#little shop kills and saves me

[lovecommajaime]

i’ve been too unormal lately

[unexpectedbrickattack]

talks about my own damn post in your inbox i guess but i think a good part of the bros' trusting peppino is like. pizzahead can so easily buy out or win over basically anyone who stands against him and peppino is like the ONE guy they knew for sure that wasn't gonna happen with. he might not have cared/known about their plight, but he also didn't seem to have any ulterior motives that would make their lives more hell if he got the treasures, so that was...really as much as they could ask for given the circumstances

I like the idea of this 🤔 Like maybe there were other people theyve seen immediately take the money, like randos but also some of the bosses. So their only hope was someone who wasnt going to be talked or bribed into leaving this tower alone. I can see ph still trying to buy his way into peppinos restaurant, even towards the end…like ouuuh…fat and rude italian man…i dont HAVE to explode this shop, i can just buy it 🥺🥺🥺 please let me buy it 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 pwease…..🥺 and peppino is so fucking determined to just smash everything into oblivion that that simply isnt an acceptable offer. Get ur ass beat. That is the only acceptable offer. And u know what? John will definitely put the small amount of faith he has in this man bc of it.

[sistertotheknowitall]

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING

Pairing: Gojo x reader (fem!pronouns)

Word Count: 1,2k

Synopsis: Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Warnings: this is fluffness overload so be prepared, (y/n) has a really bubbly and Mitsuri-like personality, let me know what you thiiiiink and enjoy your holidays🤍

Your heart jumps up and down in joy, feet carrying you down the hallway at lightspeed. Finally he’s back. How long has it been since you’ve last seen him? Definitely too long.

“Satoru!”, you cry out.

There he stands, his arms already wide open while wearing the casual sly grin you adore so much. You can’t contain yourself any longer, your giggles filling his very own heart with nothing but joy.

Satoru doesn’t remember exactly how it all started. After some random mission, he saw a little figure of your favourite animal standing innocently in a show window. He didn’t think much of it, bought it only because it reminded him of you. But oh, you were so joyful back then.

“Are you kidding me?”, you breathed out, glossy eyes staring at the pretty ugly figure so heartfelt that Satoru couldn’t help but shamelessly stare at you.

“It reminded me of you since I know it’s your favourite animal, so yeah…You like it?”

“Like it?”

You grabbed his hands with so much passion that he almost fell backwards, jumping up and down in delight.

“I love it, Satoru! This is probably the nicest thing someone ever did for me!”

It was inevitable from there on. The urge to see your heartfelt joy after every mission became an obsession, forcing him to look into every window, into every shop on the haunt for something you might like. To be honest it made everything more bearable. The loss of his best friend, the people around him dying, all the things that keep him up at night seem to disappear when he’s looking for souvenirs to bring you.

And this.

You almost knock him over by the way you let yourself fall into his arms, hands intertwined behind his back just the way he likes it. Oh, your smell is so intoxicating, as well as your gorgeous appearance sends warm shivers down his spine. How is it even possible that you seem to get more and more breath-taking every time he sees you?

“I was so worried about you! Why didn’t you answer your calls?”, you mumble against the fabric of his uniform, instantly greeted by the singing smell of curses.

“Oh y’know, I had to do a little work from now and then. Like killing off some demons and saving a whole town from getting wiped out. So sorry I didn’t call you back”, he teases you gently.

“That didn’t stop me from getting something for you, though…”

Your eyes widen in sheer excitement, head darting towards him instantly.

“No, you didn’t”, you mutter, lips already forming the most adorable smile.

“Heck yeah I did.”

“I told you over and over that you don’t need to do that, Satoru!”

“Do you like them?”

You bite your lip in a miserable attempt to suppress the wide grin that creeps up your face, cheeks turning the shade of pink that makes Satoru lose his mind.  You are so breath-taking, so pure that it warms his heart.

“Of course I do”, you mumble into your hand.

“There you go.”

He hands you a small box, the brush of his tender touch against your hand sending electricity right through your body. With trembling fingers, you open the light blue ribbon wrapped around it, exposing a simple yet stunning necklace. You desperately try to hold back tears, so moved that you are utterly speechless.

This necklace isn’t this simple. No, engraved into it in Satoru’s iconic handwriting, it says “every thought, you”.

“You can’t be serious about this, Satoru. I really don’t deserve this.”

“You deserve this and even more, (y/n). Do you like it?”

“You ask me if I like it?”, you repeat breathless.

Your finger brushes over the engraving carefully, feeling every curve and every stroke of his elegant hand writing. This must have been expensive – way too expensive for a simple souvenir. But oh how much you love it already, you’ll keep this close to your heart day in and day out.

“I love it. Thank you so much.”

There’s no time to waste. With a swift motion you lunge yourself at him all over again, burying your face against his broad chest. You truly don’t deserve his kindness, his affection. What an outstanding man he is, so tender that it makes you tear up.

“I’d do anything to make you smile”, he mutters into your hair, hands stroking your back ever so gently.

Smile…Oh, you almost forgot!

“Would you…Would you mind coming to my dorm for a second? There’s something I want to give you as well.”

You wipe your tears away unladylike, your hand grabbing his before he’s even able to answer your question.

“Something you want to give to me? Remember when I told you you don’t have to buy me anything?”

“Remember when I told you the same?”, you remark with a slight grin, literally dragging him into your room.

In fact, you stumbled upon this cute figure of a white cat the other day. There was no way you’d leave without buying it, not when it reminded you so much of him.

You swing your drawer open without thinking twice, grabbing the cute little cat with your face glowing in proud.

“Okay, now that’s adorable”, Satoru laughs gently.

Somehow, his eyes get stuck on your drawer though. It looks messy, almost flooding over with all the pieced cramped into it. But no, that isn’t some random rubbish. That figure that stands in the middle of it, it looks so familiar. As well as all those letters, the sweets, the postcards…

It dawns to him, heart skipping a beat. These are all the souvenirs he brought you over the last few years.

“Don’t tell me you kept everything I gave you.”

Oh, please tell him you did.

“Huh?”

Your innocent eyes dart towards the drawer behind you, your cheeks instantly heating up all over again.

“Oh…of course I kept them! Why would I ever throw them away?”

“You even kept the packages of the sweets from last months…”

His heart almost overspills with love. You have to be an angel, too pure and kind for this world. Just one look into your tender eyes is enough to sweep him off his feet, the little cat he holds in his hand sending him over the edge.

“I just love to get reminded of you I guess.”

“And I love you, (y/n). You have to be the most precious human being I’ve ever met.”

The way your eyes widen and your mouth shoots open is priceless. You look so utterly surprised that he can’t help but chuckle while wrapping his strong arms around you all over again.

“Y-you, loving me?”, you stutter.

“Well, I was hoping you’d love me too-“

“I do”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I love you more than any souvenir!”, you babble out.

“That’s what a man needs to hear”, he laughs softly.

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @chilichopsticks

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[jyoongim]

begging for some alastor x reader crumbs where Al leaves dead things on reader's doorstep as gifts like a cat does. "Oh that sinner has eyes with reader's fave color, they would surely love to have that" "why the fuck is there ANOTHER corpse on my fucking lawn?!"

This is a more fluffier request and it is very short.

Hope you enjoy <3 ;)

Alastor might have been a sadistic psychopathic maniac, but he had some surprising aspects to him.

Like how he left you gifts.

You blinked in surprise at the tiny box held to your face.

Alastor was standing before you with a smile on his face, mirth dancing in his eyes “Al? What’s this?” You asked taking the box.

”Oooh just a little something I thought you would like. I pulled a few limbs to get it just right” he laughed.

Inside was a pair of ivory earrings. They were beautiful.

You pouted, putting the earrings in “Al you didn’t have to get me anything” you tucked some hair behind your ear, smiling

”How do they look?”

”They suit you quite well, my dear”

How were you suppose to know the gifts he was leaving you were poor sinners?

You were a picky eater, even by cannibalistic means. You didn’t like the fatty parts, finding them too greasy and often upsetting your tummy. Many butcher shops haggled an arm for the really good stuff. You had a preference for internal organs, but hated spending so much for it.

Your nose had picked up the scent of blood in the hotel. You ended up in the kitchen, and the sight before your eyes made you giggle.

Alastor, in a bloody apron, arm deep in a carcass, disemboweling it. He had set aside most of the delicacies. You watched as he occasionally ate a slab of meat as he worked.

You figured he was gonna make dinner so you left him unbothered.

You normally didn’t eat around everyone at dinner, just because of the looks you got from your preference. You usually ate when everyone was done and out the kitchen.

Alastor placed a bowl in front of you, grabbing your attention.

You could have cried; innards and they smelled divine.

And the blood was even drained.

”But Alastor what will you eat?” He smiled at you stuffed cheeks, confusion peaking on your brow

”I already ate my fill, you should have the finer bits”you happily slurped an intestine.

In many ways, the red demon was more like a cat than a deer

”Alastor! What the fuck!?” Vaggie scolded 

there were five dead bodies outside the hotel and Alastor was bagging them up.

”Alastor! Why are their dead sinners outside the hotel? We are trying to save sinners not have them killed!”

Alastor smiled “They are for a gift”

It took you a while to figure out that Alastor was gifting you sinners to show he could provide for you.

It should have creeped you out…

But you were a sucker for his little gifts.

The Radio Demon could be a sweetheart…in his own twisted way

[applepiewinchesters]

Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.

Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)

Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff

Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.

The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.

Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.

Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.

All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.

When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.

You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.

The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.

“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.

Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.

It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.

Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.

The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”

That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.

When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.

After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.

Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.

You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.

But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.

It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.

After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.

But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.

“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.

“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.

“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.

Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.

Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.

You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.

“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.

The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”

“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.

“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.

The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.

Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.

You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.

Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.

So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.

You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.

You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.

When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.

His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.

Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.

“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.

“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.

As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.

“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.

Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.

“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.

“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”

While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.

“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.

When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.

Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.

He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.

…

It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.

You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.

“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.

“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.

You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.

Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.

Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.

Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.

“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”

The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.

You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.

Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.

You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.

“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.

It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.

He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.

What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.

“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.

You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.

“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.

It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.

You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.

“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.

“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.

You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.

“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.

“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.

You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.

Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.

When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”

You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.

Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either.  But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.

“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.

“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.

“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.

Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”

“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.

“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.

Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.

“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.

The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.

You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.

“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.

So, you stopped, much to Logan’s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.

“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.

“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.

“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.

“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”

Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.

It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."

Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.

But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.

Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”

Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.

You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”

“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.

“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.

“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.

You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”

Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.

“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.

This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.

“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.

This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.

The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!

[yeetus-feetus]

Today my mother made me go to the beach. And while I was there I let myself enjoy the water and sand between my toes.

