#so i miss bananas v much

[shikakunaras]

Being allergic to bananas is so fucking funny bc I’ll actually have a huge reaction to Real bananas and not Artificial flavor (obv). So when I’m missing the flavor I’ll grab something that I assume is artificial bc of the colors and the marketing. I’ll read the back and it’ll say ‘Artificial Flavor’ or ‘Banana Byproduct’ or my favorite ‘Banana ingrdients’. And then I’ll take one bite and suddenly realize

[fluffalpenguin]

Hey, do you think you could draw some poisonappleshipping? (Yugo, Yuri, Rin) I’ve been a fan of you since around April and it would be really cool if you could draw my rarepair

I don't really have time nor energy for requests but here's some of my old ones!

[eupheme]

— sugar, sugar

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

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 6.5k

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

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

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

“You gonna introduce me?”

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

“You think this will wash out?” 

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t necessarily call Wade Wilson a friend.

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

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

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

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

And maybe that was friendship, after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowns, “You’ve met Blind Al.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who do you think got Peter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give him a sideways look, then.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m really glad to hear that.” 

He smiles, then.

“Thanks. Me too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“18.” 

Another beat passes, and then a sigh. 

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

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

Wade’s fist pumps. 

Bullseye, motherfucker. 

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

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

Or maybe, just bail all-together.

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

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

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

Ambiance, his ass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Penis cake?

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wants to meet you.

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

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

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

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

He hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

Maybe he’s as nervous as you are.

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

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

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

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

Different. Special.

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

“His… dickiversary.” Logan repeats slowly.

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

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

“Right. What flavor was it?”

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

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

He hums then, close to a laugh.  

“Sure. You do that.”

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

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

Setting it free. 

“I’m a mutant.”

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

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

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

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

They glint in the light, as his fingers flex. 

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

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

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

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

Logan huffs again, “Guess so.”

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

“But doesn’t that hurt?” 

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

He shrugs, and it’s heartbreaking.

“Doesn’t even phase me anymore.”

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

His hand flexes in your grip.

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

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

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

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

“No. I don’t think so.”

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

“Well then, I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t reply. 

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

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

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

He breaks the silence, the words coming slowly. 

“Let me ask you one more thing.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Surely he must know? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to get out of here?”

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

The corner of his lip twitches.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s here that he comes back to himself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it sweetheart.”

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

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

You did this to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You agree, “Please, Logan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you can convince him to stay until morning.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, Logan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s almost too much. 

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

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

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

“Fuck, Logan.” You sob, “Harder-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Dramatic and drawn out, paired with faint rhythmic noise. 

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

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

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

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

“Wish I could sew that goddamn mouth shut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[galexystern]

easy - 18+

pairing; actor!steve harrington/fem!reader

warnings; smut (MDNI), angst, tooth-rotting & v cheesy fluff, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie, jealousy, kinda hurt/comfort, one use of y/n near the end

word count; ~4.3k

desc; while on a press tour for his latest movie, steve says something that sends you into a spiral. something that forces him prove his undying love for you when he gets home.

a/n; based off that interview of tom blyth and rachel zegler on the tbosas press tour. you know the one

read on ao3 / masterlist

You come upon it without trying. Dating an actor can be hard, watching them experience whole lifetimes and romances in a tight two-hour movie or eight-episode show, and your boyfriend Steve Harrington feels things deeper than others, you know. Thus why you never search the press Steve does for any project—you don’t need to hear it.

Of course, if something pops up on your feed, you’ll watch it. It’s impossible to swipe away from his lovely face; you’ve missed him so much as he’s worked on his latest movie, and any whiff of him is captivating. Which is how you see one specific interview he did with his co-star, Nancy Wheeler, the female love interest.

“Who wouldn’t love her? It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

As soon as you hear it, the words embed themselves. They echo within you all the time. You try to forget them, distract yourself, but it’s useless. You’d hoped they’d go away when Steve comes home, but they’re still there, bouncing around your brain like the world’s most annoying song. When he’s hugging you so tight you can barely breathe. When he’s smiling uncontrollably at being home. When he’s talking nonstop about his adventures on set.

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

“It’s so easy to fall in love with Nancy.”

You shake your head to get rid of the phrase, and take Steve into the dining room, where the table is ready with all his favorite foods. You’d prepared them in another attempt to quiet your mind, not that it had worked, but it makes him smile so it was worth it anyway. You sit him down and then slide into your seat across from him, watching as he dishes out onto his plate and digs in. You don’t touch it. You’re not hungry.

“And then, believe it or not, I slip on the goddamn banana peel. Can you believe that?” He laughs at his own bad luck. “They used that take for the final cut. Can’t wait for you to see it.” He’s been talking about taking you to the premiere since the date was set. The idea of being in front of reporters and cameras and the movie’s other stars is kind of nauseating.

That’s when you hear yourself blurting out, “Are you in love with Nancy?”

As soon as the words have left your lips you want to suck them back in. Your boyfriend’s eyes have widened astronomically and his hand is frozen, fork stuck halfway between the plate and his open mouth. Convenient, you think helplessly.

“Never mind,” you rush out before he can say anything, “forget it. I’m sorry.”

Steve blinks a couple times, seeming to come back into his body, and then carefully lays his fork down, bite of food unconsumed. He laughs awkwardly, and you cringe. Your fault for ruining the mood. “Can’t really forget that, can I?” He half-jokes before wiping his face with a napkin and then putting it on the table. His chair scoots back as he stands, and for a moment you’re terrified he’s going to walk out, insulted beyond belief that you would ask something so wild, but he just rounds the table to your side and sits in the seat next to you. He angles his body towards you, and maneuvers your chair to face him. You sit there like dead weight.

“Now, my love,” he starts gently, “what was your question?”

You don’t really want to repeat it, but you’ve never been able to deny him anything. “I asked if you were in love with Nancy,” you answer, almost inaudible.

He nods thoughtfully. “And why would you think that?”

He’s not being accusatory, but you still clam up, afraid of what could come next. You shrug instead.

“Angel, I’m not going to be mad at you. I promise.”

You meet his gaze, seeing love and sincerity shining brightly, and finally explain quietly, “I saw that interview you two had. Where you said that it was easy to fall in love with her.”

Steve exhales heavily. “I was afraid that might be it.” Your expression sharpens and he rushes to add, “I’m not in love with her. I was just worried this exact thing could happen after I said it.”

“Why’d you say it then?” You ask petulantly.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was thinking more in terms of my character instead of myself, truthfully. And I meant more in terms of her character too. Ryan would—and did—find it easy to fall in love with Sarah,” using their character names.

“But you said Nancy’s name.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m so sorry. You don’t usually look at my press so I wasn’t sure if you’d seen it, and I didn’t wanna bring it up and worry you. I know it sounds like an excuse, sweetheart, but I meant what I said. I’m not in love with Nancy.”

“Okay,” you reply, not fully convinced.

Steve can tell. “Baby, look at me, please?” You lift your head to meet his pleading stare. “I’m not in love with Nancy,” he says firmly, drilling it into you. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I’m going to stay in love with you for a long time. Forever, if you’ll let me.”

Again, words fly out before you can stop them. “Please don’t tell me that’s a proposal.”

He’s caught by an unexpected laugh. “No, honey. When I propose to you, you’ll know it.” A thrill runs through you with the use of “when” and your lip quirks up. But it’s quick to pop back down, and Steve notices. He pats his thighs. “Come here, angel.”

It takes a few seconds, but you eventually drag yourself from your chair and into his lap, letting your legs dangle and wrapping your arms around his neck. He secures his own around your waist, not letting you fall or slide backwards. You’re close enough that he can nuzzle his nose against yours, and you huff a giggle at the movement. His lips curl into a smile on your cheek.

He moves so that your foreheads are resting together and he can gaze deep into your eyes. You can’t look away. “I love you, baby. Only you. And you can always come to me if you’re upset or unsure or whatever. Okay?” You nod hesitantly. “Do you need me to prove it? That you’re the one for me?” You go breathless when his hands dip down to your ass and press you more firmly against him, feeling his hardness and making your underwear go wet in response. You nod more quickly this time and he smirks.

“C’mere then,” he whispers and you waste no time meeting his lips with yours. He kisses you, slow and languorous, taking his sweet time swiping his tongue across the seam of your mouth and exploring inside when you eagerly open for him. It’s like a dance, how it weaves with yours. This isn’t a time for domination.

You slide your hands into his hair and tug at the strands, swallowing his resulting moan. He seems to know innately when you need air and pulls away, only to come back and run his mouth along your jaw sweetly.

“Such pretty noises,” he murmurs, referring to the little whimpers you let out when he nips lightly at your skin. “Music to my ears, baby.”

If that’s the case, then you can only think he has to be delighted at your whiny moan when he sucks a mark into the pulse point on your neck. Sure enough, he thrusts into you at the sound, hitting your clit perfectly and soaking you further. You want to keep the friction going so you continue the grinding, Steve’s hands fully clutching your hips now to help you along.

Unexpectedly, he stands, bringing you with him. You squeal and wrap your legs around his waist desperately, not really believing he would drop you but feeling a tad scared anyways. He chuckles as he walks the both of you out of the dining room and up the stairs, nudging the bedroom door open with your hips. It’s dark, but the moon is shining in through the open window, creating a soft glow that compliments your boyfriend’s skin and shadows that outline his firm jaw. He sets you down slowly, letting your feet drag down until they softly land on the floor, and once you’re standing securely, he slides his hands up your body until they’re cupping your cheeks.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, and you heat at the praise. He must be able to feel it, burning underneath your skin, but he doesn’t point it out.

He dips in and kisses you again, hands going to the hem of your shirt and pulling it up, up, up, over your head, interrupting the kiss for just a moment and then he’s back on you. His fingers explore the newly revealed skin, caressing it reverently, like you’re made of the most precious substance and might break if he presses too hard. Shivers fizzle wherever his touch goes—across your stomach, over your hips, up your back. He finds your bra strap and unhooks it, moving back a touch so he can pull it off along with his own shirt. He comes back immediately, and you gasp into his mouth as your breasts make contact with his chest hair, the wiry feeling of it rubbing against your nipples deliciously.

You break from his intoxicating mouth to whine his name. “Sh,” he soothes, “let me worship you. My angel from heaven.”

Your heart practically melts at the words and all thoughts of pouting disappear. You let Steve push you backwards and sit you on the edge of the bed. He stands above you, two fingers under your chin to angle your head up towards his. It’s almost impossible to look directly at him, the level of love and adoration in his expression blinding in its intensity.

“Love of my life. Can I taste you?” You nod dazedly at his question, unable to do anything else, unwilling to do anything else. “Lay back for me.”

Following orders, you do so, and he slips off your pants. His fingers stroke down your legs as they go, tugging off your socks as well. He kneels and you prop up on your elbows just in time to watch him bury his face between your legs, smelling you through your underwear. They’re already soaked, but he doesn’t seem to mind: he laps at the wet spot and moans. “Missed this so much, baby. Your taste, your smell. Couldn’t stop thinking about doing this the whole time I was gone.”

His fingers hook into the waistband and drag it down, infuriatingly slow, and you’re thinking of whining again when he licks a line up your slit. The intended whine comes out as a moan instead, spurring Steve on to press into you even deeper. You lose yourself in his ministrations, as he swirls his tongue across your folds and up to your clit. When he sucks it into his mouth, you collapse backwards, unable to hold yourself up any longer during this beautiful torture.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, hand drawing in and rubbing a finger against your entrance. “Let yourself feel it. Feel how much I missed you. How much I love you.”

Your eyes roll back when that finger breaches you, pushing inside and crooking upwards to catch that spot he always knows how to find. “Oh,” you breathe, “finally.”

His lips quirk up and you can tell he must be smirking. “Finally, huh?” You shake your head; he’d misunderstood. “What then, honey?”

“Couldn’t do it right myself,” you pant. “You do it—” your breath hitches as he brushes that spot again, “better.”

“Is that right?” As much as it irritates you, his smug tone is deserved.

“Yes…oh!” You exclaim. He’s inserted another finger, and now both are thrusting inside you, picking up their pace. Little noises fall from you as his tongue flicks your clit in time with his fingers, going deeper with each hit.

“Is my pretty baby going to cum for me?” Steve asks. It’s rhetorical—he can feel you clenching around him, can tell you’re right there on the edge. He knows your body like the back of his hand; he took his time memorizing everything that makes you tick and that knowledge is always tucked away for safekeeping in his head. He’s not in danger of forgetting any of it. So he knows you’re on the precipice. A few more seconds should do it. “Come on,” he urges. “Cum for me, my love. I’ve got you.”

As he suckles your clit, you explode, climax rushing through you like a drug and you float upon it. Your boyfriend works you through it, continuing to curl his fingers inside you to keep you going even higher. All until you’re whimpering from overstimulation—then you think he’s going to remove them. Instead, they increase in speed. You yelp as his mouth dives in again, tongue moving quickly.

“Steve!” You half-shout, eyes squeezing shut as the brilliant torment goes on.

“I know you’ve got another for me, princess,” he says in between licks. “Been wanting to make you squirt again. Got off to the memory of the last time you did every night I was away from you.”

“I can’t,” you cry. You grab his wrist but don’t move it, feeling the orgasm he wants hurtling towards you.

