turn his head.

With indifferent eyes, Logan observed the admiration that built up around Rosellina with every step she took. The students watched her with eyes full of infatuation. She hadn't even said a word, but they were all staring at her, though they kept their distance, as if feeling unworthy of approaching her. Logan raised an eyebrow at their behavior. It was like she was a painting they admired from afar, afraid to touch for fear of breaking it. Like she was somehow "forbidden."

He chuckled under his breath, but it wasn't because he found it funny. Not at all—it irritated him. The reverence for someone just because they were pretty, someone who barely said more than two words.

"Uh, good morning," Rosellina finally spoke after hearing the whispers, attempting to greet them.

Logan was surprised by the gesture, but what shocked him even more was the students' response. Shy and embarrassed, they turned away, and only a few managed to give her a small nod in return.

Logan huffed at their ridiculous and timid behavior. Impatient, he pushed off the bookshelf and grabbed Rosellina's wrist.

"She's just a girl," he growled. "Stop drooling and at least return her greeting, you rude brats."

Rosellina was caught off guard, not only by Logan's sudden intervention that caused the students to mutter their apologies under their breath, but by his grip on her wrist—so rough, so abrupt, and of course, without any permission. She hadn't even realized when her legs instinctively quickened, trying to match Logan's long strides as he moved swiftly down the hallway, his towering height forcing her to keep pace.

"L-Logan..." she murmured softly, trying to keep up as they climbed the stairs. "It hurts..." she whispered, wincing as he dragged her down the hallway.

"I really hate you," he spat.

Those words left Rosellina stunned. She could only remain silent, frozen by the sharpness of them. Logan was a man giving her firsts in ways she couldn't understand. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. Why was this man, who barely knew her, so determined to bury her beneath his hatred, to push her away from him?

"The way you draw attention, the way you make people stupid, unable to speak, and yet you don't even say anything back," he continued, releasing her wrist abruptly, letting it drop as she came to a halt.

He turned to face her, his breathing heavy, revealing the erratic pace of his heart driven by the rush of adrenaline.

"I hate it so much."

Rosellina looked at him, feeling a sudden ache in her chest. What was that feeling? Why did it hurt? She wasn't sick, so why did her heart feel this way? In a desperate attempt to ignore that unknown pain, she offered him an embarrassed smile. Even though she wasn't to blame, she was ready to apologize.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking at him. "I didn't mean to be such a bother to you today."

Logan blinked, taken aback by her response. It only made his irritation grow. Why was she acting like she was the one at fault? Why so much submission? It was driving him crazy. He hated that unbearably helpless attitude.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath.

The sharp words, like a blade ready to cut deep, were held back. He was restraining himself, knowing deep down that this girl wasn't truly at fault. Or at least his mind tormented him with the thought of Charles scolding him if she ran off in tears because of his rough demeanor.

"Walk," he grumbled as he began to move, shoving his hands into his pockets. The quicker they got this over with, the better for both of them.

The tour of the facilities continued until they reached the second floor, above the dormitories where more secluded rooms were located. Rosellina remained silent, avoiding greetings but offering a shy smile as the older students occasionally glanced at her. Soon, the hallways were empty, and she couldn't help but fidget with her hands.

"What's your mutation?" she dared to ask after what felt like an eternal silence under the weight of the tension.

Logan didn't respond at first, unwilling to engage in more conversation than necessary, but it seemed Rosellina was determined to go against his plans.

"Healing."

He answered curtly, but he could feel her gaze behind him, quietly asking for more information.

"I've got enhanced senses. I'm like an animal, but with extraordinary regenerative abilities," he explained after a few moments of hesitation.

Rosellina nodded, trying to piece it together. Someone who could heal as quickly as he was injured? That explained why Logan, despite his age, looked so young. His mutation slowed his aging. She observed him subtly, careful not to seem intrusive, until her eyes landed on his chest. A dog tag rested against his shirt, and she could clearly read the name on it.

Wolverine.

She remembered Rogue mentioning that most had nicknames, and she quickly deduced that this was Logan's. It suited him, considering what he had told her about his mutation. Yet, despite everything, Logan didn't generate any ill feelings within her. It was his behavior that caused those tiny stings of pain in her chest.