After a little while I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because remembered the videos I had seen of Palestinian children playing in the water of their beaches, of parents chasing children around while they laughed, of people enjoying the water and feeling the sand between their toes.

Then I thought about how these people don't get to enjoy their beaches anymore. Because Israel won't let them, because Israel is bombing the families who used to play in the sand.

When we got in the car my mum rolled all the windows down, said something about the fresh air. And as we drove I felt the cool wind against my face, in my hair.

And I wanted to cry.

Because the people in Gaza don't get to just enjoy the fresh air. Because all they're breathing in is debris from destroyed buildings and white phosphorus, and the smell of the dead.

I looked out my window and saw my old school as we passed. And I felt guilty, because I dropped out. But their are children in Palestine who are crying and begging to go back to school and they can't.

The children in Gaza can't go back to school because Israel has destroyed and bombed them.

And I think about the displaced people taking refuge in those very schools while Israel attacked them. I think about how unfair and cruel that is.

And then I see the trees. My favourite trees, Gum trees that are native to my land. And I think about how the native trees in Gaza are being destroyed and bulldozed, very important trees that mean a lot to the Palestinian people. And those trees are being taken away by Israel.

Then there are houses, homes and people going about their day. I watch them from my car window and I want to cry still. Because the people in Gaza have no homes, they don't get to go about their day.

I think about the displaced people in Gaza, who are lucky to have a tent to sleep in. Because Israel has bombed their homes, rained white phosphorus above their homes, bulldozed over their homes, forced the Palestinian people to flee from their homes.

I'm barely holding in my tears, because I'm in the car on the way to my own home and the people in Gaza don't get to do that.

We pass the shops, and my throat starts to close up because there's people buying ice cream and groceries for their families. And the people in Gaza are being starved by Israel.

The people in Gaza don't get to have ice cream, they can't do their grocery shopping. They don't even have enough food for their own children because Israel refuses to let any aid trucks in, because they control all the borders and entries into Gaza.

We pass by a chemist in particular and I think about all the children in Gaza not being able to receive medical care. Because the hospitals are being attacked by Israel. Because no medical aid can get in. Because they have doctors being killed.

And then we pass by the park. The park is empty. And I think about the empty parks in Gaza. Because there are no children to play on the swings, no children to run and laugh. Because the children are crying instead. The children have no legs to play because they've been bombed. They can't laugh because white phosphorus has burned through their faces. They can't do anything because they are frozen in fear.

Theses children who should be filling up empty parks are holding their baby siblings, trying to keep them alive because their parents, aunt's and uncles, have all been slaughtered by the IDF. These children who should be laughing are screaming out for help because members of the IDF are raping them.

These children who should be having fun at the park are prisoners of Israel for throwing rocks at tanks like the boy David who threw a rock at the giant Goliath to save his people. And these children are being tortured in these prisons because they were hopeful and brave.

These children who should be with their families at the park are dying. Are dead. A lying beneath the ruble. Are cold and limp with no air in their lungs. These children are in pieces scattered across the blood drenched ground.

They should have been at the park today.

I can hear a man talking on the radio, and he's talking about unimportant nonsense things and I feel angry. I feel frustrated. Because why is no one else talking about this!? Why is no one talking about what's happening to these people!??

We pass by the fresh water creak right before my house and I want to scream! Because I know there's no fresh water in Gaza. I know there are Palestinians dying of dehydration and yet there is fresh, drinkable water running right there! But the water in Palestine has been polluted by blood and disease, and the seawater Israel has flooded their water supply with.

And when I get to my bed I finally scream and cry and punch my mattress to get all my emotions out.

Now I'm numb and writing this so that someone will see it, hoping that someone will understand, hoping that someone will fight even harder for the people of Palestine.

I'm hoping that they can enjoy their beaches again. I hope that's sometime soon.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hi! Is it possible to get a platonic Yandere Stanford with a teenager reader? The reader likes mysteries and monsters and all that just like him, so Stanford sees them and he’s like ‘yup. That’s my kid now’ lol

P!Yandere!Stanford Pines & Teenager!GN!Reader

warnings: violence(toward monsters), implied abuse

[THIS IS PLATONIC] I think I made this a tad too long... it's not even in bullet form anymore. thank you for the request! I love your idea sm 😭 [Word Count: 1047]

Stanford Pines has completed another mission. He lifted his head, his eyes squinting at the sight of the looming trees. The sun peeked between them, visibly on its way down.

To keep it short, he had to chase a dangerous, vile monster into the woods and take its life.

He probably saved thousands of lives. It's just that... it came down to the price of being lost. Ford has never gone this far from Gravity Falls before.

That's totally okay. Curious, even! This is perfect material for his research! He'll have to use a makeshift one for now—this cheap notebook he got from the gift shop.

As he was about to start writing, a panicked roar reverberated throughout the forest. Such strong growls—enough to blow away his clothes and body! Ford had to see it with his own eyes!

He ran and ran until he finally saw the giant. A single, widened eye stared at him, and suddenly he couldn't move anymore. Heavy breaths rose and plunged from his chest.

But he didn't have to worry any longer. A figure hopped down, continuously slicing the middle part of the eye as they descended.

Ford grunted, falling on his back as its blood squirted and leaked, even having some splatter on his nose. He watched the monster turn and run away, knowing that it'd die soon enough.

"Woah! Grandpa, you okay?" A small hand filled Ford's vision. "You froze up pretty quickly. I bet you'd be dead if I wasn't here!"

Once his vision finally cleared, he paused at the sight of a teenager. He's never seen this kid before. Ford cleared his throat, accepting your hand and standing up. "I'm fine. And don't call me that."

You hummed, tilting his open wallet with a nod. "I dunno. Being in your sixties sounds pretty old to me."

"What? How— When— Give me that!" Ford swiped his wallet out of you, to which you respond with a silly grin. He scoffed, crossing his arms. This is such a Stanley thing to do. "Who are you even, kid? Why are you out here?"

"I'm out adventuring!" you declared, placing your fists on your hips. You do certainly have equipment fit for an adventurer. "I mean, did you see me back there? Killed that monster with one swipe!"

Ford rubbed his chin in deep thought. He smiled. "That was pretty impressive. It reminds me of my nephew. You've gone straight towards the monster's weak point."

Unbeknownst to him, your face starts heating up from the praise. You've never received positive reactions from your oh-so-dangerous hobbies. "Well, yeah! It's no big deal. Eyes are usually common for being weak."

Ford chuckled. "Anyway, do you know the direction to Gravity Falls? I may be a little lost."

"Course, duh! It's like... that way! Opposite of the sun," you grinned, pointing behind him. He turned around to check, his shoulders slumping. You touched his nose with a grin when he looked back at you. What a Mabel type of personality. You were really just removing the monster's blood, though. "Boop!"

...Okay.

One glance at the sky, and Ford knew that there's no way he's going to go home at this time. While he loved adventuring, especially at night, he's still in undiscovered territory and would very much like to go home in one piece.

"Alrightnicetomeetyoudude! Byeeee! Good luck!" you exclaimed, already waving at him and walking away.

Wait! You're his only ticket out!

"Pray tell, kid, are you alone? Don't you have guardians or friends tagging along?" he asked hastily.

"Naw. I have parents waiting for me back home, though," you smiled.

Ford somehow convinced you to bring him home to yours.

Now, you stood in front of your house with him by your side. The older man couldn't help but notice that you looked a bit anxious, weirdly enough. You're scratching your arm.

The door finally opened. The first thing Ford saw was a frustrated face of an older woman, which was swiftly wiped when she took note of his presence. How odd.

"Oh, sweetie, who's this with you?"

"Found him in the woods! Isn't he neat?"

"Let's talk for a bit. Please give us a moment," the woman smiled at Ford, grabbing you before closing the door on him.

Ford awkwardly stood outside the house, checking his watch. Faint voices reached his ears. That's your mother, yes? She sounded upset. You sounded upset. He hasn't been in this dimension in a while, but would it really be so bad to take home a man you haven't met? He's just literally lost!

You opened the door. He froze when he met your tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, whatever-your-name-is. I can't let you in," you muttered meekly. "But you can wait for me tomorrow. I'll help you go home. Bye."

The door closed. Why were you crying? That's not right.

Next day.

Ford waited for you on your front porch, mindlessly writing in his notebook. He had to sleep on a makeshift cushion of laundry. It wasn't the worst place to sleep, and he's just glad he didn't get caught.

"Good morning! You're early today!" you beamed, already walking.

"Is there anything I should know about your parents?" he deadpanned, trailing next to you.

You got uncomfortable quickly. "Uh, next question? Hey, look, a parasite! So weird!"

"Don't touch that! I can't believe it ranges up to here!"

The journey towards Gravity Falls felt long and tiring. But it simply made you and Ford closer.

"What's your name again?"

"Ford. Just call me Ford."

"For— Holy shit! I didn't even notice earlier! You have five fingers and a thumb!"

"Please—" he hid his hand in reflex.

"Six cylinders on your hand! That's so cool, Ford!"

Ford simply sighed, a smile growing on his lips.

Eventually, you both reach the mystery shack.

"Woah... That's yours? No wonder why you're so used to being in the woods. You live in one!"

Ford chuckled, opening the front door. "I can safely say you're going to get along with my family, kid."

...

You paused, hesitating. "I can't. I have to go home."

...

He smiled sweetly. "Not even for dinner? It'll be quick."

Your stomach growled quite loudly, causing your cheeks to heat up. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."

Stepping right into the shack, Ford shuts the door behind you. He can't let you go back in that godforsaken house. You looked too miserable.

You can be happy with the Pines family here.

[alvojake]

heyy can you write about ab riding smut of any member(s) you'd like

「note」 : anon I wanna kiss your beautiful brain! Gamer Heeseung has a death grip on me and so I present to you the cliche riding gamer boyfriend Heeseung while he games.

On The Downlow | L.HS

「paring」 : gamer!bf!heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 2.2k

「synopsis」 : your boyfriend had a hard week at work, and you wanted nothing more than to pamper him and help him relieve his stress. but you barely made it past lunch when he went running to his video games. so you come up with a new plan that involves a new little lingerie set you bought just for him, but it doesn't exactly go as you planned it.

「genre」 : smut with little plot, a tinge of fluff, and crack

「warning」 : riding, unprotected sex (just don't), dom!heeseung x sub!reader, cursing, slight orgasm denial, exhibitionism, petnames (baby, babydoll, beautiful, brat, slut...), praising, degradation, heeseung spanks the reader like once, mentions of porn, lmk if I missed anything!!