“You can, baby, I know it,” he coaxes. “Gimme another. Just one more and then you get my cock, okay?”

You throw your head back as liquid gushes from you, all over Steve’s face. “Oh, fuck!”

“That’s my girl.” He moves his hand away and sticks his tongue in, gathering up all your climax and swallowing it down, moaning at the taste he’d missed so much. When you’re squeaky clean, he stands above you, and you watch with hazy vision as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and groans in pleasure. “Always taste so good, princess.” You’re so fucked out already that you can’t even feel embarrassed. He wouldn’t want you to anyways.

You weakly lift your hands towards him and make grabby motions. He smiles and does as asked, leaning to hover over you and give you sweet kisses. You wrap your arms around his waist and tug him down, and he collapses on top of you in a huff. You hum contentedly and snuggle into him, making him chuckle fondly and lay on you like a weighted blanket.

“Missed you,” you mumble into his neck, “so much.”

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I said that stupid thing and got you all worried.”

“‘S okay. I know what you meant once you explained. You’ve always been almost a method actor.”

“Maybe, but full method acting is freaky and I’m good without.”

You giggle. “Me too.”

He shifts and you feel his cock on your leg, still hard and without relief. You subtly lift your thigh to rub it and he moans, dropping his head to your shoulder and biting lightly. “Aren’t I supposed to get that now?” You tease. “I gave you what you wanted.”

“And now you want in return?” His tone barely contains the smirk he’s definitely sporting. He lifts himself up to look at you and groans a little at your pleading pout.

“I’ll even wet it for you,” you add while batting your eyelashes. Truthfully, your mouth has been watering ever since he’d first mentioned it.

He kisses you deeply. “An enticing offer that I will take you up on next time, baby. I think I might die if I’m not inside you immediately.” You giggle again as he stands and shucks off his pants and boxers, the sound hitching when his large, red, throbbing cock slaps against his abdomen. He smirks at you unknowingly licking your lips when you spot the precum beading at the head. “Like what you see, angel?”

You nod, eyes still locked on his cock. “Gimme, please,” you whine.

“Anything for you, my love.” He climbs over you again and lines up. Your hips cant forward to urge him on, but his hands clamp down and pin them to the bed. “Gonna savor this,” he murmurs, rubbing his cock through your folds. Electricity bolts through you when it grazes your clit, teasing. His eyes are magnetized to where you’re about to be joined, awed at how beautiful you are for him.

Eventually, his cock notches into your entrance and you gasp lightly. That turns into a drawn-out moan as he takes his time sliding inside, one he matches as soon as he bottoms out. He’s so deep you think you can feel him in your stomach.

Then he’s gone, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in, slow but hard, and your back arches. “So responsive,” he coos, and does it again and again, until he’s moving at a steady pace and driving you crazy. Taking advantage of the leisurely tempo, he ducks his head down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, making you grip the bed sheets with tight fists. He swirls his tongue around, biting gently every now and then to make you jolt against him.

Going so slow grows maddening. “Faster, please, baby. Need more of you.”

“Your wish is my command,” he vows. Soon, he’s moving so hard and fast that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, oddly erotic. You look at him with half-lidded eyes, unable to do anything but take it, be Steve’s little plaything. It feels so good you can barely stand it.

You’re admiring how your boyfriend looks in the soft moonlight, making his eyes shine in an otherworldly way, when he says reverently, “You’re so beautiful like this, sweetheart. Lookin’ like an angel sent just for me. Because you’re all mine, right?”

“Yes, Stevie, all yours,” you moan.

He growls at that, putting his hands on your thighs and pressing them to your chest, allowing him to go even deeper. You keen at the new angle, sound cutting off as he kisses you desperately, and you throw your arms around his neck. He pulls back, much too quickly in your opinion, but you forgive him because he does so to say, “And I’m all yours, baby. You’re the only one for me. Only you make me feel this good. You’re all I think about, all I wanna think about. There’ll never be anyone else, princess. I love you and only you.”

His words push you closer and closer to your release, even more intense than the first two. He knows, urging you on by snaking a hand between your bodies and rubbing quick circles on your clit. “That’s it, soak my cock. Wanna feel you again, honey.”

“Love you, love you, love you,” you say over and over as your orgasm comes upon you. You scream Steve’s name when you finally cum, climax like a cascade, nails dragging down his back like they just might draw blood.

“Yes, angel, I love you too, missed you so much, oh my god, you’re so tight, love you, love you.” He’s babbling, finally cumming too, spilling hot and heavy. When he pulls out, your combined liquid pools out of you, and he groans one last time at the sight. He scoops some up with a finger to taste, eyes closing in delight. He opens them to look at you mischievously. “Wanna try?”

It should sound gross but it’s not. You nod and he repeats his motion. You suck his finger, pleasantly surprised by the enjoyable flavor. But it’s the essence of you and Steve–why wouldn’t it be good?

You must’ve fallen asleep after that, because the next thing you know Steve is wiping you with a warm washcloth, being as gentle as possible. You hum as he pulls the covers over you, but whine when you hear him step away. “It’s okay, angel,” he says softly, “I’ll just be a minute.” You listen to the dresser drawer opening and closing, and then Steve padding out of the room. You doze until you hear him come back and close the door. At long last, he slides into bed and gathers you in his arms. You curl around him like moss on an old building, and he buries his face in your hair.

“Thank you,” you whisper, half-asleep.

“You don’t have to thank me, baby,” Steve replies. “It’s my job to show you how much you mean to me. I love you so much, you know that? It’s the easiest thing to do, loving you.”

“Mm, I love you too.”

“I’m yours for good, angel. And you’re the only one for me. Promise.”

;

“It’s gonna be bright out there, angel, but just keep holding onto me, okay? I’ll get you there in one piece. All you have to do is show off that pretty smile. Sound good?” You nod at your boyfriend, smiling shyly. Steve grins. “There she is. Now, kiss for good luck?” You give him a kiss and then he’s out of the limo. Less than a minute later, he’s ducking back in the open door and holding out a hand for you. You take a deep breath, grab it, and slide out into the flashing lights.

A wall of sound hits you, and you try not to cringe against Steve. So many voices layer over each other, you don’t know what anyone is saying. But you just remember what Steve said and think of him on the night he came home and a smile forms on your face at the memory.

Steve helps you walk carefully down the red carpet, stopping you here and there to pose for the cameras. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you stable and so you can focus on looking natural. “Doing so good, baby,” he murmurs in your ear at one point, kissing your temple. You close your eyes when he does, hoping one of the photographers got a shot of it. You think you’d like to frame that.

Eventually you reach the end of the carpet, and Steve’s agent ushers you two into the building. It’s a whirlwind in here too, but more manageable, loud but controlled. Your boyfriend turns to you. “You okay?”

You sigh happily at the love and concern in his eyes. “I’m good,” you promise, and he smiles.

Someone shouts his name, and you both turn. None other than Nancy Wheeler is rushing towards you, a tall and lanky man being dragged behind. Steve automatically steps closer and holds your waist again, nodding back at his costar but only thinking about how you might feel. Your heart warms at his attention, and you meet Nancy with a genuine smile.

She stops and grabs your hands. “Oh my gosh, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, Steve mentioned you every chance he got. I’m so excited to meet you!”

“I’m excited to meet you too,” you reply.

“This is Jonathan, my boyfriend.” She motions to the boy beside her, who smiles awkwardly and holds out a hand. You shake it, as does Steve.

“Heard a lot about you too, man,” he says to Jonathan, making you feel even better.

“Are you excited for the movie?” Nancy asks, just to you. She’s barely even looked at Steve.

You nod. “Steve says it’s one of his favorites that he’s made.”

“Mine too! It’s such a sweet story. It’ll have you bawling by the end. I hope you brought tissues.”

You peer up at Steve, who had not told you that you were in for a crying fest. He laughs. “Don’t worry, angel. I got some.” He pats his jacket pocket.

Nancy’s eyes are glittering when you look back at her. “We gotta find our seats, but let’s talk at the after party. I have to put a face to all the stories Steve’s told!”

You agree and watch as she and Jonathan walk away into the crowd. You turn to Steve and he draws you close. “Are you sure you don’t wanna just go home and skip this whole thing?” He whines quietly.

You smirk. He’s been asking a variation of the same question ever since you stepped out of the bathroom in this dress—which accentuates your chest and ass “magnificently,” as Steve put it. He’d even tried starting something in the limo, but all that had accomplished was leaving him high and dry after you’d made him keep his hands to himself.

“You wanted me to see the movie,” you counter now.

“Yeah, but we could stream it later. It’s not like I’ll win an Oscar for it or anything.”

You roll your eyes. “You might! It’s prime awards season, babe. And you’ve been getting a lot of acclaim for this role. And you know the academies love a tear-jerker.” He blushes at your argument. “Plus,” you whip out the doe eyes, “I wanna see you on the big screen.”

He sighs in fake annoyance, a fond smile giving it away. “I did say your wish is my command, didn’t I?”

“Yup.” You smile triumphantly.

Steve grins back before kissing you soundly. “I love you, angel.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

He gives you one last peck, and then grabs your hand and leads you into the theater.

[charliehoennam]

Aww I love your writing so much!!!! 🩷🩷 The detective Loki A-Z felt so accurate 🥹 he’s so precious. Can you write something that kind of goes off the jealousy area? Like it’s a coworker who reader gets close with and is honestly clueless to the flirting?

F o r g i v e n

a/n: here you go, nonny! i couldn't agree more. David is my baby and he deserves some happiness and a warm hug

pairing: Detective David Loki x reader

summary: a new co-worker makes a misguided move on the reader and david gets pissed

warnings: language, angst, arguing (if i missed one, lemme know. minors, do not interact!)

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Sliding your legs over the edge of your side of the bed, you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes. David’s on the phone with O’Malley. You already know he’s gotta go into work today.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in 30 tops” he says lowly in his gravely morning voice before hanging up his cell phone.

“I’ll make breakfast” you smile sleepily at him.

You reach out to reassuringly squeeze his arm to let him know it’s alright. He’s already mentally beating himself up for waking you up and not being able to be enjoy his morning off with you as he had promised.

You make your way through the one-story house and head to the kitchen to get his coffee going. You decide on making a hearty breakfast because you know very well David will skip lunch today.

So, you settle for a nice egg, bacon, and cheese sandwich on toasted bagels with cream cheese. You make two for him so he can take one to work and hopefully eat while he’s on the road. You even cut up some bananas, apples, strawberries and oranges to make a little fruit salad.

David isn’t the healthiest guy around, but he deeply appreciates that you care for him and his health. He never really had anyone to care about him – much less his health – so he’ll sure make to eat every bite.

You hear his electric razor shut off after his shower. A while later, he comes into the kitchen with his hair slicked back. His light blue button-up shirt is open, exposing his white sleeveless undershirt. His gold chain dangles and dances around his neck as he buttons the cuffs of his shirt.

You can’t help but smile to yourself. You wish you could stop him and slide his button-up off. You love it when he wears his undershirt and chain around the house.

“Honey, think you can get a ride to work today?” he asks kissing the back of your head as you slice up the fruit.

“Yeah, babe. It’s no problem. I already texted Jared and asked him to pick me up.”

His hands working the buttons closed on his front stop as his eyes narrow in on the back of your head.

“Jared? You already texted him?”

“Yeah. I figured you’d leave before me.”

“Oh…”

You know that there’s something he’s holding back from you. You turn your head to glance at him, hoping to get a read of him as you slide the chopped-up fruit in a container.

“Is there a problem with that?”

You already know the answer to that.

“No. Nothing. Just didn’t know you and Jared were so close already. I mean, didn’t he just start there like two weeks ago?”

His eyebrows rise and his lip press flat as he looks down at his hands, letting them finish their work on his shirt.

“Two months ago, but he was pretty much on his own, so I figured I’d be the first to befriend him. The first weeks are the worst when you start working at a new place.”

“Yeah, I get that. Just didn’t think you were already texting each other.”

“Dave, there’s nothing going on between us if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face says it all.”

You’re slightly hurt that he would think there could be something brewinh between you and Jared. It may come from a place of worry, but isn't that trust is for?

“Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you tonight.”

You nod as you hand him the containers of sandwiches and his travel mug. He leaves you with a kiss on your forehead and you watch him leave, letting the tension hang in the air. You try to put it on the mental backburner as you head up to get ready for your day.

Hearing a honk coming from outside, you look out the window and confirm Jared’s arrival. You grab your bag, keys and phone before heading out the door and walking to Jared’s car.

“Hey, Jare. Thanks for the late-notice lift. David got called in and my car’s still at the shop.”

“You know I don’t mind it at all. It’s been almost a couple days though. Have they given you any updates on it?”

“Something about the starting motor failing. Solenoid damage, I think? They have to replace some coils or some shit.”

“That shouldn’t take more than a few hours to replace though.”

“David says the same thing. He’s getting pretty impatient. Said he’s gonna stop by there today to check up. You know how some mechanics can be when they see a girl with car trouble.” You complete with a roll of your eyes.

“Yeah, some pricks take advantages. I know a thing or two about cars. I’d be happy to look into it for you if you want?”

“Really? Yeah, yeah. That’d be great. I’m gonna wait for David though. He said he’d stop by there today. I’ll give you a heads up though.”