"Were you in the army?"

Rosellina asked after a while, nervous that she might anger him again. Logan let out a heavy breath in response before turning slightly to look at her.

"You're out of questions."

That was all he said, but his response only confirmed for Rosellina that it was a sensitive subject for him. His expression had darkened when she mentioned it. She followed him closely as he pointed out more rooms, moving at a faster pace, his desire to end the tour evident.

"The professor mentioned an attic," she whispered softly, debating whether she should've said anything at all.

She could've let him go and asked Rogue to take her there instead. She watched Logan stop, fully expecting him to sigh in frustration.

"I... we can finish here—"

"Follow me, it's up the right staircase."

Logan interrupted her, veering off and walking with long strides, though his pace had softened so she could keep up. They ascended toward one of the mansion's towers. When they arrived, Logan turned on the lights, the smell of wood immediately filling the space, mingling with the natural floral scent of Rosellina as she stepped inside, awestruck by the attic's size. Logan lingered in the doorway, watching as the light from the balcony helped him see her move around, as if she were already placing things in their designated spots in her mind.

"Why did the professor give you the attic?"

Logan asked, curiosity gnawing at him. Rosellina, stepping away from the table she had been examining, turned to face him.

"He said I could paint here if I needed space, so I wouldn't bother anyone."

She answered, as kind as always.

"Paint?" Logan raised an eyebrow, not expecting that response.

"Yes, I'm an artist."

Logan could sense the hint of pride in her words when she spoke about her craft.

"Well, I guess that's something you can afford to do when your father's one of the Pentagon's big shots," Logan scoffed, the glint of disdain sharp in his eyes.

Rosellina lightly grazed her fingers across the wooden table before pulling her hand back, a small smile on her face.

"I suppose," she murmured after a moment.

Why did it feel like Logan kept testing the limits of her patience? Was she always going to let people treat her like this without pushing back?

"I really do love painting. It's a way to express myself."

Her words pulled him from his thoughts, as she stared down at the floor.

"Everyone expresses themselves somehow, but for me... well, sometimes it's hard to say what I feel." She confessed, her face turning toward the warm light spilling in from the balcony. "It's so easy to swim and just as easy to drown at the same time. But a lifeline can always be there, something to hold on to and escape from the obvious, if only for a moment."

Logan listened closely. Her words flowed like prose, a melody written in frustration and emotion on the oldest pages of Europe, hinting at something deeper. He wasn't sure if it was just her artistic nature making such elaborate comparisons to things that could've been explained in simpler terms, but something about it held him captive.

"Escaping death is easier than escaping feelings, always finding a way to hide them in plain sight, beyond the understanding of those who can't see past their own pain." Rosellina recited, as if recalling a forgotten tale lost in an untold book.

Logan found himself submerged, drawn into that stormy sea of words that seemed to lead nowhere—yet they consumed him. Because, in his mind, there was an understanding, a connection to what she was saying, even if he didn't fully grasp it himself.

"Maybe... painting is my lifeline." Rosellina turned to meet his gaze with a gentle smile. "But mostly, I love doing it because it makes people happy when I do."

She added, as if trying to steer the conversation away from the previous reflections. Logan looked into her eyes, those emerald gems piercing deeper into him, searching for something beyond what he projected. They were mesmerizing, undeniably beautiful. A truth he couldn't deny.

There was a silence between them as Logan observed her; a storm always seemed to brew whenever Rosellina was around. After what felt like an eternity, Logan finally peeled himself away from the doorway.

"I'm sure you've got other things to do, just like me," he said, turning to head down the stairs. In his language, that meant: time to get out.

Rosellina hurried to follow him, casting one last glance at the space. For some reason, Logan didn't seem as resentful as he had been yesterday or even this morning—that was a small victory for her. They descended the stairs together, arriving at the ground floor where most of the people were gathered. Jean crossed their path before Rosellina could greet her, but Logan beat her to it.

"Hey, Jean," he greeted her with a small smile.

