#only tagging one name for the two of them

[eloquentlytired]

18+mdni

— three is the charm

pairing: logan x fem curvy reader x wade

tags: threesome — established relationship — dominant wade — needy reader & lo — rough sex — cock ring — pet names — wade being silly — not mentioned but reader is on the pill — sweet ending — not exhaustive tags here we good

summary: wade needs to unwind, you and logan help him.

author’s note: I have finally finished this tiny surprise. enjoy !! ☺️🩷🌸

ৎৎৎ

you lie on the bed as wade kisses you while logan abuses the skin of your neck, littering it with bites. it hurts but it's a good ache and they're both always careful with you. “fuck.” you whine against wade’s lips and you know that he'd give you a funny response if he wasn't so incredibly horny — he was the one that had initiated this in the first place.

there's hardness pressing against both of your thighs and you think about how lucky you are to be like this; to have two people that want you. that love you. logan moves his hand to slide down your pajama shorts and wade follows right after to remove your panties, exposing your wetness. wade is also the first to slip between your legs and go down on you, firstly kissing the area around your pussy until you're whimpering and throbbing for him. logan is just done undoing the first few buttons of your pajama shirt, remembering you like this one, and you'd praise him if you were coherent. he wraps his lips around your nipple while occupying the other with his hand, twisting it between his fingers. you moan and your legs shake over wade’s shoulders as the wet sensations at your breasts and cunt overwhelm you with the best type of pleasure. wade grips your hips high and your heart flutters at the way his bare hands squeeze them so tightly, proving how much he loves the curves of you. he grunts between your legs, sliding his tongue up and down, from your entrance to your clit, before tracing your lips teasingly. you sob with pleasure and logan sucks around your nipple harder to intensify the arousal you feel. one of your hands disappear into logan’s hair while the other finds wade’s hand on your hip and squeezes it. wade squeezes back.

“fuck—” it is logan who is cursing moments later when he's laying on his back on the bed as you straddle him so that your chests are pressing together and melting. wade hovers behind you and the head of his cock pokes your anal hole, making you shudder. wade grips logan’s cock to give it a few rough strokes and watches how his boyfriend’s hips twitch with each movement. he presses logan’s tip against the entrance of your weeping cunt and you moan, swaying your hips back against their cocks. “please.” you whisper and they're moving in unison like they always do, as if they're mentally communicating, and slide their cocks inside you inch by inch.

logan waits for wade to go a few inches first before he's pushing his fat tip past the tightness of your sweet pussy. this is something they always do as well — allowing the other to go first depending who's more desperate or who needs it more at the moment. part of them does it to not hurt you too much which is sweet, but the other part contains a much deeper meaning of it. probably something to do with the way wade slides his cock inside you first while staring at logan from behind your shoulder. they exchange rough glances, literally eye-fucking each other, because wade always provokes logan. he becomes competitive on purpose but there's no unhealthy intent behind it and they always know. wade means to say something like I reached the ending line first but logan grounds his hips, lining his dick with your pussy and thrusts forward sharply. it makes wade feral to see that kind of expression in his face — logan silently telling him that even if he comes second he'll still pretty much destroy the both of you.

but today is wade’s day and when wade leans down for a moment, tugging logan’s head closer by his hair, logan allows him. only you and wade can do that. “oh.” you lift your head slightly from logan’s hairy chest and you watch them as they kiss, wade’s tongue battling for dominance, and his endurance allows him to claim it against logan who's struggling to keep up. logan growls as wade takes a sweet moment to bite onto his bottom lip and release it with a loud sound. you instinctively clench at the sight, walls tightening around their cocks which twitch in response. especially logan’s as wade bites onto his bottom lip again but this time harder until he draws blood. it's filthy and arousing but the three of you were never normal to begin with.

“wade..lo!” you scream as they fill you up at the same time, stuffing their cocks into your deepest parts. you're full — extremely — and your body shakes uncontrollably because of the sheer force of their hips. wade grunts as he fucks you from behind, driving his hips straight into yours while his hand squeezes your pretty hip. you don't know where his other hand is until wade is using it to wrap it around your throat and pull you up. you feel logan’s cock shake, tremble even, and it couldn't be? right? but logan surprises you by spilling his load into your pussy and he surprises wade too.

logan is the only one who isn't surprised because the sight before him has turned him into literal shambles. your back presses against wade’s chest as you take both of their cocks so well and — in logan’s defense — wade is choking you too as your breasts bounce with each collision of their hips. logan can't take it. “you old dog.” wade mocks as he nibbles the back of your shoulder and logan let's out an animalistic growl as if annoyed with the comment. wade just provokes him more. “oh, peanut, maybe we should train you to handle the truth a little better.” and before you know it wade is holding you from your elbows as your entire front moves over logan. wade fucks you fast, hard. his balls slap against your skin and the motion burns you eventually because of the roughness but you like it. logan squirms beneath your bodies mumbling and pleading about how it's too much, too sensitive. “shut up and take it.” wade says probably to both of you and you moan in unison. your pussy clenches, logan shivers.

at some point wade is using a single arm to fist your hair and that's all the support you have to not crash on top of logan. logan watches your breasts bounce and brush over his face as wade takes you, molds you into an obedient little thing. it doesn't take long for him to get hard again and start rutting into you but wade notices. and he doesn't allow it. “what the—” logan hisses as something interrupts his high and although he can't see it, he knows wade has wore that damn cock ring around him just for punishment. “now don't be selfish. you already had your fun,didn't you?” wade mocks and grounds his hips into you so deep that it makes your eyes roll back with logan simply watching. logan growls in protest like he always does but wade doesn't care. wade pulls out completely before thrusting his entire cock back into your hole and your hips tremble as you hear the noises; when wade fucks you. when his hips collide with yours. when his balls slap against your skin. when his cock completely disappears into your tightness.

“work,puppy. you might get what you want in the end.” wade tells logan with mischief and logan grips both of your asscheeks roughly as he begins fucking into you properly. finally. it's brutal and fast and logan’s public hair rubs against your clit. you're reaching your peak then, squeezing around their cocks while coming all over logan’s dick. logan grunts and whimpers beneath your body as his cock twitches but nothing comes out — the cock ring doesn't let him. wade simply grins with satisfaction and before you know it he's pulling out of you, stroking himself to orgasm. you and logan moan as wade spurts all over you, on your ass and on logan’s thighs. he wants his claim to be apparent.

wade releases your hair and you fall on logan with a whine, your scalp slightly hurting but it's fine because this is worth it. there's some shuffling behind as wade unclasps the cock ring from around logan’s shaft. he's hard and leaking and wade uses a hand to guide logan’s cock back into your sensitive pussy. “wade—” , “I know,angel,I know.” he shushes your protests as logan’s hard shaft stretches you out again. it takes you a while to realize that logan is shaking beneath you as wade fondles with his balls, squeezing and rubbing them. logan’s eyes are shut and his hips twitch. all it takes is a few more toying around with his balls from wade to make him come again and logan is filling you up again. you shudder as he finishes emptying his load inside you and you slide tiredly by his side, logan is as tired as you so he doesn't stop your fall.

it's midnight when all three of you are watching tv in one of the couches. wade is in the middle while you and logan are at either side of him. wade’s head is leaning on logan’s shoulder while his hand is nestled between your hands. you hold him gently as logan silently watches the cartoons channel that wade has picked out. “thank you for today.” wade mutters tiredly, because it's his thing to be sentimental a little before bed, and you and logan can't help but smile a little. “I can feel you smiling.” wade states proudly, eyes still targeted at the television. “go fuck yourself,bub.” logan tells him humourously and you shake your head at their childish bickering. “talking about fucking,lo, did your balls get bigger—”

“wade!” you and logan protest in unison. your boyfriend laughs.

[marigoos]

Hello this a long shot call, am a citizen of Palestine. I am here to request for your support to help get my insulin (Humalog), just an injection for today to save my life please I beg.I was diagnosized with type 1 diabetes and due to current situation in Gaza I'm unable to get my insulin injection as a result I'm here begging for little financial support to help me purchase insulin for this week, am having a balance of$168. Am sorry if am sending you again this request, kindly donate any amount please. My donation link is in my pinned post🇵🇸. Thank you and be blessed ❤️

THIS IS A KNOWN SCAM (SEE LINK HERE)

Funny seeing you here just two days after I warned a mutual about you :) I thought you recurring scammers had me pre-blocked after the last time I tagged every single soul I saw reblogging one of y'all's pinned posts. And you know what? I'll do it again. I don't care that it's 300+ people. You deigned to show your ass in my inbox, it would be rude not to answer appropriately!

IF YOU'VE BEEN TAGGED IN THIS POST:

1) don't be ashamed, it happens. I just ask that you kindly delete your reblog or edit it, and warn your followers

2) this is a known scam, they keep trying with new usernames. In general, the red flags here are: generated username (3 english words in a row), very low end goal (they're usually several thousands USD), Paypal (less protections), Humalog/insulin, they say they're vetted but not who vetted them, very recent blog with lots of reblogs of popular posts but unrelated to the topic.

Singularly they're not that weird, but if you see any of those elements you should be more wary and do some research before reblogging!

3) try to follow a scam buster, I follow @/kyra45 (or at least take note. She has some resources that can be useful to check every once in a while)

4) don't feel obligated to come and thank me or apologize for falling for it, that's a lot of you and only one of my inbox °v° it's ok, really, I get it. I've fallen for scams before, it's not your fault I swear

5) if you were tagged but never had anything to do with this scammer: I typed everything manually because it was faster, I may have made a mistake. Do contact me so I can mention the right person ^^"

Next day edit: got blocked, they graciously left another ask in my inbox so I'm adding some more people to my mentions list :3 please notice how they went overnight from magnificentdraginengineer - paypal name lavender namisi, to vallarysblog - paypal name vallary wanjala. They'll keep doing this so get familiar with the text of the ask instead of the name, it's going to serve you in the future

'Nother edit: changed url to loudduckcrown but paypal is still vallary wanjala

@judaswail @nothingventurednothinggained123 @sintribos @igothurtdoingsafetydance @freetobezii

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 1

In a very special engagement (as in a don't normally post 5 days a week), I introduce "A Love Connection"!

If the premise looks familiar the original idea is from here, where a couple of people in the notes or tags said they'd love to try it. And after a year, I figured I'd try my own hand at the idea.

This will update on Tuesdays at 10am and 10pm EST. With hopefully eight chapters.

Summary: Steve has tried everything under the sun to find someone to truly connect with, so he gives up after a particularly horrible date. Then Chrissy introduces him to her favorite game show "Love Connection". When Chrissy and Robin apply for him, they don't think they'll except him, but he does. His suitors are Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, and Eddie Munson. Will Steve crash and burn again or will his connection be there waiting for him?

~

Look, to say Steve’s love life was a disaster would be unfair. That would be underselling it. It was a fucking catastrophe. He had gone to bars, joined hobby groups, used all the apps, even Grindr; though that was mostly for hookups, which sucked. But that was the nature of the beast if he was honest.

And the beast had completely devoured him. All his dates were either only interested the casual, cheated on him, or wanted one-night stands. Which Steve absolutely did not want. He wanted connection. Intimacy.

“I absolutely give up,” he whined to Robin, after the last date tried to slip out in the middle of the night, knocked over their lamp into their goldfish bowl, killing the goldfish, then he tried to hide the evidence by dumping it down the garbage disposal and turning it on! Lied about it, then stole their last beer as “compensation for his trauma’ and told Steve to never call him again.

“Look, Ryan wasn’t the best guy,” Robin replied with a grimace. “He liked Oasis and Tool unironically. Always a red flag.”

Steve snorted. Robin was a music snob most days, but she wasn’t wrong about that. Ryan and he had been dancing around and with each other for weeks before they finally got so hot and heavy that they went back to Steve’s for sex.

“It’s not fair,” he huffed. “You went to that bar and you a hottie girlfriend and I went to that bar and fucked a fish killer! I loved Garfield! He lived for five years before that bastard mercilessly murdered him. That’s long than my last ten relationships combined!”

Robin winced. “Ooh... I’m going to have to call Chrissy and let her know we can’t go back to that gay bar again.”

“Oh he’s so dead now!” Steve ranted. “Not only is he fish killer, he has driven us from our favorite bar!”

“Let me order us some take out,” Robin said standing up, “then I’ll call Chrissy over and we’ll all cry over Ciarán Hinds and Amanda Root falling in love.”

Steve sniffed away a couple of tears and nodded. “Then can we have a funeral for Garfield?”

Robin tilted her head and smiled sadly. “Of course we can. It’s a Sunday so none of us have work. We can watch as many weepy romance movies as you want, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve croaked. She gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. He watched her wander into the kitchen to see what leftovers they had in the fridge so they could order from somewhere else. He loved her so much.

~

Sometime in the afternoon when they were more than a little tipsy, Chrissy commandeered the remote and turned on her favorite game show.

“Love Connection”

“Noooo...” Steve whined, burying his head into a throw pillow. It was Garfield shaped. It was what inspired the naming of the valiant fish. “This is the last thing I want to see. It’s so fake. No one gets together on these things. It’s so cheesy.”

“Exactly!” Chrissy crowed. “That’s why it’s perfect, we get to make fun of them!”

Steve thought that the only good part of the show was the second half. The first half was split into three different rounds. The first round was each suitor answer the one question, for a total of fifteen and then the catch would rank them, best got three points, second two, and third only one.

Then in the second round there were a set of rapid fire either or questions that the catch would yell out and the suitors would write down their answers. If their answer matched the catch’s they would get a tally. Whoever had the most tallies would win five points. Then three points to second place and one to the last place.

Then in the final round, each suitor would be asked separate questions and the catch would rate their answer one through three and that’s how many points they would get. Then at the end of the round all the points would be tallied up and the two highest would move on to the next round.

To the part that Steve actually liked. The first question always asked was “what would you do for a first date?” And the suitors got to take the catch out for the date and then afterward for drinks, the two dates would ask the catch some of the questions he asked them. Then the catch would pick the one they connected to the best.

It was all the stupid questions that bothered Steve. That was the fun part of dating, having these conversations and learning about them as you go. But then maybe that’s what Steve’s problem was, is that the people he dated didn’t care about these types of conversations.

“Why would you say you hate sports,” Steve huffed, waving his hand at the screen, “when the guy is a major soccer fan? Like did she think that she was going to put a stop to him enjoying it after starting dating?”

“Ooh yeah,” Chrissy agreed. “Just pick a different catch.”

Robin turned to her and tilted her head. “Do they get to chose their catch? I thought it was all random.”

Chrissy paused the show and pulled out her phone and the Wikipedia article. “Okay, it says here that people can apply to be suitors,” she waved at the row of women in the three booths. “Or catches.” She indicated the guy with her hand. “If they’re chosen to be a suitor then they are given a list of catches, headshot included. Then they rank vote them, so if four people pick Henry, then one will be on their second rank vote. And that part is randomized. According to them, anyway.”

Steve snorted. He highly doubted anything was randomized or voted on. They went for the biggest drama and everyone knew it.

“How long has this show been going on?” he huffed. “Like please tell it’s new and shiny and that’s why people like it.”

Robin snorted and shook her head. “Sorry, babe. But this is season twelve.”

“Oohh...” Chrissy said. “We need to show him the season six finale. That was hella juicy!”

So despite Steve’s protests, Chrissy pulled it up on her streaming services even though they hadn’t even finished the episode they were on.

When the credits rolled, Steve stared at the screen in utter shock. “What the honest fuck was that?”

Two of the three guys got into an all out brawl when the one guy had scored the lowest and felt that the second place suitor cheated. Not first place, second. Both guys were arrested and hauled off the set.

“It came out later Sven was right,” Robin said. “Elliot cheated. His cousin was an ex of the catch so he went in knowing a lot about Stella. The things he got wrong were things that had changed since she was dating his cousin.”

Chrissy nodded. “That’s why the have partitions up between the suitors now and why they have vigorous screening now. The show was almost canceled.”

“So why wasn’t it?” Steve asked honestly. “That was a shit show, if I was Stella I would have sued them into oblivion.”

Robin squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “She did, but they settled out of court.”

“Basically,” Chrissy said, pouring them more wine and handing the first glass to Steve, “she wanted them to completely overhaul the system. She didn’t want it off the air, she wanted it safer for future participants.”

“The more the fool them,” Steve huffed. He took a long sip of his wine. “All right, fine. Let’s start at the beginning.”

Robin and Chrissy cheered and they all huddled up together on the sofa to watch this absolute train wreck of a show.

They were about half way through the third season and twice as drunk when Steve slurred, “Why are there no gay peemles in this? It’s a trav–trad–tramajesty.”

“Travesty!” Robin slurred back, her language skills always being the last to go when she’s three sheets to the wind. “And you are absolutely right! This is homophobic!”

Chrissy nodded solemnly and pulled out her phone. “I’mma show them...” she muttered with her tongue sticking out. “At loveconnectionUSA Need more gays, hashtag loveconnection hashtag need more gays.”

It wasn’t long after that that the three of them passed out on the sofa, empty bottles all around them and a message on the screen asking if they’re still watching.