After arriving to work, you head straight for your sector to settle in. You can’t help but notice how kind Jared seems to be towards you in this new light that David casted earlier in the morning.

Jared always offers to refill your water bottle whenever he gets up, always offers snacks, brings you back your favorite coffee or tea after his breaks, compliments your hair or nails or even your perfume. During the whole day, you can’t help but notice he doesn’t treat his other co-workers the same. You begin to wonder if you’ve led him on to believe you’re more than just co-workers or if it’s because he’s new and not very close to the others.

You decide to shake the thought from your head and go on about your work. However, with this new concept in the back of your mind, you start to politely deny Jared’s kind offers. He doesn’t seem hurt by it. A small wave of relief washes over you. Maybe you were just in over your head and overthinking what David had told you.

Around closing time, Jared stops by your station to check if you need a ride home. You check your phone, hoping David texted you with a reply about picking you up, but there’s no new messages.

Your heart sinks a bit. You’d hoped he could’ve at least replied. Is he really that upset with you?

“Yeah, I could use a ride.”

The house isn’t very far. You could walk home, but the rain is already pouring down heavy. And this time of year, the cold winter air is starting to arrive, slickening the streets and sidewalks with ice.

You smile to hide that you wished you didn’t need a ride from Jared. You know it’s not gonna make things easier to deal with at home.

Part of you thinks David is acting ridiculously like a child that's too selfish to share a toy. Only you’re not a toy. You’re a human being and you’re his fiancée. You’re supposed to be getting married.

The other part of you wonders how you would feel if it were the other way around. If he had a new partner on the job and spent hours with her. With everything Jared does for you, would you be ok with someone else treating David the same way?

Trying to settle the internal dispute, you remember that it’s your intentions that really counts. You’re not breaking his trust because you have no intention of getting with Jared. You’re friends and that’s all there is. And you would want David to have a good friend too in your situation.

You walk out together, gabbling on about the day as you climb into his car.

As Jared turns onto your street, you’re laughing over an amusing situation you’d survived in your first week at the company with an unsatisfied client. Jared had had his first unpleasant interaction with a frustrated client. Although he handled it pretty well, he was still a bit disappointed about it.

Grateful the rain has let up, you notice Dave’s car parked in the driveway. Why didn’t he at least text you back if he was home? You feel a slight pang in your chest, but you shove it down as you continue your conversation. Jared knows your line of though has been thrown off and he can only guess it has to do with the black Crown Victoria perched in front of the garage.

“It can happen to anyone,” you say looking up at the tall brown-haired co-worker as he turns the car off, parking in front of your house. You hear a door close from outside and keys jingling, but you don’t think much of it. Most of your neighbors get home at this time as well.

“You can’t please everybody and you have to accept that,” you resume looking down at the dashboard. “You’re not here to please, you’re here to do your job.”

“You’re an amazing person, you know that?”

Something is different about the way Jared is looking at you. It’s intense and you don’t like it.

He leans over the arm rest/storage compartment separating the front seats and places a surprising kiss on your cheek.

You quick react by pulling yourself back and gently push him away with a hand on his shoulder.

“Whoa, Jared. That’s sweet, but i-it’s not like that. We’re just friends. You realize that, right?” you ask frowning at him. “I’m happily engaged.”

“Y-yeah... I figured. I thought I-I’d shoot my shot. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He looks down embarrassed as his cheeks blush a bright regretful shade of red. “I misread things. I’m sorry. That’s on me. I’m so sorry.”

��It’s fine. Just… Don’t do that again, alright?”

“Yeah. Definitely will not” he chuckles nervously. “It won’t happen again. I promise. Just like you said, we’re only friends.”

You’re not really sure how to react. You can tell he feels really awkward about the whole thing, but you just want to get out of there as quickly as possible.

Flashing a shy, nervous smile at him, you thank him for the ride and climb out of the car. You slowly walk up the concrete path, digging through you bag for your keys.

Upon finding them, you look up and freeze.

David is standing in the path, glaring at the young man in the car. As he keeps his furious gaze locked on Jared, his hands move to rest on his hip. Pushing back his black winter jacket, his gold badge and his standard issue gun are exposed to remind Jared of who he is.

You don’t realize it’s a non-verbal threat. You just think he’s pissed judging by the constant hard blinking of his eyes.

“David, it’s not what you th-“ you start only to be cut off.

“In the house. Right now.”

He has a point. This isn’t a topic to discuss outside for all your neighbors to hear.

You walk quietly past him and march up the porch. You leave the door open for him, but he’s not far behind you. Only a couple moments since he’d been staring Jared down until he finally drove away.

The door slams as he enters the house.

“Are you fucking serious? There’s nothing going on, right?” He asks loudly and angrily.

“Yes, there’s nothing going on, Dave.” You say trying to stay calm, unwilling to match his tone. You’d be angry too in his place.

“You expect me to believe that after what I just saw?!”

“Yes, because that’s the truth. I know how that looked like. He thought I was sending him signs of interest. I won’t lie about that. But I didn’t want him to do that. There is absolutely no interest on my behalf!”

“The fucking chicken hawk just kissed you!”

“I didn’t want him to! I told him that! Maybe if you had picked me up from work or at least fucking texted me back, I wouldn’t have gotten in that fucking car in the first place!” you seethe at him.

“Oh, so this is my fault??” he snaps back at you bewildered.

He opens his mouth to speak, but just in that same moment, his cell phone rings. A hushed ‘fuck’ escapes from his lips as he answers the call. You just roll your eyes and fold your arm across your chest because you already know what that means.

The conversation is quick. You can’t tell much; all you know is that Captain O’Malley is calling him into the station.

“We’re not done on this”, he says with a raised finger in your direction and opens the door behind him.

The door slams shut. You close your eyes and lean against the wall, wishing you had never gotten in that car.

Dragging your tired body up the stairs, you make your way to your room. You notice the comforter is rumpled on David’s side along with his pillows. It’s not as you had it in the morning; it was neat and made to look inviting. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. Now you know why he didn’t answer you at first; he had fallen asleep.

You set your bag atop of the dresser that you share. You dig out your phone to set it to charge. There’re a couple unread messages and 2 missed calls; all from David and right around the time you’d left work.

Sorry, babe. Fell asleep and just woke up.

On my way right now!

You feel guilty thinking about how you could’ve avoided the whole ordeal. Now, David is mad at you and you’re mad at him for thinking that you wanted Jared to kiss you.

You head into the ensuite bathroom to shower and let the water wash away the stress of your day. As the warm water pours over you, you just hope this isn’t what ends your relationship.

Once you’re cleaned and a bit more relaxed, you go about the house to start on some of the chores. Deciding on a simple, quick and easy dinner, you sit on the couch to eat by yourself.

It’s been hours since David’s left and you miss him. You just want him to come home, so you can tell him how much you miss and love him.

You look down at your phone. He read your “I’m sorry” text, but he hasn’t replied. You wonder if it’s because he’s busy or he just doesn’t want to talk to you.

Wanting to stay up and wait for him, you start on the dirty dishes and pots in the kitchen. Then the laundry. You can’t stay still. It bothers you too much and you have to stay awake. There’s nothing left to do around the house, so you plot back down on the couch and surf through the channels to try to find something to watch.

It’s around midnight when you hear his car pull into the driveway. You race to the window to look out and make sure it’s him. He looks tired as he approaches the house with his keys in hand. His shoulders are hunched from the weight of the day’s stress.

You stand by the window and watch as he drags himself inside. He closes the door and hangs up his jacket before kicking his boots off. His back is turned to you and he hasn’t seen you yet.

When he does, he gazes at you for a moment. He’s too tired to argue, but he loves the fact that you’re wearing his sweater.

“You hungry? I made dinner. I can make you a plate,” you say softly breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

It’s quiet between you both. It’s a moment of cease fire. The elephant is still in the room, but you know how his weighs heavily on him. Especially with the case he’s working on. You don’t know much about it. David likes to keep that away from you. All you know is what you heard on the news and that there are kids involved. Those types of cases hit too close to home for him.

You leave him to eat in peace and tell him that you’re heading up to bed.

Assuming he’ll sleep on the couch since he must be upset still, you head to the bathroom to have a final tinkle before bed and brush your teeth. You crawl into bed and hug your pillow as you stare at the wall, luminated only by the fluorescent orange light of the street lamps.

Tears prick your eyes. You hate this distance between you and him. It’s ridiculous, but you know it’s not the time for it.

You hear David’s footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hall. The door creaks as he walks into the bedroom.

He goes about his usual routine; set his ring and chain on top of the dresser along with his badge. Then he walks over to the nightstand to open the drawer there. He pulls his gun from it's holster and makes sure its' safety is on. He had set it before already, but it never hurt to double check.

Soon after setting the gun in the lockbox within the drawer, he quietly makes his way to the bathroom. He opens the squeaky faucet and water pours from the shower.

He doesn’t take long. It’s a quick shower to wash his hair and body. He’s too tired to do more than he has to.

You hear him come into the room to grab a pair of boxers from his drawers. He seems quiet and still. Though your back is turned to him, you feel his eyes on you.

He stands still, hands on the wooden dresser as he mentally contemplates what to do. He knows it wasn’t your fault. He knows it wasn’t you who kissed Jared. He saw you pull away and push him back. He knows you didn’t like it or expect it just as much as him.

His head drops and his eyes close. In truth, the time at work had kept him too busy to think about it much, but he did think about you. Part of him felt you were like a victim, caught up in the crime with no fault. The other part of him wondered what could have happened to influence Jared to kiss you.

With a heavy sigh, you sense his footsteps approaching the bed. You expect to feel the wool blanket at the foot of the bed slide off along with his pillow.

To your surprise, you feel the comforter lifts behind you allowing a cool breeze to creep onto your back. Your heart beats faster. The mattress dips with his heavy frame. And you feel an arm drape over your waist.

“You awake?” His voice is a whisper in the dark.

You reply with a nod. You don’t want him to see you’re crying, though you know it’s inevitable.

“Can we talk?”

You quickly wipe your eyes in an attempt to omit the evidence of your pain. Turning onto your other side, you’re face to face. His hand doesn’t leave your waist. You let him slide underneath your shirt to feel your warmth.

“I don’t wanna fight. I don’t wanna argue,” he starts.

“Neither do I, Dave.” Your voice is soft as you reach to tenderly hold his bicep. You want to pull him close and hold him forever, but that might be too much.

“Are you really happy being with me?”

Your heart breaks to think that he feels like you might not be happy with him. You open your mouth to answer him, desperate to chase away his fear, but he continues.

“I know I’m not the best partner. I know for sure I haven’t been in the past. In some relationships, I didn’t even try to be. But I’m trying, sweetheart. I’m trying real hard because I love you and I want to be with you. I don’t know if it’s enou-“

You can’t listen to him anymore.

“Listen to me, Dave. I love you. You are more than enough for me and you make me the happiest in the world. And that’s enough for me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You sure about that?” he asks with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Jared is just a dude I felt bad for at work. I was just trying to be a friend, that’s all. But he misread my intentions. That’s it, that’s all that happened. And I’m gonna distance myself from him because I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

David feels relieved to hear your solution. He didn’t want risk sounding like a possessive jerk and ask you to not talk to Jared anymore, but he likes that you’re willing to make that change willingly for the sake of your relationship.

After all, he can’t be surprised someone else would want to have you.  The minute he met you, he wanted you for himself as well. He’s just lucky he got to have his chance before anyone did.

He smiles tiredly at you and closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Think you can forgive me for being a dick earlier? I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“I don’t know. You might just have to make it up to me” you tease with a playful smirk, getting a low chuckle out of him.

“Whatever you want. Just name it.”

[eoieopda]

Yoongi + “runaway bride” I’mma leave this one up to your interpretation bc I know I’ll love it either way and also wanna see what you come up with 👀

oooooooh!!! v excited by this prompt, lol. this is, um, going to hurt kind of a lot at the beginning, but stick with me!!!! also, i accidentally made this >3.3k words….. which i will proofread when i am no longer exhausted 🤪

the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

ft. POV shift, pining & correlating angst, reader who’s🎵 a runner she’s a track star 🎵, a #nonspon vans product placement, a very unfortunate namjoon (sorry, buddy,) childhood idiots in love

2024 ETA: long after this was written, the user who requested this drabble admitted that they were a minor masquerading as an adult, violating my explicitly stated boundaries re: minors being prohibited from interacting with me and my content. this user has since been blocked.

Yoongi sat in a seat chosen specifically for him not because he wanted to, but because he knew how much time you’d sacrificed in writing every place card by hand.

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours.

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

There was nothing he could do about it, either, so he swallowed that grief with a mouthful of bibim nengmyun. He knew it wasn’t the food that tasted so bitter on his tongue; however, on the off-chance that it was, he followed suit with another ill-advised swig of makgeolli.

During the two subsequent hours he sat and stewed at that table, Yoongi had lost count of just how many glasses he’d had. His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth.

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

Your friendship had started early because your respective mothers had grown up together, and found each other once again as adults with two kids each. Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then.

He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with.

He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around.

At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

Now.

There, while everyone around him clinked their chopsticks against their glasses and Namjoon accepted the crowd’s wordless demand that he kiss you.