Jean quickly returned the smile and greeting. Rosellina stood there, watching the interaction, noticing Logan's smile and his attitude towards Jean. Was he only resentful towards her? No, surely not. Rosellina mentally shook the thought away.

"Hi, Logan, and you too, Rosellina. I see you've finished the tour," Jean observed after saying hello.

Rosellina greeted her and nodded in agreement.

"Well, you sure took your time. It's already lunchtime."

"Yeah, well, the place isn't exactly small," Logan replied with a short laugh.

Rosellina could feel herself fading into the background of the conversation. Even though they were talking about both of them, the conversation started to feel more like it was just between Logan and Jean. Her emerald eyes watched their expressions, noticing the faint air of flirtation between them.

A flush rose to Rosellina's cheeks. They were probably a couple or at least interested in each other, and here she was, stuck in the middle, feeling like a third wheel illuminating a pair of lovers.

"I've got things to take care of, ciao," Rosellina mumbled softly, excusing herself so as not to interrupt any further.

As she walked away, she glanced back over her shoulder and saw them speaking comfortably, catching sight of Logan's expression as he looked at Jean, noticing the small touches she made on his arm. She quickly turned back.

Intrusive. You're being rude, Rosellina.

She scolded herself mentally, determined not to look again. All she could think now was that Logan probably had a girlfriend, which didn't make him a bad guy, right? Rogue had been right, after all. Not that she had ever thought he was a bad guy anyway.

Logan was so absorbed in his conversation with Jean that he suddenly realized he no longer caught the scent of Rosellina's perfume. He turned around to see that she was gone. When had she left? Jean had distracted him that much.

"Logan?" Jean called, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, didn't notice the little annoying rose had left," he muttered, refocusing on Jean.

"You don't like her, huh?" Jean asked as they walked down the hallway and out of the mansion, heading toward the front gardens.

"No," he answered firmly.

After a while, Logan's curiosity got the better of him, and he continued, "Beyond her striking looks, I don't even know what her mutation is."

"Well, you didn't ask her, did you? I'm sure she would've told you. She's not shy about showing it."

Jean teased him, practically telling him it was his fault for not asking her directly. Logan cursed under his breath, glancing at Jean while listening to her. Standing around like an idiot and just listening wasn't exactly his idea of fun.

"I'm asking you so you can tell me, Jean."

Jean raised an eyebrow before giving a sly smile.

"It's in her eyes."

Logan stopped in his tracks, recalling how he had been captivated by her eyes just a moment ago. He remembered thinking they were the most intense emerald green he'd ever seen in his life—like two precious gems. But he hadn't thought much further than that. Beyond her striking pink hair, those eyes were the real pressure that could crush you like the deep ocean's abyss.

"Her eyes? What are they supposed to do?"

"Illusions, she can make your mind see things completely out of reality."

Logan thought that maybe people fell under her spell because of her charm, but that wasn't the case. Her mutation went beyond his understanding. Jean took her time explaining what the professor had told her, along with his hypotheses after conducting an initial test with Rosellina. The Canadian listened closely as Jean talked about the classes Charles would have with Rosellina and how she had agreed to become an arts teacher.

"Art teacher..." he muttered to himself with a faint, mocking smile.

It suits her.

Logan thought to himself. Just then, he felt Jean's hands softly brushing against his, her fingertips tracing the calluses on his palms. That small electric charge traveled up Logan's spine, quickening his heartbeat. He turned to look at her.

"I thought you'd be falling for her by now; she's a very beautiful woman." Jean's words felt strange to him. He could sense a mix of teasing and satisfaction in them.

"I only have eyes for one person, if that's what you're worried about." His voice was lower, more intimate and rough. His hands slipped under her jacket, gently grazing her waist, savoring the feel through her clothes.

Once again, he was falling into something he shouldn't. Into the endless flirtation with Jean that always led nowhere, leaving him with scraps of affection that would never turn into anything more.

"She's not even my type," he clarified.

"She's sweet, pretty," Jean offered, "smart, kind."