“God dammit Jake I said your left!!” Heeseung shouted at his friend as his fingers furiously smashed on the keyboard keys. He had been at this since about noon when he got a message from Sunghoon telling him to hop on.

It was almost midnight now and the dinner that you had made for the both of you had long since gone cold. He had promised that he would only be on for a few hours then he was all yours. You knew better than to believe him because the outcome was always the same. He’d be on it for so long that you eventually just fall asleep.

However, you wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend seeing as he had a long week at work. You were going to try and help him relax, but he ran to the animated characters on the screen instead.

You sat on the edge of your shared bed, knees tucked under you as you watched him intently. Watching as his eyebrows furrowed when things took a wrong turn, the way his bottom lip would get stuck between his teeth during an intense match. You could feel the need getting stronger, the heat that was pooling in your gut was now turning into a raging fire.

“Hee.” You called out to the dark-haired male but got no response. Standing from the bed carefully you made your way over to the closet.

You were going to save this until you two could finally have some fun together, but now you had another plan in mind. Looking over your shoulder you could see Heeseung was still absorbed in his game so you quickly and carefully grab a shopping bag you had hidden. Peeking inside you made sure everything was still inside before tiptoeing to the bathroom.

With one glance at your boyfriend, you quietly shut the door and started to quickly strip out of your sleep clothes. You had bought a cute purple lace lingerie set just for Heeseung because you knew how crazy he got when he’d see you in purple. 

Once it was completely on you looked at yourself in the mirror, the fabric hugged your breast perfectly and the garter belt accentuated your waist beautifully. Your fingers grazed over the embroidered flowers as you smirked. You knew he’d absolutely love it.

Walking back into the room you were met with Heeseung screaming at Sunghoon about missing a shot which got him killed. You had to be quick otherwise he’d turn and look over to check on you while he was down. Sitting on the bed you grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around your body completely just as he looked over.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he pulled one side of the headphones off, “Baby what are you doing still awake?”

You met his eyes with a small pout, “I was waiting for you.” 

Heeseung smiled softly with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry beautiful, I’ll be done soon I promise.”

“That's what you said a few hours ago, Hee.” Your bottom lip jutted out and oh how Heeseung just wanted to go over and kiss you stupid, but he promised the guys a few more rounds.

“Just a few more rounds and I’m yours I swear.” With that, he turned back around when the guys called for him.

A smirk spread on your lips as you watched him get back into the match, barking orders. Carefully you removed the blanket from your body, standing up and making your way over to your unsuspecting boyfriend.

You waited until he was in the lobby waiting for the next round to make your move. Heeseung jumped slightly when he felt your hand on his arm, his eyes throwing a quick glance at you before going back to the screen. You rolled your eyes before tugging his hand off of the keyboard and climbing into his lap.

Heeseung hummed softly as he placed his hand on your lower back to steady your body. His eyes were torn away from the screen when he felt the lacey fabric under his fingertips. “Are you oka- fuck baby.” Heeseung’s eyes racked your body, his dick twitching in his sweats.

“Heeseung dude, what the fuck are you doing?” You could hear Jay through Heeseung’s headphones and you smirked at him. He glared at you as his grip tightened on your waist.

“Sorry, I’m back.” He grumbled as he moved closer to the desk successfully trapping you between his body and the hard surface. You could hear the boys teasing him as well as feel the heat rushing up his neck as you placed small kisses against his skin.

Heeseung bit down on his tongue to keep any noises from slipping as you bit and sucked on his sensitive skin. His eyes still focused on the screen trying his best to ignore your little antics. Your hands roamed over his body before finding his hardening cock, palming it softly.

He quickly muted the mic before grabbing your wrist, stopping your movements, and gaining your attention. Your eyes meeting his dark and hooded ones, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh which Heeseung did not find too amusing.

“Do you think this is funny?” His voice dropped an octave as he pulled your hand away from his crotch. 

You just pouted, shoulders slouching, “You’ve been ignoring me all night.”

Heeseung had to bite back the smirk that was threatening to spread on his lips, “I told you that I was gonna play a few more rounds then I was yours.” You huffed before moving further up his lap, your core aching for some kind of attention. Heeseung watched your movements with a smug gaze, watching as you slowly rolled your hips against his, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You’re so impatient, baby.” A yelp left your lungs as Heeseung landed a harsh smack against the skin of your ass.

“Hee-” “Here’s the deal baby,” His hand grabbed your ass, squeezing harshly making you whimper, “since you want to be a needy little brat, you’re gonna ride my cock and you don’t get to cum until I tell you.” You whined knowing you wouldn’t last very long, not in the state that you were in now, but you nodded nonetheless. Heeseung chuckled before leaning closer to you, “Oh and try not to make any noise, you don’t want the boys to know how much of a desperate slut you are, right?”

You shook your head in protest because you both knew how vocal you were in bed, but Heeseung just ignored your protest as he unmuted his mic, apologizing when the string of curses from the boys came through.

It didn’t even take two minutes before you were scooting down your boyfriend's legs to untie his sweatpants. The need and lust started to cloud your mind, so much so that a whine left your lips when you pulled his pants and boxers down enough for his hard cock to spring free. 

Heeseung gave you a pointed look causing you to mumble an apology. You bit your lip as you grabbed his dick in your hand, pumping him slowly. You started to tease him because it was only fair. After all, he left you waiting for so long, right?

Heeseung closed his eyes as he tried to concentrate on the game in front of him, but it was growing increasingly difficult as your movements sped up. Your thumb swiped over his angry tip, spreading his pre-cum causing him to hiss.

“Yo dude, are you sure you’re good?” Jake asked and Heeseung coughed out an ‘I’m fine’ before glaring down at you.

You just met his eyes, feigning innocence but he knew better than that.

“I’ll be right back, I ran out of water,” His words were rushed as he muted his mic once more, ignoring the guy's protest. He removed your hand from his shaft before pulling you flush against him, “it seems like someone doesn’t wanna cum.”

“No-” “Then stop fucking teasing.” He growled against your lips causing you to whimper, but you nodded.

Heeseung released you and you quickly moved back a little bit to slide your panties to the side. He watched you intently as you grabbed his cock to line his tip with your dripping cunt. You slid down him slowly, savoring the stretch he gave.

Growing impatient Heeseung grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto him swiftly, causing a loud moan to leave your lips, fingers digging into his shoulders. He mumbled filthy things in your ear as he rubbed circles on your lower back.

“Now be a good girl and ride my cock while I play.” Heeseung kissed your temple before leaning forward to unmute his mic. However, his movement caused him to push deeper inside you and you quickly buried your face in his neck to muffle the whines. “Sorry guys, I'm back.”

You slowly rolled your hips against his until you fully adjusted to him. Quiet, breathy moans left your lips as you started to slowly bounce on your boyfriend's dick. His free hand rests on your hip, helping to keep you steady as your pace picks up.

“Fuck Seungie I-” You bit your lip hard as his tip brushed over your sweet spot, moans threatening to slip. 

As your pace increased you were sure that the guys could hear the wet, lewd sounds that were leaving your cunt, if they did they didn’t say a word. Heeseung was enjoying the way you tried to keep quiet, maybe a little too much. He knew that telling you to be quiet was like trying to tell a toddler to stop crying. It wouldn’t work, not for long at least. 

So he had a new goal in mind, he was going to make you break and finally release those pretty sounds you make. He didn’t care if his friends could hear, no he wanted them to hear you. He wanted them to know that you were his and that he was the only one who could make you feel this good.

With that, his grip on your hip tightened before he thrusted up into you harshly causing a loud gasp to leave your parted lips. Your eyes met his, not missing the sinister gleam as he continued to thrust into you.

“Hee- fuck.” You cried out as his tip kissed your cervix, not really caring if anyone could hear you. The way Heeseung’s cock was reaching all the right places felt good, too good to care.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” “Was that y/n?” You could hear the boys on the headset and instantly bite your lip, quieting your noises once more.

Heeseung chuckled before moving his mic and kissing your cheek as you continued to ride him, “Go ahead baby, let them hear how good I make you feel.” 

With his permission, you released your lip as a choked moan tore through your lips, “Seungie I wanna cum, please.” You whined out as your movements grew sporadic, your thighs burning.

“Not yet baby, wait for me.” Heeseung’s voice came out soft, making you nod despite the need to cum. “Good girl.” You whined at the praise as your lips latched onto his skin, anchoring yourself so you wouldn’t cum too soon.

“Bro, are you for real watching porn right now?” Sunghoon groaned, causing the other guys to start laughing.

“Oh no, I’ve got something way better than porn on right now.” Heeseung chuckled before a groan tore through his throat as you squeezed around him. He couldn’t help but become amused when the guys all went quiet, realizing what was happening.

Heeseung moved away from the desk a little bit before leaning back in the chair. You removed your face from his neck when he grabbed your hips with both hands, watching with fucked out eyes as he helped you move along his cock.

“Go on, beautiful, let them hear how good Seungies cock makes you feel.” Heeseung groaned as you grabbed his shoulders, desperately trying to find your high.

“Seungie, it feels so good.” You whined out as your head fell back, “I wanna cum please.”

Heeseung’s dick twitched at your whiny voice and he knew he was close, there was no way he could deny you when he was almost there himself. He leaned forward placing harsh kisses along your jugular eliciting more whines from you.

“Cum for me babydoll.” He whispered huskily in your ear and that’s all it took for your orgasm to wash over you, cries of his name falling from your lips like a mantra as he continued to thrust up into you. After a few more harsh thrusts he painted your walls white, a throaty groan leaving his lips against your skin.

After you both came down from your highs you slumped against Heeseung, his cock still buried deep in your cunt. Your warm breath fanning his sweaty neck causes a shiver to go down his spine.

“YO WHAT THE FUCK HEESEUNG?!” Jay cursed at your boyfriend but the older male just chuckled as he rubbed your back soothingly.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” Heeseung teased, causing all of the boys to start shouting different excuses to defend themselves which only further amused your boyfriend.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @heesitation @riftanswhore @luvyong2z

[inky-duchess]

Who fell first? Who fell harder?

Who is the one who fusses the most? Does their S/O mind very much?

What is their love language?

Has either OC ever gotten a hickey off the other? What was their reaction?

What is something they like to do together?

Who would ask the "would you love me if I were a worm?" question? How would their S/O answer?

Who likes forehead kisses? Who likes hand kisses? Who likes neck kisses?

Who is the big spoon? Little spoon?

If there wasnt enough seats, how would they sit? One on the other's lap? One on the armrest? One on the floor in front of them?

Who plays with whose hair?

Who is clingy?

What is something their S/O does that makes them flustered?

What is something they find hot about their S/O?