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

Yoongi had never been a particularly hopeful person, but buried deep in the back of his brain, there had always been a crumb of it. Part of him, however stupid, thought you’d end up together at a dinner like this. All of this was the last nail in the coffin, the alarm clock screaming that it was time to wake up.

Suddenly more nauseous than he’d ever been before, Yoongi scooted his chair back so abruptly that it scraped along the floorboards. Just as quickly, he got to his feet and made a beeline for the exit. Of all the heads that turned to watch him leave, yours was the only one he noticed in his peripheral vision. He could feel your eyes on his back — pictured how confused you must look — and it only made his stomach acid churn faster.

When he finally made it out to the patio behind the restaurant, Yoongi’s suspicions were confirmed: closed for the season. Fitting. He wasn’t in the mood to heed the signs, so he stepped carefully — one leg at a time — over the hip-high metal gate and gulped down sharp, late autumn air. As he did, he begged himself to get his shit together for you, if not for him.

He spent several minutes out there, maybe even hours, sitting on a bare, metal chair and glowering out at the trees at the edge of the property. He hated himself, he realized, for how easily he wasted time. Let it slip by unnoticed while he stood still.

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

At least, that was his first guess.

Yoongi quickly learned that the clicks weren’t signaling the passing seconds; they were broadcasting the urgent beat of stilettos on brick. So, having figured that his mother had appeared outside to gun him down, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and braced himself for the be-all, end-all of scoldings.

What he got instead was you and the undeserved concern that caused your eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly once you reached the gate. With your manicured hands on the cold metal, you shivered, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Did you eat too much of the gochujang? I definitely did, and now I’ll be up all night with heartburn.”

Yoongi felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. The memory caught him in a riptide, beat him bloody against the rocks because he could’ve sworn he was sixteen again, stacking old encyclopedias under the headboard of your bed. He’d read somewhere online that, while sitting upright in a chair can exacerbate reflux, sleeping at an angle could help.

He was dizzy when he blinked back at you and saw your lips moving. He had to focus hard to figure out what you were saying.

“You remember that?”

Yoongi struggled to even out his breathing; he had no hope at all of finding the plot he’d lost. “Huh?”

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead. “The encyclopedias,” you chuckled, “They worked, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

The two of you stood in tense silence for so long that Yoongi’s soul had nearly ejected itself fully from his body.

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered, “Yoongi, that is not — Why would you —”

As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive.

“Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

Now?

He didn’t know how to respond. He was paralyzed, inside and out, and he deserved it. Who the fuck was he, forcing the burden of his feelings onto you?

Selfish. Stupid. Out of time, as usual.

The makeup you always took so much time on started to run alongside your tears. Yoongi had seen you cry before, though he’d always been the reason you stopped, rather than started. He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

“I’m getting married in the morning!”

Your reminder was a dagger flying out of your mouth, sticking him right between the ribs. It stung as images flooded his mind — of you and Namjoon, your guests, and your out-of-season, imported fucking hydrangeas. It hurt even worse to see how badly you shook as you glared at him.

“Yoongi — fuck!”

Before you walked away, your eyes locked on his for a fraction of a second. In that moment, Yoongi promised himself that it was the last time you’d ever have to see his face.

When you were little, you pictured your wedding day like a moment ripped straight out of Cinderella. In your head, you’d wake up to birds singing at your window and mice scurrying around your feet, eager to dress you in a gown of epic and magical proportions. It’d be perfect. For years, you’d been sure of it.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

You crawled out of bed without the assistance of altruistic rodents and shuffled your dead weight over to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. For once, your imagination had been accurate. Your puffy eyes were red in the aftermath of all your tears. They ached above circles so deep and dark that they would’ve alarmed you if you hadn’t expected them.

Namjoon had seen you at what you both believed to be your worst. Neither of you could’ve ever predicted that the Corpse Bride would be the one staggering down the aisle towards him. He’d love you anyway, you knew it, no matter how you looked. But if he knew what you spent all night toiling over…

You shook your head and abruptly turned away from the mirror. There were several of your dearest friends bustling around the room next to yours, all of whom were waiting on you. Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

You lost all track of time when a blur of hands went to work on you. If you’d closed your eyes while you dissociated, you could’ve pretended that your assistants were those woodland creatures you used to dream about. But you couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t sleep through this part, couldn’t let your mind wander all the way back to that patio.

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

As you sat in that hotel room, far away from the patio, you pictured every other moment you wished Yoongi had said what he did. The thousand times you’d thought for sure he felt the same, and all the ways you distracted yourself when you resigned to believing he didn’t. Every person you dated until you finally managed to move on —

“— please, love?”

You blinked rapidly to force your eyes to focus. In front of you, your mother stood with a knowing smile on her face and a sokchima in her hands. You didn’t need to ask her to repeat herself; you took the hint and rose slowly to your feet.

“I was nervous on my wedding day,” she hummed as she pulled the undergarment gently over your head. “Hungover, too, but your grandmother does not need to know that. Frankly, I’m surprised she couldn’t tell with how bloated I was when she helped me get ready…”

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. This moment should be special, you thought bitterly. All you wanted to do was cry; to apologize to your mother for your total inability to care while your wedding happened around you, not for you.

Soon enough, you were dressed. Your friends and older sister gushed about how beautiful you looked — the perfect bride — like you weren’t caught in the web of an anxiety attack. Like it wasn’t all wrong, and you weren’t dangling on the precipice of your life’s greatest mistake. Like you hadn’t spent so much of your hard-earned money on invitations and greenhouse-grown, special-ordered fucking hydrangeas.

Like you could catch a fucking breath under all the layers of your hanbok.

Sensing that a moment alone was necessary, your mother kissed your cheek and ushered the others out the door ahead of her. Before seeing herself out, too, she stalled in the threshold, turned back around to look at you, and exhaled through a pause.

“I left your shoes by the dresser,” she chirped.

The gentleness of her tone was reassuring, but there was a faint gleam in her eyes that caught your attention. Before you could ask after it, she nodded firmly once and let the door click shut behind her.

Alone again, your instinct was to do the same thing you’d spent ten consecutive hours doing — burying yourself under pillows and crying until you ran out of tears. But you had run out, which was precisely was the problem. You had no options left, nothing left to do but lean in.

At least, that was your first guess.

Your list of choices expanded by one when you saw the well-worn pair of slip-on Vans your mother had set out for you.

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.

Only two meters away, a garment bag hung from the hook on the back of his bedroom door. That bag — and the crisp, black suit it concealed — lingered there for weeks in the shadows, untouched since the day he bought it. Even though it hadn’t left its hanger, he felt it smothering him throughout the night. It choked him while one thought ran circles in his sleep-deprived brain:

The reason he bought it was the same reason he’d never be able to wear it.

Sick of the way he’d trapped himself with his thoughts, Yoongi pushed himself to his feet and crossed over to the door. With the way he flung it open, knob slamming against the wall, he’d likely never recover his security deposit. It felt good, though, taking his grief out on that godforsaken suit.

On his way to his front door, Yoongi stopped short. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cabinet he hadn’t opened in weeks. As he stared at it, the devil and angel on his shoulders warred over the action he wanted so desperately to take.

Sure, he’d recently — finally — quit at your insistence, but what did that matter now?

He gritted his teeth and shook his conscience off his shoulders with a shrug. Within seconds, Yoongi was on the other side of his kitchen, grabbing an unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter that lay in wait next to it. He closed his hand tight around it so he couldn’t see the Hello Kitty stickers you’d placed all over the plastic; your attempt to dissuade him from using it in public.

Joke’s on you, he thought as he placed a cigarette between his lips, your plan backfired. Leaving your mark on it the way you had was the only thing that’d kept him from throwing it away — and the only reason he still had a lighter to use at all.

Yoongi opened his front door with one hand as he tried to ignite the lighter with the other. No matter how many time he flicked the pad of his thumb over those little metal ridges, nothing sparked. Defeated yet again, he slumped down onto the porch swing, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to break down over something so stupid.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed as he sat like that. He had no way to tell who those urgent footfalls belonged to, either. That is, not until panted breaths hit his ears and prompted him to open his eyes.

Admittedly, Yoongi had pictured you in your bridal hanbok more than once throughout the years. Half the time, it hadn’t even been purposeful. From first to third grade, you’d rambled to him about your dream wedding on your daily walks home from school. You spoke about it so often, in fact, that even he started thinking about what embroidery a mouse might add to the hem of your chima.

As the pair of you got older, you brought it up less, so Yoongi didn’t think about it often. The image crept up on him, though, once in a while. Every time you brought him as a plus one to your friends’ weddings because you didn’t want to dance alone; and he nearly told you that he’d always want to be your partner.

Or that time you cried through your worst ever heartbreak on his couch, lamented that you’d die an old maid, and never get to wear one.

Even as recently as last night, when he drank half a fifth of whiskey and grieved over the fact that he’d never get to see you wear one.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the real thing, not with the way you’d doubled over to catch your breath; and bunched the ends up in your fists, presumably to prevent yourself from tripping as you — ran here?

“What did I tell you about the cigarettes?” You puffed, still with your hands on your knees and your face angled at the sidewalk.

Somehow, despite running five kilometers to Yoongi’s doorstep, you hadn’t displaced a single hair from your artfully crafted up-do. Your makeup hadn’t budged, either, which meant that the only sign of your expended effort was the tint of pink on your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait. Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

“Exactly.”

With one last, deep breath, you returned to your upright position. The second you did, Yoongi was the one choking up.

Rapid blinking did nothing to stop the tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t shake the inexplicable flutter in his chest at the sight of you. You’d always been perfect, but this was —

“Oh, my god,” he croaked, thoroughly melted from the inside out.

Yoongi stood before his brain could signal his legs to do so; or remind his hands not to drop the phone, lighter, and cigarettes he’d been holding. His eyes, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. He drank in your appearance like he’d spent the last twenty-two years wandering, dehydrated in the desert — and in a way, he had.

You blinked back at him with swimming eyes as if you’d found sanctuary, too. Suddenly aware of what you were gripping, you opened your fists and let the fabric flutter down to the ground. While smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist, you asked softly, “Not bad for a bunch of mice, right?”

“Look just like a dream,” he replied just as gently.

Yoongi’s hands, which were thankfully now free, reached out and grabbed yours. You followed his lead as he spun you, twirled under his raised arm until you ended up with your face mere centimeters from his.

“Yoongi,” you breathed. Your eyes danced from his, to his lips, and back again. “If you wait another twenty-two years to tell me how you feel, please pick a time and place that is mutually convenient. I swear to God, I’ll —”

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb:

“I love you.”

[krenenbaker]

hi y'all! ♡

sorry for kind of, uh... disappearing the past few days. I'm doing alright, and I'm back! (and will be catching up on what I've missed come the morning - the dawn of a new year!)

I've been tagged in a number of these posts, and I wanted to also express my gratitude to everyone here who has made this past year - my most active year on Tumblr - so very pleasant.

2023 had a number of big life changes for me, as well as a few new wildly intense interests. there was, as my blog title suggests, both comfort and obsession. finding twst and the community here has opened me to so many other interests as well - the Ikémen games, Obey Me!, The Arcana, Black Butler, and a number of others. my interests in paleo- and marine biology have been reignited. and though my obsession with the Six Idiots' creations has slightly waned this year, I am so, so glad to still see so much lovely content about those works on my dash. and with BBC Ghosts airing the FINAL EPISODE this past year, too? it's so interesting to experience all these things on this semi-functional website

and I've met so many fantastic people in 2023, too. I've made some fantastic friends, whom I feel so fortunate to have met. you've made my days so much brighter since I've come to know you!! I hope to have many more laughs and more this coming year with you.

here, I want to thank all the people who have made this year a wonderful, wonderful time, in the various different fandoms and communities out here on Tumblr. I've tagged ALL my mutuals on this blog here - both the ones I consider moots and interact with frequently, and the ones where we simply follow each other, occasionally liking or reblogging posts. each of you make my Tumblr experience special, and I appreciate every one of you. I also deeply appreciate all my other followers, and those with whom I interact. you are all so lovely ♡

thank you for making 2023 a wonderful year. and I hope to see you throughout 2024 as well ♡ Happy, happy new year!!

@gardenghost5, @mission-report-1991, @acrosstheoldstream, @purpleandgreen13, @leftabit-leftabit, @fandomsmeantheworldtome, @love-rats, @mimiii-3, @spectral-rat, @totallymem3, @fluffle-bean, @dove-da-birb, @keii-starz, @sharkinablanket, @kami-kun1003, @azulashengrottospiano, @candied-boys, @inkybloom-luv, @ameleii, @eynnwwyjth, @red-viewe, @crheativity, @xxoomiii, @officialdaydreamer00, @ridorukunmajitennshi, @vivislosingitagain, @v-anrouge, @ithseem, @somany-fandoms-solittle-time, @twstfanblog, @rosehxnt, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @cheezy-moon, @whspermy-name, @xen-blank, @vordysgoingtotherapy, @thehollowwriter, @angelhairpastawithherbs, @jangletam, @haruhar-u, @saint-garden, @moonlitnyx, @hungry-eel, @the-banana-0verlord, @i-like-forgs, @kirans-wonderland, @citrusitonit, @vioisgoinginsane, @shirubiaowo, @underly-niche-joy

I love yas ♡

[upslapmeal]

Boom

So I had vaguely seen things about Moffat coming back, but I'd always interpreted the 'next' series as being... the NEXT series. after the upcoming one. anyway BIG ol' surprise in the opening titles lol

are these those anglican marines back from what?? s5? s6?