"I prefer the strong, independent ones." He shook his head at her attempt, his face leaning closer to hers. "What do I have to do to make you understand that I'm only dying for you?" He confessed, now dangerously close.

Jean placed her hands on Logan's chest, creating some space between them, a small barrier, as she felt her breath catch. Logan's masculinity and boldness always made her tremble—a forbidden man who would only bring her trouble.

"Girls only flirt with the bad boy, Logan..." she whispered softly, looking at him with doe-like eyes. "But they marry the good guy."

Jean crossed that dangerous line, her lips almost brushing against his. Jean could hear the low growl in his throat, feel his hot breath on her face.

"I could be the good guy..." he murmured against her lips, barely grazing them.

He was putting all of his effort into not doing something reckless in the school's gardens, where anyone could see them. It was all forbidden and filled with consequences, a mix that made him both sick and excited at the same time. That little fantasy evaporated when Jean, just inches from sharing a kiss with him, pulled away. Once again, the same thing happened. So close, yet so far.

"Scott's waiting for me," she said as her final words, removing her hands from his chest and breaking all contact as his own hand slipped from her waist. She turned to leave, leaving him standing there. Logan didn't dare say anything, letting her walk away. All he could feel was a toxic storm brewing inside, consuming him—pain, pain and resignation. Settling for the bare minimum, knowing it would never go further, and that he would always be the loser, never the first choice for the red-haired woman he desired so much. Could his healing ability save him from that pain he masochistically confused with pleasure? No. He wouldn't feel so lost and broken, knowing he would never be her choice.

"Damn it."

________________________________________

Why does the forbidden always have to be so tempting?

The human desire to always want what we can't have, that greed that makes us brush against sins we will later pay for dearly.

There is no sin without consequences.

________________________________________

Hello, my dear readers! I'm leaving a little note here for you. I know you're a fan of Marvel, so if you're interested, I've recently published another book, though this one focuses more on the Avengers. In this fanfic, the Avengers' story is rebooted from the first movie, and a new female original character will change the course of the movie timeline in this alternate reality. You can find it on my profile, or search for it by title: Immortal Flames.

If you're also into Japanese mythology, this fanfic will be for you! (Of course, it will be explicit and feature romance between the original character and another Avenger, along with secondary pairings among other Avengers).

I hope you're enjoying Rosellina's story. ✨️

Kisses,  Judy. 💖

[polkadotpenguin16]

The Five Stages of Grief: Acceptance

A/N: That’s it! We’ve done it!! If you had told me a year ago that I was going to write a whole-ass story, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here we are – life’s funny, isn’t it? Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who’s been following along with my story. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I was capable of writing something anyone would enjoy reading. All the likes, reblogs, and comments have really added a sparkle to my life I didn’t know I needed. Also, extra huge thank you to the lovelies who reviewed, edited, and let me ramble on about my idea. This could not have been done without you and I am forever grateful <3

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Word count: 2,985

Previous parts: Prologue | Denial | Anger | Bargaining | Depression

Also posted on AO3.

You didn’t need to tell Sonny where to meet you in Prospect Park. He knew the exact spot. On your fourth date, you took a walk through the park. Out of nowhere, it started pouring down rain, so you took cover under a gazebo. That was where you shared your first kiss, and that memory would forever be engrained in his head.

Even though you were fifteen minutes early, Sonny was already waiting for you in that gazebo. You shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. He sat hunched over on the bench with his arms on his knees. He looked up when he heard you but didn’t say anything. He didn’t look like your Sonny. The sparkle was drained from his eyes. He looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days. You knew the feeling. You sat beside him on the bench, leaving an uncomfortable amount of distance between you. The tension from when you last met still lingered in the air, but the mood felt less defensive and more cautious.

“Thank you for meeting me,” you said to break the ice. Your heart was in your throat. Your anxiety wasn’t as high as last time, but you were nonetheless still nervous. Your hands were clammy, and your leg was restlessly bouncing, making the bench squeak beneath you. But you needed to be here, to make things right.

Sonny nodded in response. He was no longer despondent or resentful but still felt very guarded. He was prepared to accept the outcome of your conversation, whether that meant moving forward or moving on.