~

There was a loud beeping noise and it absolutely was hurting his head. He reached over to where his phone was usually plugged in on his nightstand, but his hand went straight through it. He waved his arm all over the place but still his nightstand eluded him.

He peaked open one eye but his vision was obscured by a mass of blonde hair. He tried to push it out of the way but it kept falling back into his face. Finally he pushed Robin off him and onto the floor with a thud.

“Hey!” she yelped.

Steve peered over the edge of the sofa with a look of confusion. “Why are you on the floor?” he muttered over the still beeping of his alarm.

“Stop!” he mumbled and somehow, blissfully it did.

“I’m on the floor because you pushed me there,” Robin huffed, getting to her feet. She did a sniff test and grimaced when she completely failed. “God... how much did we drink yesterday?”

Chrissy struggled to sit up and blinked at her girlfriend groggily. “Not enough if I feel like this.”

Steve rolled over and looked at them both in confusion, then the events of Saturday and all day Sunday came flooding back in.

“Oh fuck...” he muttered, sitting up himself and rubbing his face. One eye was blurry from where his contact had shifted in the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had them on. Probably from sheer force of habit.

He got up and stumbled toward the bathroom where he emptied his stomach of all its boozy contents. He really didn’t remember them eating after breakfast, only a steady stream of harder and harder liquor.

While his was puking his guts out, Chrissy and Robin stole the shower. Thankfully only taking the time they needed to get the gross feeling of being hungover off their skin.

Then Steve closed his eyes as they exited the shower and snuck into Robin’s room to get ready for work. They all worked at Hawkins Middle School, where Steve was a history teacher who coached swimming and basketball. Chrissy was a health teacher and advisor for cheerleading. And Robin was the language teacher. The principal snatched her up because she could teach French, Spanish, and Italian, with her only needing to hire a German teacher.

Steve got his shower and then opted for glasses instead of his contacts, not trusting his shaky hands not poke out his eye or some shit.

They all were mostly human once they got coffee, painkillers, and cereal in them, the three of them, no doubt looking like escaped extras from a zombie flick. They moved as one, gathering up their stuff and shuffling out to Steve’s car. Chrissy sat in the back, Robin riding shotgun.

Chrissy opened her phone to check to see if she had any messages. “Holy shit!”

~

Part 2

Look I'd be sorry about the cliffhanger, but you're only waiting 12 hours for it, soooo...

Have fun!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Paging Doctor Novak

Author: Salamitsunami1

Artist: WitchyWorm

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas, past Dean/Lisa, past Dean/Rhonda

Length: 40000

Warnings: Graphic and accurate depictions of medicine, medical emergencies, and medical procedures. Past unfaithful Dean. Minor character death

Tags: Rom-com, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Happy Ending, Hospital AU, Sexual Tension, Doctor Sexy M.D., Getting Together

Posting Date: October 31, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is many things — a nurse, an in-charge on the medical-surgical floor, and a big fan of the ladies. What he’s not is a commitment kind of guy, and he’s definitely not a night duty kind of guy. Things change when a hook-up-gone-wrong gets him lumped on night duty for an entire month, and to make matters worse, he’s been lumped on night duty with a brand new intern. As with all interns, Doctor Castiel Novak is cocky at best and dangerous at worst, but for some reason, and maybe it’s just the way his ass looks in those teal scrubs, Dean’s got a soft spot for the guy. Or a really hard one. Either way, it’s not long before Dean’s new roster is the least of his concerns; he wants that dorky doctor guy, and fuck, he wants him for real.

Excerpt: Being in charge, Dean’s job is simple — keep on top of any patients coming up from the ER or down from the OR, page the doctor when there’s a problem, and call the doctor when there’s an emergency. That’s how he ended up in Frank Devereaux’s room with the phone to his ear, and because the on-call doctor is almost always an intern this late at night, he’s willing to bet that whoever picks up isn’t gonna know Frank’s ass from his esophagus. “Hello?” “Hello?” Dean questions. “Is this the on-call doc or a Wendy’s?”  “This is Doctor Novak.” “Right. Well, this is Dean from med-surg. I’m calling about Frank Devereaux in bed two. He had a lap-chole yesterday, got back to the ward about six hours ago. His pain’s currently a nine out of ten, he’s just vomited up a whole lot of bile, and I’ve got a real bad feeling.” “Okay,” the intern says, like a question. “Would you like a consult?” Dean sighs wearily. “That’s why I called.” “Of course,” the intern says. “I’m on my way.” The phone call hasn’t exactly filled Dean with confidence, and it only gets worse when the intern stumbles onto the ward — his hair is all over the place, his stethoscope is hanging unevenly around his neck, he’s wearing these teal scrubs that are about a whole size too small and therefore clinging to every inch of him, and he’s wearing them with a pair of fucking Converse high-tops, of all things. All interns are cocky, that’s a given, but the cockiest of all is the surgical intern. Each and every year, guaranteed.  “Hello,” he says. “I’m looking for Dean.” Dean glances down at his own name tag. Unfortunately, it’s still right where he pinned it to his scrub top, so it seems the new intern might not even be able to read. In the interest of being nice, he forces a smile. “You found him.” “Oh. Hello, Dean,” the intern says. “I believe we spoke on the phone.” Dean only nods, waiting for the intern to introduce himself, but he does no such thing. No, this guy just stands there, he runs his fingers through his bedraggled hair, and so now there’s a smear of ink on his forehead where it’s rubbed against whatever’s written on his hand. Pointedly, Dean says, “And what did you say your name was again?” “I’m Doctor Novak.” Dean looks Doctor Novak up, down, then back up again. Taking him apart. He’s got bags under his eyes and cracks in his lips. Doctor or not, this guy’s a fucking mess.  “Well, doc,” Dean says, probably against his better judgment. “Frank’s this way.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[apocalypse-shuffle]

AGATHA HARKNESS (mcu | agatha all along)

—

“A Witch’s Bargain” (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader) and (mentioned Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader)

| Once you find out a witch as infamous and powerful as Agatha is seeking you out you decide to go to her before she can pull one over on you; an attempt was made.

| SFW, obeah, flirting, hints at immortality, reader has something going on with both Agatha and Rio, -caribbean!reader & witch!reader

| pic source: Agatha All Along (2024)

| Note, the Reader-Insert is speaking with an accent but I didn’t write the particulars of it down bcs that would’ve been a lot to parse through even for me. Also, happy less-than-forty days till Halloween!

| 2k+ words

“Oh my,” you drawl, leant back against a large tree near Westview’s local psychic shop and nearly lost in its shadow, “this is…underwhelming.”

A whopping three people — only two witches, one of which was currently powerless — pause in front of you on the sidewalk, your words ringing even truer at the way the boy amongst them jumps at your abrupt entrance.

Lips pursed, you look him up and down with little favor. If this was to be the makings of Agatha Harkness’s “great coven” the pickings truly must’ve been slim.

The very witch you came to see turns to you, her hair falling into her face with the movement like she’s in some big brand shampoo commercial. Without another word, you watch on with an opposing stillness, your heart remaining steady.

Interesting.

For a woman you’d all thought dead Agatha looked well. Hair not clumpy, skin not worn or leathery. Even the way she held herself still bellied her comfort in mysticism, even dressed like a modern day woman as she was.

“Mm,” she hums shortly, turning in place with a few unhurried steps until she can cast narrowed eyes onto her apparent newest tag-along. Matching her stare head on you lean into the sun’s light a little more, your own thick curls brushing across a few low hanging branches where your hair is wrapped in cloth atop your head. “I don’t recall asking for an Obeah Woman,” she announces, tone bitingly light.

A scoff falls past your lips.

“And I didn’t expect the whispers for a coven would lead me to you, like this,” you twitch, letting your smile spread your plush lips thin, “broken and without your gifts.”

“I wouldn’t test me, New Girl,” she parries, and you hold your palms up in surrender.

Though your expression doesn’t sober.

The smile that rises to match your own in response to that is lopsided and sharp. Years worth of condescension she’d grown too used to falling back on without caution due to the magic coursing through her coming to the surface.

Agatha Harkness’s name in whispers had sent you into a fit at first — a witch of her caliber and age with your name on her mind never meant good — but looking at her now you could only tilt your head.

On the other hand, the boy with her seems eager to shake apart with laughter that grinds upon your nerves. Luckily, one look from the Salem veteran keeps him quiet.

Mostly.

In seconds she too is cackling, however — the boy’s muffled laughter acting as background noise — and you don’t bother stopping your sneer then.

“Oh, I see. You think you're hot shit,” she draws out, voice dropping an octave. “Don’t you operate a failing apothecary out of your apartment?”

Lips flattening, you step from the shadow, your face fixed without obvious malice to the best of your ability.

“It’s a side hustle,” you sniff. “And still better than being sentenced to 100 lashes and persecuted by the Danish; if I ever see the inside of a Christianshavn prison again I’ll frig up more than a few rum distilleries.”

“Of course. Now you just get persecuted by American Authority instead,” she says, the cut of her mouth sly.

With a flourish you wave her off. “Wretched as your worry is, it’s unneeded. Poison is no different than an elixir when you make it backwards.”

“Okay,” she simpers, shrugging herself, voice light and eyes never straying from your form as you glide closer over the concrete.

Powerless or not, something beneficial could surely come of making the occasional acquaintance of such a renowned woman.

Movement in your peripherals catches your attention though, and you stop moving to turn your head to find who you can only assume is the cause of your blight today.

Your sneer situates itself right back over your lips.

“Lilia,” you announce, the woman stops in her tracks and cuts you a brazen look out of the corner of her eyes. You take caution to only let your molars grind together for a second, releasing the tension in increments as your gaze narrows on her and you stand taller. “I should cut you down where you stand.”

The psychic huffs, shawl sliding a bit down the slope of her shoulder.

Slowly pulling the covering back into place she tuts at you, “Or…you could not. I mean, let’s face it, you would’ve been drawn here regardless of if I gave Agatha your name.”

“Unlikely,” you snap, words ground out like you’d rather spit on her than keep to something so civil as using mere words to express yourself.

And you would if you weren’t in such mixed company. Lilia was only meek when she was playing some angle after all.

You didn’t like anyone else making your moves for you, forcing you to speed up your timeline. Your own plans be damned.

“Witches, witches!” Agatha cuts in, holding her hands out to keep you and the psychic apart despite the way she’s only looking your way. “Let’s not tear each other apart just yet, hm?”

She eyes you from head to toe, taking her time to pan down as she takes in your flowing clothing and lightly clacking beads, before giving you a wicked look. “We wouldn’t want to mar anything too pristine before things really get interesting, now would we?”

Knocking your gaze to Lilia for a second you clock how she initially meets your glower, but keep your gaze steady regardless, just up until she finally twitches in discomfort. Only then do you ease up, tossing a grimace of a smile her way, before watching Agatha closely once more as the psychic wanders off somewhere out of sight with a few muttered curses you pay no mind to.

Meanwhile, Agatha’s expression has changed, having lost its begrudging appraisal and turned furrowed.

You raise your brows, “Harkness?”

She squints, obscuring fine cut hazel.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“Ah,” you grin without teeth, shoulders shaking, “so you can’t tell your porridge from your oats either I see.”

She rolls her eyes.

“The ‘wise sage’ sage act is very annoying, I have to tell you. It’s really ruining an otherwise beautiful package and I think you should work on that.”

“Should I?”

“That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, alright,” you examine your bare nails, twisting your wrist this way and that to get a ‘better’ view of your cuticles, “you’ll have to put the request in with my secretary first, though, I fear.”

Agatha’s pet’s head pops up from over her shoulder, his face screwed up, “You have a secretary? …No offense.”

Sighing, you drop your hand back to your side and make a point of rolling your eyes hard enough to nearly make yourself dizzy.

“No. I don’t,” you tell him finally, though you don’t look away from the actual witch in front of you even as you do.

Immediately after you raise your brow at Agatha, however, “As for you, you know full well that I’m better than any sage, and that passing me up would be a waste when you need a potion maker. Regardless, no we haven’t met, but your backside is just as unpleasant as people describe.”

“Hm,” she hums in agreement, moving to toss her round brunette curls around to her back with a wink in your direction, “unpleasantly beautiful, you might say.”

“Worthless more like it,” you correct.

Agatha stops putting on her little show so quickly you might as well have just lashed her across the face.

Briefly, her eye spasms, “Watch it.”

“I might,” you say, “so long as you prove me wrong. Now, if we could get back on track.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, glaring at you now. “Fine. How bout’ this, unless you can make an elixir to make me invincible from every witch closing in on me, then scram. I’m dealing with enough ameatures as is.”

Head thrown back for a second, you laugh, letting your fervor echo throughout Lilia’s forever vacant parking lot.

“Oh, make no mistake, Harkness, I can do that...” you say eventually, voice easy in a way that gives the other woman pause. You jerk a brow up, briefly mirroring the way her interest seems to physically jump up to stare at you, “…for a price.”

Gaze finally brightening she moves to knock her male companion on the shoulder, gesturing your way afterwards before plastering a much “nicer” smile on her face.

“Teen’s got the money. Give the woman whatever she wants, come on.”

“Oh no, I don’t want money,” you cut in with a flick of your hand at the grabble she’s making for the boy’s wallet.

Agatha pauses in the middle of silently arguing with Teen, glancing your way from her slightly bent position.

“—You don’t?”

“I might not call myself a witch, but that in no way means I’m confused as to what you witch them does do.” You get closer to her, and how she straightens to meet your advance makes you preen. “I want a favor. A binding one.”

“As if,” the boy cuts in with, “A witch of her caliber doesn’t do binding spells, they’ll only hinder her.”

Oh my—

“You well fucking rude,” you say distastefully, giving him a harsh look. Irritatingly, his forward ass only lays his hand over his heart with a gasp.

For her part all Agatha does is laugh, knocking you lightly on the shoulder as if you’ve told a particularly funny joke, and taking you right out of your stare down. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, Dear. Cause you sure are delusional.”

She snorts.

You suck your teeth.

This back and forth routine was getting far more tiresome than you’d anticipated.

“The only lucky one here is you,” you deadpan.

She opens her mouth to respond, that same dismissal in the curve of her mouth, but then pauses. Expression twitching, she leans even closer to you to inhale.

Frowning, you pull your upper half away from her.

“What—?”

“—I should’ve known,” Agatha exclaims lowly, pointing her finger at you. “You reek of her psycho, that's why you seemed so familiar. What have you been dabbling in, I wonder, to smell so thoroughly of Rio? Joining her plot against me?”

You shake your head, looking away from her. You’d only hung around Vidal for the same reasons you were hanging around Agatha: to gain connections and, better still, favors you could cash in on if you ever found yourself in a bind due to your own ventures.

You hadn’t been lying earlier when you’d said you’d start making drastic moves if you saw the inside of a cell again, you didn’t care where it was. You’d burn it all down until they had to put you down before you’d waste away imprisoned ever again.

“Absolutely not. Whatever melee that went down between you two is yours alone. All I’m worrying about is my deal.”

To the displeasure of your heightening pulse, however, Agatha doesn’t just look passingly interested or even admiring any longer. She looks like she’s been given a puzzle, and like she likes it.

“Too late,” she chirps, fluttering her lashes, “Rio is far too picky about the company she keeps for your involvement to be left unexplored.”

Hand coming up, she runs her nails along your jaw. You stave off a flinch from the ticklish sensation her touch elicits. “You’ve played with too hot a fire, Darling, situating yourself in the middle of our fight,” Agatha finishes, clicking her tongue, before walking her digits back up the umber expanse of your skin to press the pads of them into the hinge of your jaw.

You swallow roughly, hope she can’t hear it.

Agatha smiles, pressing in until she can force you to meet her eyes again. They’re roving, almost manic when paired with her smile.

“Yes,” she breathes, eyes alight. “Maybe I do need an Obeah Woman after all. We’ll be going to the Witch’s Road, won’t you come with?”

No. It’s on the tip of your tongue. The feel of Rio’s blackened energy still a hot, sizzling brand across your lips.

One deal had been made already, yes, but were you sure about pursuing this one as well with the inevitability of getting caught in the middle of a centuries old rivalry so probable?

Unfortunately, your, “Fine,” slips past your lips before you can stop yourself, and rather than deal with the indignity of walking your agreement back you stay quiet.

Watching for her move. Reasoning with yourself that there were still benefits here despite this new hiccup, if only you played your cards right.

She doesn’t make you wait long.

A shiver rises over you as her presence does the same, her steps carrying her till there’s hardly a whisper between your bodies. Even without her magic, being this close to Agatha Harkness allowed her to snake herself across your soul same as Rio Vidal had when you’d also unintentionally peaked her curiosity a while back.

“Wonderful,” she coos, the pad of her thumb gliding up your cheekbone as her hazel bores deep into your brown, “let’s see about that deal then.”

Dammit to hell; this had better be worth whatever Agatha and Rio’s combined interest would do to you.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Fun fact, actually, I wrote this when I’d only watched episode two up until Agatha and Teen left Lilia’s place, and so didn’t know that Jen (gorgeous as she is) would be who they went to for poisons (or that that was in any way a requirement in the first place) so that was a fun little coincidence. Otherwise, the setting of this oneshot I just pulled out of my ass fr.