What is something they argue about constantly? Is it a deep-seated issue or something small?

How do they comfort one another when the other is upset?

Who is the better caretaker? Does their S/O like being taken care of?

Who steals whose clothes? Does their significant other mind?

They've had a major blowout. How do they handle it?

How good are they are communication?

Who handles the spiders? Who screams directions in the background?

Who typically tends to initiate intimacy first (this can be a conversation, action or anything)?

What is something - either character - doesn't like about the other?

Who said "I love you" first?

Who kissed who first?

Do they have any pet names for one another?

Who gets jealous most often? How does their S/O deal with that?

Who tends to drive on long journeys? Who navigates?

Do they trust one another? Are comfortable discussing their fears with one another?

What's an insecurity they hold about their relationship?

Describe how one character would cheer the other up after a hard day.

How would they describe one another.

Can they communicate private thoughts whilst in company? If so, how?

Which one of them gives "that look" when they other is acting like a fool?

How do they address a problem in their relationship?

How does each significant other view any exes and former relationships?

What is something that would break their hearts?

Who is more likely to avenge their S/O if they were hurt or killed?

What would be their ideal evening in?

Do they dance? If so, who's better?

What is a song that reminds you of the OCs' relationship?

Who sings to the other? Are they any good?

Who teases who? What about?

Who gets up early? Who stays in bed late?

Who's more likely to bring the other coffee or breakfast in bed?

What's the worst thing the other can say to one?

If they were ever in a life or death situation, who risks their life?

If it ever came down to it, who is turning to the darkside to save the other?

If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their S/O something before never seeing them again, what would they say?

Is there a word or gesture that makes either of them melt?

Who's the romantic?

Are there any characters who ship them?

Who cooks? Who does the dishes?

Who eats healthier? Who's got the sweet-tooth?

What's something that they don't really care for but tolerate because S/O has an interest?

Who spoils who? Does their S/O tolerate it? Do they secretly enjoy it?

Who tends to be the level-headed one? Who is feral?

Who reminds the other to wear a coat when it's cold out?

Do they hold hands?

Is there a spot they tend to kiss or caress habitual?

Are they willing to show PDA? If not, is there a reason?

How would they describe their S/O in one word?

How would outside characters describe their relationship?

How would they describe one another in bed?

Would they ever answer the above question if it was asked to their face? How would they react?

Who tends to take the lead in intimate encounters?

Have they ever been caught in the act? What would be their reaction if they were?

Have they ever done it anywhere questionable?

Who is more vocal? Who is more experienced?

If they were to go shopping, who holds the bags? Who decides where they go?

If they went out to dinner, who is paying? Would there even be a discussion?

If someone were to insult their S/O, how would the other handle it?

If someone flirted with or showed an interest in their S/O, how would the other react?

Who knows the other better? Why is this?

Who's more likely to bail who out of jail? Would they give the other one shit for it?

Which - if any - other famous ship's vibes do they emulate?

Are they soulmates? Do they believe in that?

What is something they would never forgive the other one for doing/saying?

Who has memorised the other's medical history?

Also, are they each other's first contact in an accident?

What tropes could be applied to this relationship?

Did they have a meet cute? Or was it a train wreck?

Make their relationship into a list of A03 tags.

Who gets frustrated more easily? Who does the other calm them down?

Have they ever almost lost one another? How does it effect their relationship?

Their S/O is tipsy. How do they handle it?

Who gives the best gifts? Who gives the more thoughtful? Who goes for expensive?

If they ever lost one another in a public place, how do they find the other?

What's the darkest secret they have ever told one another?

Would they ever consider marriage?

Would they ever consider starting a family?

Who likes kids more? Who can't stand them?

There's a puddle in one's way. What does their S/O do?

One has hurt their leg on a hike. How does their S/O carry them?

Their pet has caused destruction. Who puts the pet in jail? Who defends the pet?

Who gives flowers to their S/O? What sort of flowers do they like?

Who reads the newspaper? Who wants to see the cartoons?

How do they wake their S/O up? Is it difficult to rouse them?

Who would burn the world down for who?

Who gives off "they said no pickles" energy?

Make a meme of this ship.

You can ask me about: Nikolai/Misha, Alekks/Erika, Katya/Marina, Hadrien/Art

[eskumii]

❝ TROPHY WIFE ❞ — yandere!uzui tengen/wives + you're his first wife

SYNOPSIS: suppose you're uzui tengen's very first wife, the one that slipped through the cracks of your unwanted arranged marriage with him. along with your disappearance went his heart, and now you must bear the consequences of a man who loves his wife far beyond her understanding—so much so that he would kill for her, die for her, and do anything to make her stay. — navi.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

NOTES: mdni! (cw: non-con) this is an arranged/forced marriage au. it's meant to be one-sided. it took me quite literally forever to finish this lol ,,

PAIRING: yandere!uzui tengen x wife!reader

CHARACTERS: uzui tengen (19-23), reader (18-22), suma (19), makio (20), hinatsuru (21)

I. TO BE WED

imagine being uzui tengen's very first wife.

your hand in marriage was promised to him by your parents, who owned a tax-collecting business that was often the target of hostility from the impoverished people of your hometown. tengen routinely passed through your village on demon slayer business, so your parents could always rest assured knowing he would take care of the violent stragglers that sometimes loitered outside.

ironically being poor themselves, they had little to offer the hashira as payment for his noble duties; well, that "little" didn't exclude you of course, their only daughter who's failed to find a husband far past the age of when other girls were normally wed. you're still young, fertile, and moderately attractive, but your strong disinterest in potential suitors often drove any chances of a wealthy marriage away.

however, after being introduced to tengen, the man you'll be forced to marry out of obligation, you begin to regret being so stubborn after all.

admittedly, tengen found you to be pretty plain at first. you're poor so you can't exactly dress flashy, and you come from a no-name family with little legacy. your parents swore up and down on your domestic efficiency—hardworking, great cook, a tame disposition—and, well, at least you're kind of cute, too. tengen is intrigued by your potential the most.

your parents force you to do whatever you can to get close to him. the truth is, though, you don't really have to do anything with the way he seeks you out himself. he often shows up at your door asking for you, and your parents have no qualms about dragging you out of your room to make you go out with him.

he takes you to the nicer parts of town and pays for dinner or buys you flowers and little trinkets from the shop vendors that line the streets. it doesn't help that the elderly people running the stands egg you on, saying things like "what a lovely young couple" or "your children would be so beautiful!" tengen simply smiles with ease, accepting their praise as if it's second nature. you get rather embarrassed by his shameless indulgence.

there's small talk but you find it incredibly stifling. tengen does a majority of the dialoguing but most of the time your dates get interrupted by his kasugai crow, who squawks at him whenever a demon shows up nearby. he always looks annoyed and promises to make it up to you, leaning down to pat your head like you're his pet dog or something. you hate it and him too, probably.

"i'll be back before you know it, darling," his smile is charming but not to you. "you'll stay right here for me, won't you?"

regardless of your somewhat obvious hesitance to accept his advances, tengen gets attached to you like it was meant to be. the idea of having a pretty little housewife for him to come home to after his draining missions becomes increasingly attractive, and the more time he spends with you, the more he sees the appeal of your being. it must be a miracle that no man has taken you as his wife yet; surely you were saving yourself for a man like him.

unfortunately, though, you don't want to marry tengen.

an arranged marriage? it's simply not the kind of life you envision for yourself. you aren't willing to bet the rest of your days on a man whom you have a slim chance of falling in love with, all for the sake of financial security. but what else can you do? your parents already made it very clear they would disown you if you refuse, and tengen is pressuring you to your death with his sweet words and annoyingly thoughtful presents. you're stuck.

eventually, the incessant nagging from your parents and weeks of endless courting from tengen sway you so sooner. you fold like a cheap hand fan and succumb to your fate, to a future you knew from the very beginning that you would come to despise.

he's the only suitor you have at this point. it's not like you have a choice. and the one choice you do have just so happens to be him, a man who is the nearest thing to a perfect match as you're ever gonna get. you should be happy. thankful. he'll give you the world if you just give him a chance.

at least, that's what he told you.

II. THE SOUND HASHIRA

your parents are so happy to send you off.

they're completely honored that their letdown of an only daughter is finally getting married—to a well-known and wealthy shinobi at that. it's the only time they've shown any pride in you, yet it really only leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

after your brief introduction to the head of tengen's clan, everything moves so quickly. just a couple weeks later, you're already signing a marriage contract in which you and tengen become official newlyweds. and before you know it, you're packing what little belongings you have to your name and moving in with him, begrudgingly and regretfully so.

the day you arrive, he shows you around his overwhelmingly gigantic residence; the courtyard full of cherry blossoms and koi ponds, the huge kitchen, and the bedroom where he'll eventually fully claim you. there's lots of other rooms too, but they're either empty or reserved for his weapons and training gear. he tries to hide it but he's obviously so over the moon that you're his wife now. he doesn't even notice your misery through his elated delusion of love.

in hindsight, you didn't realize how difficult it can be to share a space with someone you hardly know. you find everything awkward but tengen doesn't, like always. to him, you're so obedient and polite— such a good girl. you take whatever he gives you; kisses, hugs, subtle gropes here and there, and all of his sweet compliments and gifts. you don't argue with him or raise your voice, you fret over his injuries and make his favorite foods. you're observant, collected, and mature.

he didn't have a type before he met you—you're all he can ask for in a woman, really.

tengen is unexpectedly romantic. he constantly boasts about his strength and fighting skills in order to impress you, and he never stops mouthing off about how he'll prioritize you over himself. he puts consistent effort in getting to know you: what you like, don't like, your favorite color, and any other inkling of your personality that he can manage to wrestle out of you. he seems to have gotten the impression that you're shy or something.

flowers are a constant and you're spoiled with fancy, expensive kimonos and jewelry. had you married tengen under literally any other circumstance, you'd find his advances on you endearing but, unfortunately, he just comes off as clingy and unbearable. any woman would die to be in your place yet you can't even find it in you to want to be in your own place.

what do you think of him, though? well, he's handsome, you'll give him that. you don't deny the appeal of his good looks and flashy, fitted clothing. he's strong, established, and knows what he wants. despite your obvious distaste towards his gifts and grandiose personality, it's not to say you're ungrateful that the man you're stuck with is exceedingly well-off and capable of protecting you. you can't say he's a bad guy.

however, he's a moron.

he fell for you fast. a couple months have already passed since coming to live in his residence. tengen requests to have picnics whenever you go with him to visit his siblings' graves on his off days. of course you have no reason to refuse; as much as you dislike him, you're not heartless. they're important days, so you swallow your pride and pack a bento spread you know he'll like.

tengen will confide in you about the memories of his late siblings, his parents, and his life before becoming a hashira. it's a depressing and heavy weight to shoulder, but you still play your role of the loving, supportive wife with your lingering touches and comforting words. you use these outings as opportunities to gain his trust by being vulnerable.

except, this time, the effect you seem to have on tengen is magnified to the point of no return.

he pulls you into his lap and you're suddenly flush against his rock hard chest, trapped in a suffocating hug. you don't know what prompted his sudden affection; perhaps it was the warm atmosphere you crafted or the intimacy of the moment, but the way tengen holds you so close is telling. he's about to say something you've been dreading since the day you met him.