....is this a flashback? I think those guys had the same name

we're finding out he swapped a duty and now he's injured

oh wait it’s not a flashback lmao

this is where being bad at faces fails me

is this an american ambulance situation where they cost too much and ruin your life?

ah

they ruin your life in another significant way

‘villengard’ assuming this is pre-bananas lol

*dramatically throws open tardis doors* 'someone needs me!!!'

Fifteen’s theme is so good

Moffat??????? well that explains the anglican marines

Fifteen is excellent at answering questions. shame they're not the questions Ruby is asking

‘one wrong move and boom’ eyy title drop

when can Twelve and Fifteen bond over capitalism and being scottish

‘i’m not even screaming. yet.’ yeah

‘it’s going to be tricky’ ‘it’s going to be a MOMENT YEAH’

gotta think of health and safety at war what can I say! only the finest ventilated air before our ambulances murder you

Ruby on her first planet <3 (though only now after 6 months?? Fifteen you've been slacking clearly!)

‘he was being sMELTED??’ ‘it’s a good word smelted’ 'NOT AT THE MOMENT???’ obviously Fifteen's not having the best time but poor Ruby lmao

‘ooooh I am. havin’ a day 🙃🙃’ never has a Doctor been so me. minus the landmine.

Ruby don’t make the Doctor laugh when he’s balancing on one leg!!

oh man the Doctor really IS having a day

ok those soldiers are definitely not the same guy lol but I could have sworn they had the same name!

‘everything is possible. everywhere is a beach eventually’ RIP Mundy left out of that lil callback to earlier

Ruby grabbing the gun, shooting it and yelling is v much banging the pipes in Space Babies lol

love that her instinct is make noise and yell, think later

meanwhile Splice is chilling with her lil photo album

…did I mishear shoot me little bitch??

oh lol ‘shoot me a little bit'

nooo Ruby!!

‘I can’t think unless I’m talking and I can only talk to you’ oh that is VERY Twelve Clara

and also a lot to put on someone you’ve known for so little time that they’re only just seeing their first planet RIP

Fifteen: do you get it do you get it!! Ruby: 😴

'there are no Kastarions’ big Doctor’s Daughter vibes

Thirteen: have faith!!! <3 Fifteen: >:(

love fifteen giving his big speech with snot running down his lip. giving Nine in Dalek

‘how much of the countdown left’ ‘3 minutes maybe’ I mean you said 5 minutes 4 minutes ago

speaking of which what is the point of assessing for life and having a countdown if it just blows anyway

(to give it flashy lights and features I know)

bud I appreciate the romance going on here but now is maybe not the time

oh yeah very much not the time

…..delighted that Ruby hasn’t been smelted. yet.

(.....also 3 minutes have now passed. where is the boom the title promised!!)

the deaths are stacking up and Splice is just having the best chill time lol

oh the ambulance is the twist lady!

just for the record it took that failsafe 8 minutes to trigger

lol poor confused Ruby. honestly rude to die and miss the action

there’s the closeup from the trailer!!

who knew that serene deep breath came shortly after prolonged near death by landmine

‘he’s not gone. he’s just dead’ <3

‘you keep the faith Splice’ there we go

‘snow isn’t snow until it falls’ maybe it’s just my love for Twelve’s era but I’ve been endeared to these nonsense Moffatisms lol

ok looking at the credits those characters have different names but they're still similar! you can’t have two characters with similar names played by incredibly similar-looking people and expect us to tell them apart??

WAIT HANG ON

varada sethu????? as in new companion???????

is Mundy coming back?????? or is this a Karen Gillan situation?

Really enjoyed this one!! Easily my fave of the first three, very tense and WHAT a showcase for Ncuti!!! Absolute powerhouse. However. On rewatch I really did notice how much Ruby was written like Clara lol. Ah Moff you've got your strengths and weaknesses like us all

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Playground Appropriate

Part of my 500 Follower Celebration set in The Shape of Youniverse

The Prompt: Marc is the best dad ever with Nyla at the local playground

Requested by: a lovely nonnie!

Pairing: Marc x afab!reader, background Steven x afab!reader and Jake x afab!reader, Reader is married to the system 

Spice-o-meter: 🌶🌶🌶, Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.5k

CW/TW: Bosses being terrible, Marc is a booty-ful DILF but reticent about another bb bc trauma, mention of lactation kink and pussy-drunkenness, dirty talk, sixty-nineing so both m! and f!receiving oral, P in V sex, a smidge of over-sensitivity and spanking, daddy kink

A/N: Is the gif shitty and low-quality with a tacky watermark? Yes, but guess what? I DON’T CARE! I made it myself because the video from whence it came and an idea from @lovetopanic that MAJORLY inspired me when writing this fill. To the beautiful little bambina who made this ovary-exploding moment happen, thank you for your service. 

As much as you loved being back at your job, you hadn’t missed days like these. Your and Marc’s plans to take Nyla to the Discover Children’s Story Center were promptly and thoroughly ruined when your boss called early this morning, a Saturday, and demanded you report into the office for an emergency meeting. You were in charge of one of your company's largest accounts, which while it came with lucrative bonuses and more challenging, fulfilling work, it also meant dealing with your superiors’ neuroses. 

Your husband patiently listened to your laments while you got ready to go into the office. You wanted nothing more than to tell them to shove it, but your family was swiftly outgrowing your current place and you needed every penny of everyone’s salaries – yours, Marc’s, Jake’s, and Steven’s – to afford more space in the overpriced and cutthroat London real estate market. 

“We can go another time,” Marc tried to downplay the inconvenience as you finished primping in the living room mirror to look office-presentable and he fed Nyla breakfast. 

“I know it’s not a big deal, it’s just–” you slipped on a pair of loafers and huffed, “--it’s the principle of it you know? Graham and Nigel are both middle-aged divorcees, they don’t have families they care about spending time with, so we all suffer. In-person too.” 

“Which is why you have to hang in there and get promoted so you can change things,” your husband reminded you. He turned to Nyla, “We’ll find something to do just the two of us.”

“You’re right,” you conceded. “But can you blame me for wanting to spend every second I can with this chunky monkey?”

Rather than waiting for Marc’s reply, you peppered your daughter’s plump little feet and legs with kisses in her high chair. She squealed in delight at your affections, flailing her hands in delight and sending her banana slices flying.  

“Thanks,” he harrumphed at the additional mess. 

“Sorry,” you apologized with a kiss to his cheek before you pulled on your jacket and grabbed your bag.

Nyla proceeded to slam the tray of her high chair and shrieked even more when she saw her mom was leaving home without her. Marc knew he’d be dealing with an irate 16-month-old if he didn’t handle this right. 

“Okay, come here little girl,” he freed his daughter from her seat and scooped her in his arms. “Let’s say goodbye to Mommy.” 

They met you in the doorway and your baby’s sweet, cherubic face, currently with banana smeared across it, tugged at your heart strings. You wanted nothing more than to text your bosses to go fuck themselves, how dare they take you away from your baby any more than necessary, but you were tolerating these nightmare men ultimately for Nyla’s benefit. “Mommy will be back soon sweetie, be a good girl for Daddy.” 

“Wave bye-bye Nyla,” Marc encouraged her, modeling the gesture himself. After a few moments of watching her father, Nyla mimicked his wave. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “Bye-bye Mommy, we love you, bye-bye!” 

“Bye Smushy, love you so much,” you waved back at her, swooped in for one last kiss on those chipmunk cheeks, then addressed your husband. “I’ll text you when I’m free, honey.” 

“Sounds good, babe,” Marc murmured and pecked you on the lips. 

Leaving the two of them felt akin to a death march as you exited your building for the Tube. No matter how big Nyla got, you always felt an ache when you left her. Even when she was in the more than capable hands of her doting dad, being apart from Nyla felt as if there was a piece of you missing. It was easier to cope with when you were sleep-deprived or your daughter was driving you crazy, but you and Marc’d had such a lovely morning with her.

***

It was a herculean effort for you to maintain a professional veneer during the meeting with Graham, Nigel, and a few fellow godforsaken colleagues. Thankfully, assuaging their concerns about the account didn't take more than an hour and a half. You just needed to send a few “urgent” emails and then you could return to the quaint, quiet weekend you’d been enjoying with your family. 

You immediately fired off a text to Marc once you left the conference room. 

From me: Leaving here in 10! 

From Hubby: K, we’re at the park. 

Marc was the “coldest” texter out of him and his alters. Steven loved his emojis, while Jake messages were always a mix of English and Spanish with an abundance of typos in both languages. He wasn’t much of an emoji user, though he did love the smirking devil one. It was usually fitting, after all. Boy loved to sext. You’d tried over the years to hammer into Marc’s brain that ending texts with a period meant that you were either angry or a psychopath, but it was a lost cause. 

Today Marc redeemed his unintentionally icy text by sending a photo of Nyla on the swings at Dulwich. You were impressed that he’d not only managed to dress your daughter in an outfit that wouldn’t get her seized by the local safeguarding children board, she sported an actual hairstyle to boot. You detested the phrase, but Marc was blossoming into quite the “girl-dad”. 

From me: PIGTAILS! 

From Hubby: Steven helped with those. 

From me: Well done, you two! See you soon xx 

***

When you arrived at Dulwich playground, you spotted Marc and Nyla before they saw you. You took a moment to covertly observe them, marveling at how attentively the man who was initially afraid to hold his newborn was now playing with his daughter. He followed her every move, steadying her with gentle and firm hands when Nyla needed it, encouraging her the entire time. 

Turned out you weren’t the only one admiring Marc with Nyla. You’d be the first to sing the praises of Marc’s butt, and with him bent over tending to his daughter as she toddled around, you couldn’t exactly blame the mums and nannies that were enjoying the view. 

You approached them before it got creepy and announced yourself with the exclamation, “Is that my big, beautiful girl?!”

“MAMA!” Nyla launched herself at you and you swept her in your arms at once.  You dotted kisses all over her face, and lifted her up above your head, earning a peal of ecstatic laughter. Then, just like that, she was squirming to be released. 

Marc sidled up to you once Nyla’s feet were back on the ground to ask lowly, “Do I get a kiss?”

“Hmm, let me see.” 

He got a kiss alright. One with tongue and that included your hand wandering into the back pocket of his jeans to give one of those luscious ass cheeks a squeeze. Were you marking your territory? Maybe. 

“Now, that was not playground appropriate,” he panted when you broke apart.  

You shrugged your shoulders and answered in a voice that was not one bit repentant, “Oops.” 

“Mama!” Nyla banged on the thick plastic of one of the playground’s slides. 

“Apparently the first fifty times we went down together weren’t sufficient,” Marc observed wryly. 

“Of course not,” you laughed and passed him your bag to hold.  

Twenty minutes with Nyla and all of your work frustration was forgotten. The three of you ended up spending the remainder of the afternoon at the park, stopping to pick up a pizza for dinner on the way home since neither you or Marc felt like cooking. 

Later, your husband tucked Nyla in while you wrapped up a few outstanding emails on the couch. You met Marc just outside of her door and collectively tip-toed into your bedroom.  

“That was impressively fast,” you remarked once it was safe to speak at full volume. 

Marc emerged from the en-suite with his toothbrush in hand. “The playground tired her out thankfully.” 

You sat up on your knees from your spot on the bed. “You can’t blame me for wanting another baby when you’re so good with her.”

You and your husband had begun to discuss Baby Number Two. While Steven and Jake were on board, Marc was the hold out. The last thing you wanted to do was pressure him since you suspected his reluctance was out of lingering fear and trauma from his past. 

“Steven and Jake just want to knock you up so they can milk your tits again.” Marc earned a little shove from you for that statement, but he continued, “Also you said you wanted to be in a bigger place before we had another?” 

You cursed Marc and his stupid memory when he disappeared back into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

He joined you on the bed, and you tucked your fingertips under his T-shirt to strip it off. “How about we compromise then, and you pound that big cock into me instead?”

Your husband groaned, both from your naughty suggestion and the touch of your hands flitting from his chest downwards. “Shit, I hope she stays asleep because I’ve wanted to fuck you raw since that move you pulled at the playground.” 

“Hmmm, I can feel it,” you purred, wrapping your fingers around his growing erection. “Watching you take such good care of our little girl made me so wet.” 

“Lemme see,” he grunted, momentarily removing your hand from his dick to knock you back among the pillows. 

You spread your legs as soon as your back hit the mattress, and Marc wasted no time hiking up your nightgown to get a glimpse of your folds. A low, aroused rumble resonated from his chest at the sight, compelling him to trail kisses up the inside of your thigh.

“This little pussy is always so pretty and glistening for me,” he growled. 

“Marc,” you sighed, your voice thin while he touched you. “Wanna suck your cock.” 

Your husband didn’t have to be told twice. He manhandled you on top of him, leveling your eyeline with his throbbing dick while he lined up his mouth with your entrance, which was currently clenching in anticipation. You drew his length between your lips and swirled your tongue around its head, tasting the salty pre-cum that had begun to leak from it. Marc groaned at the stimulation and sank his face into your pussy in turn. 