Also, character motivations are a bit funky but I can’t pinpoint the exact reason and really want to post this tonight so we’ll all have to deal.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

—

Caribbean word of the day (i.e.,the glossary): “Frig” - an alternative way to say ‘fuck’. so ‘frig up’ = ‘fuck up’.

“Melee” - drama or gossip.

*remember, though, that dialects are regional so the words in this glossary aren’t used by every caribbean* 

EDITED: 9/26/24

[joelsgoldrush]

wip wednesday: "epiphany" (worst!logan x fem!reader)

third time lucky because i posted this twice with different passages and none of them seemed to satisfy the overachieving monster i am 👹 but let's forget that detail.

this fic is making me crazy... in a good way. i'm enjoying the whole process even though imposter syndrome's hitting harder than ever </3

thank you @moonlight-prose for tagging me 🫂💗

also tysm to @lubdubology because she’s an amazing beta (sorry for tagging you again and again 😭 don’t mind me)

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished. That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day. Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable. Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place. The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun. Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment. He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind. Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself. Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out? Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes? The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.  Instead, he listens.  You play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen. He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll. None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

no pressure tags: @zloshy @princessanglophile @hauntedhowlett @wlwloverwrites + whoever wants to post sth they´ve written

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋmy first, my last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ

pairing: exmafia!bakugo x reader

summary: katsuki left that life behind for you. but when the life you two built from scratch together was threatened, what else could he do but go back?

tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, clingy katsuki

(a/n: there's a tornado and like hurricane outside i should be preparing but ill write insteadd. anyways this is just the first part of.. tbh idk how many parts, probably 2 or 3 total lmk if anyone wants to be taggedd)

wc:~2.5k

katsuki had been around blood for most of his life.

whether it was his own, or a bastard who he had to handle for his own, he'd grew comfortable to it. almost intolerant to it.

but seeing you, freaking out with a bullet in your shoulder, your blood spilled over the floors he'd taken you to pick out?

it was something he never prepared for.

glass was shattered, he ran to your side immediately. the hot flash of pain in your arm unbearable, even more so as he pressed down on it, his shirt now ripped as he had to keep the blood from pouring.

your wails echoed throughout the shop, the one you decorated and planned for months together.

he needed to call someone, anyone. you were bleeding and he needed the kit-- but it was too far.

he was failing you. you were crying and he was failing you.

he was shaking, "babe? fuck. stay awake." everything around him was mocking him. his phone being too far, everything was just out of his grasp. out of his control.

he couldn't get up and leave you, if he let up the pressure you could die in the minute it'd take for him to set up.

he always failed you in the end. this was all his fault.

until, kaminari and kirishima walked in, about to yell out and bug katsuki for some food like usual. "yo bro! what's--"

the sight in front of them was one they never expected to see. katsuki almost crushing your arm with pressure, your blood all over the place. the front of house ruined.

it was enough for them to jump into action. katsuki holding you still as kirishima worked to get the bullet out of your arm. kaminari throwing the medkit over from where katsuki had it stored in a shelf. it had barely missed an artery, you were a milimeter away from death.

honestly, they hadn't liked you for a while. before meeting you they only saw you as the woman who was taking one of their best friends away from them. from their own.

but they learned that you only wanted the best for him, so you'd all become close. they learned how katsuki made this choice because he wanted better life for the two of you.

how he was growing sick of the repeated bloodshed that never amounted to anything. how his heart ached at the sight of you crying over his wounds, his black eyes and knife cuts embedded in his skin.

how he vowed to himself that before he'd ever propose to you, that he'd tie up all loose ends with his group, before he knew he could fully dedicate himself to you.

and he did.

nobody couldve ever imagined that they'd be here, kaminari working to keep you calm, helping regulate your breaths. you were freaking out, and that wasn't good for the extreme amount of blood you were losing.

katsuki would be forever grateful for them. he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't here, if you had died in his arms.

your screams were haunting, but at least you were alive. they finally died down into groans of pain when the bullet was out and the fabric was tied tightly around your shoulder.

your shirt was bloodied, his hands were too. he picked you up and mindlessly followed the two into a car that they must of called when he wasn't listening.

back to his old life he went. his eyes were sharp and angry, his hand gripping yours tightly, his finger over your pulse.

he had frozen up. and that could've costed you your life.

your eyes were half-lidded, but open.

only the noise of the road was heard throughout the car. he was the only one in the back, holding you in his arms as he faced straight ahead. he didn't think he could handle looking at you right now.

"'suki?" you said, so quietly the thumping of the road almost completely blocked it out.

but he heard you, he always did. "don't waste your energy. we're almost there."

you nodded, squeezing tighter. your eyes stuck on his bloodied shirt.

you were immediately rushed to the medical wing, the old woman dubbed 'recovery girl' taking you into her care. "she'll be fine, young man. she was lucky. they missed." she scurried off behind the operation team, who had immediately taken her into surgery.

those words carried only a bit of comfort for him. he was guided back to the meeting room, the one he'd been in several times before. the one he took brutal beat downs just to get out of.

but he was back, and it was for you. the same reason why he left.

he stared back at his old blood. deku had taken over for all might a couple years back, so he stood at the head of the table waiting for the rest of them settled in.

he wore a soft face of sympathy. "go change." deku finally said, handing him a pair of spare clothes. "we'll wait for you. you look like.. crap."

"to say the least." katsuki muttered, before accepting the clothes and going to where he knew the old bathroom was.

he washed his hands of your blood, but he knew it'd never really leave. he had stained your life, put you in danger for something as fragile as love. you could've died today, for the only reason of you being connected to him.

he changed, emptying the tattered shirt and slacks into the garbage. he didn't want anything to do with them anymore.

after splashing his face with some water, he headed back to the room.

every old face was there waiting for him, some with understanding small smiles.

he sat next to kirishima, arms crossed as he looked to the head.

"kacchan." deku started. "you, you aren't seriously thinking of coming back, are you?"

all eyes were on him, his body tense. "of course i am. i'm going to find the dumbfuck who did this and bury them."

"but you're not one of us anymore." todoroki cut in. "you left, if you come back it's like you did all that for nothing."

"you can never truly leave though, if you think about it." iida replied before katsuki had a chance. "this is just proof of it. even though he worked so hard to get rid of the connections to us, she still ended up targeted."

"and by an ally no less."

"a what?" katsuki said, his hand slamming on the table. "repeat that shit to me scarface?"

"it's not confirmed yet--"

"don't lie midoriya, it's obvious from the bullet. even the color is mocking us." todoroki said, sliding a bag across the table, over to katsuki.

a bright purple bullet was in it. it was bigger than he remembered, a 12.7 mmx99. it took up almost the entirety of his hand. whoever shot this really had wanted to kill you.

but it couldn't be...

"..shinsou?"

"that's who it points to."

"but. it doesn't make sense. your wife was close friends with him, and we haven't had bad relations with '2 Block' for decades!" midoriya reasoned.

"that doesn't change the fact there was a bullet in her arm." katsuki grumbled, moving it around in his hand. he slammed it back down onto the table.

"wow bakugo, if you couldn't pick up on that, i don't think you should be working this operation." kaminari said, a hand behind his head.

"shinsou wouldn't have missed. she'd be dead the second he aimed for her. you should know that."

silence enveloped the room. kaminari was right, if he didn't pick up on that, he was rusty.

his eye twitched. "i fuckin' knew that dumbass."

"you have personal stake in this, we get it. but you'll end up dead if you keep thinking with your shit attitude." kaminari responded.

"he has a point kacchan. why don't you let us handle it, and you can--"

"no."

he silenced them all with that single word. a face of sincerity and vulnerability he barely wore present in that moment. "i have to do this. i can't sleep at night if i don't. you guys of all people should understand."

a collective silence came over the room. they didn't say anything, but they knew if this had happened to them they'd want back in too.

they knew midoriya had the final say though, so they wished for his opinion.

"fine. but youre not doing this alone. we'll all get in on this. you were one of our best before, im sure all might would agree."

everyone nodded in agreement, saying some variation of 'if you say so'.

kirishima patted katsuki on the back. "hey man, our duos back again!"

"only for this mission though."

"aw man."

"we start tomorrow, so fix yourselves up. i have a feeling we'll be traveling around some tomorrow." midoriya ordered. "dismissed."

everyone poured out, katsuki walking directly to the medicine ward. he passed by the hallways, the pictures representing the allyship between them and the several surrounding gangs mocking as he walked by.

it all felt so familiar, it had only been a year. not much had changed, except for the atmosphere that he brought along with him.

he finally made it to the ward, looking past all the rooms. 'lets see, torture room.. cell.. no she'd be here.' he thought before walking into a hallway.

there he found only one room with a light on. he was right, he looked in to see you, fast asleep with bandages wrapped around your arm.

'at least you were safe', he sighed. jumping slightly when 'recovery girl' started speaking to him. "you did well, a moment later and she'd be dead. don't beat yourself up young man."

a moment passed between them, her words resonating in his mind. he'd done all that he could doz

"you can go wait inside, just don't wake her. there should be a spare bed you can pull out."

and with that, she left.

he walked inside, pulled out the bed and held your hand as he slept. the guilt never dissipated, it was all his fault. and so he'd have to fix it.

he woke up to the feeling of you moving. he'd been on edge the whole night, so the feeling of your hand jerking out of his woke him up immediately.

"katsuki." you said, sounding so tired and confused it broke his heart a bit.

" 'm here." he hugged you quickly, being mindful of the wound in your arm. a desperate, tearful kiss shared between you.

you took his face into your hands, making him stare into your eyes.

"i was so scared, you don't even know." you said nervously. "i thought i was gonna die."

katsuki held you tighter, still so disappointed with himself for even letting you get to that point. he felt like he should've taken the shot. that he should be the one injured right now, but instead he leaned in closer to you. "i was too, but you're here now. safe. with me."

"mhm."

you held him for a bit longer, looking at the room surrounding you.

while he was thinking of the possibilities that could've happened, his one wrong step from you could've left him all alone, you examined the room.

it wasn't a regular hospital, probably not a hospital at all. you knew that from the guns laying on the counters. the stitches all around ready for work, the empty body bags that were bloodied. mocking as they hung from the ceiling.

the windows, all reinforced heavily. the door that had a bolt lock on it.

you didn't get to feel relieved for long. "katsuki. be honest with me."

he tensed up, he knew you'd find out eventually. but he wanted to finish this mess before you ever knew about it. "always am."

"are you.. back in this?" you asked, looking into his eyes with an anxious expression. your hands clinging to his sides.

he sighed heavily. "y'know i have to. i'll never relax if i know that fucker is still out there. he could come back and.. and hurt you again."

"and i can't change your mind about this?"

"...no. it's for.. for us. i wouldn't have left if i didn't care for you, you know that."

"i do."

"then.. just-- wait for me okay? i won't leave 'til later today."

you nodded, laying your head in his chest. "if you get hurt too i think ill die."

"i won't get hurt."

"you promise?"

"i swear."

you leaned in and pecked another kiss on his lips. though you were interrupted by kirishima walking in.

"oops, i really should've knocke-"

"yeah you should've dumbass."

"hi kiri!" you waved, shoving katsuki off of you. "hey [name]!"

katsuki had one arm around you, squinting seemingly annoyed at his partner annoying his wife.

the topic would randomly change from shows you were watching, to fun things that have happened recently, but it took a deep turn into what had just happened to you.

"so, [name]. you heard bakugo's hanging with us for a while, right?"

"yeah, i did." you said, holding him just a bit closer subconsciously.

"so, did he tell you who we think did it?"

"shut the fuck up kir--"

"you already know?" your attention was on him fully. the look in your eyes revealing just how much you wanted answers. "well, it's just a guess for no--"

"shut up kirishima."

"but we think it's shinsou."

your face twisted in confusion. "shinsou?...

no, you're wrong."

"babe, please stay out of this."

"shinsou wouldn't do this-"

"they found his bullet in your arm. nobody else who isn't retired or dead uses that shit."

you physically recoiled at that. "no way." you looked to kirishima, who only confirmed it.

"this has to be a set up or something? he wouldn't do that!"

kirishima made a face, which made katsuki squint his eyes in confusion. "what?"

"i mean.. she could be right y'know. we talked a bit before you came bro." kirishima said, walking in and closing the door behind him.

"right about what? shinsou is associated even if he wasn't the one who shot the bullet." katsuki asserted, standing up to meet kirishima, even if he was taller. this made kiri shoot his arms up in defense.

"i'm saying you're both right. we think it's someone closely associated to shinsou, someone who either taught him or was close to his teacher."

"eraserhead? the guy with a thousand hits under his belt?"katsuki glared, shoving a pointed finger in kirishima's chest.

"hey man, i'm just the messenger. but, no. someone else who learned from him too. but, midoriya called 'you know who' for information."

katsuki sighed, knowing the asshole who went by 'hawks' was about to be here any moment. "fine, i'll be ready soon. just.. let me take her home."

kirishima nodded, leaving the room with a "be back soon man!"

"i'm taking you home baby."

"fine."

"and you have to take all the medicine and stuff when i call you. we'll have to use burners again."

you rolled your eyes. "..fine."

"and, i want you to text me every hour and before you go to sleep."

"fucking fine. let's go already, this place creeps me out."

"good."

he grabbed your hand, helping you up. he let you change into some sweatpants and a tshirt so you didn't have to be the hospital gown for much longer.

you drove home, taking the long route so you wouldn't have to the see the remnants of your , almost, death in your own shop. he had to leave you in front and he wasn't happy about it. opening your door and hugging you tightly, you knew he wasn't going to see you for a couple days.

"babe, text me whenever you can. send me photos or voice messages i don't give a fuck."

"it's only a couple of days kat' you'll be fine, but i'll do it. you text me too, tell me when you sleep and stuff."

"don't let anyone in the house and don't tell anyone what's happenin-"

"i know, babe. i'll be okay."

he shared one last kiss with you. with a determined face he turned away, he would not sacrifice your life together like this. he wouldn't not let you get hurt again.

he would not fail.

[hypnoneghoul]

The Ashes Call My Name

WC: 5k

Relationship: Rain/Everyone (Rain/Dewdrop, Rain/Mountain)

Tags: Ehlers-Danlos Rain, POTS Rain, Mobility Aids, Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, References to Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied Anger Issues

He has been ignoring things for far too long and he can’t do that anymore. Or. Rain gets mobility aids and has a lot of thoughts and feelings about that.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The box is ridiculously huge.

Couldn’t they have…folded them? Or get a box that is not going to be more than half empty? It’s a whole business, is it not? Can’t they get custom size boxes for their products?

Rain is stalling; thinking about everything and anything except what actually is inside said box. Besides the air and foil. He does not want to think about it, he just wants to ignore it all.

But he can not.

He has been ignoring things for far too long and he can’t do that anymore.

He can do it—he tries to tell himself—but these simple things seem so big and so scary to him right now; and he’s not even regressed.

Rain’s pack knew this was not going to be easy for him and they all offered their support—whatever he might need. The water ghoul shut the door, though, wanting space, and now he is all alone with the monster that his new mobility aids are.

Two pairs of crutches—one full size in classic black and one small version for when he’s small; these are a glittery purple. Apart from that there is also a simple foldable cane in there—also black. Aether, Swiss and Dewdrop decided he needed to have options; they were the ones to place the order. Zephyr and Omega have also been consulted so that Rain would get what is best.

And now the best is here and Rain is a fucking cunt.

After a while he growls at himself in his mind and with his jaw clenched pulls the mobility aids out of the box. One by one he unwraps all the foil from around them and removes the additional protection before finally being able to take a look at them. 

They are not ugly, his pack did good in case of picking the style—they know Rain better than he knows himself. But it’s not about that.

It’s about what they mean, how they are going to become a big part of his everyday life. Well, how they are supposed to become a big part of his everyday life.

Rain is scared—he has been since his initial diagnosis; just a few months after he has been summoned. He thought it was normal to be in pain Topside, but after a heart-to-heart with Aether he found out it is very much not. The other quintessence ghoul—Omega—examined him and explained that sometimes summonings go wrong and the ghoul comes out…well, wrong. In Rain’s case his body is a little loose where it’s not supposed to be and that leads to him having a plethora of issues.

He thought he had accepted his fate long ago—after a lot of mental breakdowns—but now when it has become so bad he is all but being forced to use mobility aids, he realizes he has not truly accepted anything about it.

He's a ghoul, for Satan's sake—an immortal demon. How and why is he broken?

Logically he knows the…science behind it, but he has never managed to find an answer to ‘why’? Why him?

Of course, if Rain was presented with a choice of transferring his pain to someone else he would never do so. Being essentially stuck in one's own body—something that is supposed to be theirs only to have control over—and being forced to have one's life restricted just for that reason is…well, awful.

Rain is mean quite often, but he would never even joke about that.

He doesn't even have the energy to be mean now. Not to himself, not to the mobility aids, not his to his pack and not to the entire fucking world. The water ghoul is just tired and it is hard for him to see a point in trying harder.

Even if…try harder to do what? Omega told him there is nothing to be done for him. He is only going to be getting worse year by year. The pain is never going to go away.

Rain does not remember what it means to be pain-free, anymore.