"i love you." tengen confesses, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing as if he'd just released the weight of the world off of his shoulders.

you knew it. it's the first time he's ever said it to you and you'll never forget the wave of nausea that hit you as you glanced up to see him staring back at you expectantly. your heart is pumping out of your chest and your face is flustered—not because you're flattered but because you're ashamed. you feel his hands squeeze your shoulders, almost like a warning, and his grip begins to feel claustrophobic after your prolonged silence.

you have no choice but to reciprocate.

"...I love you too." your voice is quiet, hesitant, and tengen gently teases you about being shy when you refuse to look at him anymore. he's not right but it's true that lying invokes shame.

he almost seems overwhelmed by your response, as if he hadn't just nonverbally threatened it out of you. you don't dare to sneak even a glance at him. he tightens his embrace around you and goes back to burying his face abashedly into your neck, mumbling sweet words against your skin. his body wraps around you like a vice, trapping you in the prison that is his dreadful existence.

you decide, in that very moment, that there was nothing in the world you wanted to do more than run away.

III. A DIRE MISTAKE

one fateful day, you catch wind of the news that tengen is being assigned on a mission quite far away, somewhere down in the southwest. 

you're so lucked out that you thought it was a trap at first—a ploy to catch you in your undying desire to leave your husband for good. but when the day of departure arrives and tengen peppers your face with last minute kisses, you know for sure that there's no chance he's caught on to your resentment towards him, nor the plan of escape you've been devising all along.

your eyes are teary when tengen releases you from the last of his spine-crushing hugs and he cooes at your cute crying face. honestly, you're tearing up out of joy because your one and only chance to escape has literally fallen into your lap in a pleated handbasket, but you'll let him believe otherwise. you at least owe him the courtesy. 

you already know you don't stand a chance against tengen, at least physically. he can overpower you like nothing and he's so tall that he towers over you, constantly caging you between those muscled arms of his. there's almost nothing you could do against a man like him—well, unless you count poisoning, but you were above murder when it came to getting what you wanted. 

as soon as tengen passes through the looming gates of the residence and disappears down the winding road, you scramble to gather a few belongings before making your way out through the back. there's a twinge of fear that grips your gut but you press on, determined to put as much space between you and that wretched place you were expected to call home. 

the moment you escaped, you flipped your identity. chopped your hair off, powdered your face in white make-up, and wore headscarves wherever you went. you fled as far as your feet would take you, only stopping to rest in a small village when your aching body could take you no further. you hardly spoke to anyone and left nothing behind that could possibly be traced back to you or be used to pursue you. 

it's obvious you can't go back to your parents; they hated you when you lived with them, and they'd hate you more if you returned. they'd sell you out to tengen in two seconds flat, then ruthlessly shame you for running away from a marriage you wanted no part in. the only option left for you is to create a new life for yourself somewhere far, far away. 

and that's exactly what you do. you find a little town on the outskirts of the red light district, where business is booming and it's easy to disguise yourself beneath the constant foot traffic. you go undercover as a seamstress, working in a homely tailor shop under the supervision of the owners, who are a kind older couple that are quick to regard of you as one of their own. 

time marches on and the jarring memories of tengen do as well. you makes friends with the regulars that come by the store often. you've learned the valuable trade of mending clothing and sewing traditional patterns. you've even developed a crush on one of the men that come by often to repair his work uniform.

your life is finally the way you've always wanted it to be. 

meanwhile, tengen copes—barely. days pass. weeks. months. you're still yet to be found, even with the help of all the hashira and the shinobi of his clan. it's as if you disappeared off the face of the planet. he's completely devastated. did you run away because he was gone for so long? were you feeling neglected? did you just want his attention? surely you wouldn't just up and leave when he'd been so loving; he truly couldn't think of anything that would prompt such an extreme reaction. 

as expected, he doesn't come up with a justification for your disappearance. how could he? you could be dead by now with the amount of demon uprisings that have been happening lately. or you could even be halfway across the world right now, laughing at how easily you had fooled him. eventually, his sadness melts into anger. you may be gone now, but it won't be for long. 

wherever you are, he'll find you. 

IV. 'TIL DEATH DO HIM PART

in the following years, tengen's next three wives are chosen specifically by the head of his clan.

and, in the head of the clan's words: "the sound hashira's decision-making must be incredibly poor if he chose a wife who would dare flee from him." the statement only fans the flames of his growing wrath for you. 

however, his new wives—suma, makio, and hinatsuru—are all beautiful and talented kunoichi who admire him to their very cores. as ungrateful as it sounds, there isn't a day where tengen wishes one of them were you. they've worked so hard to try and fill the gaping hole in his existence that was left by you, but it hasn't really been working. he needs you.

they're kind, caring, nurturing and most of all, strong. they've trained all their lives to be kunoichi. he knows he shouldn't complain but they just don't cook like you, look like you... aren't you. of course he loves them, but he could never forget the way his heart shattered the day he returned home to find you nowhere in sight. your disappearance left him in utter shambles. did you ever think about that when you left? you're so unbelievably selfish—is that the kind of woman you turned out to be? 

his wives constantly question his lovesick behavior. tengen never hides anything from them; in fact, he'll sometimes go on long, borderline maniacal rambles about "the wife who got away." to suma, makio, and hinatsuru, you're an enigma that's broken the heart of their husband, and they're not sure what it was about you that makes him act this way. jealousy sparks—if there's a way to get you back to make tengen happy, they would do it, but maybe you're better off gone after all. 

and it's not like tengen didn't search for you. oh no, he looked everywhere within reason. his duties as a hashira kept him chained to his missions near the demon slayers' headquarters, but that never stopped him from interrogating people when he got the chance. any woman that looked even remotely similar to you was sure to be stopped in the middle of the street for further investigation. 

master kagaya is exceedingly understanding of the situation, and he bears obvious concern for his beloved sound hashira. while he's sympathetic of the loss of his wife—it's no matter to be taken lightly, of course—tengen must first be loyal to his occupation as a hashira, and that means going on missions in spite of his mourning. 

and his newest missions leads him to the red light district. 

so tengen goes. he knows his place when it comes to master kagaya, so he has no reason or authority to deny orders. regardless, it's a harrowing and tedious task. drunk concubines practically throw themselves into tengen's arms as he strolls past the many underground sex clubs that line the filthy streets. he has zero interest in any of the debauchery that goes on here, and he especially feels nothing when shoving them away from him with excessive force. 

he scours the area for anyplace that looks decent enough to step foot in, as well as a place where he won't get immediately harassed by ran through harlots. turning down a quieter side street where some storefronts have been shuttered, he happens upon a small seamstress shop sandwiched between two restaurants that look as if they've closed early for the evening. 

shrugging, tengen wearily thinks it's as good of a place as any to begin his intel gathering on the upper moons' whereabouts. he saunters towards the front entrance and a young woman dressed in traditional geisha wear passes him on the sparsely populated road, her wooden sandals clacking against the ground. he can't help but think her hair looked similar to yours and his heart twists painfully in his chest. 

tengen seems to be constantly haunted by the thought of you, forming an obsession in his mind that won't go away until he has you back. until he knows your safe, with him, just like you were meant to be. until he sees you. 

no, literally, tengen sees you, right in front of him. 

through the window of the upscale seamstress shop, he sees you conversing with a man at the front counter, laughing heartily at a joke he must have made. tengen quickly crouches beneath the display window to spy on you, his heart pounding out of his chest at the events that are currently unfolding. he must be mistaken. 

he peeks above the lip of the window to catch a glance and, sure enough, it is you. you're alive and well, almost glowing beneath the low, intimate lighting inside the shop. 

he finally found you! he can't believe it. the grin that's stretching across his face is so broad. he'd recognize your face anywhere, even if it's caked in geisha makeup and your hair elaborately styled. you’re beautiful and he’s captivated by your beauty just as he was the day that he met you. 

he's so unbelievably ecstatic with the way his hands are clamming up, his feet shuffling in the dirt and... 

what?

creeping over the ledge of the display window once again, tengen's eyes immediately grow dark. there's a man there. talking to you. his wife. 

in the midst of your conversation, your eyes absently float over to the window. it's there that your gaze clashes with his, and a blood-curdling look of terror overtakes your features. is that… tengen? 

there's a shift in the air. what happens next, tengen doesn't recall, but when he comes to there's blood on his hands and your hair is bundled up in his fist as he drags you past the threshold the of the shop’s entrance. he looks over his shoulder and on the floor, spread eagle, lies the man without his head. the scene is gruesome.

he killed him. 

tengen looks down at you with a solemn gaze. for some reason, he doesn't even care. the emotions running through him are almost too much to bear. do you know how much your disappearance has destroyed him? do you know how much he's suffered because of you? do you even care? 

he doesn't understand why you're crying. it seems like you were happy enough to whore around with other men in his absence. the thought drives him to the brink of insanity. how much longer do you plan on humiliating him? 

there's too much to be said. tengen's mouth is agape and he's so upset at you that he can't find the right words to express himself. instead, he collapses to the floor beside you and embraces you in his longing arms. he smells your hair and feels how your body shrinks against his—it's all exactly how it used to be. it's exactly as he remembered, as he dreamed of. 

and now, as tengen scoops you up into his arms to take you back home, another dream of his will be fulfilled tonight. he knows exactly what kind of punishment is befit for you. 

V. A JUST PUNISHMENT — (NSFW: NON-CON)

"tengen-sama! you're ba-" 

a woman with colored bangs and a ponytail attempts to greet tengen as he enters, but she's cut off by not only the expression on his face but also the strange, disheveled woman he's hauling behind him. 

he drags you across the cold, laminated wood floors into the bedroom by your hair and peels the delicate, silken layers of your yukata back, exposing soft flesh and ample curves. tengen is so starved of your touch—of your voice, your scent, you. he'll make you pay for what you put him through. he'll make you stay this time. 

you can't even fight back. you're so afraid of what's going to happen that your body refuses to move, to speak. and even if you could, there was no way you would win against a hashira, of all people. 

tengen starts by pushing you to your knees. when his hands begin the hasty work of undoing the belt of his kimono, you already know where this is going and it makes your stomach churn in volatile sickness. he eagerly slides his under pants down and from the top of its elastic band springs his semi-hard cock, which nearly hits you in the face. you gasp at the sheer size of it; that is not gonna fit inside of you.