Together you made the most divine feedback loop of pleasure, your slurping around Marc’s member, spurring him to lap at your folds all that more enthusiastically. It was nearly impossible to focus enough to apply any technique to sucking your husband’s dick when he was tongue-fucking your hole and drinking down your ample nectar like a man starved. His deep moans reverberated against the wet, sensitive skin between your thighs, bringing you even closer to the orgasm steadily building within you. 

You choked on your husband’s erection when he landed a slap on your ass, then moaned around him when the large pad of a calloused finger found your clit. The extra stimulation, in addition to Marc’s tongue swirling inside of you, is what you sent over the edge. Your eyes crossed, dick still in mouth, as your peak swept your body from head to toe. 

The force of your climax meant you needed to pull off his manhood to get sufficient oxygen into your lungs. Just when you’d recovered enough to resume your worship, Marc tapped your thigh to stop you. Though your husband was usually all too happy to come in your mouth, tonight was different.

“Need your cunt,” he clarified with slurred, pussy-drunk words. 

“Fuck…okay,” you gasped, your voice rough from having your husband’s dick down your throat.

Maneuvering you onto your back amongst the pillows was an easy task for Marc, your body made pliant and prone by the delicious orgasm. He leant down to share an absolutely filthy kiss with you, greedily tasting the tang of the two of you together, before he locked eyes with yours. Only once your dilated pupils had found his did Marc drape your leg over his shoulder and slide home.

You rewarded him with a drawn-out keen, writhing under his dark, suffocatingly hot gaze. He began with slow strokes, grinding himself against your pelvis, luxuriating in being one. 

“So deep, daddy,” you whined. Speared on his cock, your frame convulsed when he undulated against you, since your slit still felt like a live-wire after your orgasm. 

He rocked even more torturously slowly where you were joined, circling those sinful hips so you could feel every inch of him. “You like it?” 

“Uh huh,” you gasped, jerking once again from oversensitivity. 

Your husband transitioned to a faster pace to impale you on his member. His increase in tempo earned a euphoric whimper from you. With no orgasm to chase, you could simply revel in the sensation of his dick filling you over and over, losing yourself in the stretch of your pussy around his thick girth. 

“Yeah…come on, take daddy’s cock,” he snarled as he thrust into you, backing off his ferocious rhythm some. “So fuh-fucking tight.” 

“So big,” you whimpered, pretty sure that you were about a minute away from vibrating out of your skin. 

“No one fucks you like daddy, right?” Marc slowed, waiting for your answer before driving into you any further. 

You shook your head so rigorously, your cheeks collided with the pillow as your neck thrashed back and forth. “Please daddy, pound my pussy!” 

He approved of your response with another growl, “Well, since you asked so nicely,” and resumed a punishing pace. 

From there, it was a blur of the sound of skin slapping skin, Marc’s grunts, your cries, and your husband testing your flexibility by stretching your leg back to get a deeper angle before his hot cum was painting your walls. 

Marc straightened up after emptying himself into you, pressing a small, reverent kiss into the skin of your ankle before releasing your limb. 

Honestly surprised that you could formulate words, you somehow commented, “I know the jury’s still out on a second kid, but you are damn good at making them, Marc Spector.” 

“As are you, Mrs. Spector,” he echoed, collapsing back on the bed. 

He tugged on his boxers once again, and you pulled your nightie back down as you padded to the bathroom to clean and relieve yourself. Marc followed suit, and when he reunited with you in bed, it was important to you to confirm, “Another baby or not, you know you’re a great father, right?” 

Usually Marc would deflect with a (often dirty) joke, but this time, shrouded in the darkness of your bedroom, he replied quietly, “I hope so.” 

“You are,” you averred and snuggled closer into him. “It’s not just me either, the entire female population at the playground was salivating over you playing with Nyla today.” 

“So that’s why you greeted me with that pornographic kiss,” he chuckled.

“You’re mine,” you shrugged, not one bit ashamed of your actions. 

Marc pressed a kiss into your hair, “That’s right, baby.” 

A/N: Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by Oscar Isaac not putting a baby in you 🙋‍♀️ I’m doggedly making my way through these prompt fills, thanks to everyone again for your patience and support! 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi​, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042, @nikitawolfxo​,  @weirdo125  

[gamebunny-advance]

Doodle Dump

Been a while since I've posted a collection of bad sketches. Notes under the cut~

1-2) AC:OS Seals. So, I didn't want to give up on making those seals for you guys even though my enthusiasm for it kinda went away~ The melon soda seal feels like it's missing something, and I think the sea captain seal is giving too much Admiral Bobbery for its own good, so I might redo that one entirely. I don't hate them, but somehow they're not reading as very "Animal Crossing" to me. I think I need to get more creative about the facial features.

3) Pudding. Another attempt of designing Yuru's main mask. I think it's cute, but I'm still not sold on it. I like the colors at least, but I think I want the mask to have a big gaping mouth so he doesn't need to take it off to eat. I'm just having a hard time keeping it cute when the mouth is open.

I dunno if Pudding is gonna be their final name, but I guess it suits them.

4) Kun3h0 ver. 4(?). I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I just can't stop trying to redesign Kun3h0. Lately, I've been thinking that I'd like to try and make her a little less symmetrical for more visual interest. Originally the change was as simple as just adding the gauntlet to one arm (similar to be VERY early iterations of my "vtuber sona" with their one-paw glove), but then I started changing her more, and ended up with this. It's cute, but somehow I think it makes her theming even less apparent XP (her tummy lines were doing A LOT to sell the fact that she's a robot and not someone just dressed in sci-fi-ish gear).

I changed her eye color to green to draw in focus to her face (which is important for a V-Tuber design). Originally I thought I was achieving that by making the hair so much darker than everything else, thus drawing attention to the head, but I think changing the eye color to something unique helps even more with directing your eyes straight to the face.

I dunno. I like it aesthetically, but I feel like I'm losing the story here. In the last design, even though it was kinda generic, just having the clear indicator that she was inhuman did a lot to inform her character, but when I lose that, I lose the one real point of interest she had.

Then again, I've never truly had a good grasp on Kun3h0 as a character, so maybe that's what's wrong. Maybe if I sit down and actually write even a basic backstory for her, then I'd have some more direction besides, "girly robot Y2K inspired game character with a heart/bunny motif".

5-6) P2 Kliff (Banana Split/Original). So, I wanted to make a version of Kliff that fits more into my aesthetics. (Read: I wanted to make him pink). It isn't meant to be a replacement for him, just an alternate palette. In fact, I kinda liked this outfit enough to try it in his original colors too, and I think it works~

However, I dunno if I completely like the Banana Split colors

The outfit is based on this sketch from Kliff's original concept drawings.

I have NO idea what's going on in his chest area. They can't be the buttons on the top because he's wearing a turtleneck (unless it's a vest, and he's seriously wearing 3 layers in this fit). I don't think it's a lanyard because he already has a name tag on his shirt.

So I interpreted it as a necklace. I dunno, I've always felt like one of Kliff's understated traits is that he's clearly fashion conscious given how much he accessorizes and that he has the confidence to even run around in a coat that yellow, so I don't think it's out of the question that he'd wear more jewelry.

[breezypunk]

Thanks for the tag @alphanight-vp ♥

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝑶𝑪 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

⋆𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Vaughn Noel Leblanc

⋆𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: V, Kiddo

⋆𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫: Trans Masc

⋆𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧: Virgo

⋆𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 180 cm (5'11)

⋆𝐎𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Pansexual

⋆𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲/𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲: American

⋆𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭: Mangos, Banana's.

⋆𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: Autumn/Fall, the air is just right, the breeze is cool especially in the badlands. It's my absolute favorite.

⋆𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫: Sunflowers.

⋆𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭: Rain, gasoline, freshly mown grass, mint, burning wood, Goro ;)

⋆𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞,𝐭𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞: Coffee of course, sometimes 5 cups a day (don't judge me).

⋆𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩: Not so much sleep, always tired though. Lucky if I get 4 hours a night.

⋆𝐃𝐨𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧: Cat person for sure, Loki is definitely a blessing in disguise, even if he is a little shit sometimes. Goro pampers him too much, he thinks he has free will haha. (I guess he does)..

⋆𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩: Up in the mountains somewhere, camping, where the sunset is exceptionally golden, where the moon is at it's brightest.

⋆𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭��𝐫: None that I can think of.

⋆𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡: I should sleep with two since Goro hogs it all, and don't let him lie, he definitely steals the entire blanket.

⋆𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: I hate chocolate, I hate candy (except Jolly Ranchers are great), I hate sweets in general.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

tagging @wanderingaldecaldo @gloryride @faepunkprince @wraithsoutlaws @ugh-my-back @drunkchasind @miss--river ♥

[keii-starz]

saw a ton of my moots doing it so y not...

tagging moots so u guys can see it, sooooo srry for the tags !!! (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

@ruggiethethuggie @azulashengrottospiano @lolthia (you don't rlly interact with the twst fandom as much, but I'd appreciate knowing!! :D) @hisui-dreamer @i-like-forgs @twistwonderlanddevotee @eynnwwyjth @crheativity @dove-da-birb @krenenbaker @leonistic @rokrsu @v-anrouge @ceruleancattail @iheart-nene @vtoriacore @silly-ez @jades-mushroom @shkrmpp @fukashiin @rayisalive @xxoomiii @the-banana-0verlord @spadecentral @chocodaffodil @citrusitonit @suiseisyojo @kurukuryu @inkybloom-luv @xphantasmagoriax @saayatsumu @totallymem3 (I hope you're doing well!! :")) @moonlitnyx @hheun @kunehori @red-viewe @angelhairpastawithherbs @officialdaydreamer00 @busycloudy @linabirb @shinysparklesapphires @names-are-dumb (thanks for being a great friend to me in the discord server!!) @minty-bubblegum

I'm sorry if I missed any of u!! :")

[cutegirlmayra]

Prompt Amy is thinking about her friend Gamma. She really misses him and wishes he was around. All her friends try to make her feel better and their antics are enough to cheer her up.

(This is a preview image, it does not belong to me! Support the official artist! (x))

Preview Video for prompt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbtulMhVdq8 and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kEOn7Y6wE5c for reference of English lines, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFjgepflorc for reference of Japanese lines combined with English dub. It was wonderful to go back, I had no idea how much depth was within Gamma’s story, and I’m so glad I got to go back to my roots of character research and discover so much of a profound ‘secret’ almost about him! <3 I combined both the game, animes, and their separate translations to try and piece together a complete story for him. Enjoy~ As I did while writing his beautiful ‘hero’s sacrifice’ story out! What a happy ending he truly had! Though, bittersweet still :)b

Prompts are Shut Down, I don’t know when I’ll ever open them again, it was just way too much. Sorry, Fam :(

Prompt:

‘Excavation duty, again?’

‘Not only was Knuckles all about saving the relics of his people, which, I totally understand that! It’s just…’

Amy cautiously picked up what looked like a disgustingly soggy robotic eye-socket that was in the depths of the jungle, and sticking her tongue out while shaking her head, also shook her hand to dispose of its remnants into a black garbage bag. ‘Why did I have to be assigned garbage duty..? What am I? The cleaning lady?’

She sighed and continued in her labors, growing weary as the sun beat down with no gentle cloud to shelter her at all.

She continued to use her hammer to jab through the debris of vines and mossy flora, hitting and moving it away without trying to cause too much of a disturbance. She had one foot through the figurative ‘wall’ of entangling vines that made her swing her Piko Piko Hammer around aimlessly, letting out small disgruntled sounds of effort and discomfort before falling chin-fist to the fertile green ground.

She looked so annoyed, gruffing out a puff of frustrated air in a growl as she looked up and saw a choir of frogs croaking in amusement at her fumble.

Grumbling with a look of exasperation on her face, she slowly got one gloved hand under her vibrant red and white-striped hula-hooped dress and continued onward.

Stumbling once more over something, this time metallic in nature, and ringing out a painfully high-pitched tone–She caught herself from falling and stared into the void of vast, endless jungle.

A typical girlie-girl may be done by now… but Amy Rose wasn’t one to easily give up.

‘After all our many adventures… I’m not gonna let this slow me down.’ She kicked whatever was behind her, hearing the tone again, as the frogs on the swerving tree branches above hunched down in precaution at its strange ‘cry’.

Their big ol’ eyes blinked in intervals, and one dared to croak his nerves.

She got up, dusting herself off again, then gave up on tidying herself up when she knew she’d be stumbling about–picking up Eggman scraps from his abandoned robots anyway along the way–and turned to gasp at what she discovered.

It… looked like the haul of a large ship! Just one section of it, torn so fully it appeared to be peeled like a banana!

“What on..? Oh!” She put a hand up by her mouth as she looked to see Eggman’s insignia… “The Eggcarrier!? Is this where it’s been rotting the whole time!?” She took trepid steps around the flattened metal she had tripped over, before seeing the large gaping ‘cave-mouth’ of its haul… darkened but covered with vines to shield the light.

Squinting, she moved the vines out of the way and cried out in alarm as she stepped back while many monkeys and other Flickys of differing species all hopped, leaped, or flew out of the space. “Ahhh!!!” Her eyes went small as she covered her head and ducked.