“Well, I have a lot of apologizing to do.” You rummaged through your bag to find your phone. “So I made a list to make sure I didn’t forget anything.”

Sonny didn’t come here today expecting an apology. He was the one who messed up, in his mind. But writing an apology as an itemized list was such a “you” thing to do. He was always fond of how meticulous you were.

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves before you began. “Let’s start with number one: I’m sorry for leaving that night. Packing up without a word was wrong, and I should’ve stayed and talked with you. Number two: I’m sorry for avoiding you. You reached out to apologize and reconcile, and I was unwilling to communicate. It was childish and unproductive of me to ignore you.”

You paused briefly to glance up at Sonny’s face. His expression was neutral, but you could tell by how his eyes were fixed onto you that he was listening intently. Sonny was so surprised by your words that he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling. He’d spent more time worrying about your feelings than examining his own. This apology was like a salve to a deep cut he hadn’t noticed. Closure he didn’t know he needed.

You looked back at your phone and continued down your list. “Um, number three: I’m sorry for the unforgivable things I said to you when we fought. I didn’t mean them, but I know that’s no excuse, nor does it take anything back. Number four: I’m sorry for being jealous of your relationship with Amanda. You assured me she was just your friend, and I should’ve never doubted you. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for, and I should not have made you feel bad for being just that.”

Sonny broke his gaze away from you. He felt ashamed that he’d missed what others had seen. And that you felt the need to apologize for his actions. That guilt-fueled churning in his stomach he’d become so familiar with made a return.

Still concentrating on your list, you resumed. “And number five: I’m sorry for not being honest about how I was feeling. I pretended I was okay with how things were and that was unfair to you. I should’ve been upfront when I started feeling neglected so that you could’ve had the chance to respond. I’m not apologizing here today with the expectation that I’ll be forgiven.” You wiped away the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes. “I know I’ve caused damage that I may not be able to repair. I want to be with you Sonny, if you’ll have me. I promise to be more open, understanding, and to communicate better. I love you, and I’m willing to put in the work to fix us.”

You put your phone away and gave him a look that you hoped conveyed all the remorse you felt. “If there’s anything else I’ve missed that I still need to apologize for, feel free to tell me. I’m ready to take responsibility for my mistakes.”

Sonny sat in silence for a beat, a solemn, unreadable expression on his face. You’d said your piece, and now you’ll have to live with the consequences. You held your breath and braced yourself for whatever he had to say next.

“…My hairbrush,” he said flatly. Unsure if you’d heard him correctly, you couldn’t help but give a confused look. “You took my hairbrush with you that night. My hair’s looked like crap ever since.”

You immediately burst out laughing, folding in half in your seat. He just wanted to hear you laugh again. It’d been so long since he’d heard your laugh. It was the most magical sound he’d ever heard.

“Well, I’m sorry for that, too,” you wheezed out as you tried to catch your breath. “I didn’t take it on purpose. That was cruel and unusual punishment.”

Now it was Sonny’s turn to laugh. He chuckled so hard his sides began to hurt. Any tension between you had disappeared. For the past week, you felt like strangers. After all the heartbreak and turmoil, you could finally recognize each other again.

“Thank you, doll, for that very thoughtful apology,” he said once he composed himself. “I forgive you, and I wanna work on fixing us together. But first, it’s my turn to apologize.”

“No, you don’t, Sonny. You’ve already—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “I don’t have a fancy list like you did, but I’ll try my best.”

You smirked and shook your head. He aways poked fun at your lists, and your lists for your lists. You sat back and gave him the floor.

“I’m so sorry I forgot our date. But more than that, I’m sorry for all the canceled dates before that. I know my job’s insane and keeps me away a lot, and you’ve been a saint to put up with me as long as you have. You’re my priority, and from now on, I’m gonna treat you as such.”

You felt a warm glow in your heart. Just a few words, and all the sadness from so many lonely nights seemed to fade away. You could’ve stopped him there, completely content with his apology. But you let him continue letting his feelings out.