What did it come to?

Maybe Rain should just go back to the Pit—beg to be sent back. It would fix him, issues like his do not exist down there. It’s not like he is very useful Topside, and he will only be becoming more of a burden.

The water ghoul wonders if his pack would understand if he made that choice. If his wish would even have a chance of being granted, or if he would have to take the matters into his own hands.

Traumatizing his family is not his goal, though, so he would rather not have to.

It's hours after the water ghoul has opened the package when he finally decides to try his new mobility aids out.

He gets up and kicks some thrash under his bed and desk to make a path to walk through. He goes for the cane first and it's not long before Rain can’t hold back his tears. He can’t even walk with it properly—at least he thinks so—it doesn’t feel right. It feels wrong.

His eyes sting to a point of pain, but he realizes he doesn’t care. No one is there to witness the pathetic image of him like this, anyway. The water ghoul lets the tears flow as he clumsily walks around his room, trying to think positively, trying to look for some benefits of this situation.

Rain finds none, there is no relief as he uses the cane. His cane.

But he carries on for a while longer—until the tears dry on his cheeks and more does not follow, until his entire body is sore from walking and crying and all the stress.

He tries the crutches, too, for a short moment, but they are even more overwhelming.

Rain goes to bed early, after throwing the damned things under his bed with as much force as he could muster up—hoping they would break. He knows it wouldn’t change much; the pack would get him another pair, not minding the money. Rain can’t do that to them, though, they do not get paid enough for that. 

He grabs his phone for his usual pre-sleep doom scrolling. He finds a few messages from the pack, but doesn’t cheer much when he sees that it is even more motivational TikTok videos about how mobility aids are exactly that—aids—and they should not be seen as a burden, but rather a tool to help one live their life more fully. Logically, Rain knows that is true and he is all in for people using mobility aids of all kind, but…well, people. Humans.

Not a ghoul.

Not him.

He turns his phone off after a few minutes and wraps himself up in his comforter—he has to change the position after a moment, though, because his bent elbows start to hurt. He closes his eyes and wishes to wake up in a better world, where all this is nothing more than a cruel dream.

Rain wakes up in pain. Of course he does—that is not new.

What is new is the pain in his hands, though. When he wakes up enough to think clearly, he realizes the cause and gets even more angry about the whole thing.

Weren’t mobility aids supposed to be helpful? How is trading the pain in his legs for the pain in his arms fair? As a bassist he needs his arms painless even more than his legs, does he not?

He makes his way down to the common room just for a second—to grab a quick snack that could count for breakfast and then return to his room to wallow in his misery. 

The next time Rain leaves it it is for dinner that he spends half-dissociated. He does not remember moving to the couch, but he finds himself curled up in its corner, wrapped in a big crocheted blanket made by Cumulus.

„What’s got you so lost in thought, fish boy?” Dewdrop’s voice snaps Rain out of it. He didn’t even notice him coming over and the fire ghoul is already sitting comfortably on the couch next to him.

“Huh? Oh–uh, nothing important,” Rain replies, shrugging and starting to worry his bottom lip between his fangs. “What’s up with you?”

Dewdrop does not answer him, not right away; he stares deep into the other’s eyes without blinking for a few moments. His own amber ones are piercing and Rain finds himself desperate for an escape, but there is none—not from Dewdrop.

“Are you alright?” the fire ghoul finally asks.

And despite wanting to say ‘yes’ so badly, Rain can not lie so outwardly. Not to him. “Yes? No? I don’t know?”

The fire ghoul hums in acknowledgement and without a word stands up. Rain watches with furrowed brows as Dewdrop disappears into the kitchen. He comes out a moment later with a literal armful of snacks and drinks—despite having eaten dinner less than half an hour ago—making Rain chuckle at how comical the image is.

“Droplet, what are you doing?” he asks.

“We are watching a movie,” Dewdrop informs him before dropping his cargo onto the couch next to Rain. He grabs the TV remote next and one more fluffy blanket out of their blanket basket before flopping down by his mate himself.

The water ghoul, of course, does not protest when Dewdrop shuffles in as close to him as possible and curls up against his chest—all warm and purring. It’s extremely cozy and Rain is so grateful for Dewdrop’s method of comforting his mates. He is not great when it comes to talking about one’s feelings, but he sure does know how to distract and cheer someone up.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks and Rain could just about melt over his voice vibrating as he does not pause his purring.

“Uhm…something funny. Like–I want my stomach to hurt from laughing, you know?”

“I’ve got just the thing.” Dewdrop grins and pokes out his tongue as he looks for the movie and then puts it on. For a while Rain stares only at him, ignoring the TV, and all the thoughts from earlier come back, nagging at him.

Dewdrop is so good to him, always taking care of him so well, but it’s just…unfair. Rain should take care of him, too, but he does not and he is only going to become more needy and less able to return the favor.

Surely, the fire ghoul will grow tired of him and turn to someone else, to someone who can give him what he needs whenever he needs it, not only when they are feeling good.

He can’t even–how would he even carry his own bass if he has to walk with the crutches? They will make him even more useless than he is now, he can endure the pain if it makes him less of a burden.

Rain is sick of himself.

Dewdrop shaking against him makes the water ghoul’s head snap in his direction; afraid that he has unknowingly—somehow—made his mate cry. Thankfully he’s only laughing and Rain fakes his own so it’s not so obvious he was zoned out again.

He takes a few deep breaths and focuses on Dewdrop’s warmth, the vibration of his purr, and the movie. It actually is hilarious, the fire ghoul made a great choice. He grabs Rain hand at some point and does not let it go until the movie ends, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the water ghoul’s pale skin.

When the first movie ends and more than a half of their snacks are devoured, Dewdrop puts on another one before Rain could protest. He wasn’t going to, either way, though.

The fire ghoul does not speak much as they watch, but when the second movie ends and he is about to put on the third, he turns to Rain. He gets real close and kisses him between the horns, then on the tip of his nose, and then on the lips, before whispering straight into his mouth, “You know I would go around the whole world carrying you on my back if that would be your wish?”

It punches the air out of Rain’s lungs a little and he feels the need to say it would never happen, that he would not ever demand anything as insane of his mate, that Dewdrop can not actually mean it, but—but the fire burning in his eyes is so bright and pure, Rain can do nothing else but nod in acknowledgement.

“I love you, too, but–" Rain sighs, “what if it’s going to get so much worse and–and I’ll become fully dependent on you, I–I couldn’t ever put that on you…”

“Hey, you’re not ‘putting anything on me’,” Dewdrop says, making air quotes as he does. “You’re my mate and I love you and you can’t get rid of me now even if you tried. I’m not going anywhere, whatever happens. I thought I made that clear years ago.”

“You did,” Rain chuckles sadly. The reassurance is nice, but…the fear of making his mate end up miserable and unfulfilled because of some stupid promise he made a long time ago will not go away anytime soon. “Thank you.”

“I enjoy taking care of you, Rainy,” Dewdrop kisses him once again, holding the water ghoul’s face between his hands like the most precious thing. “I don’t mind  if that’s the only thing I get to do for the rest of my life. No matter what, the only thing I need to be the happiest ghoul ever is you by my side, alright? No matter if you can or can’t walk.”

Rain is the one to pull his mate into another kiss, closing his eyes and the distance between them before Dewdrop can see the tears in his eyes. He knows, though—of course he does—and he understands. When they pull away the fire ghoul immediately turns away to snuggle back into Rain’s chest and starts their third movie of the evening. Rain sniffles for a while over his head and is grateful to be ignored. The stupid comedy Dewdrop picked makes him genuinely laugh soon enough.

He does not know at which point he fell asleep, but he wakes up still on the common room couch with their last movie paused at the end. Dewdrop is glued to him, half purring, half snoring.

Rain smiles as his chest warms at the adorable sight of his mate. He adjusts his position before taking one of Dewdrop’s hands into his own and closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

The next time Rain wakes up he is alone, but there is a note next to him. The fire ghoul left to start his chores early—he always does that to have the second half of the day to himself and his pack.

The water ghoul gets himself up and into the kitchen first. He grabs a light breakfast and only then goes back to his room to get ready for his own chores—which are not very urgent or even important.

As he is about to leave his mood sours. His mobility aids are set by the door and all but mocking him.

Rain decides to take half a step towards him winning.

He takes the crutches with him, but only into his hand. He can carry them around most of the day and maybe try to actually use them when his legs get tired.

It’s not a bad plan and he is not even overthinking for the first few hours; it starts only when Rain’s hips start acting up.

An hour more and the water ghoul decides he is done for the day and—and to walk back to the den on the crutches. It’s not going terribly—he is walking with his jaw clenched, trying to focus—but it is not going great, either. He keeps stumbling and tripping and losing the rhythm. His arms start to hurt, too.

The stairs turn out to be his demise, though.

It’s just a few steps—barely a staircase, but it wins that fight.

Rain stumbles on the second step and one of the crutches slips off the edge of it and before he even realizes what is happening he is on the floor with one of his legs bent all weird. It doesn’t hurt that much, but all the frustration and embarrassment and everything about this damn situation makes him want to just cry.

So that is exactly what he does, he starts to cry right there on the bottom of the stairs like a child throwing a tantrum for attention. There is no one there, though, and that makes the water ghoul feel even worse.

He feels his mind slipping and there is nothing he can—or wants—to do about it.

...

(the next part is about rain age regressing. if you want to read this fic properly and are okay with reading agere, head over here and then come back here to continue)

Swiss followed through on his promise of asking Zephyr to help Rain. The water ghoul is really anxious about the confrontation, for some reason—but also he has been anxious all the time for the last few days, so he should not be surprised. Zephyr told him to come down to the older ghoul’s den; when he does, they are already waiting for him. They eye Rain when they notice he is just carrying his crutches instead of using them to get there.

“Let’s see what you’ve got first,” the air ghoul tells Rain after brief greetings. They are not using their wheelchair now, as they do most of the time—they have their crutches, too.

Rain grits his teeth and takes a few steps forward with the crutches, randomly picking a gait. Not that he knows much about them. Zephyr tuts right away, though, and the water ghoul turns to them with a questioning look.

“They’re too high for you, first of all,” they explain, “your arms and shoulders are going to give you hell later.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Rain mumbles under his breath; not for the other to hear. He returns to the air ghoul and they take the crutches from him to adjust them.

“The handle should be at your wrist when you’re standing relaxed,” Zephyr says and the water ghoul takes a mental note to adjust his cane and the small pair later, too. He takes the crutches back and tests the new height out and—surely—they do feel more comfortable already. “Alright, now, try to walk with them as if you have two canes.”

Rain obliges, putting one foot and the opposite crutch in front of the other and going forward. It still does not feel right, but he definitely has more control over them now. It’s closer to having just…super long arms now.

“Good,” Zephyr praises with a nod. “Yeah, like that.”

A grunt slips from Rain’s mouth before he can stop it. He feels stupid—he is not a fucking child, he can walk, it doesn’t–

“Put some more weight on them,” the air ghoul adds and Rain tries to focus on his breathing and walking instead of the irrational rage building inside him. “Slower with the crutches, I know it’s an instinct to wave your arms faster but you’ll lose the pace like that.”

“Uh-huh,” the water ghoul replies and hates the fact that Zephyr’s tips work. Maybe he should not have come. If he can’t walk on crutches properly they will cause more harm than good and then he can’t be made to use them daily.

But alas, he came. He even knows why, too.

Rain came because deep down he knows it is the right choice.

He only wishes the rest of his brain would get the memo because it is, frankly, annoying to be so conflicted over something so basic all the time.

Zephyr gives the water ghoul so many tips as their lesson goes on that Rain’s afraid that he has already forgotten half of them. If he was not so prideful he would ask the other to write them down for him, but, well…he is prideful.

At some point the air ghoul tells Rain it’s enough for one day and that both his upper body and mind have to get used to the mobility aids. The water ghoul is grateful for the understanding coming from someone who can relate quite literally. 

Zephyr notices the wet glint in Rain’s eyes and the tension in his expression. They know it too well themself. They come up to the water ghoul to offer a half-hug.

“Sorry, I–nevermind,” Rain mutters.

“It’s alright, I know it’s a lot to handle,” Zephyr says. “Especially at first and especially being a ghoul and everything. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

“How do you…deal with it?” the other asks in a quiet voice.

“Well, uh, it didn’t come to me easy,” Zephyr chuckles. “I’d even say I was more stubborn about using mobility aids than you, but without them I was miserable most of the time. Now I only see them as something helpful, you know?”

The water ghoul nods in acknowledgment. He wishes his brain weren't so stubborn.

“It would be great just being alright and not having to rely on things like these,” Zephyr sighs, waving one crutch in the air, “but believe me that the sooner your mindset about mobility aids changes the sooner you’ll find peace.”

Rain finds no answer to that. He nods before turning away and he hopes the other understands. The water ghoul squeezes his eyes against the sting of tears and tries to drill Zephyr’s words into his mind, tries to worm them in between the folds of his brain and make it just listen. It does not—not really, not right away—and so Rain lets the tears of overwhelm flow down his cheeks.

He doesn’t notice Mountain standing by their den’s door and watching him with furrowed brows. Rain gets startled when he speaks, “Are you alright, petal?”

“Oh, shit, Mounty, you scared me,” he huffs, faking a laugh to cover up the wetness in his voice. “Yeah, I’m good. Just getting back from…a lesson with Zephyr.

Mountain does not budge, though—standing strong in Rain’s way, with his arms folded across his chest. “Are you sure?”

Rain nods, but if the earth ghoul will not let him go soon, he will break.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but just…” Mountain sighs. “Rain, do you want a hug?”

And his tone makes the water ghoul break.

He nods as his bottom lip starts to wobble and Mountain wastes no more time before embracing his packmate. Rain just flops face first into the other’s chest and he chuckles sadly, patting him on the back. They stand like that for a little while, neither saying a word until Rain asks to spend the night with Mountain.

He agrees, of course, and picks the exhausted and overwhelmed ghoul up bridal style to carry him to bed. 

“Do you want someone to join us?” the earth ghoul asks and Rain shakes his head.

“Just you,” he mutters. A few more tears fall before he is snuggled all cozy in Mountain’s huge nest. He joins the water ghoul after a quick shower and Rain melts against his warm chest. He’s asleep in a flash.

A few weeks after Dewdrop’s proclamations and Rain and Zephyr’s heart-to-heart the water ghoul is already quite handy with the crutches. He is using them more than his cane because most of the time both his legs need support, not only one. The cane is now reserved for short outings when he’s feeling confident in his legs. 

There are still bumps in the road—Rain feeling awful mentally and refusing to touch his mobility aids, insisting that he is fine and does not need them. There are moments he falls back into his old mindset of  ‘this is good, but not for me’—his pack always supports him, then, in whatever way he might need it.

So what it took the water ghoul months to get used to mobility aids, to accept needing them, to start seeing them as helpful? Everything is a process and he is lucky to have had his pack’s support all the way, and still have it whenever he is feeling down.

Living with a chronic condition that influences every aspect of Rain’s life is not something he ever dreamed of—obviously—and he would not wish it upon anyone. He is never going to be happy about being disabled, but—in hindsight—he is happy he was pressured into getting mobility aids when he did.

While he thought his life would become limited once he starts relying on aids, it’s the opposite—it has become fuller, because he does not waste as much energy on things as simple as walking anymore; his crutches take that on. His hands might hurt after longer use, but his arms and shoulders have only gotten stronger, and his posture has improved—a side effect Rain had not expected.

Most of all, he is still treated like normal.

That was one of Rain’s biggest fears—that once he grabs a mobility aid he will become less in the eyes of his pack, the Clergy, the Siblings. He could not have been more wrong.

He still is, and always will be just their water ghoul, just their bassist.

He is just Rain.

[vigilskeep]

i’m going to make a couple speculations about veilguard and put them under the cut here rather than just tagging for spoilers, because they’re based on some of the most spoilery details we have so far, which are only in a couple videos or mentioned by a couple people in a way that says to me they maybe weren’t really part of what was supposed to be shared. so just only open it if you’ve been watching absolutely everything

1. i’ve seen a couple of people (please don’t ask me to find them i’ve completely lost track of what i heard where) mention a decision at or near the end of act 1 where you have to choose between two cities (to save?). given the locations we’ve seen, it’s likely to be a choice between minrathous or treviso. i’ve also seen neve, who loves minrathous more than anything, with an apparently approval-based status that makes her bond-with-you progress slower, makes her completely unable to use supportive spells, and makes her damage spells stronger. do you see where i’m going with this

2. caterina gives us the mission to go get lucanis, but when we return to treviso with him, we’re told she’s been killed in a venatori attack. this is an insane character, with such presence and threat, to show and then suddenly kill off-screen. there’s a few directions they could take this. firstly, there’s no body so maybe she’s alive and the venatori took her for something the same way they took lucanis. secondly, there’s no body so maybe she’s faking her death for, uhhh, some reason. and thirdly, hey, does anyone else think it’s kind of crazy that caterina gets taken out as soon as we come back with the potential person she might name as heir instead of illario? wild timing, right? i’m just saying i would support whoever might or might not have had intense personal motivation to make that happen, and also to then cover it up by, say, blaming the woman lucanis already wants to kill, and then insisting they also be there when that woman is killed, possibly to further cover up what they did. and is in this scene wearing a green belt sash. and whose name rhymes with jillario

3. in videos people keep visually hovering over the decision to trust in varric’s plan to talk down solas or to dissuade him, while they’re talking about how much choices actually matter. we know that it’s possible for him to get stabbed with the dagger and be laid up in the lighthouse “hurt”, but i wonder if that’s only one variation, and we’re actually going to have a real impact there on how much damage is done?