"don't look at me like that, [name]. clearly i was too lenient with you back then. i should've disciplined you..." he trails off as he stares into your pleading eyes. he smiles but, in it, is no mercy.

"c'mon, baby. you'll be a good girl and open your mouth for me, won't you?" 

you refuse. no, you wouldn't even dream of it. you've never done anything sexual with a man before and you certainly aren't going to wi—

tengen suddenly reaches down and grabs ahold of your now tangled hair with one of his large hands. it takes barely any pressure before your mouth is pried open by the force of his fingers alone, and his now engorged cock head is being stuffed into your warm, unyielding mouth. 

you can only let out a choked cry at the vile intrusion. 

"that's it, baby, good girl.." he praises, stroking your head with his thumb as he slowly inches his pulsing cock down your throat. 

your screams are completely muffled. tengen begins to pick up the pace, letting your drool be the lubricant that allows his giant dick to slide in and out of your tight throat. it hurts so bad that you try to bite down and free yourself from this act of vulgarity, but tengen doesn't allow it. he instead tugs your head back by the grip he has on your hair, forces his cock all the way in, and holds you there until you decide to behave yourself. 

you can hardly breath. lewd, wet noises fill the room as tengen gags you almost to the point of unconsciousness. the vibrations from your screaming must have been making him feel good, though, because it takes just a few minutes before he's shuddering in orgasm as he bottoms out and cums, which you have no choice but to swallow. 

he pulls out of your mouth and you're mortified, but even more so when you see how he's still hard. his cock is covered in a thick layer of your saliva and his cum drips onto your exposed chest in globs that make you cringe in disgust. you think you're going to throw up. 

and you almost do, if it weren't for tengen picking you up from under your arms and tossing you onto the plush bedding. your legs are forced open and tengen slides his twitching cock against your pussy, slowly and teasingly. you begin to fight against him but he easily pins you down long enough to push his fat cock head into your tight pussy. 

tengen pounds you into the plush cushion of the futon all night long. you've given up struggling and crying, only mewling in pain as the brutish man stretches your virgin pussy wide. he ruthlessly kneads your breasts with his calloused palms and overstimulates your clit with his fingers until you cream and squirt repeatedly all over his dick. you can do nothing but lay there as he roughly moves your body into various positions and fills your womb with his seed—there's no way you won't be pregnant after this. 

all the pent up rage that tengen was forced to weather after your disappearance is released in that very room. he sounds like a crazy man with the way he lapses in and out of fits of rage where he's cursing at you with his hands around your throat, then slipping into pleasure induced "i love you's" as he dumps yet another load of cum deep inside of you. 

"h-how does it feel, my love?" he groans, reaching over to caress your flushed face. "mm, you sound so cute making those noises. lemme hear you scream, darling."

and oh, you sure do scream. for him to stop, to get off of you. that you've had enough. that you hate him. over and over again you scream, you cry, and you struggle, but it does you no good. he only seems to thrust faster the more you beg. is he getting off to your desperation? he must be by the way his cock pulses at any form of physical resistance from you. 

you thought it would never end. he's almost insatiable. your tears have long dried up—for the most part, anyway—but the skin on your face feels raw from tengen "lovingly" wiping all your tears and snot away while simultaneously pounding a you-shaped hole into the futon. you feel disgusting. you don't even have the strength to make a sound when he spanks you for the hundredth time, moaning heatedly about how you've been such a bad, bad girl. 

when it seems like he's finally spent, he doesn't pull out. instead, he collapses on top of you with his cock still twitching inside your sloppy, ruined cunt while drawing you in for an unreciprocated kiss. he whispers praises in your ear and gently strokes your face, cooing at how much you're trembling against his much larger form. 

"i should've done this a long time ago. maybe you wouldn't have left if i dumped my kids into you sooner." 

eventually, his softened cock slips out of you and a gush of warmth runs down your legs; you can already feel a soreness settling in your pelvis. tengen sighs contentedly at the sopping squelch that sounds when you snap your legs shut in order to roll as far away from him as possible. he roughly wraps a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you back towards him as soon as he sees your attempt to create distance. 

"i missed you so much, darling," tengen mumbles against your skin breathily, offering a soft smile. "did you enjoy your welcome back?" 

he's making fun of you. you refuse to even look at him. it's to be expected, really, he can't imagine how bad it must feel to think you actually got away from him as you lay in his arms once again, right where you belong. you need to learn your place; no wife of his will disrespect him like you did ever again. if you have to be an example of that, then so be it—youput this on yourself, after all. 

leaving you with a final kiss, he gets up, wraps a towel around his waist, and goes to let his other wives into the room to help clean you up (they've been waiting patiently ever since you showed up, curious about the woman who supposedly "stole tengen's heart," as he put it). you're still naked and exposed with tengen's cum leaking down your thighs but you don't even have the mental capacity to care anymore. all three of the girls look shocked at the state you're in, but they don't comment and rush to get you in the bath. 

they're all very pretty, of course. when you emerge from your haze of disorientation, you're left reeling at the fact that tengen had amassed three whole wives in light of your absence. well, not that you have any right to be surprised considering your short lived emotional affair. you're still in mourning over what had happened to him. 

regardless of your fragile state, the three women swarm you with questions that prod at your past: who you are, where you're from, and how you met tengen. you don't even have half the mind to reply. you can only stare at your tear-stricken reflection in the soapy water, ready to burst into tears yet again at the horrible predicament you've found yourself in. 

what can you do now? sit around and get bred by tengen? rot away in this dreadful house for the rest of your life? the other wives seem to catch onto your unresponsiveness after a couple dozen of their questions go ignored, so they sit quietly and gently wash you clean. they look genuinely worried for you—not that their pity will undo the damage that's already been done. 

makio will scrub your back and grumble about how jealous she is while suma and hinatsuru fret over the small bruises that are now beginning to form around your hips from tengen's manhandling. suma washes your hair next, commenting on how beautiful it is, while the other two move onto rinsing the soap from your body. they wrap you up in a fluffy towel when it's over, and a shiver wracks your spine when their hands guide you to another room, down the hall, with a clean bed ready for you to rest in. 

you don't really know who they are but since they're dressed like kunoichi, it's obvious that they don't share the same mindset you do, or were forced to be wed to tengen like you were. you can't ask them to help you escape from this hell, not a chance. 

even as you lay in the criminally comfortable futon with new silken pajamas, a cup of cold water at your side, and a warm blanket, sleep doesn't find you. 

and with tengen around, you're certain it never will. 

VI. A HAPPY EVER AFTER (EXTRA)

a few months later, your pregnancy symptoms are in full swing.

tengen is as protective as ever and the other wives have already grown attached to you despite your bitter and unforgiving attitude towards them. you learn quickly that they're all very... obsessive, constantly hovering over you and going to overbearing extremes to make sure you don't do anything that would physically strain yourself in any way.

hinatsuru and makio follow at your heels like guard dogs while suma takes charge of most of the cooking and cleaning. she keeps the peace most of the time and holds makio back when she's attempting to murder hinatsuru over something childish. you're never in the mood to talk to them, however, and they often try to bribe you with your favorite sweets (which is intel that they've gathered from tengen) in order to get you to participate in their activities.

unluckily for you, tengen had decided to completely retire from being a hashira following a particularily harrowing encounter with an upper moon demon (even after you tried to subtly guilt trip him into not doing so). he insisted that you and the baby were "more important." you know that it'd be difficult to escape with the other wives around but to add tengen on top of that makes it surely impossible. 

every morning, the dreadful man himself meets the four of you in the kitchen and will beam proudly at the sight of his adorable little harem. he goes down the line and gives affection to each of his wives individually, in the way they prefer, and saves you for last as you're his "greatest prize," or whatever he said. you're just completely exhausted and you resent them all from the deepest depths of your heart. the least you can do is make it obvious. 

tengen finds your rebellion adorable. everything about you is and even moreso now than when you left him all those years ago. he'll grab you by the jaw and force you into a quick one-sided kiss, pulling away with that fond smile of his. his fingers ghost over your swelling tummy but his very touch makes you feel so awfully sick. you'll roughly push him away and he's so out of his mind that he attributes your justified anger and moodiness to your "pregnancy hormones." regardless, he's happy. it's you who's going to bear his child. it's you who first said you loved him too. as long as you live, you're bound to him as his wife. nothing can come between a man and the woman he loves; uzui tengen certainly made sure of that, didn't he?

[mikeystrawberry]

Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

[everythingne]

home is where the heart is (ls2)

a phone call from your overseas husband interrupts your grocery trip. fortunately, a little bit of florida sun takes the blues away. (requested anonymously, thank you, darling!)

smau/short fic / logan sargeant x wife!reader (no face claim)

warnings/notes: hurt/comfort, logan leaving williams, i once again bring indycar into my fics bc ofc i do. im manifesting logan and alex teammates at prema next season wdym.

Kyle Kirkwood calling you in the middle of the day is not what you're expecting. You pause in the middle of the Publix, a list of groceries in hand, and fumble in your purse to pull out your phone. The screen showing his name, under it a photo of Logan and Kyle drunkenly floating around your pool over the summer break.

There's a bit of hesitance, and you press the green answer button and pull the phone to your ear with a soft, "Hello?"

"I'm going to kill that British fucker." Is Kyle's first sentence, followed by, "Shit, has Logan called you yet?"

"Not today, why?" You tentatively ask and there's dead silence on the phone before a string of expletives that fly out of Floridian's mouth so quickly you nearly miss his hurried plea for you to call your fiance and the rushed, "so help me God, I need a companion to the fight to the Netherlands."

You end the call after those words, hand tight around the shopping carts handle. You had all your items, right? Not that it mattered if something had happened to Logan overseas and you weren't there. In a bit of a rush, you move to the checkout, tossing your list in you bag and grabbing your wallet. The line feels like it takes years, and the second you've pretty much thrown the bags into the back of the car you are slamming the drivers door and turning on the car as your phone syncs to the cars Bluetooth.

Logan doesn't answer.

It's to be expected. You think. He's busy, he's racing, in meetings and doing media, with little videos you have saved on your phone for when you miss him and need a quick laugh at his and Alex's banter. Usually you'd leave it, but something in Kyle's voice urged you to try again.

Someone picks up on the fifth ring.