“Also, I haven’t been the best at communicating either. I should not have lost my temper the way I did, or confronted you at work. I was angry and afraid, but I should’ve found a better way to express that. I’m gonna work on that.”

With each word he spoke, he could feel his soul getting lighter. Freeing himself of the guilt that had dominated him. And the gentle smile on your face told him that he was saying the right things.

“And with Rollins…you don’t have to worry about that anymore.” You opened your mouth to interject, but he held his hand up to stop you. “I understand where the jealousy came from. I just wish you’d told me sooner. But you were right. There’s only so much I can do, and I’m gonna take a step back. I know we can’t just go back to how things were, but I’d like to start fresh and take things slow. I thought I’d lost you—” his voice cracked as he held back his tears.

You reached out your hand from across the bench. What was only a foot or two felt like miles. Like a bridge across stormy waters, bringing you back together. Deeply touched, he took your hand, comforted by the familiar fit in his. “You’re the best part of my life and I’ve been taking you for granted. Can you forgive me?”

You looked at him with adoration beaming from your eyes. “I already have.”

He squeezed your hand and gently rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. “Y’know, if you still wanna walk away, now’s your last chance.” He wiped the last remaining tears from your face. “’Cause if you stay, I’m not letting you get away again. Ever.”

You turned your head to kiss his palm that was still lingering on your cheek. “No, Sonny, I’m not going anywhere.” You smiled and shook your head, sure in your decision. “There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with.”

Sonny’s smile was so bright, it could’ve lit up Time Square itself. He pulled you close and wrapped you in an impossibly tight hug. You’d almost forgotten how it felt to be held by him. How warm and safe his arms felt.

“I love you, sunshine,” you murmured against his chest.

“Love you more, doll.” He took your face into his hands and gave you a gentle kiss. You threaded your arms around his neck and kissed him deeper. Everything and everyone else at the park that day completely faded away – there was just you and him. Goosebumps shot across your body as you got lost in the taste of each other. A kiss that felt as if it were months in the making.

The tender moment was rudely interrupted by your stomach growling, causing you both to giggle. You hadn’t had much of an appetite for the past week, and it seemed like your anxious tummy ache had abruptly disappeared. Sonny sat back so he could see you better. “How’s about we get something to eat? I believe I owe you dinner at a fancy restaurant.”

“Maybe another day,” you replied. “I’d rather go home together and have you cook us something. Is that okay?” Hearing you say that made Sonny teary. You said home. With him.

Together.

He grabbed your hand and kissed it with an enormous grin growing across his face. “That’s more than okay, doll.” With that, you got up and began your stroll through the park back to your apartment.

Back home.

When you arrived, you decided to jump in the shower while Sonny started dinner. He hadn’t been to the store for a couple of days, so it was slim pickings. He found half a carton of eggs and a small cut of pancetta in the back of the fridge. Carbonara it is, then.

He just finished frying the pancetta when you returned to the kitchen. When he turned around at the sound of your footsteps, he was stunned by what he saw. It was you wearing his ratty, gray Fordham hoodie. It was such a normal, everyday thing for you to be wearing. But in that moment, after all you’ve been through, the gesture meant the world to Sonny. He started to feel the cracks of his heart begin to heal.

“Everything okay?” You asked, a bit concerned by his dazed look.

“Yeah, everything’s perfect.”

Sonny plated the pasta, and you sat down for dinner at your tiny table. It felt like ages since you’d gotten to talk to each other. You explained how you wanted to start therapy to work on your self-esteem and conflict avoidance. You wanted to be the best version of yourself for both you and Sonny. He was very encouraging and proud of you for being willing to take that step.

Sonny talked about how he was seriously considering changing his career. “It just feels like the right time, y’know? I’m just worried I’d be letting everyone down. I mean, what if I suck as a lawyer?”

“Listen to me,” you sat your fork down and grabbed his hand. “You’re not letting anyone down. You’re following your dream. Anyone who loves you knows that and will support you. Whether you’re a cop, a lawyer, or whatever, I’m gonna be here for you. And I’ll love you through it all. Even if you are a sucky lawyer.”