[hellcheeriest]

i bet hes never had a backstreet guy

Twitch Streamer!Eddie x Single Father!Steve

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: Steve and Dustin arrive at the convention, Steve finds Eddie more attractive in person, Eddie finds Steve attractive in general, Robin and Chrissy begin to figure some things out.

Content warnings: Slight age gap (Steve is 31, Eddie is 26) Steve feels as though he's too old to be acting like he is (I know 31 isn't old! Steve just grew up too fast as a teen dad, so he feels like his mind is beyond his years.) light angst, smoking, swearing, flirting

A/N: hey team.... lol. so sorry for the wait! now i wrote this between the hours of 2-4am (as i am uploading it is 4:10) so i apologize for any mistakes! Thank you for reading!

W/C:4.6k

STEVE HARRINGTON

“Dustin! Slow down!” Steve called out. His son had already made it halfway across the parking lot, practically sprinting to the doors.

“Come on Dad!” Dustin turned around and let his dad catch up. He grabbed the elder's hand, pulling him along.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve kept a tight hold on Dustin's hand. He’d done his research on convention etiquette and came across an article about adults losing their children and he told himself he’d be completely sure of where Dustin was at all times. The backpack he donned was filled with multiple water bottles, and his wallet had both cash and his debit and credit cards in case of any financial emergency.

They’d gotten there much earlier than they needed to, but with Steve’s anxiety and Dustin’s exhilaration, neither of them minded having to wait around until they opened the doors for the panel. Dustin talked Steve’s ear off, rambling about anything and everything related to the convention.

Steve fiddled with the tag on the lanyard he and Dustin were given upon entry, and he finally realised the reality of the scenario. Soon, he’d be in a room with not only a hundred other people, but the man he’d been pining for in secret for the past who knows how long. He was brought out of his thoughts by Dustin tugging on his sleeve.

The two filed into the large room along with a bunch of other people, and Steve’s grip on Dustin’s arm was probably tighter than it should’ve been as they found their way to an open pair of seats. The group that Steve had paid an exorbitant amount of money to see would be taking the stage soon, and Steve could feel his son practically vibrating next to him.

“You sure you’re gonna make it through this without exploding?” Steve asked and Dustin nodded.

“I have to!” Dustin exclaimed and Steve laughed, putting a hand on his son's head, twisting his fingers into his curls. Dustin wore a bright yellow sweater Steve recognized as his own, and the smile he wore was brighter than Steve had seen in a while. More people would pour into the room, and the multiple conversations would be overwhelming if Steve wasn’t focused on the way the lights dimmed and a woman walked on stage.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” She called into the microphone. The voices around quieted, and Steve tensed in his seat. “My name is Tory, and I will be hosting the event we’ve all come out here for. So, what do you say we get our guests up here and get this thing started?” The audience cheered and the streamers came on stage one by one before walking to their respective seats. A guy with dirty blond curls led the way up the stage, introduced as ‘Gareth,’ and the rest followed in. There was Austin, Chrissy (who Steve recognized from the singular stream he’d watched), Robin and Jeff. They all seemed to notice at the same time as the audience that Eddie wasn’t trailing behind them. After a moment, the applause faded and Gareth sighed into the microphone in front of him.

“This asshole.” The audience laughed, and only a moment later did Eddie shuffle on stage. Clapping and cheering surrounded Steve, but he could hardly hear it as his eyes focussed on Eddie’s form. 

It was different to seeing him through a TV screen, and he wasn’t sure how Eddie could get any more attractive. His hair was loose, reaching down past his collarbones. It was curly, and wild, and free. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans, torn at the knees and thighs, chains hanging from two of his belt loops. His shirt was looser, the white fabric clashing with the black of the tattoo’s that spread down both of  his arms, and had graphic text of a band name Steve could vaguely recall. He could feel Dustin’s grip on his arm as he too watched in awe, although for a completely different reason. Eddie finally reached his chair, taking a theatrical bow before sitting down. 

“I love you, Eddie!” Someone called from farther back in the room. Eddie’s eyebrows raised and he smiled.

“Woah,” He spoke into his microphone, pulling a piece of his hair over his mouth. “Love you too.” Part of the audience cheered and Eddie leaned away from his microphone.

“Stop flirting with the audience, man.” Gareth scolded half-heartedly and Eddie returned his words with a raised middle finger, sparking genuine laughter from Gareth.

“So!” Tory spoke, cutting off the pair's bickering. Let's start off with a few games, yeah?”

About half an hour and a couple of games later, they’d finally reached the question portion of the panel. Tory explained that they would start off with submitted questions and then move to having a few audience members ask their own. Pulling out a clipboard, presumably the clipboard that held the predetermined questions, Tory smiled.

“Alright! First question is from ‘Hellfire’, with an ‘i’ on Twitter. It reads, ‘Robin when did you first realise you were a lesbian?’” Robin smiled and thought for a quick moment before answering. 

“Well, I think I've always known, you know? Like, I never had actual crushes on boys in school and I remember asking myself why I couldn't like girls like the boys liked girls. But then after I got older and learned the queer people existed, and what each label meant, is when I really was able to realise who I am.” Robin rambled, and Steve couldn’t help but smile. The audience gave her claps and snaps and cheers of encouragement.

“Beautifully said, Robin! Our next question is for Austin-” The voice of the host faded away as Steve zeroed in on Eddie once again. He was resting his chin on his pale hand, chunky rings and bands covered his fingers and chipped black nail polish was painted messily on his nails. Even from where they sat, Steve could see the way the corner of Eddie’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, smile lines and dimples on his cheeks accompanying the grin that blessed Eddie's face. The purple and yellow lighting gave his hair and skin a glow that Steve found terribly alluring. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, getting lost in the bright baritone of Eddie’s voice as it mixed in with the others, studying the man before him as if he’d be tested afterwards. He only came back to reality when Eddie’s chuckle crackled through the microphone, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually tune into the words being said.

Soon, the pre-submitted questions had dwindled and after the last few had been asked they moved to having audience members voice their own queries. The audience questions were less organised, many asking about mundane attributes such as favourite meals or shows while others were completely obscure and had the panel struggling to answer.

“Well, we have time for just one more question from the audience.” And before Steve knew it, his son’s hand was shooting up. “Alright, you in the yellow, back there!” A smile spread across Dustin’s face as he stood and made his way to the microphone placed in the aisle between seats.

“So,” Dustin began nervously. Steve watched as he fiddled with his fingers, a nervous tick he’d developed. “Uh, my question is for Eddie?”

“Shoot, little man.” Eddie smiled, warm and welcoming, and Steve tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Ah, um. So, you talk about how school was for you quite often and I wanted to know how exactly you overcame all the uh, the name calling and everything?" Dustin was stuttering through a few words and Steve wanted nothing more than to go over and rub his boy's back. He could do that when Dustin returned. Eddie's face softened and he started to fiddle with the rings that Steve wondered always riddled his fingers.

"Yeah. So for anyone who doesn't watch me that often, I do streams where I talk about my unfortunate middle school and high school years to kind of-- shed light on what it's like for kids who were and are like me," Eddie started. "Uh I was called names," He moved a hand in Dustin's direction. "Messed with physically, all that. As for your question, I think I just started to realise that I'm not what any of those assholes say I am. That they can't push me around anymore.

Obviously, things might work differently for other people but that's what worked for me personally. Plus I was held back a couple of years so my bullies were out of my school life and I was able to be who I am." A few people from the crowd clapped, egging on the rest. Dustin beamed at Eddie's response.

"Thank you," Was the last thing Dustin said before he stepped away from the microphone and back to his seat beside his father.

"How was that?" Steve asked his son who was practically vibrating in his chair.

“That was so cool!” Dustin whispered and Steve smiled. Little did he know how cool it was going to get.

“Who knew you were such a poet, Eddie?” Tory asked and Eddie laughed and shook his head.

“Well, I am a songwriter so I'm technically halfway there.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal.

“That sounds about right.” Tory spoke over the few cheers that broke out. “Well, folks. That’s the end of our time here. Give it up for our wonderful guests!” Applause roared throughout the room as the panel stood and waved to the audience as they left. Steve felt like he could breathe again. He held Dustin close as they made their way outside, just as he had on the way in, and once the warm sun fell on their skin Steve took the backpack off his shoulders and pulled out a few granola bars and bottles of water. Steve spoke again after a few minutes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He stated as he zipped the backpack up, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Really?” Dustin asked from his seat on the concrete curb. “What is it?”

“Can’t tell you. But, we have to be there in the next fifteen minutes so we should make our way over there.” Steve pointed to his watch as Dustin stood up. The boy was obviously starting to grow tired, though the afternoon sun shining in the sky should mean he should still be energised. He tired easily, Steve found, and between the fact Steve knew Dustin didn't get much sleep the night prior and the amount of excitement that filled the boy, Steve was surprised he hadn't crashed yet.

“Lead the way, father dearest.” Dustin said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as he could. That was okay, he’d be truly enthusiastic soon.

EDDIE MUNSON

Eddie thanked any god that was out there for the short break he and his friends were given after the panel. It was so much fun being able to talk to his fans, though he found it unfortunate that it was by way of him being on a stage. A specific boy who asked a question stuck out to him. Surprisingly over the others who shouted compliments or "I love you's" at him. Yep. Just a young boy in a large yellow sweatshirt, probably in his middle school or early high school years asking how he overcame the bullying. Eddie swore it almost done broke his heart.

He took a swig of his bottled water and ate a few pieces of the slightly stale pizza that sat in the small room he and his friends were provided. Eddie popped the tape out of his walkman to flip it around. He closed the lid, and pressed down the play button, letting the sound of his mixtape fill his ear through the single earbud he had in.

Wayne had poked fun at him when he bought it. ‘You tryna be old-school or somethin’?’ He’d said as he rubbed his knuckles into his nephew's scalp. Eddie missed his uncle, and couldn't wait to go see the man someday soon.

"I'm so excited to go meet everyone!" Chrissy gushed. She sat on the loveseat, Robin next to her. 

Haha, get it?

"I'm just happy I get to be with you, Chris. I don't know how I would handle everyone by myself." Robin smiled sheepishly. God, Eddie was gonna barf if Robin kept this up. How could two people be so clueless?

Literally, just ask her out already you idiot.

"I'm gonna make my way over to where I gotta be. Good luck, girls." Eddie clipped his walkman onto his jeans waistline and shot finger guns at the two.

"Good luck, Eddie!" Chrissy jumped up to hug him and over her shoulder, Eddie winked at Robin. Robin returned a shy look as Chrissy pulled away.

"Bye, Eddie," Robin mumbled and Eddie huffed humorously before leaving and shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, and finally started to make his way to the next phase of completing this con.

-

It had been about half an hour of meeting fans, taking photos, and receiving small trinkets from crafty fans that he graciously took and thanked their makers. He wasn’t sure of the last time he’d felt so appreciated.

"I love you!" A fan said as they waved each other off.

"I love you too," Eddie would return those words multiple times, and each time he meant it. The photographer called for the next people in line. The next thing he knew, a familiar flash of yellow entered his vision and he recognized the owner of a mop of brown, curly locks. Eddie grinned. Then he noticed the figure following the young man. He was tall, and broad, and also had a mop of brown hair on the top of his head. His hair was not curly like the boy he was with.

Wow, okay.

"Hey, little man!" Eddie brought back the nickname from earlier as the boy tucked himself into Eddie's side, the other man standing just behind his son and in turn behind Eddie.

"Hi!" Yellow shirt was ecstatic and Eddie hugged the boy back. Eddie took a quick look over his shoulder at the slightly taller man, blinking him a greeting and receiving a nod in return. Eddie was sure he’d never seen someone so handsome.

Handsome. He couldn't believe he was using that word, but matched completely with what he was seeing. Broad shoulders, swoopy hair, and shiny eyes. Freckles, straight white teeth and a warmth that radiated off of his body. Eddie wanted to lean into it, always feeling so cold. This guy totally would’ve bullied him in school. But, here he was, not a malicious gilt in his eye.

Maybe Eddie wasn’t as over high school as he thought.

"Three, two, one." The photographer counted down before the flash struck, capturing the image. The youngest started to move and Eddie grabbed onto his shoulders.

"Hey," He started and the boy's confused eyes met Eddies. "Just wanted to remind you of how awesome you are." Eddie's smile was as soft as his eyes were and the latter's eyes widened. The photographer shouted out, trying to keep the momentum, and Eddie wished the boy farewell, giving one last look to the other man. The latter looked back at him, his expression was unreadable, but devastatingly attractive. The two left and Eddie continued on with the now shorter line of people left.

CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM

Chrissy sighed as she lay down on the loveseat in the group's room. Taking photos and meeting fans personally was super fun, but also very tiring. Robin was going to return soon. She had just left to grab a couple more bottles of water since she and Rob had finished theirs and the only one in the room was Eddie’s and frankly, she did not want to ingest whatever that man's mouth touches. (It was mostly cigarettes, that's all she knew.)

Her mind wandered back to Robin. Chrissy rested her head on the small pillow that sat in the corner of the cushions, almost wishing it was Robin's chest she were resting on instead.

Wait, what? She couldn't think of her best friend like this, could she? 

She couldn’t help but realise she thought this way a lot. What would Robin think? Yeah, she was a lesbian, but that doesn't mean she's interested in just any girl who comes along. Plus, she's Robin's best friend. Keyword, friend. There's no way Robin likes her in any other way than platonically. What would Robin think? Would she hate Chrissy? Her thoughts were cut short when the taller girl burst through the door, Eddie and the rest of the guys following.

"Guys you will never believe this. That one kid that asked that really deep question to me, came to my booth and I think he was there with his dad or something. Anyway the dad, or whatever, was like, super fucking hot--" Eddie's voice trailed off. Chrissy wanted to pay attention to Eddie's rambling, she did, but she had too much to think about right now.

"Hey," Robin's voice cut into Chrissy's thoughts from her spot on the floor next to the loveseat. As much as she loved to hear Robin speak, it was currently the last thing she wanted to hear "You okay?" 

"Yeah, 'm just tired 's all," Chrissy mumbled. Robin looked skeptical before nodding and sending Chrissy a sympathetic look.

-

Chrissy ended up going back to the hotel early while everyone else stayed back a bit longer before they left for a restaurant for a celebratory dinner. Robin offered to stay with her, but Chrissy waved her off and told her to have fun with the guys. Robin promised to bring her back some leftovers and let her know she hopes Chrissy feels better. Chrissy smiled weakly before Robin would leave and Chrissy would change into a tank top and shorts and slip into the sheets of the bed she would have to share with the girl she was currently struggling over tonight.

She felt herself tear up.

Why did this have to be so hard? Why did this have to happen now and not in like, high school? She couldn't be having a sexuality crisis right now, not while they were supposed to be having fun at the convention for the next couple of days. Chrissy was scared of rejection, she admitted to herself. Not having feelings bigger than their current friendship, but the idea that she tells Robin these feelings and Robin rejects her and never speaks to her again and--

The tears slid down her cheeks and Chrissy wiped them away.

It was no use though when the last tears would be replaced quickly.

STEVE HARRINGTON

Music quietly played through the speakers of Steve's car. He had placed an order for pickup at his and Dustin's favourite restaurant and they were on their way to go get it. Steve was starving and Dustin was on his way to falling asleep in the passenger seat. After another couple more minutes, they finally arrived at the place and Steve softly nudged Dustin's shoulder.

"I'll be right back, 'kay? Just grabbing the food." He said quietly. Dustin nodded and Steve took that as acknowledgment. He got out of the car and went inside, waiting for a staff member. Someone quickly arrived. Steve told them his business and his name and in return, he earned a big  warm paper bag that would be filled with the dinner. Steve thanked the person who helped him and he walked out of the door and made his way back to his car.

Until he saw a cloud of smoke from where the end of the small parking lot and the wall of the building met. There stood a man who he recognized all too well.

This was stupid. Steve was stupid.

Still, Steve walked over to the other who still wasn't made known of his presence.

"Hey," Steve greeted as he got closer. The long-haired man turned his head, blowing out another cloud of smoke. He tilted his head curiously before he spoke.

"Hi," Eddie said before he dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. "You're the guy that came in with the kid in the yellow, right?" Steve nodded, ignoring how his heart stuttered at the fact he was recognized.

"Yeah, he's my son. I wanted to thank you for what you said to him," Steve began, fiddling with the handle of the paper bag. "He's been having some issues at school. Says watching your videos and stuff makes him feel better." Eddie smiled and rocked back and forth on his feet.