"Yn." Benny's voice comes through, soothing you just enough even as you hear the trepidation in his own voice, "Is everything okay?"

"Is Logan okay?" You breathlessly ask, "Kyle called me and said he needed me to call Logan, did something happen?"

"We're almost back to the hotel." Benny says ad you think 'No. That can't be right, it's mid quali, but Benny cuts you off, "When we get up to his room, I'll have him call you."

"Ben, is he okay?" You strain your voice and theres a hesitance, before he sighs.

"It's not gonna be sunshine and rainbows for a bit. But he'll be alright."

Your heart sinks. And you and Benny exchange rushed goodbyes before you practically race home. Every second feels like an hour as you get home, load the groceries into their respective spots, and grab a bag of chips to stress eat while you wait for Logan's call.

And then it happens, and you can barely scramble to grab your phone fast enough to answer it with a sharp, "Logan?"

"Hey." His voice is soft. He's always been soft, choosing his words carefully and keeping back from conversations. Sure, over the years you'd known him, you'd picked his hard exterior apart for the much preferred soft side he showed you. But the walls werte back up now.

"What happened, baby?" You roll to the side, laying in the sun that warms you on the couch, knowing whatever he says next is not going to be what you want to hear.

"It's over." He sighs, "I'm done."

There's a pause where you try to figure out what he means, before your breath catches. As if he hears it, you hear him let out a void laugh.

"But I thought James said.."

"Doesn't matter what he said before, Zandvoorts my last race. He confirmed it with me this morning when we went in. I knew... he was thinking about it... but he had to wait because Red Bull wouldn't give up Liam. But I guess he found a way."

"Oh, baby. I'm so sorry."

"No one's gonna know untul next week. Well, excpet for you and Kyle I guess. Because Kyle called me right after it happened and I just kinda... lost it on him."

"Kyle understands. You guys have been talking about how rough this season has been." Rolling onto your back, you let out a huff. "Oh. I wish I could be there with you."

"I'm coming right home after this. I'm not even sticking around after the race." Logan's voice softens, "I just need to see you."

"I'll be here." You smile, despite wanting to cry for your husband, "I always will be."

It's so late when Logan pulls up to the house. You've been anxiously pacing the length of the backyard for close to six hours now, sure your neighbors have finally realized you've gone a bit crazy. You hear the rumble of his engine and pause, quickly moving to slide open the back door, shutting it quickly as to not allow too many bugs or critters inside. You rush through the house, and throw open the front door to your fiance, your future husband, looking up at you.

"Hey." You whisper, but he doesn't respond. Just props his suitcase against the wall of the entryway and leans into your awaiting arms. HIs arms wrap firmly around you, hands digging into the Miami Dolphins hoodie of his that you'd been wearing all weekend, his face hidden in the crook of your neck as he just breathes in. There's no words that need to be said. The end had sort of been inevitable. Logan had hardly enjoyed his summer break, anxious that james would call any moment, and the chance to start the second leg of the season felt like good luck.

Why didn't James just do it over the break? You couldn't rationalize the answer in your head. And now your poor fiance spent two days traveling alone, and he was tired and a little gross from being on planes and flying across continents.

But now he was home, in Florida, with family set to come over tomorrow night. Giving you both time to just... exist.

"I made pasta." You murmur against the side of his head, and he leans back enough for a small kiss, "And it's with that sauce your mom makes. She wanted to be here but I figured you'd want a quiet house."

"Yeah." Logan just hums in response, arms loose around your waist, he gives you a small sigh then a peck on the nose, "Thank you, baby."

"Of course. Come on, go in and eat, it's in the microwave. I'll throw your wash in and then we can watch like... Friends or The Good Place or something."

Logan smiles, though it's nothing close to the big smiles you're used to from him. He takes your lead, following you inside, before parting in the foyer. Maybe thirty or so minutes later you recoup in the master bedroom, both in fresh pajamas, ready to curl up together when Logan just moves to basically tackle you into the bed. Your laughter rings out in the quiet home, causing the head of your sleepy golden retriever to lift from where she's been cuddled against Logan's leg since he returned.

"I have time for you to teach me to surf now." He murmurs against your collarbone from where he lays on top of you, only popping up momentarily to allow you to scoot under the covers.

"Tomorrow." You whisper to him with a tiny smile, his arms wrapping around you like a warm blanket, "We can go tomorrow."

liked by alexalbon, oscarpiastri, kylekirkwood, and others...

logansargeant: sunrise with you

tagged: yourusername

COMMENTS HAVE BEEN LIMITED ON THIS POST.

kylekirkwood: oh so now ur 'soft launching' when you've secured her?

⤷ yourusername: ky he knows im just so irresistible he had to... ensure.. 💍

logansargeant: is this why you both are giggling at your phones?

⤷ yourusername: shhh go back to playing pong with dalton

⤷ daltonsargeant: he's losing at pong mini sarge

⤷ kylekirkwood: hes lost the frat energy. too much time in england.

⤷ yourusername: another thing james vowles stole from logan

alexalbon: eyy finally

⤷ yourusername: this is bad for you, now i can publically flirt with @ lilymhe

⤷ lilymhe: the only homewrecking ill allow is you bbg

⤷ alexalbon: @ logansargeant ?? help ??

⤷ logansargeant: good luck mate

oscarpiastri: feels good to be home?

⤷ logansargeant: you know it. see u in oct.

⤷ oscarpiastri: cant wait 👍🏻

liked by kylekirkwood, daltonsargeant, and others...

yourusername: hometown healing my (future) husband <3

tagged: logansargeant

user: YES HER ACC IS PUBLIC??

user1: omg the PUPPPYYY

⤷ yourusername: her name is sanibel and she's my 'hand me down dog', my parents can't keep up with her wild energy, so i adopted her from them !

kylekirkwood: ur never letting him cut his hair short or style it again

⤷ yourusername: kyle HE LOOKS SO HOT WITH LONG HAIR.

user2: LOGAN LOOKS SO HAPPY SOBS

user3: AWWWW IM SO HAPPY HER ACC IS PUBLICCC!!

user4: WAIT FUTURE HUSBAND?

lilymhe: engagement era has u both glowing

⤷ yourusername: ur next... @ alexalbon

⤷ alexalbon: dont RUSH ME BITCH?

logansargeant: love uuuu

⤷ daltonsargeant: be squisher

⤷ logansargeant: i love you so much you are the best thignt hats ever happened to me you're so amaazingggg

⤷ yourusername: dalton its four pm why are you two drinking already

⤷ daltonsargeant: brother healing time

user5: finally we can get ALL the logan content

liked by alexlalbon, logansargeant, kylekirkwood, and others...

yourusername: bc the twt girlies think i have a whole boulder. happy one yr six months engagment to us ig :)

kylekirkwood: your hand must hurt from lugging that boulder around

user: STOP THE PICS ARE SO CUTEEEE WAAHH

user2: logan rlly did cash that first williams check huh?

alexalbon: logan rlly set a high standard

coltonherta: god DAMN

lilyzneimer: i remember the like three days up to him proposing, just him and oscar sending like PARAGRAPHS back and forth ab what he was gonna say

⤷ yourusername: did I ever tell you guys he just kinda blanked and said "i think i'll like die or something if you dont marry me"

⤷ user3:OH MY GODD AHAHAH

logansargeant: not my proudest moment tbh but it worked

⤷ yourusername: my cringefail husband <3

oscarpiastri: when is the wedding

⤷ yourusername: whenever this bitch solidifies his contract so i can schedule one between all the different race schedules

⤷ user4: DIFFERENT? race schedules?

⤷ yourusername: babes. im not letting logan touch f1 again for another few years. I missed my husband.

⤷ alexrossi: join the dark side that is indycar

⤷ logansargeant: dont tempt me

⤷ premaracing: both of you get off of instagram we are in a meeting??

⤷ yourusername: LMAOOO

general tag list (open!)

@d3kstar

[dearest-nell]

a real piece of art

e.m x reader, 2.8k

summary: eddie has some time to kill, and you might just be his new favourite distration. includes: art history student!reader, meet cute, eddie's an absolute dork warnings: mentions of nudity in artwork and allusions to a young eddie who is very excited by the prospect.

a/n: this came to me as i stared blankly into the void of my coffee machine this morning. i'm incapable of proofreading as per usual. i could be convinced to do a part two

Eddie had no business being here. This was an art gallery for crying out loud! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped in one, save that one unfortunate field trip in middle school where he’d been caught ogling a half naked sculpture in front of half the class. Sue him, he’d never seen a naked girl before, and he really had to give credit to the artist because he couldn’t look away. He’d been called a perv for a good year after that, and he’d never thought to visit another gallery again. 

Until now, that was. He was due for a practice and soundcheck in what he thought was only an hour, but somewhere along the line Jeff had got the time wrong, leaving Eddie stuck in Chicago with nothing but his ego to keep him company. Eddie had kicked himself for the mistake – who rehearses at 10 am anyways? There was a silent agreement that Gareth would be handling the bookings next time, where Eddie might be able to actually stay in bed until a reasonable hour. 

He’d thought to burrow down in a cafe for a little while, but the snooty businessmen and shrill giggles of the barista had sent him fleeing. The environment wasn’t conducive to good thinking anyways. He figured a little solace would do him some good, maybe give him some hard earned inspiration to turn into music for the band. So with coffee in hand, he’d taken to the streets, wandering idly as the strings of bodies moved in tandem, dodging and weaving the tracks of Tuesday morning commutes. It might have been enough for him had his jacket not been too thin for the sudden drop in temperature. Worn denim with steamed patches was hardly enough to break the piercing gusts of wind, and even his sweltering coffee in hand could not keep his hands from shaking. Looking around, Eddie felt out of luck. Cafe’s seemed too busy, and he had no real desire to start wandering shops nearby, so what was there left to do? 

$14 later, Eddie puffed a relieved sigh as the warmth of the gallery enveloped him, that trembling cold slowly dissipating from his veins until his hands no longer felt like ice. He figured he’d have taken any sanctuary, though he had been hoping maybe for a Library. At least then he could have bunkered down somewhere with a book. What did you even do at a gallery anyways?  He didn’t see much point in wandering around, scanning his eyes over paintings that seemed a million years old. He didn’t get art. Music was his art, after all. Even as he started to walk, all the pieces seemed to bleed together for him. Acrylics and oils and gouache melted into the blur of faces and places and things. Sure, they looked pretty, but Eddie couldn’t see why anyone would waste their time to sit and paint something like this, let alone stare at it for hours. 