Sonny’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, and he tried to turn his head to disguise the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes. You reached for his chin and gently turned his face back to give him a sweet kiss. “Through it all,” you reiterated. Your gaze briefly shifted from his face to the living room behind him, something seeming awry. “Did you move the bookcase?”

Sonny wasn’t sure what you were talking about until he remembered the hole in the wall the bookcase was now hiding. “Um…how ‘bout we talk about that tomorrow? I think we’ve had enough excitement for today.”

Well, now your interest was definitely piqued. But he was right. There was no need to solve everything in one day.

Once dishes were put away, you decided to turn in early. To say you were both exhausted was an understatement. Sonny crawled into bed behind you and curled his whole body around you. Arms, legs, and all completely cocooning you.

“Sunshine, I can’t breathe,” you eked out from between his arms.

“Well, I told you I wasn’t letting you get away again,” he nonchalantly replied, tightening his grasp around you. “This is your life, doll. Just accept it.”

You belly laughed so hard you would’ve fallen out of bed if Sonny hadn’t been holding you so tightly. “Oh, I have!” You get out in between your giggles. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about that.”

And he believed you.

“I love you, doll,” he whispered as he kissed your cheek. “More than anything.”

“I love you more,” you quietly answered back.

“Not possible.”

Sonny nuzzled his head into the back of your neck, completely enveloped in the familiar, comforting scent of your hair. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest. The sound of your breathing lulled him to sleep—the best sleep he’d had in months.

You woke up to the sun creeping in through the curtains. You glanced over at your alarm clock to check the time. 9:45. You’d gotten a much-needed good night’s rest. Sonny, too. He was still knocked out beside you, lying on his stomach with his arms sprawled out in every which way. You couldn’t help but stare. His face was so serene. You could almost make out the faintest hint of a smile. It was such a rare sight to see him so peaceful.

Beginning to stir, Sonny rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. “Enjoying the view, doll?” He called you out for staring. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

Your cheeks turned bright red, and you scooched closer to bury your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“I think it’s Sunday.” Sonny’s voice was still gravely from sleep. “We’ve got the whole day to ourselves. Whatcha wanna do, sweetheart?”

“Hmmm…” you briefly considered your options. “Well, staying in bed is tempting.”

“I could be convinced of that. That couch sure made me miss this old bed.”

You looked up at him confused. “The couch?”

“Yeah…” He gave you an embarrassed smile. “I’ve been sleeping on the couch the past couple nights.”

“Why would you do that? That couch is at least a foot too short you.”

“Wasn’t the same in here without you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You’re my home, doll.”

You’d never felt so in love with him as you did in that moment. “And you’re mine.” You brushed back the hair stuck to his forehead and leaned up to kiss him. He tangled one of his hands in your hair as he caressed your back with the other. Home was the best way to describe how you felt.

You were both startled by Sonny’s work phone ringing. Groaning, you rolled away from him. So much for a Sunday in bed. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, getting up to make some coffee for him to take. But he grabbed your arm to stop you. He quickly checked his phone, then dismissed the call and turned it off.

“Don’t you need to answer that?” Sonny always answered his work phone. Night or day, whether he was on the clock or not.

He shrugged and shook his head. “Not my weekend on call. They can figure it out.”

“Sonny, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Pfft, they’re already short-staffed. What’re they gonna do? Fire me?” He poked your side, making you giggle. “Besides, I’ve got much more important things to worry about.”

“Such as?”

“Making sure my girlfriend is suitably cuddled.” He pulled you back onto his chest and wrapped his arms around your waist. It felt so comfortable. You were fighting to stay awake, but the rhythm of his heartbeat was so calming, it was lulling you back to sleep.

“Just close your eyes, doll,” he said as he ran his hand up and down your spine.

“But I haven’t seen you in forever.” You let out a huge yawn. “I feel like if I close my eyes, you’ll disappear.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Just go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

After a few more beats, you did indeed fall back asleep. Sonny studied your face, memorizing each detail. Every wrinkle, every freckle committed to memory. He couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to get a second chance with you. Completely content with his life, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, assured he’d have plenty of tomorrows to spend with you.