"Nah," He put his cheek to his shoulder and his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "Sucks that shits happening to him. Looks like times haven't changed, huh?" Steve sighed and pursed his lips in a silent apology. "What's your name, pretty boy?" Eddie asked. Steve laughed and shook his head lightly as blood rushed to his face. God, he hadn’t felt like this in ages.

"Steve," He answered. Eddie stepped forward, leaving limited space between the two. Steve blinked, his legs feeling as though they were full of lead.

"Well, Steve." Eddie pulled something out of his pocket before reaching his arm through the space of Steve's arm and torso, slipping whatever was in his hand into the back pocket of Steve's jeans. He let his hand stay there a second, eyes not reaching Steve's, but rather trailing over each feature on his face. After what felt like forever, Eddie removed his hand. He patted Steve's hip. "An… Offer. If you want it." Eddie stared up at Steve through his eyelashes. Their height difference wasn't much, but it was enough for Eddie to have to turn his eyes upwards.

Eddie took a step back. Steve sighed.

"I have to return to my friends. They're probably wondering where I am." He took one last look, up and down, at Steve. "Hope that serves you well," Eddie smirked before he turned around and walked back towards the entrance of the restaurant.

Steve froze for a second before he reached into the pocket, still warm from Eddie's hand. He pulled out what the other had put in. It was a wad of paper. Confused, Steve unrolled it. There he found digits scribbled. Eddie had given him his number.

ROBIN BUCKLEY

"Night, Ed! Night Austin!" Robin called from down the hallway, receiving a couple of grumbled replies. She giggled to herself before she continued her way to her room. She got to the door, pulled out her key and let herself inside. There she found minimal lighting and a mound under the covers of the bed, some strawberry blonde hair peeking out from the top. 

Robin shut the door as she sympathetically sighed. She put the pasta she'd saved for Chrissy, her favourite, on the vanity and quietly made her way over to Chrissy's side of the bed. Robin put a gentle hand on Chrissy's exposed shoulder.

"Chris? You awake?" She mumbled quietly. No response. Chrissy's cheeks were stained with tears and Robin bit her cheek. Why had Chrissy been crying? She wasn't feeling too good, Robin knew, but what had made her cry? She pushed Chrissy's hair behind her ear and stayed there for a moment before returning to the door where she took off her shoes and coat, accidentally knocking Chrissy's coat off of the hanger. It was a quiet sound, but still, Chrissy awoke.

"Robin?" She yawned as she sat up and turned to where the other was standing.

"Y-yeah. Sorry for waking you," Robin's apology was soft as she picked up the smaller coat. She paused for a moment after hanging it back up. "Chris? Were you... Crying?" Robin moved back towards the bed. She was never the best at this type of stuff. She never knew how to help people feel better, oftentimes she felt useless in these situations. But, her best friend was hurting, and she needed to try.

"No! Uh..." Chrissy pulled her knees to her chest before huffing defeatedly. "Yeah,"

"How come?" Robin sat down and shuffled closer to Chrissy, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her into a side hug. "You okay?" Chrissy sniffled and shook her head. "What's wrong?"

"Can't tell you." Chrissy put her forehead to her knees. "You'll hate me." Robin ran her hand along the shorter girl's back.

"I won't hate you, Chris. I could never hate you. I'm your best friend, you can tell me anything." Robin was even more concerned. Throughout the years Robin had known her, she’d never seen Chrissy this way, so full of self depreciation. The only time that had come close was just after her ex-boyfriend, Jason, broke up with her. But even then, she seemed more relieved than upset. Whatever was bugging her had to be serious. Chrissy was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room being the friction of Robin's hand on Chrissy's tank top.

"I think I like girls," Chrissy said. Robin's jaw almost dropped before she went to console her friend.

"Well, Chris, you know I'm a lesbian. Why would you think I’d-"

"I think I like you." Chrissy whimpered.

Oh.

"Chrissy... You're serious? You're not playing with me, right? Because this has happened before where a girl tells me they like me as a joke, or they think they like girls and want to use me as, like, the test to find out if they really do, and then turn around and--"

"I'm serious Rob, I just..." Chrissy let tears roll down her face once again and Robin unconsciously let herself wipe them away. "This is all so new to me and you're my best friend and I don't know how to feel." Robin frowned. She remembered her sexuality crisis in grade eight and how hard it was for her. She felt for Chrissy at this moment. Carefully she turned Chrissy around and pulled her onto her lap, grabbing the hands that covered the latter's face and moving them away. Robin smiled gently as she spoke.

"Hey," She started with. "It'll be okay, Chrissy. Trust me. It's hard for a while, I know." Robin brought Chrissy's head to her shoulder. They were silent for a moment until. "I like you too," Robin whispered. Chrissy gasped and pulled back, staring at Robin with surprise.

"You-- You do?" She gasped, staring up at Robin with big eyes. Robin took Chrissy's face into her hands pulling her in to leave a kiss on her forehead. Chrissy was a light shade of pink and less upset than before.

"I do. I have for a long time." Robin laughs. Chrissy smiles and lays her head back on Robin's shoulder. They stay there for a few minutes before it seems like Chrissy's about to fall asleep. Robin carefully took Chrissy out of her lap and laid her on the bed. "We'll talk about this in the morning, 'kay?" She said softly. Chrissy nodded and Robin smiled fondly. "I'll be right back." She pulled the blankets back over Chrissy's half-conscious body and she left to the bathroom before pulling out her phone.

Me

guess who might have a chance at getting a girlfriend

eddie help me

After a few minutes, Eddie didn't reply. He must be sleeping, Robin thought.

When actually, Eddie was up making a few text messages of his own.

tags:

@marklee-blackmore

[bullet-prooflove]

Inevitable: Donovan Rocker x Reader

Tagging: @mirabee @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @one-sweet-gubler @victoriajhyde @telepathay @winterrosies-blog @me-ladie @mah2101 @@avillagesperson @irishavengersassemble @crimeshowjunkie @haielsker-93 @whateversomethingbruh @watashiwasun @burningpeachpuppy @slytherqueen14 @brownskinbaby22 @lady-athanasia @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Companion piece to Reputation & One Night

It’s been eight months since that night in Noche and only a couple since you’ve told Donovan how you feel. It’s weight off your chest because for the first time you’re with someone who knows every part of you, who understands the pressures of the job, who wants to fulfil every single one of your desires, especially the ones you’ve never spoken to anybody else.

The only problem is work, because no one knows you’re in a relationship with Donovan and you’re not sure you want to tell them. This thing between the two of you is private, it’s nobody else’s business but you can tell Donovan’s getting antsy because whilst you’re living in the moment he’s thinking in the long term. He’s thinking of what happens when you get to a year, two years, five years.

He knows it’s not about him, it’s about you. It’s about being one of the only two female officers in SWAT and all the shit that comes along with that, it’s about being a female cop in the LAPD who’s dating a superior. There’re no rules about working in the same line of business, you’re both on different teams but it’s the reputation you’re afraid of. Once the genie’s out the bottle, it’s not something you can put stopper back on.

You’ve worked so damn hard to get where you are, beaten all of the odds and he knows none of that will matter. There are still people in the force who will judge you for the choices you make, for choosing to be with him. It’s your decision and he respects that, however things like this don’t stay a secret forever and at some point it’s going to come out. He doesn’t wish for that, but he senses the inevitability of it.

You’re walking to the café on the corner after a night of debauchery. The sun is shining, you’re both wearing sunglasses, Donovan’s arm is slung around your shoulders, your fingers linked with his as he leans in close and whispers in your ear.

“How about I ruin you in Napa? A little wine tasting, a little fun in a B&B…”

He’s interrupted by the sound of someone calling your name. The both of you freeze as you turn your attention to the two men approaching you.

Luca and Street…

Donovan feels the way you tense; he expects you to pull away, claim that you just bumped into one another. He’s willing to play along if that’s what you want. But you don’t do any of that, instead you squeeze his hand.

“Hey, we were just trying out that new food truck up the street when we saw you…” Luca says holding up a crepe. You see the expression on Street’s face, the moment it dawns on him that you and Donovan are here together, actually together.

“The two of you…” He trails off gesturing between the both of you.

Donovan looks down at you, waiting for your play. He’d follow you to hell and back with any decision you make and that only makes you love him more.

“Yea,” You tell your team mates, your lips brushing across the back of Donovan’s hand. “We’ve been together a while now.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[steddiebang2024]

All Thanks to the Power of Love (No, Really) | M | 23k

Author: @libraryofgage

Artist: @danadaria

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Max Mayfield, The Party Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse; Alternate Universe - Warm Bodies Fusion; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Major Character Undeath; Zombie Steve Harrington; Zombie Robin Buckley; Angst; Fluff; Humor; Canon-Typical Violence; Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson; Ambiguous/Open Ending; Happy Ending; Power of Love; Steve Harrington’s Scoops Ahoy Uniform Trigger Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence ↳ Keep reading below for a sneak peek!

The zombie apocalypse hits, and Steve and Robin sacrifice themselves to make sure their friends get to safety. And then they’re zombies, semi-self-aware, shambling around the mall while collecting trinkets, inexplicably never hungry, understanding each other better than the other zombies ever could….and inadvertently rescuing a human girl named Max.

The mall isn’t safe for her, so Steve and Robin leave to find somewhere that is, and they might just find their way back to living again when they run into people who thought they were long dead.

The zombie apocalypse hits, and Eddie loses one of his most important people because the love of his life is a beautiful, idiotic, self-sacrificing asshole that lied when he promised to give Eddie another kiss when they met again. And then he’s trying to keep himself together while setting up a base, keeping a gaggle of reckless fourteen-year-olds alive, and fighting against the resignation of his friends.

It all comes to a head when he takes Dustin on a walk and they hear a girl scream. When they reach her, they can only watch as the girl is saved by a heart-breakingly familiar zombie. A zombified Steve and Robin that don’t eat them on sight is already more than they could have ever hoped for, but they soon discover that the two are a lot less dead than they seem.

[ask-hws-eire]

Dia duit! Hello! I'm The Republic of Ireland! Also known as Éire, but you can call me Sean!

I can't wait to hear from you all! Have a good one!

Ask Rules and OOC under the cut

About me

Hiya! Name's Lyre! 20 year old Irish/Italian and the owner of this blog. My other blogs are @lyresbird for reblogs and @crooked-sketches for Fandom art. Lyrebird is my main so all follows will come from there.

This blog will be multiship and Headcanon heavy. My art blog has a list of general rules abt me in the pinned post so please check those out bec the same rules apply here.

Other than on this post, all OOC talk will be in Purple.

Rules for asks

Please keep your ask to one or two topics!

Please don't ask about serious IRL events that have happened less than 10 years ago as I feel it's insensitive to engage with them in this format.

No NSFW but suggestive is ok

I will ignore any ask I don't feel comfortable answering

Historical asks are very much appreciated!

I will try my best to answer all asks with art so I may be a bit slow

Back and forth rp with other ask blogs may only be in text posts depending on the scenario

Tags

#EireAnswers - In character answers

#EireRP - RP responses

#LyreYaps - OOC posts

#LyreArt - reblogs from my art acc. This will only be for Ireland related art

Events

-Will add tags as necessary

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 4 (final)

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: smut, fluff, pet names, biting, rimming, enthusiastic consent, multiple orgasms, messy sex, power bottom Logan, top Wade, teasing/banter, dirty talk, anal sex, mild genderplay

Word Count: 5K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

Wade has him on his back so fast the world tilts.

Logan’s willing to go where he wants, especially if that place is upside down on their mattress. He lands hard enough to bounce a little, huffing out a laugh, the sound ending in a pleased hum as Wade goes right back to kissing him. He wraps his legs around Wade’s waist, cups his face in his hands, wanting to touch him everywhere. This is the kind of prelude to sex that leaves him breathless; not too fast, not too slow, the anticipation of it all clinging to their skin like static.

Above him, Wade can’t seem to decide if he wants to keep kissing him – rough and enthusiastic – or talk about everything that's coming next.

“God, you looked so fucking hot punching that walking protozoa –” he gasps the words right into Logan’s mouth, and Logan can only grin back, chasing Wade’s lips for more. “Love it when you’re mean like that –”

“Oh, do you?”

“You know I do, smartass,” Wade says, his tone and his face so full of love that he might as well have called him angel. His mouth travels to the sensitive place under Logan’s jaw, teasing with teeth. “Will you tear someone in half for me next time? Will you tear me in half?”

Logan can’t stop fucking smiling. Even as he arches up and into the kisses tracing along the line of his throat, he’s smiling, feeling floaty and stupid and turned on.

“Not in the apartment, ya freak,” he manages.

He isn’t deterred. “Your freak,” Wade says. “And no, I'd wait til we took a little trip out to the woods like you want.”

“I'd like that.”

“Tearing me in half?” Wade's mouth pauses, hot and wet, at Logan's collarbone to ask the question.

“Takin’ a trip,” Logan corrects, panting a little now. Squirming for more attention, his cock hard trapped between their bodies.

“Oh, okay, okay. So we can screw in the woods without having to worry about staining the sheets? And play out the ‘fucking a lumberjack’ fantasy one of us may or may not be harboring?”

Logan raises an eyebrow at the lumberjack bit, but chooses to say nothing. Hey, whatever floats his boat. God knows they’ve done far stranger things.

“Sure. Or fuckin’ up the carpet. Been a minute since we had a real rollaround.”

Wade hums his agreement at that, trailing a delicate hand down the length of Logan’s bicep, then his forearm, until their fingertips are touching. Logan’s fingers twitch when he touches them, their hands intertwining. Willingly, he lets Wade bring his hand to his mouth – knows instantly what he wants him to do. He opens his mouth and takes Wade’s fingers on his tongue.

“Good boy,” Wade breathes, and Logan can feel himself leaking in his boxers, dripping a spot against the cotton. He pants out a shaky sort of noise in answer, maybe an agreement or disagreement to the praise, he doesn't know, can’t think. “Yeah, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

His lips close around what's in his mouth, tight, sucking at them just like he'd sucked Wade's cock this morning. Getting them sloppy, dribbling with spit, some of it stringing out of his mouth and into his facial hair. There are still days when they're in too big of a damn hurry to care, but this foreplay is erotic on its own, too.

For a while, they linger suspended in that moment, Wade straddling his lap and watching with fascinated eyes as his fingers move slowly in and out of Logan's mouth. They look at each other, into each other, long past the shyness.

The way Wade looks at him still makes Logan burn, two parts of him trying to run away from one another. It's nice to be wanted. It's terrifying to be wanted. He thinks that the fear of ruining this is getting quieter, though. He hopes.

“Wanna try something,” Wade says all at once, his face brightening with the type of mischief Logan knows only too well. “Here – lift up for a minute –”

Letting Wade’s fingers slide out of his mouth, he does as he's told, spreading his legs a little wider as Wade reaches behind them for one of the pillows. He places it just underneath Logan's hips, turning his attention back to his naked torso, raining kisses on his body.

“Need these off,” Wade murmurs, almost to himself, tugging at Logan's boxers. Breathing shakily, he obliges him, kicking them to the floor. His cock springs up as Wade sheds him pajamas as well, resting heavy above his abdomen in anticipation. He's fucking restless for something, anything, a flurry of past positions floating past his eyes like a slideshow.

For a few seconds, Logan thinks it's his turn to get sucked off, and he's definitely not complaining. Wade lavishes attention on the meeting of his hip and thigh, biting in just the right way to make Logan jump, smirking to himself when he earns an arch off the mattress for more. Logan's palm rests on his head, encouraging. Trusting.

But he bypasses Logan's cock like it's not there. Instead, he trails past, licking a stripe down his balls, pressing his scarred palms to Logan's thighs to spread them wider, and – oh. Oh okay. Wade’s hot breath hesitates over his hole for only an instant before his tongue is tracing the most delicate circles.

“F-fuck!”

Logan squirms at the unexpected sensation, curling his toes. He feels Wade's hands twitch where they rest on his inner thighs, and looks down to see him looking back.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, s’good, I just didn't know –” Logan answers, far too quickly. He blinks, a lot, in an effort to remember how to put one word in front of the other. “You can keep going. If you want.”

“If I want,” Wade repeats wryly. “Yeah, okay, champ.”

Only capable of swallowing hard in response, Logan lets his head fall back against the mattress, his whole body tense with the thought of what's going to happen next. He feels Wade's breath back at his hole, and God, it's so sensitive there, his tongue lapping at him as he spreads his legs further.

It's not quite like anything he's felt before. It's good.

“Relax,” comes Wade's voice, light with amusement before his fucking tongue goes right back to Logan's ass. His knee gets pushed up, opening him like an old paperback.

He's aware that his chest is rising and falling and rising and falling, a rapid in and out. The little circles that Wade traces with his tongue shift into broader strokes, something deeper. Logan moans with the change, thrusting up into nothing.

“Feels so fuckin’ good, Red,” he says softly, his voice coming out smaller than he thought it would. “I don’t, I haven’t –n-never –”

He’s aware that he doesn’t make any sense, but Wade doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it encourages him, a low hum drawn from the other man’s throat as he pulls away to look at him. His eyes are massive between the vee of Logan’s legs.

“Never ever? Am I actually taking a sweet, precious piece of your virginity?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan whines. “Keep going.”