After the chaotic common finally quieted down, she peeked up and looked around. “Phew…” She put her hands to her chest, smiling somewhat. ‘Looks like it’s been deserted for ages… I don’t think any robots are still actively patrolling it.’ She concluded, and headed on into its hollow basin…

She called it that, because she could hear running water, and stepping further within, she looked down to see splashing water from her footfalls. “... Did it crash to create an unnatural waterfall?” She looked to the side, remembering seeing a large water pocket traveling down in a couple of diverging streams from the cliffs and mountains up ahead…

‘When it crashed here, it must have disrupted the local ecosystem… then seemingly became apart of the landscape over time.’ She concluded, seeing how there were birds nests and grass sprouting through the crevices below her… maybe even natural ways to clean the water by the looks of how clear and reflective the water appeared to be.

‘The cycle of life… Eggman’s destruction… to nature’s remedies…’ She looked in awe, seeing how the whole of the ship was transformed by nature taking over, ruling in its rightful place among the gorgeous jungle peaks and flat lands.

‘Swampy… muddy… but at least it’s my home.’ She gave a small smile to the side of her, ‘I’m proud of you… Mother Nature.’

She continued to compliment its small takeover of Eggman’s ugly mug with vines hanging like tapestry before her foot naturally hit something on the ground below her.

“Hmm?” A black rock?

She narrowed her eyes… “Hmmmmmmmm….” She flexed out her black garbage bag’s opening. “Em-hmm..!” She figured she knew what this was. Scrap to heap away and clear from the area. Tails was looking for any information he could gather for his research into how Dr. Eggman’s scientific genius has evolved over the years, plus with the restoration aspects, it was also Tails’s humble way of contributing to predicting Eggman’s next technological threats.

‘Smart, but can anyone really study Eggman’s erratic behavior and perceive into the mind of the insane?’ She casually quipped, smirking at her own insult humor towards him, but as she brushed the dirt and grim away…

She gasped again,... She had seen this robot before.

‘What was he called..? Beta..?’ Her eyes flashed with recognition.

She dropped the garbage bag and hurried to the other ‘large boulder rock’ beside it.

Tearing through the rubble of pebble, the drapes of leafs, and ripping off and through the strangling roots of nearby shrubbery… she found him.

“Oh, Gamma…” Her eyes welled up, she was so new to learning robots could feel back then… or at least, understand and compute emotions… Their AI beginning to advance beyond Metal Sonic or even Orbot and Cubot… predating those two, of course, but still…

She had her hands drop the thriving green vines from her hands, falling to her knees.

In the roar of the waterfall, the chaotic cries of the living jungle life, and that shallow wind that moved through the hollow mouth of this wrecked, mobile spaceship…

She grieved once again.

Her nose sniffled, and she used her hand and arm to try and clear it from the swelling of emotions…

She reached down and began to try and drag the empty vessel that once held a truly noble, brave, and heroic heart… but it got snagged on something.

‘Hmm? What could that be?’ She thought it another vine, gently lowering the fallen soldier and moving away further obstruction of leaves and dirt to see… his hand was still holding his brother’s.

“Ohhh…” She covered her mouth, “I can’t leave you all… can I?” She looked to Gamma, “They’re as much a part of you as Lily Bird’s family was apart of each other…” She gently looked at the rusted metal… seeing absolutely no life.

Puffing up her cheeks, looking in her defiant and signature look, she mimed rolling up her nonexistent sleeves and heaved and ho’d!

She found all four of them, as well as some other useful bits she put in the garbage bag, and made her way back to Tails’s workshop.

Understandably, she was exhausted, and Tails was equally shocked.

She explained herself, huffing and puffing in her efforts to preserve their legacy, she asked if Tails could look at a memory chip she had found in Gamma.

“It’s pretty badly burned… do you think it’s… melted all his memories away?” She put her hands together, as though to pray there was still something remaining of him… a memento even, of his brave deeds.

“Hmm…” Tails didn’t have a connection to Gamma like she did, but one couldn’t possibly fathom her dismay when he put his thumbs against the opening of the gaps, and cracked it open like a disc.

“AHHH!!” She shrieked, “Tails, why!?!?!”

“Calm down, calm down..! Look! Hehe~” He leaned back, worried she would retaliate, but sweatdropped sweetly at her care for the old robot. He smiled sheepishly, hoping she would let him explain.

Inside, he turned the opened case to reveal a circuit board, shining and golden… it had remained untouched… unsoiled by the long years of wasting away in the jungle… perfectly preserved within it’s metallic, rusted case.

“No damage. I can boot this right up to my computer and you can access the memory files!” He cheerfully comforted her, as her eyes shook with twinkling delight at the prospect of seeing his story through his own eyes.

“Oh, Tails… Don’t scare me like that.” She smiled warmly, walking into his garage with her hand over her heart, trying to slow it from its panic, and sat in the swivel chair.

“I’ve got all your useful pieces to look through from your excavation site. So you can sit back and relax for now. I promise, I won’t scrap Gamma’s brothers.”

She nodded, “Thank you, Tails… I know this sounds kinda selfish…” She worriedly raised her shoulders, a bit bashful.

“Not at all!” Tails readily replied to comfort any of her fears. “He must have meant something to you. I vaguely remember you stopping Sonic from destroying him… So… Yeah! He’ll be all yours, okay?” Tails held up a finger to his mouth, then waved her off after traveling briefly down memory lane.

Now it was her turn… to take a longer, scenic route through it…

She clicked to open the file through the mouse, and selected the first folder.

From what she had gathered, Gamma saw how hard his teammates had tried complete their tasks, only proving that every effort was ‘useless’ if it wasn’t done ‘correctly’.

Having no concept of fear, he continued on, before seeing what became of those who were considered ‘useless’ to Dr. Eggman…

Why did he have to go through that wrong door? And why was it so hard to hear this Pink Hedgehog’s words?

Once he took what Eggman wanted of the Flicky, her and the Bird would be… disposed of.

Was there truly programming outside of direct orders from ‘Master’?

Amy watched as he continued to question his existence, on if things really needed to be done for ‘survival’ or simply because ‘useless things’ had a right to exist too?

Upon deleting his programming, and rounding up his tossed friends, he never had any concept of what fueled him onwards other than the right to live… freely.

All things as they should be… all those Frogs were beautiful and cool, like his friends had mentioned… Friends… Sonic stopped his programming, which was to destroy robots, and listened to the pleading of the Pink Hedgehog… his friend.

Gamma then realized, during the last fight with his ‘brother’ in arms, that even he couldn’t survive… if what he now believed was true, then all creatures needed a ‘guardian’, like Chaos, to protect their existence no matter how ‘useless’ they appeared to be.

Because all things had a purpose, simply to live without ‘Master’s.

Beta had been transformed into what Eggman saw as ‘more likely to be useful’, which Gamma found disturbing. It was equally as brutal as fashioning him into another ‘being’, and he was uncertain if he could save his ‘friend’ any longer.

When he beheld that tiny Bird pleading with its eyes, something fluttered within him… he figured an awakening to humanity, but it was so much more than that.

He could feel that same fluttering within his metallic core for Beta, which wasn’t fully felt with the other E-Series… He had… some connection to this machine. To this… friend.

He had to fight him, but he didn’t want to destroy him.

All his attempts for Beta to change his programming, like he had, were in vain.

When Amy stepped in, during when he felt this first direct connection with the Birdie she titled: “Lily”, she had stated that the creature wanted the best for him.

‘Best’..?

Was this that feeling? He wanted the ‘best’ for Beta? What would that be?

If he destroyed Beta, would that be the ‘Best’ he was looking for?

If he kept Beta operational, but still defeated him, Eggman would likely tear him apart again, or discard him like the others…

That, he knew, was not the ‘Best’ he wanted for him.

When he battled other Eggman robots, he noticed that Flickies would emerge and pop or fly out of them… He had computed that the Flicky inside him, must have some connection to both “Lily” and Beta.

He computed, during that awful fight, that he–as well–must be destroyed.

Thus, can all their ‘Friend’s truly survive.

Amy watched as his resolve was absolute, and he was prepared to sacrifice his own robotic existence to save the “Lily Friends”.

Amy began to have tears well-up, seeing how hard he fought Beta, and how determined he was to protect and save his friends…

A true heroic act of bravery, a ‘friend’ indeed…

She wiped her eyes, believing she would have done the same if the truth had been presented to her in that fashion.

She had no idea… how much she had influenced him, to rebel against his programming like that… to see and reflect on the true meaning of ‘life’.

His experience with the spirit of Tikal led him to wanting to free the defenseless animals, and fight for those weaker than he.

Amy had called him a ‘Bully’, and he designated that title to Eggman, which she again cried over and had to collect herself to watch more files.

The memories of the Flicky within him stirred… Things his supercomputer couldn’t compute.

He had tried to survive… to work towards a good goal… But he found something greater in sacrifice, allowing another imprisoned life to continue on.

She only looked up when she heard the scratchy vocal recording of her voice,... she was so young back then.

“Stop it!” the tape played with greyish, frizzing lines upon the computer, showing the memories were somewhat decaying from time… “You both are..!”

‘I KNOW, PINK HEDGEHOG.’ Gamma had said in his mind, ‘WE ARE… FRIENDS.’

“You’ve done so much for Lily and me… You were able to save them, thank you!” 

He willingly held his ‘brother’s hand… as the world came down, and their bodies exploded to open up a way for the Flickies to return to their ‘Family’, a concept he knew nothing of.

Except… by the memories… of his now freed Bird.

Amy shook to her core, realizing that after the explosion, even after the Flickies had left, he still was functioning enough to hear her last remarks…

She covered her mouth.

“We’ll be friends from now on! Oh, Mr. Robot… I’ll never forget you.”

How long..? How long had he been ‘functioning’ to hear her..?

Waiting in that jungle of rubbish… just… waiting for someone to find him? His friends?

“Now you and your brother can live together again!” Her voice on the machine recording was too much… She got up, putting her hands on the console of the computer’s keys, and realizing she had accidentally ‘abandoned’ the robot, not realizing he was still desperately hanging on to what little power he had left… what little ‘life’ he still retained…

The sad but poetic tale sent her into a spiral, before a chirp came at the top of the garage.

She looked up, her eyes widening.

A single pink bird..?

It seemed to almost smile in empathy towards her… how long had it been perched there..?

Later, Tails had tried to comfort her, but she begged and pleaded for him to try and give the robots a second chance. “Maybe… they could be assistants?”

“Robots? Working for me?” Tails kinda chuckled at that thought, “What am I? The ‘Good’ Doctor?”

As Amy leaves for her own home, Tails sees the same Pink Bird fly over to land on Gamma’s remains, smiling to him as well, flapping his wings as though showing some familiarity to it.

Tails’s eyes squint, but he puts a hand up to his chin and smiles, deciding on something…

Later, Sonic surprised Amy by saying they were going somewhere. Thinking it a date, she got dressed up only to be rushed to Tails’s place, which made her a bit disappointed before seeing him open the garage, going–”Ta-dah!!!”

Overjoyed, Amy scrambled out of Sonic’s arms, and raced up to the E-Series Robots.

Flickies were gathered all around them, as though they were their new guardians, as Gamma held his gun to in his arm, pointed to the side and away from her, and looked down.

“GREETINGS, TINY PINK HEDGEHOG… AMY ROSE.” He… He knew her name, now…

The Pink Flicky chirped in a beautiful cascade of notes, flying up in a spiral with fluttering wings as though to say, ‘Surprise!’ as well.

Amy leaped up to Gamma, as Sonic rubbed under his nose…

Thanks to Amy, he knew not all robots were meant to be seen just by their surface levels… Though, it didn’t mean he’d stop smashing them to get to their ‘Flicky Hearts’ inside..!

But… Seeing how she embraced Gamma’s resurrection, and how she shook each of his friends hands… He smiled.

He put his hands on his hips, as a Lily Bird landed on his shoulder, chirping and fluttering her wings before nudging his face with her beak, as though nuzzling him.

He winked towards her, “It’s nice… to not have to say goodbye, isn’t it?”

He looked out at the happy picture again, seeing Lily Bird fly back to the Pink bird and their friend to make a trio of Flickies, flying to cover Amy with greetings as well.

“... A hero deserves… a just dues ending.” He relaxed on one leg, letting his other arm dangle down… Giving Gamma his happy ‘hero’s ending…

[rollercoasterwords]

Ok this may come off as ramble-y but i just wanted on come in here gush abt how much I love your fics!! I'm a big fan of atyd so intially that's how i found your work -- through Sirius' perspective -- and i loved that shit (dare i say more than the original,, they're both amazing ofc I'm just biased coz Sirius is my fav character). I come from a super religious/conservative background and I have never related so much to a character with internalised homophobia -- like the resemblance was a little uncanny ngl lol.

But yeah,, than i read 'thtf' becoz i was craving some lesbian fics (coz the marauders' fandom is in a lesbian drought let's be real). And it was so good and i absolutely bawled my eyes out. You're writing i think especially shined in this fic and i remember i would go back an reread pages because they we're so beautifully written lol.

And then i read ur cowboy and zombie au fics (even tho I don't really ship jegulus/marylily) but they were still amazing and so, so fun!!