He passed through room after room like this, brows furrowed, arms crossed as he tried to puzzle out the meaning. Music and melody had meaning, lyrics filled with the words people couldn’t seem to say any other way. The sounds of instruments were sounds of heartbeats, of head rushes and blood flow and heart aches and burning desires – paintings couldn’t do that, could they? 

Wandering into a smaller room, Eddie found himself caught as his eyes fixated on perhaps the only worthwhile piece of art he had seen all morning. There you were, perched somewhat uncomfortably on the plush leather seat in the room's centre, head resting delicately into cupped palms, your elbows propping you up into a figure he was sure was only meant for statues. You looked like one of the Greek ones, he thought, all soft and graceful curves, pretty lines and prettier expressions. There was a notebook in your lap, though Eddie couldn’t begin to make out what the blurry pen strokes might have  noted at this distance. 

You seemed so lost in thought as you stared at the piece directly before you, eyebrows knitted in concentration to match the deep set focus of your eyes, and Eddie, despite himself, was lost in you. 

It was a horrifying notion to realise he was back in this same situation again, entirely different and yet all the same. Here he was, stuck motionless, staring helplessly at something beautiful, something entirely foreign to him. Naked breasts had been enough to melt a twelve year old Eddie’s mind, but this Eddie, now grown, was entirely transfixed for another reason. Never in his life had just looking at a person knocked the wind right out of him. This was beyond attraction, he thought. Beyond a pretty face and a beautiful body and all those hormones that made people spin. You were all of that, and so much more. 

How he knew that seemed entirely out of reach, but the thought settled in him all the same. 

Eddie watched the subtle angle of your head, the way you tried to see from a different perspective, before fixating your attention on your notebook once more, scribbling away furiously at stained parchment. 

All better judgement seemed to leave him as he approached, slow and long strides to avoid the echoes of boots against floorboards in such vastness. His body took residence beside the lounge, standing tall at the opposite end, arms crossing as he tried to see what it was that had you so fascinated. 

Cheese. Bread. Nuts of some kind. He tilted his head as you had, browns furrowing in confusion. Still cheese. Still bread. Still nuts of some kind. He let out a defeated huff. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hadn’t expected you to speak, let alone notice him, but when he turned his chin towards you he was met with a curious expression. You were even more captivating up close, as it turned out, so much so that he could not decide what captured his attention more. The soft bags of sleepless nights hung low under your eyes, your cheeks flushed with a dusty sort of colour that only the artifice of candies could achieve, your cheeks indented so delicately with the lines of so many smiles that had come before. 

It was embarrassing in his eyes that he was still gawking, and even more embarrassing that you had to ask your question a second time. 

“Oh– yeah. I mean… yeah. Sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

The soft shake of your head was accompanied by an even gentler smile, and Eddie felt his shoulders ease a fraction away from his ears. 

“No, not at all. Just seemed like a forlorn sigh.” You pointed out, uncrossing your legs to lower your feet to the ground. 

Eddie’s brow raised, his tone lilting with amusement. “Forlorn, huh?” 

You shrugged, though Eddie could see the slow creep of embarrassment flush your cheeks, your hand lifting to rub at it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I guess. It was just the first word that came to mind.” 

Eddie was smiling before he knew what he was doing. “I like it. Forlorn. Like it’s from a poem, or something.” 

A soft hum of contemplation fell from your lips, your pen scratching nervously in the margins of your notebook, patterns of stars falling into the sea of words below. “Could be. Poets are meant to be all crestfallen and stuff.” 

He actually laughed at that, something sounding like a punched out breath leaving him, his eyes crinkling delightfully at the corners. 

“Are you a writer or somethin’? You don’t just hear people saying words like that every day. Gotta know them by trade.” 

You shrugged again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the curve of your ear. “Student, actually. Art history, so I guess fancy words are part of the curriculum.” 

It seemed strange to be meeting you like this, like someone high above had heard his complaints only to send him an angel to set him straight. An art student; maybe you could teach him a thing or two. 

Eddie gestured to the seat beside you, flat palm dampened nervously at the prospect of speaking to someone so pretty, so much more learned than him. You nodded shyly, not bothering to adjust as he took up the empty space beside you, his elbows propping on his knees for comfort. 

“Can I ask you something, then? Since all of this is your thing.” 

You closed your notebook, folding your legs beneath you once more as you fixated your attention on him – something Eddie was sure no man could ever tire of wanting from you. “Sure”. 

“Why are you staring at this one? Out of all the pictures in this place, what makes cheese so interesting.” 

The astonished little chuckle that left you was something sacred, golden and warm and louder than he had anticipated. You could put that laugh to song. Maybe he would. 

“It’s not the cheese,’ You clarify, your smile never shifting from your lips, “though it looks great, doesn’t it? Looks real.” 

Eddie took in the piece once more, letting his eyes trace over the food to take in the finer details. It was true; it looked real. He could see the shadows, the cracks in the bread, the crumbs that had fallen onto the platter below. He realised it mustn’t have been easy to make something so real. It felt like a snapshot. 

Oh fuck, do I get art now? 

“Yeah, it looks real. Kinda crazy real, actually. How do they get it looking like that?” 

“It’s different for different people. This one’s by Peeters, and no one’s sure where she learned to paint, but she was one of the only female professionally working artists of the 17th century. She was a big deal.” 

Eddie tilted his head towards you. “Is that why you like her, then?” 

You shook your head, scrunching up your nose. “It’s very impressive, but it’s not the only reason. I was looking for her signature.” 

Eddie did not need to clarify himself, the confusion that etched across his face spoke volumes, leaving you to laugh again in amusement. 

“A lot of artists leave signatures so you know a work is theirs. Sometimes it’s their name, or an item, or a seal – sometimes it’s on the back, sometimes it’s made to look part of the picture. She writes her name down at the bottom, see?” 

You leaned in a little closer to Eddie, lining up his gaze with your own so you could point out a flourish of cursive in the corner. Drawn into you, Eddie could not help but lean into your orbit, his eyes following the line of your finger to its destination. “Oh yeah. Musician’s do that too, y’know. Chuck in a riff or a line or something to leave their mark.” 

“Seems like it’s an artist's thing. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

Eddie liked the insinuation that musicians were artists. He’d met too many people in his life who’d thought otherwise, who did not understand the value of art. He supposed he was one of them, though. He’d been ratting on the art around him only five minutes earlier. 

“You like music, then?” He asked, eagerness in his voice betraying the cool persona he was hoping to achieve. 

“I love music.” You confirmed, hands busily occupying themselves by twiddling the pen in your lap once more. “I wish they played music here. Imagine looking at all the art and listening to songs that fit. There’s these big dramatic paintings a few rooms over that are just begging for a rock instrumental to accompany it, and the cheese…” you trailed off, seemingly embarrassed to have been so caught up in the idea. “I feel like I'd be lost in it forever.” 

Eddie closed his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the vision of your little dream settle in his mind. He could get around that, art and music together – two worlds colliding. It seemed all the more enticing to think you would be there too, humming away as you watched the paintings and he watched you. 

“I think it sounds brilliant. You tell me when you’re building this fancy gallery and I’ll be the first one there.” 

He might have died at the sincerity with which you smiled. No heart was meant to withstand such adoration brimming inside of it. 

“You know, I–” you paused, garnering some courage to find the words, “the signature I was talking about before? That wasn’t the one that had me looking at this. The cheese, I mean.” You gestured vaguely towards the canvas before you, though Eddie was unwilling to peel his eyes from the work of art before him. 

“Yeah? What had you looking, then?” He couldn’t believe that for the first time in his life, Eddie actually cared about what was splayed across a canvas. Whatever it was that intrigued you so, he was aching to know. 

“She painted herself in the reflection of the lid on the jug. Up the top… see?” Adjusting the items in your lap, you slowly rose to your feet, extending a hand out to drag the boy up with you. Eddie faltered only for a second, contemplating whether this one single touch would make or break him. Would the sweat of his palms disgust you? He was so nervous to talk to you, after all, to take this chance. He swallowed, slipping calloused fingers into your own until he felt unperturbed digits grasp his own, your expression unphased as you guided him towards the wall. 

You both paused a foot short, your free hand pointing upwards to guide his flittering eyes. Lo and behold, painted so delicately into the reflection of the jug, was a face staring back at him. His hand squeezed your own with untapped excitement, and Eddie’s mouth dropped. 

“Holy shit, that’s so cool. That’s really her?” 

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah, that’s Clara.”

It was silent for a beat, the two of you soaking in the image before you; the woman in and amongst all the pieces of a life lived so long ago. It was a moment in history, much like the one the two of you were caught in now. 

Eddie marvelled helplessly, unsure what seemed to amaze him more; all these details that he never would have noticed if it weren’t for you, or the fact that you, a complete stranger, were still holding on to his hand as if it were something normal. For the briefest moment, he wondered if this could be normal, you and him. 

“I think this is the ultimate signature in a painting, just writing yourself into the story like that. It’s such a small thing, but… it changes everything, doesn’t it?” You broke the silence, voice a little dream like as you spoke. Eddie could only nod dumbly, a contented smile spreading across his face. 

“You wouldn’t wanna show me more of these, would you?” 

Eddie couldn’t stand the idea that you might walk away after this, back to your own life that until now had been so far away from his own. He wanted to walk the whole gallery with you, your hand in his, your voice whispering sweet nothings about the history and details of the world around you. 

The sheer excitement that crossed your features was an expression unmatched, never before seen. It was like he had asked you the one question you had been waiting for your whole life. Maybe you had been. Maybe no one had ever taken interest in the thing you seemed to love so much. He knew what that was like after all, his music had not been everyone's cup of tea. 

Maybe it could be yours.

“Oh, I– really?” 

“Only if you want to. I spent my whole time here trying to work out what made this stuff so special; I think you might be the one to show me. I’ll buy you coffee as thanks, if you like. I mean… I’d like to take you out for coffee.” 

He felt like a bumbling idiot, pausing to breathe an embarrassed chuckle. “You can also tell me to get lost at any time.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure if you noticed the way your hand seemed to tighten in his own, the movement causing his heart to beat in unsteady rhythms. It was something so small that seemed to shift his entire world – your hand holding his. 

Your head tilted with a smile. “You never said your name, y’know.” 

“Eddie.” He breathed out a little too fast. He’d have to kick himself later for it, because right now, he was too fixated on the way his foolishness seemed to make you smile all the wider. 

“Eddie.” You echoed, turning your body to face his own. “I’d love a coffee.” 

It took everything in him not to fist bump in triumph, his body aching to wriggle with the excitement that was slowly taking over muscle by muscle. How the hell had his morning turned out this good? 

“Sounds like a date, then.”

(images not mine)

“Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels” by Clara Peeters (ca. 1615)