Wade ducks back down, but not before babbling something about best day of his life and definitely going on Tumblr (and it had better not).

He can’t wait anymore for Wade to touch him, fuck him, whatever he’d planned to add to the mix. Getting eaten out is such a tease but he needs more and he needs it now. Logan grasps his cock, already slippery with pre-come, and starts a rhythm that has his head swimming immediately.

With a hiss, Wade digs his nails into the flesh of his thighs, groaning into him. Logan has a feeling that if his mouth were free to say something, he’d be giving him a string of encouragement. Shit, even imagining what Wade would be saying is enough to turn him on.

Moaning out something that strongly resembles Wade’s name buried in a sea of praise, Logan grinds back on his face, chasing more, so so so close.

That’s it, baby, the Wade in his head says. Actual Wade is panting hard against his ass now, getting sloppy. Come for me. Know you want to. Pretty pretty please.

Logan’s eyes roll back. He comes in frenetic bursts all over Wade’s face and shoulder, vaguely aware that now he has pulled away to praise him, kissing up and down Logan's thigh to watch the whole show. Logan's hands scrabble in the sheets, some pathetic little sound coming out of his throat.

“Peanut, Jesus fucking Christ…”

He says something like ungh in answer, looking down at Wade covered in his come. He is so hot with that satisfied smirk on his face, it’s ridiculous. And then he takes a finger and drags it across the side of his face, where there’s a streak of Logan’s spend, and pops it into his mouth.

Fuck, okay.

Barely done from their first round, Logan’s cock twitches again.

“Got me good, Pollock,” Wade comments, still wearing that crooked grin that makes his heart do shit that Logan would worry about if he didn’t know it was always healing. “You liked that, huh?”

It takes a lot to resist the urge to say no shit, but Logan manages. Instead, he runs his hand up and down Wade’s cheek, feeling his spend there all sticky, his mind swimming with sex-drunk praise (you’resofuckingprettywantyousobadithurts).

“Gonna sit on your dick now,” he says instead, and Wade backs off of him fast to allow that to happen.

Their places swapped, Logan palms at Wade’s cock tenderly, not missing the way Wade’s lips part on a soft little ah of need. Wade’s dick is damn near perfect, fulfilling every stupid fantasy Logan had before he worked up the guts to come knocking on his door and do something about it. Bottoming out on Wade still stretches him out so full and delicious, turns him dumb in a way that topping him doesn’t – though he won't say no to either.

He lifts his hips, situating Wade underneath him, when he sees two fingers trailing up his chest.

“Sure you’re wet enough?” Wade teases. “Could finger you a little more, just to be safe.”

Fingertips land on Logan’s mouth, and oh, does this man know how to push his luck. Faking a scowl, Logan takes Wade’s middle finger playfully between his teeth and bites down hard, breaking skin and crushing bone. Blood wells up all at once, his mouth full of copper, and Wade gasps in delight as his cock twitches against Logan’s inner thigh.

“There’s my kitty cat,” he praises, grinning like floodlights. Though broken, his finger is still hanging on after he pulls it away. “Aww, you didn't bite it off this time.”

“‘M feelin’ generous.”

“God!” Wade laughs as Logan guides himself down, trailing off halfway through whatever quip he’d cooked up. He grabs Logan's thighs, moaning at the sensation. “Fuck, princess, you’re still so fuckin’ tight –”

As Logan seats himself fully, he can tell that Wade’s already regretting not being on top. His mouth is doing that cute little scrunch thing it does when he gets impatient. But Logan loves seeing Wade all desperate, too horny to think straight, begging to fuck him or be fucked. If Logan weren’t just as desperate half the time, he’d make Wade wait ages for what he wants. Maybe someday they’ll cool down enough to try that.

Maybe.

Because despite having already come once already, Logan’s not in much better shape. Getting eaten out had eased the way for Wade inside him, but the stretch is still toeing the edge of pain and bliss. He knows as soon as they move, it’ll melt nicely into the latter.

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Wade says, pouting. He’s already breathless, his face flushed, gripping Logan’s thighs so hard that they’re bruising and healing and bruising again in a continuous cycle. It’s so hot. “Please please please, you’re so tight, I’m not gonna last, please.”

If that doesn’t light Logan up from the inside out, nothing will.

Pausing only to give him a yeah, okay, Logan grinds his hips down hard. Wade’s answering whine is like magic, high and keening, something that Logan’s going to replay in his mind over and over like the mixtapes high schoolers used to make for each other to flirt. He could probably pick out each individual note, tell you the crescendo, see the arc of it burned on the inside of his eyelids.

Wade looks like a porn star underneath him, mouth hanging open, eyes unfocused, hips meeting Logan’s perfectly every – fucking – time. Logan’s cock is flushed and hard between them again, slapping skin with every thrust.

“Logan,” Wade moans out.

Logan’s thrusts get just a little harder, a little faster. That tight tight sensation of climax sits somewhere in the bottom of his stomach, in reach if he worked for it, but he’s nowhere as close as Wade is. Wade’s delirious with it, right there sitting on the brink, and Logan feels like he’s on fire with how sexy he finds the man.

“Yeah?” Logan purrs back.

“So fuckin’ close, right there, gonna come –”

“I can tell.”

Later, Wade will give him shit for being such a tease – and tell him how hot it was. But for now, Logan pins both of Wade’s wrists in place, knowing he’ll try to cover his face. He wants to watch the whole show, not just the trailer. He lets his fingers trace through the other man’s, a part of him loving the added intimacy, and greedily takes in every second of Wade coming inside him.

“Lo-ogan, ah, shit shit shit –!”

Wade rolls his hips up slow and deep as he comes, head thrown back, filling Logan with warmth. Logan honest-to-God shivers, knowing his cock is drooling all over Wade’s stomach just from watching him. Playing with him a little, Logan gently thrusts down, stimulating him through the aftershocks just to watch him gasp and jolt. The little sounds he makes after coming, all fucked-out and satiated, are right up there for Logan with the usual sounds of sex.

(Huh. Maybe he likes Wade’s voice even more than he thought.)

Wade's face is still flushed when he can make eye contact again, and Logan only smiles at him, pleased with himself.

“No fair,” Wade grumbles.

Logan leans down to kiss him, bumping their foreheads together. They’re both covered in a fine sheen of sweat, among other things, and he lingers there to get Wade to kiss him back nice and slow. At this point, he really does feel drunk, heavy-limbed and satisfied without the theoretical liver damage.

“Don’t see what’s unfair about it,” Logan replies once they’ve broken away again. “Just gave me a damn good show on top of a phenomenal fuck. If I could reach my wallet right now, I’d tip ya.”

“Peanut, I swear on Fox Studio’s grave, if you keep pulling this kind of dialogue out of nowhere I’m going to have a stroke.” Wade turns to glare at a random corner of the room. “And you had better watch it. We did not talk about this before the chapter started.”

Threats to no one aside, Logan just shakes his head, unfazed. Something makes him want to keep talking, and he’s not sure if it’s how loose and warm his body feels, or the day they’ve had, or a combination of both.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty when you come,” he confesses, and Wade looks up at him with what can only be described as a mix of shock and horror.

“Oooookay, that’s enough for you, big guy –”

Wade struggles to get out from underneath him, attempting to lift his hips, but it’s no use. Logan sees it coming and shifts his weight more fully onto the mattress, effectively trapping him in place.

“Nope,” he says, unable to keep from sounding a little smug. “Think I’m gonna set my big adamantium ass right here until you learn to take a compliment.”

“Yeah? And what if I shoot my way out?”

It doesn’t surprise Logan in the slightest when Wade pulls the .45 from behind the headboard and aims it between his eyes. It does, however, annoy him. He sinks down further, aware that Wade’s gone soft, come slipping loose in a steady stream between their bodies onto the sheets.

“Rhonda’s gonna be pissed if she hears a gunshot, you know that. Slap us with another fee for damages, and I sure as shit ain’t coverin’ it just because you don’t want to hear how goddamn good you look.”

Wade’s finger plays with the trigger, stroking it as if in thought. His mouth scrunches. In all honesty, Logan wouldn’t mind a shot or two – it’s been a while since he’s taken one, and he knows Wade wouldn’t get him anywhere awful. They like each other well enough to spare major head wounds now, and that’s typically the only unspoken rule.

But to his surprise, Wade puts the gun back where he’d stashed it, flopping his head back on the pillows with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, you monumental pain in my ass. What else do you want to tell me that’s so important?”

Logan pauses a moment, amused. He wasn’t quite sure he’d get this far. Half of him pictured this ending in an all-out bloodbath – the kind they’d have to replace the sheets and the carpet for. Maybe even have to paint the walls again. God, he wishes they didn’t live in a fucking apartment – or the city.

“You’re hot as hell, Wade,” he starts. Wade’s mouth is very scrunched, eyebrows drawn down in a similar pout. He looks like he’d rather be sitting on a stick of lit dynamite than listening to this. “What, you didn’t think I thought that? When we’ve been fuckin’ each other senseless for this long?”

“Just thought maybe I had a magic dick,” Wade mutters.

“Hah. Never said you don’t.”

Logan finally lets Wade’s cock slip out of him entirely, crawling up until his mouth is inches from Wade’s. The proximity makes the other man’s eyes dilate, breath catching, and Logan could live off of the thick smell of sweat and lust and come they’ve created in this room together.

He kisses Wade, quick, just a taste, and leaves him wanting more.

“You’re fuckin’ funny.”

Another kiss, this time a little deeper, Wade reaching up for him with half a grin on his face. He’s getting hard again – Logan can feel it against the muscles of his abdomen. The next time Wade's mouth collides with his, he brings teeth, taking Logan's bottom lip and pulling hard enough to make him moan.

“You’re – wild – to watch in a fight. Sweet – to the people you care about.”

They’re making out in earnest now, Logan gasping to get the words out as Wade drinks him up.

“You –uh!”

Caught off guard, Logan doesn’t have the time to finish his sentence as Wade flips him on his side. Nose to nose with one another now, he lets Wade continue his desperate barrage of kisses, hooking an arm around Logan’s neck. Their stiff cocks rub together, tantalizing friction, and Wade trails his lips to Logan’s ear.

“You like me all that much, get on your hands and knees.”

His voice is low and sultry in a way that lets Logan know that they’re far from done. Laughing softly, Logan does as he asks, Wade moving around him as if they’re different parts of the same body. Planting his palms on the mattress, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Wade slides his cock against his ass, the briefest tease, before placing himself at his entrance.

He doesn't waste time pushing back inside. Logan's body takes him easily, a breathless sound of excitement leaving him as Wade’s hands come to settle on his hips. Though he can't see Wade's face, he can feel the shift in energy – he can hear Wade's heart pumping fast, sense his heightened enthusiasm.

Settled inside Logan up to the hilt, Wade shifts his hips in a lazy figure eight.

“You ready?”

Logan nods, his uh-huh coming out like a groan of pleasure. He stares down at his own spread hands, the ruined sheets, biting his lip as Wade continues to tease him.

It doesn't last long. Less than a second passes between his confirmation and Wade’s first sharp thrust, bullying Logan forward before he can get his bearings. Wade wastes no time in setting a punishing rhythm, leaving him helpless to do anything but arch back into what he's getting.

He pants and moans every time Wade comes close to nailing that spot, feeling his claws start to slip out bit by bit. Their mattress topper is in bits and pieces under the cover of the sheet, more foam chunks than anything now, and he's about to make it a lot worse. Logan lets himself sink claws deep into the padding, leaning his face forward into the pillows to muffle the most embarrassing of the noises he's making.

Wade isn't letting him get away that easily.

“That's my fucking big boy,” he breathes, and Logan lights up with a blush bright enough to color his fucking chest. His cock jumps. “Take me so well every time, don't ya? Every – fuckin' – inch?”

Oh god oh fuck.

“Wade,” he says into the pillows, practically mewling out the word. Latched into the mattress with his claws anchoring him in place as Wade nails that incredible place right there oh fuck oh Christ. “Hah, fuck, you gotta slow down, or – I –”

“Or what, sweetheart?”

A clever hand reaches around to jerk Logan's cock, nice and deep the way he needs it, and Logan moans so deep in his throat it comes out more like a growl. Wade matches his thrusts in time, slower now but fuller, getting Logan to cry out louder than he'd ever admit he gets.

“You gotta slow down, Red,” Logan manages to repeat, but he already knows it's no use. “Gotta s-slow down, oh f-fuck!”

He comes much harder than he thought he would, hissing out a string of swears into the poor abused mattress. Coating the sheets below him, watching as some dribbles onto his thigh. Wade pushes his hips higher, fucking him through it like it's easy, his fingers brushing soothing circles as Logan shivers and spills and pants.

His whole body tingles with that sensitive sensation he's come to equate with powerfully good sex, with a certain look in Wade's eyes or a tone in his voice. He's going to feel this later, the honey-hum ache lingering in every muscle, but it's more than worth it.

“Flip over,” Logan insists after the moment has passed. “Wanna watch you come again.”

A cocky tsk from behind him catches Logan off guard. A gentle hand lands on the curve of his ass. Loving.

“Aw, peanut. Baby. Who said you were done?” Wade’s voice comes out light and cheerful, but they both know what the undercurrent holds.

Yeah, he's definitely in his bossy little top mood now, Logan thinks. Not that he doesn't find it incredibly hot. But it's also fun to be a bit of a brat every once and a while.

“Don't think I can,” he tries, sliding his claws out of the mattress but settling firmly. “C'mon, Wade. Fuck me ‘til you finish.” Logan hesitates. “Please?”

An equally long pause. He can almost hear Wade thinking.

“Nahhh,” he decides. “You can do one more for me, then I'll fill you up until you fucking drip.”

This time, the pointed gap in the air is for Logan to really say no, use a safe word, if he needs to. And he definitely doesn't need to, doesn't want to. Besides, he's never been one to back away from a challenge, especially if it's Wade who's handing it out.

“Yes, sir,” Logan says mockingly, lifting his ass back up in the air.

He hears Wade make a strangled little noise of want before gripping his ass tight.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing Logan down until he's flat on his stomach on the bed.

Logan’s pretty sure he whines at that. It’s hard to tell anymore.

To say that the sheets are saturated in come would be an understatement at this point, but Logan can't focus on that as much as he's focusing on getting hard again, Wade’s teeth sinking deep into the side of his neck. The pain is nothing compared to the pleasure, a drop of water in the ocean – and Logan’s fucking dying of thirst.

He breaks the skin. Granted, it takes a little more effort for him to do it than it does for Logan, but he doesn’t mind the extra gnashing around. Chewing on his neck like it’s a goddamned squeaky toy. He’s flattered by it, in a way, that Wade would do all that just to spill blood for sex.

Wade’s tongue laps at the ring of blood he’s produced as he presses into his ass again, slow, and Logan can tell that he’s trying to hold back. To really spoil him with this extra orgasm, instead of keeping it all tit for tat. He doesn’t know why – he’ll pester him later about it and only get ‘cause I love you and I wanted to, you fuckin’ beefslab of a man, in answer.

But right now, Wade’s hot, panting mouth trails to Logan’s ear, and his teeth pull on the lobe, hard. Logan bares his neck further with a near silent intake of breath, wordless permission, and that’s all that Wade needs. Without further ado, Wade’s teeth seize around the loose cartilage and bite, ripping it off in a gush of blood.

“Fuck –!” Logan hisses, feeling the warmth of it trickle down on the sheets near his face.

“I’m trying my best, dollface,” Wade says sweetly in reply. Logan wishes he could see him. “You have no idea how good you look like that, all spread out like a two dollar whore on nickel night. Really putting my stamina to the test.”

He sighs, moving his hips so gently he may as well not be moving them at all. Despite insisting that Wade come a final time so that they could be finished with the whole romp, Logan finds himself growing impatient. There’s blood in it for him now, literally, and his cock is throbbing where it’s trapped against his stomach and the bed.

“But when a Scout makes a promise, they keep a promise. Right?”

“I promise you’re a pain in my ass,” Logan huffs. “Wade, c’mon, if you’re gonna fuck me then fuck me, don’t just –”

The words screw around are a little lost in the sudden snapping of Wade’s hips. Logan gasps instead, taken off guard by the instant ferocity of it. One of Wade’s hands grips a fistful of Logan’s hair, rough, incredible, while the other palm stays firm at his hip, holding them both in place.

“What were you saying, honey badger?” Though the words are innocent, Wade’s voice hits his (regenerating) ear in a mocking growl, all exertion.

Logan can’t even form a fucking sentence, let alone a smartass response. Wade knows him well enough, is smart enough to know exactly where his prostate is, how deep to press and for how long. He can play his body like an instrument few have taken the time to learn, let alone master.

Sinking his claws back into the mattress, scrabbling for any sort of purchase, Logan presses his face into the pillows with a desperate sound. He wants to tell Wade how good it feels, that he’s nailing his prostate just right, stirring up a heat inside of him that no one’s ever quite hit before, so good he wants to sob, but all he can do is lie there ass up and gasp out with every thrust. He tries to match Wade’s pace, hold the rhythm.