My favourite fic of yours by far tho is ur most recent fic, 'As the Worm Moon Dies'. I'm a sucker for fics that expand on the world-building/magic of hp because i feel like there is so much missed potential in the og hp series due to jkr neoliberal centrist politics (gag). I loved how u depicted magic in series as more of a spectrum and how every human has the capability for it. I loved how u described the elves and their enslavement becoz holy shit is that a horrible plot point in the og series (dw!! they liked being enslaved!!). Sirius as a death eater is so weird becoz canon sirius would never -- but it also shows just how much of an influence James and subsequently the Potter's had on his life. Ooooh also don't even get me started on the werewolf fighting rings and the hypocrisy of pureblood societies its absolutely so fascinating to me!! Ahh i've reread it so many times already lol. (and obviously, the wolfstar is *chefs kiss*)

I love ur writing so much i actually started reading the captive prince series solely so ic ould read ur fanfics on it lmao. (up to book 2 -- so far very interesting -- and wondering what Laurent's perspective could possibly contain).

Honourable mentions to ur nobleflower and emmary fics because they were awesome and ur characterisation of emmaline as a butch aloof lesbian is now absolutely cannon to me!!

Anyways sorry for rambling so much i just needed to fangirl about ur works!! I just wanted to thank you for all the time you put into them and your services to the marauders fandom. Oh, and if you ever published a book one day i would read it no doubt.

aww thank u 🥹 this is so sweet it’s always crazy 2 remember that there r like…real live actual people out there who r resonating w the things im writing etc so i v much appreciate the kind words 💕 also reading captive prince just 4 the laurent pov fic is crazy lmao but i hope u enjoy the series…book 1 is rough but book 2 will start bringing u back and book 3?? bananas….

[chryblossomjjk]

bts fic recommendations | 01.10.23

→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren't i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs

pina coladas (pt 1 + pt 2) - @han-nah-banana (jjk x reader | established relationship, smut, angst, fluff)

ok so um... the attention to detail is off the charts! like when the little things you mention about jungkook and oc, like them eating healthy foods, only having sex in the missionary position, etc. tells us so much about them and the status of their relationship. like you showed us that they were stuck in a boring, mundane relationship through little hints and i really love that. ALSO POV SHIFT IN PART ONE WAS SO GOOD! like the way their thoughts mirrored one another was such good storytelling ugh!!! also think you picked a great setting for this type of story, the 80s. it makes everything feel so real, like the sexual repression oof! so glad they got to bang it out in the sexiest way in pt 2! really really good for your first fanfic like WOW! loved it!

i can do better - @here4btsfics (pjm x reader | fwb, smut)

summary: your boyfriend of two years just dumped you and you’re angry and sad. so get hammered with your coworker at his place and eat bad food and watch trash tv which leads to some interesting conversations.

bro all you did is enforce my delusions that irl men cannot compete bc they are not park jimin. men should apologize for not being park jimin at this point. even kim taehyung... anywho lmao. DUDE and then oc listing all the things perfect about jimin. she is just like me fr!!! also like this is kind of how i picture jimin in real life ngl. THAT MAN IS A COCKY CONFIDENT DOM I WILL ARGUE THIS SHIT UNTIL IM BLUE IN THE FACE GTFO! and miss oc... no strings attached girl??? A WHOLE BLUFF. honestly, this entire fic is one of my daydreams when im in a lecture and i fucking loved every second of it bby! so so good. so glad you decided to start writing again, extremely proud of you.

darksided - @eoieopda (myg x reader | established relationship, smut)

summary: min yoongi adored you. he'd simply never hurt you.

i saw someone post about smut where the characters are so grossly in love is their fav genre. this is exactly that. this fic encompasses everything i love in fanfic. i felt like a fly on the wall, being dropped into the middle of the situation where i figure out who the characters are through their actions, words, etc. you do that so perfectly here. like the way i know everything i need to know about min yoongi through the FUCKING setting?? naur this is s tier writing right here. also there's just something you do with words thats v magical. can't put my finger on exactly what it is but here is an example:

"a quick survey of the landscape before you indicated that this was a criminal oversimplification."

LIKE IDK JUST SOMETHING ABOUT HOW YOU STRUCTURE SENTENCES IS GENIUS! like cannot even begin to describe how good this was. would die for this couple honestly. the smut had me clenching too OOF. so cool to see what you've accomplished on this platform in such a short period of time! it's so so deserved and i can't wait to see where you go from here. don't know how you can even get better than this like ur already at the moon um!!! but god it's only going to get better from here. like next thing u know u'll be a famous writer fr. wishing you nothing but the fucking best!!!!

[thegeminisage]

it IS tng update time. saturday we watched "relics" and "schisms" and last night* we did "true q" and "rascals."

*times altered bc as usual im typing this up late at night

relics:

oh boy. ohhh my god

so like, i'd like to preface this with: i am not a scotty stan or anything. don't get me wrong i love the guy and i'm fascinated by the way he tricked me into thinking he had all ten fingers. like he's v fun and all. but im not like Extremely Emotionally Invested In Scotty. all right. that said

I CRIED. LIKE A BABY. no one was more shocked than i was. actually i'm sure catherine was not shocked at all

i didn't cry when he first showed up which is what i suaully do when i see spock. no, no, no, no. it was when he went to the holodeck and created the fucking BRIDGE OF THE ENTERPRISE. and they played the main theme!!! the sound effects were even the same!!!!!!! and like all his friends are dead now except spock and bones and bones frankly has one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel!!!!!!!! I'VE NEVER BEEN SO UPSET IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

chronologically, this is also the last time we'll ever see a tos cast member coming back to reprise their role except for aos spock and um. an appearance which i do not wish to discuss now or ever. anyway it's definitely the last time in tng proper. and like yeah we have aos and snw and everything but those guys arent the OGs. AUGH.

also wah him saying the doctors are prettier on this enterprise. thats SO MEAN TO BONES………………….i miss him so bad and he's WAY prettier than beverly sorry beverly

i definitely wanted to kill geordi for yelling at scotty when he tried to tell his old man stories. im glad they hung out for the rest of the episode and that geordi treated him really niceys but it still felt a teensy bit patronizing of him at first like he was just doing it because picard told him to make scotty feel useful

THAT SAID. for once, i am pro picard, because picard is a giant nerd and he wanted to listen to scotty's old man stories as much as i did. not that i got to enjoy them while being blinded by tears. i'm actually genuinely tearing up right now while typing this just thinking about it. i think it was genuinely compassionate for picard to want to give scotty something he could genuinely help with in a way that WASN'T patronizing. like old people are just regular people you know. we all get old one day if we're lucky

spotted scotty's missing finger twice, which is two more times than i spotted it in my original watch of tos.

he remembered how to hide the missing finger (mostly) but forgot how to do his fake scottish accent. in his defense it's been ages and he was old but it was still funny

synthehol is wack. it's just another way in which there's no work-life boundary in tng. you're always on call, so you can never get drunk. you will NEVER have personal time aboard this ship. they can call you in your son's parent-teacher meeting. they can call you during birthday parties. you cannot raise your children here. but they do. anyway.

IT'S GREEN!!! i remember seeing a gifset of data floating around saying that to somebody, and then later i saw a gifset of scotty saying it in tos, but i didn't realize data was talking TO SOCTTY i thought it was just a reference!!!!!!! there were actually sooo many tos references in this episode, i was so pleased to hav caught them all <3

looooooved the dyson sphere. that was genuinely so fucking fascinating and it was the b plot!!!!! why can't it be the a plot!!!! it was so cool looking

i thot for a sec they were gonna kill scotty at the end and got REALLY worried but they didn't and he decided not to retire after all and good for him <3

anyway. that cry felt like a full-body workout. horrific.

schisms:

OFF GOES RIKER TO THE COFFEE SHOP

i waited so long to see the episode that gifset is from and it did NOT disappoint

my one sour note re: this ep was the beginning with data's poetry. can we please be nice to him and not loudly fall asleep in the front row. i know the circumstances are highly extenuating. i of all people understand sleep deprivation, which i am currently experiencing even as i type. but that was just rude!!! could he not have simply explained he was unwell and unable to attend!!!!!!! the crowd being restless was terrible. if you simply tell him that he has to have a limit on his poems he would understand. i'm glad geordi was an honest critic when data asked later but i would have liked to see data's results after incorporating his feedback. ok anyway

firstly, i loved when a little guy is sleep deprived. it was great when sam winchester did it and also great when riker does it

SECONDLY, that whole sequence with the table was fucking insane. everything getting darker and darker both literally and metaphorically and deanna starting to look uneasy near the end and riker's eyes being ABSOLUTELY HAUNTED and that table was basically like a chair, anyway

when they were like "yeah the aliens cut off your arm and reattached it" READER I HOLLERED. you can't just put a guy on a chair and tear his arm off and then make him forget stuff. please. it's been nearly 10 years.

when he's like theyre gonna take me again whether i want them to or not. yeah man they sure are. this isn't quite riker roulette but it is definitely adjacent

i think the best cure for insomnia is to be absolutely terrified of going to bed because you're still in uniform and have a tracking device on you because you are about to get abducted by fucking aliens. who could resist sleep after that.

i did wonder why he laid on the table so long before attempting his escape when time was precious but i doubt i could have done any better in his shoes. i sure did love the way that knife thing hung right above his neck though. i'm pretty sure we spent that entire scene hollering DISMEMBER HIM. TRAUMATIZE HIM!! and then they didn't <3 but i'm not even mad about it

anyway. 10/10 episode they need more space horror in star trek bc it's always fun. i remember reading that tos was originally meant to be space horror-y, but i found the pacing of those earliest episodes waaaay too slow. i want a star trek show with more dismemberment though.

true q:

mistakenly thot this episode was named qpid (got it mixed up) and was hoping for more of q wanting to fuck picard to so bad it makes him look stupid but all we got was one little arm around his shoulder. which was REALLLY funny because picard instantly made a face like he'd eaten sour lemon but we deserved more. to reiterate i do NOT want them to fuck i think the dynamic of q wanting to fuck and picard preferring to die first is the funniest possible set of circumstances

instead, q constantly displays predatory body language towards this EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. he leans really close to her and whispers in her ear and all that stuff and i did Not like it

i kept waiting for this girl to secretly be his child, or for her parents to have once been friends with him, but they literally were just randos to each other. disappointing, especially after he vanished while she was having her emotional moment on seeing their faces

where do the puppies go when she vanishes them? do they cease to exist?? did she just kill 12 puppies on screen???? too horrible to contemplate. i wish i could make kittens out of thin air though. actually that would be a terrible power the world is overpopulated with kittens as it is but STILL.

i want to know more about the weather altering net. we could have an entire episode about that alone. you just...got rid of tornadoes? and forest fires? did you fix climate change??

riker almost being killed by an empty barrel sent me into fits. they didn't strap them down after what happened to worf? this spaceship gets jostled horrifically EVERY EPISODE. what are they thinking!!!!!!!!!

RIKER ROULETTE STRIKES AGAIN. her bringing him to the alternate dimension and trying to lay on the moves was bad enough but using her powers to MAKE HIM START KISSING HER? HELLO???? i'm still mad they wrote an episode about rape and just used it for deanna fetish fuel instead of actually discussing what this poor guy goes through. why is it somehow ok/not noteworthy when it's men. come on now

it was kind of silly to have this girl go "no way im a human forever" and then immediately solve climate change on this other planet because her lil crush (/VICTIM???) was down there. like that was so rushed and weird

ultimately not a very good episode. i only like one thing about q and they did NOT deliver. he was also a misogynist to beverly once...like, die

rascals:

this got a 1 on letswatchstartrek.com and i simply disagree. i would have given it a 2 or mmmaybe 3. well no probably a 2 but STILL. first of all, tng's children are ALWAYS charming, and these guys were no exception, save possibly the kid who was playing picard, who was fine until the tantrum scene/riker's son bit, at which point i wanted to die

i never want to hear riker say daddy again.

i HAAAATE the ferengi theyre racist theyre misogynist i HATE THEM.

i felt like there was a missed opportunity with obrien and keiko to have him be cool about it, instead of awkward like everyone else. like i obviously dont think they should be canoodling or anything, gross, but there's nothing wrong with a little platonic compassion. he got there in the end ig but idk it would've made a nice contrast

how old is their fucking baby??? i just looked it up and she was born at the beginning of season 5...her ass is NOT old enough to be talking yet let alone full complete clear sentences??????

anyway speaking of compassion............GUINAN AND RO

i actually unironically loved ro's little arc here. anyone who had a shitty childhood will tell you they'd cut off their arm before going back, but she had to go back anyway, and guinan neither pitied her nor minimized anything she'd gone through. instead she got to occupy that space in a totally harmless way and receive a little closure. while the rest of this episode was okay-ish to maybe less than okayish (i NEVER want to hear riker say daddy EVER again) ro's little bit was so so so good.

re: ro...i love that we don't constantly bring her past and situation up as if it's the only thing about her but nor do we shy away from it and how it's shaped her and the narrative has never once suggested she's too harsh or too angry or whatever. of course with a season and a half left there's still time to ruin it but so far her whole thing has been one of the very few instances where tng is doing everything wonderfully.

NEXT TIME: "a fistful of datas" (noooo it's a holodeck episode) and "the quality of life."