“Am I nailing your g-spot, baby?” Wade purrs, and something like scandal and delight war for attention in Logan’s mind. “Yeah, I feel you, pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

“Wade, o-oh Christ,” he says, breath hitching. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and he’s torn between so many points of pleasure and his cock is gliding as Wade pushes him forward, he’s going to come again, just as Wade had said he would – “ – Wade, Wade, Wade –”

He’s still chanting Wade’s name, voice rising an octave or so, as orgasm hits him like a goddamn train. The warmth of it coats his belly and chest, his face muffled deep into the pillows – tears and spit dampening the material. He arches back hard as Wade thrusts a handful of times to finish not long behind him.

“Fuck,” Wade says under his breath. “Kitty cat, oh fuck yes.”

The quiet that falls after, only their combined breath, is so deep and peaceful that Logan passes out almost right away. He isn’t sure how long Wade lets him sleep – only that he wakes up to his shoulder being shaken gently, Wade standing beside the bed with a fond smirk on his face.

“You’re gonna be stuck to the bed if you stay there like that, cowboy,” he tells him, offering a hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s get clean.”

Logan makes a grumpy sort of sound, too comfortable to want to move. “Only if we get to sleep all day tomorrow.”

Wade’s face brightens at the idea. “Fuck yeah – pile all the blankets on the couch and order takeout?”

It sounds like a dream come true.

“Yeah.”

Logan takes his hand. Once they’re clean, with the sheets and blankets replaced, it’s the deepest and most comfortable sleep of his life.

[kitsuga]

two left feet. {Elliott x Reader/Farmer}

Description: 

A fic in which Elliott has prophetic (?) dreams. 

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Tags: fluff, you ever have prophetic dreams? i do, elliott seems the type to have them too. look at him, reminder i am both blessed and cursed with the possibility of ooc bc mods have been installed in my brain for far too long, reader is referred to as "Farmer"!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, stardew valley/sdv x reader/farmer, elliott x reader/farmer, stardew valley/sdv, elliott

Word Count: 2,375

A/N: Written on: February 24, 2023 

I!! Think!! Hes!!! So!!!! Cute!!!! I don’t think I like the ending on this one but to be fair im gonna let it slide and pretend it doesnt exist, why not lKJSFHIUEF 

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It was cold in the stoney area Elliott found himself in; deep below the surface, he thought to himself—damp, cold, and full of unsettling shadows hidden in corners. Small flames lead his way down the makeshift corridor, but he was weary to follow—what would find him at the end of it? With no exit found behind him, he pressed forward. 

The flames started to die out as he walked past, their lives cut short without a second thought—except, he thought about it. Why were they blowing out so suddenly? A chill started to climb up his spine as he made his way down towards what looked like an open area; it was darker than where he had been, only a few dancing flames had sat within the room.  

This room was bad news, Elliott thought to himself. Everything in his body was screaming to run, that there was danger around, but he couldn’t. With his feet planted in place, his eyes darted from flame to flame, straining to see what horrors they would illuminate. The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end as sounds started around the room; quiet at first before steadily growing louder, menacing, echoing off the stones. Shadows peeled themselves off the walls, contorting to hideous figures; sharp shrills came from somewhere deeper. The knot in Elliott’s stomach grew tighter, almost causing him to hunch over with fear.  

Creatures he thought he’d never be able to even dream of started to show themselves in the dim lights, just as frightening as they sounded. Horrifying sights, he thought to himself; dripping, oozing, some even rigid and sharp—creatures with faces so frightening he couldn’t fully comprehend what it was his eyes were trying to focus on. They moved with malevolence, each action full of venom; Elliott found himself begging in silence that he kept out of their sights. 

They started to merge together, moving towards something lying on the ground just within the remaining candle’s flames. It was balled up, hardly moving; the figure was... human, Elliott thought. What were they doing there? Were they alright? They needed to get up—needed to get out. The monstrosities grew ever closer, and his anxiety was on the rise; he tried calling out to the person, trying to will the air from his lungs to say something—anything—but nothing was productive. Even if something had come out, his voice would be lost amongst the terrifying noises that echoed among the walls, falling on deaf ears.  

The growing sense of urgency made him jittery as he tried and tried again to call out, but the moment his eyes adjusted and caught a glimpse of just who lay in the monster’s trap, his heart sank to his stomach. 

“Farmer...?” 

Elliott managed to whisper, his voice trembling while their name felt heavy with dread. He tried to move his feet, reach out to them. He tried calling out to them again and again, voice raising and wavering each time. The shadows started to move in, but he could only watch as they swoop in on their prey. With his heart in his throat and lead in his feet, he reached out for the Farmer who lay there unresponsive. 

“Farmer!” He shouted. “Farmer! Get up! Farmer, please!”  

He got desperate, screaming their name now as the shadows pounced at the person he cared about. 

“FARM--” 

“-ER!”  

Elliott woke up with a start, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, jumping out of his chest and into his throat all at once. His breath was heavy, shaky, and felt as though he couldn’t catch it—his chest rose and fell with pain. Elliott’s clothes stuck to him, drenched in a cold sweat. His mind started running a mile a minute, no coherent thoughts were able to keep up. Was it a dream? It had to have been; he looked around the room and registered that it was his own. Trying to stabilize his breathing, he tried to brush his hair from his face and slowly lay back down.  

It was a dream! It was a dream. It was... a dream. Elliott bolted out of bed, alarmed that it had been a dream. It wasn’t a prophetic one, right? It couldn’t have been. Was it? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. He was being ridiculous! Surely it was just a nightmare, and he should go back to bed. This is what he tried to soothe himself with as he drew back his blanket and attempted to crawl back into bed. 

But... what if it wasn’t? He jumped out of bed once again and rushed around his room—he should just go check on them! No, he NEEDED to go check on them. He felt around the dark room to grab his jacket from the back of his chair and struggled to put it on in a rush, tripping and falling against the front door as he also attempted to put on his shoes. Outside was quiet—even the waves were drowned out by the sound of his racing heart and his breath trying to catch up as he took off running, struggling to keep his footing in the sand. He ran much faster as his feet hit solid ground, sprinting through the familiar path to their farm. Weaving through paths of hard-earned crops and practically jumping over the rickety, old wooden steps of the porch, his fist pounds at their front door. He continues to knock, and knock, and knock, beating at the old wood so hard he could hear it over the static playing in his ears. 

Are they there? They have to be. It’s the middle of the night; oh, please be there, he thought to himself. Please be safely in your own bed, comfortable and warm—where they should be. He began to knock again before he was cut off, the door in front of him opening slowly to reveal the very person he was so desperate to see; they stood there in their pajama’s, a fist rubbing one eye while the other attempted to blink away the drowsiness and process the need to wake up. They were here, they were safe, they were... adorable. Elliott hunched over, holding his stomach, and let out the heaviest breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  

“Elliott...? Are you alright?” Farmer asks, voice drenched in sleep. “What’s wrong?” 

It took a few moments of trying to calm down and regulate his breathing before Elliott had stood back upright. He looked at them carefully, taking in every inch of them to ease his mind and soothe his heart, as their body was bathed in the gentle moonlight. 

“...Ahem,” Elliott cleared his throat and attempted to straighten his shirt. “Hello, Farmer.” 

They studied him with half-lidded eyes. Their shoulders hung with sleep still wrapping them like the warm blanket they had left in their bed. After a few moments, and a few hoots from an owl in the distance, they broke the silence of the night once again. 

“Are.... you okay?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

Elliott felt the corners of his lips turn upwards, but not of joy or relief. He was certainly feeling very awkward, now. How in the world was he going to explain this behaviour to them! His smile starts to grow, becoming more and more disconcerting; sweat fell from his brow though his body had certainly had enough time to calm down. He started to clear his throat again, moving to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words to say. Come on, Elliott! You’re a writer! Certainly, you can think of a story to excuse this behaviour away? He watched as the Farmer looked him up and down, squinting a bit at him before they opened their mouth to speak. 

“Well... you were banging at my door is if your life depended on it... in the middle of the night.” 

“Ah... yeah...” Elliott managed to stammer out. 

“Then, your jacket is inside out--” Elliott promptly looked down to see the inside of his jacket pockets where they certainly should not be. “--and you’re also in your pajamas.” He certainly was. 

“Well, you see...” He started. 

Farmer looked down and stared, causing Elliott to follow suit. He took a look at his feet and felt the heat of a blush creep up the back of his neck the longer the silence drew on between the two of them. The distant hoot of an owl called out again before Farmer stuck their hand out and pointed at his previously mentioned feet. 

“You have two different shoes on.”  

The silence of the night swallowed the two of them whole once again. 

Elliott heaved a heavy sigh and slowly, almost with a shaky hand with how embarrassed he was feeling now, wiped the cold sweat off of his face and spoke through a crooked—and awkward—smile. 

“Ah. So I do.” 

“It’s like you have two left feet.” 

“That is not the same thing, they are simply different shoes—they're meant for the correct feet.” 

Elliott looked up at them through his eyelashes, his embarrassment practically melting away the instant he saw a bright smile on their lips. Of course they tried to make him feel better about it all, it was just who they were; it was something he truly adored about them, after all. Their soft, melodic giggle echoed through the still night, wrapping him with the comfort he had practically begged for just moments ago—it was such a welcomed warmth that he had almost forgotten what it was that had him so worried in the first place; the daunting fact crashed against him like a wave as he remembered and the blush of embarrassment crept up his neck once again. 

“Ahem... Well,” Elliott cleared his throat once again—it was going to be sore by the morning if he kept it up, “you see, there’s this tradition of... waking... people up... frantically... to...” 

Farmer cut him off with an unconvinced look and by gently putting their hand up to motion him to drop the horrible acting. 

“You’re a writer. You couldn’t come up with something better than whatever you were about to give me?” That’s what Elliott had been telling himself, too, only hearing the Farmer say it aloud struck his heart like an arrow. 

“Alright, fine.” He took a large breath, held it, and let it out in a quick meditation. “Believe in what you will, but there are times when dreams may be... prophetic.” 

“...Go on.” 

“It comes in as a sort of déjà vu at times, you see.”  

“Elliott.” 

He threw his hands up into the air as an indication that he had given up trying to beat around the bush. Holding those same hands out to the Farmer, he looked at them with such heavy concern and care in his eyes, he started to tear up. He fought back those very tears as Farmer gently put their hands in his own, instantly, without being prompted. Softly, quietly, as though the night itself would carry his words to the moon and reveal his secrets, he confessed. 

“I had a nightmare—about you.” He started, rubbing his thumbs across the Farmer’s knuckles and keeping eye contact with them. “I... needed to make sure you were alright. I was truly... truly frightened. I thought you had been hurt, or worse—if I had lost you.” 

Elliott leaned in closer to them, his voice now hardly above a whisper. 

“What would I ever do without you?” 

The Farmer looked back at him, their sleep still holding a shade over their eyes, though Elliott could see the gears in their head start to process. It was their turn for their skin to heat up a little, get a little embarrassed, feel a little awkward and lost for words. They opened and closed their mouth a few times, going to say something but changing their mind; finally, they settled on simply giving him a warm, comforting smile, leaving his slight confession for a time when they were more lucid.  

“Thank you, Elliott.” They whispered back. “For caring so much about me; for checking on me. I’m alright, I promise.” 

The Farmer’s smile turned into a larger one, with a little more pep in their step as they turned away from the door frame and faced the dark inside of their house. They held onto one of Elliott’s hands and gestured into the dark with the other, their eyes silently wishing for a certain answer as they looked into his own. 

“Now that you’re here, do you want some tea? You’re free to crash on my couch for the night, since it’s so late. I don’t know what happened in that dream of yours, but... maybe it’ll help you sleep knowing I’m okay.” 

Elliott’s eyes grew wide, but only for a moment, before the relief and thankfulness had smoothed his being. Right. They were okay. They were okay, and that was the best thing he could ask for at this point. They were here, in front of him, in the comfort of the rickety old wooden place they called home—not in some frightening, dark, dangerous cave. They were here—with him—he could feel the warmth of their skin and they gently held his hand and guided him through the door, into the comfort of their home. They were safe, and for that, he was thankful.  

A promise-- he silently made to himself as he watched the hot tea pour into the cup in front of him—to pay closer attention to their safety. A promise to protect what is loved, and a promise to do whatever was needed to keep any prophetic dreams at bay.  

A promise... to think things through a little more instead of panic; he gave a miserable smile as the Farmer started to give a genuine laugh at his two different shoes now that they were a bit more awake to truly appreciate the ridiculousness of his outfit. The sound, however, brought him his much-needed peace.  

Surely, he’d see them in a much better dream this time. 

[brendaareiss]

CAL AND ANDRE HEADCANONS! Finally! I feel like there's some I have already said b4, but idk. Enjoy!

⚠️Triggers⚠️: SA, SH

- Andre furrowed his brows when he was concentrated, Cal poked his tongue out

- Andre was actually a great student. That's why most of the people didn't like him either, whether being because of envy or because they saw him as a nerd and annoying. But bro had +A on everything

- Cal on the other hand, was pathetic at studies. His best ever grade was a C

- They didn't actually hold hands most of the time, just intertwine pinkies unconsciously

-Cal always followed andre everywhere. It was not even a conscious act.

- They both talked shit abt their siblings

- Andre=bpd + psicopathy

- Cal= adhd + depression (duh).

- Andre paid attention on the smallest details and had rlly good memory. Like, something stupid Cal said years ago, andre remembered it like it was yesterday. Or he knew what things Cal liked or not, even if Cal hasn't told him, he knew it because he paid attention to what Cal was doing

- Cal was a chronic nail biter. Rachel tried putting nail polish on him to make it better, because Cal reached the point where his whole finger was covered in blood

-Cal has had many addictions in his life. It was all because his depression, he couldn't get happiness (dopamine) in anything in his life so he tried to get it somewhere else. That's why he started doing weed at a young age, well, until the possession charge. After that, he went straight to cutting. It wasn't as good as to get high, but at least it worked and wasn't illegal. He used to get blackout drunk too, trying to get dopamine from where he could.

- U can't tell me they didn't explore each other's bodies. Ofc they did (I like to think they would refer to that as "favors"), but they never rlly knew what the fuck they were. Were they boyfriends? Were they just friends with benefits? That's actually where the term "the army of two" appeared, trying to give what they had a tag or a "name". But they knew rlly well they weren't just friends. They knew each other too much, they were too similar and too connected to be just friends.

- Cal was sa'd from when he was 7 years old until he was 14 by his cousin, who was 8 years older than him. He never told anything to anyone, not even Andre, but he eventually figured it out. He was paranoid and very protective with his siblings (even though he didn't like them, it doesn't mean that they weren't siblings, Cal cared for them a lot), making sure his cousin NEVER approached them. And if someone older talked to them he would get rlly anxious and freaked out.

- Andre always cared too much about Cal. He knew the state of Cal's mental health and physical health (anemic ass) so he always was there for him. And I like to think not only andre, but his family too. Feeding him until Cal couldn't physically bring the fork to his mouth (I'm sure Andre's mom would be the one to say: "Cal, you have to eat more! You're so thin!")

- Andre was not always seen with the Gabriel's (because Cal's sister HATES andre with all her guts) but Calvin was ALWAYS seen with the kriegman's. Andre's dad always knew that when he mentioned "family vacation/trip", Cal was tagging along.

-Cal learned to stay calm when Andre had his bpd splits (extreme anger most of the time). There was a time when he actually felt rlly bad when Andre said what things to him or just screamed and pushed him around, but as time passed, he learned it was just another normal thing on Andre. That's why in the car scene, he at first didn't take him seriously, he then shut the fuck up and tried to get out of the situation as quickly as he could afterwards.

- Andre never really knew what the fuck was wrong with him. He wasn't like Cal, he didn't get diagnosed with shit and didn't even went to a psychologist. He thought he was just really aggressive and nothing more.

- Andre was low-key an alcoholic. He never got blackout drunk though

- The only thing Andre didn't clean, was his car. Maybe once in a month (or a week if there where a lot of empty beer cans in the back seats)

- Cal rlly liked sour candies.

- Andre slept A LOT.

- idk if I said this b4 but Andre's hand was always on Cal's thigh while he drove

- most of their hangouts were sleepovers. They seriously couldn't live without each other

- OF COURSE the reason why andre didn't like Rachel it's because he was EXTREMELY jealous of her. He felt like she was taking Cal away from him. He also felt that she talked shit about Cal when he wasn't there. The night Cal ditched Rachel for him, Andre's ego was 100% fueled

- Andre had migraine. Yeah. He didn't throw up though

- Following, andre NEVER puked. Like, he probably just threw up 1 time in his life. Cal on the other hand, every time he got sick, he vomited.

-Cal ALWAYS forgot his things EVERYWHERE. His parents didn't even make him his own keys, because they knew Cal would probably lose them too.

- As kids, Cal adored sharks and Andre lions and bears. (Cal adored sharks all his life though)

- Andre's grandparents who lived in Germany, had a bigass house with a garden. They had ALSO, a bigass dog. Of course Andre as a kid spent most of the time in the garden, playing with his brother and the dog.

- The only thing that made Andre calm down when he was angry, was changing the situation, making him forget about it, talking about another thing or doing another thing that isn't related to the reason he's mad. Distract him and make him forget why he was mad in the first place.