#that’s just weird. you’re being weird man.

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[latenightdaydreams]

WereWolf!König x New!Girl Pt2

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, forceful, transformation, oral

1.7k word count

🐺

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The very next morning, König wakes up feeling invigorated. There is a peep in his step as he jumps out of bed, your scent lingers on his body. He can’t control his thoughts about you. The simple fact that he can’t be there with you right now is driving him insane. All he wants to do is rub his hands over every single inch of you.

While he usually only goes to the market once a week, he has to go back. Going straight to your home would be too obvious; too weird. The day seems to drag on until it’s late in the afternoon. He showers and quickly gets dressed to rush to the store.

You’re physically at work, but mentally miles away. On the side of your neck is a thick layer of make-up, hiding the bite marks from last night. It’s been a slow day so it’s easy to get lost in thought. When you squat down to restock, you feel a stinging pain shoot through your vagina. You tore, badly. As your eyes stare off into the distance, you accidently place toilet paper in the wrong spot.

“Y/n, hey. What are you doing?” Your uncle comes up behind you, chuckling at your mistake.

“Oh, sorry.” You snap out of it and pull the product back onto the cart. “I’m just so out of it today.”

“Are you doing okay?”

Just as you’re about to answer, the sound of a door shutting outside the store catches your attention. You stand to look over, seeing König walking towards the front door. Frank leaves your side to go greet his friend. A disappointed huff leaves your lips; you really needed to speak to someone.

“König! Did you forget something?”

“Ja, I did.” König chuckles, his eyes instantly landing on you as you walk back to the cash register.

“Well, I’m always glad to have your money.” Frank jokes.

König laughs, his eyes still on you. You linger behind the cash register now, seemingly far away. Hopefully thinking about your night together. He hates the restrictions of human civilization, forcing him to simply smile and nod in your direction as he continues on into the store; stopping where he can watch you from a distance.

“Uncle Frank, can we keep talking?”

“Yup!” He walks back to you and leans against the counter.

“Can you please listen to me without judgment?” You whisper, but König can still hear you.

“Absolutely.”

“I know you said there are no wolves around here, but last night I think one bit me.”

“What? A wolf?” Frank says loudly.

“Shh!” You place your finger over your lips. “Please be quiet. Can you please stay with me? I don’t want to leave alone.”

“Sweety, there are no wolves around here. You only think it bit you? Maybe it was a German Shepherd? Farmer Paul has one that’s a real ass—”

“It wasn’t a dog. It was massive.”

Frank shifts his weight and grabs his keys from his front pocket before letting out a sigh. He knows that you’ve been through a lot lately, but he doesn’t know what to say to you right now. König walks forward and approaches the two of you.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but did you say that a dog attacked you?”

You can feel yourself blush, feeling as if he will think that you’re crazy too. “A wolf.”

“And there aren’t any around here.” Frank says.

“No, there aren’t.” König looks at you and the worry in your eyes. If only he could reassure you that you’re safe with him. “But there is no harm in being safe. I could stay here with you while you close up.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s really not an issue. I have no plans.” König gives you a warm comforting smile.

“Thank you, König.” Frank pats his shoulder.

“Not a problem.”

The last twenty minutes of work pass by quickly for you. König turns out to be a very flirtatious man, his charming smile and hypnotizing blue eyes making the fear of last night’s incident slip far away in your mind. While he may be a bit older than you, you find yourself beginning to like him in an odd way.

“It’s getting dark.” König says, looking out of the window before looking back at you. His once bright blue eyes now darkened, turning a deep yellow. The change is coming, and you’re trapped in here with him.

“It is.” You say as your back is turned to him. “I just have to go grab my keys and I’m ready to…leave.” Your voice drifts off as you turn to see König taking deep breaths, his eyes now animalistic.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today, Maus.” König’s voice has turned raspy as his teeth grow.

“Y- y—” Words escape you as panic takes over your body.

“Don’t be afraid, please.” König slightly hunched over as you watch in horror. Skin falls from his body, replaced by the thick dark fur you remember from last night. His hands grow long claws that scratch the wall as he tries to balance himself.

A blood curdling scream bursts from your lips as König lets out loud groans of pain. Without a second thought you quickly turn on your feet and rush towards the break room door. Your feet carry you across the floor, just able to get to the door and slam it shut. Your fingers shake as you lock the door and rush to your locker to grab your keys.

From the other side of the solid wood door, you hear a loud howl. The sound makes your stomach flip. You stand still, not moving as you listen for any movement. For some reason you thought that he would give up and go hunt, but you’re proven wrong when you hear a loud banging against the door.

“Open.” König hits the door again, impatient and not wanting to play any games.

 “König! Please stop!” Your voice shakes.

“Mine. Open now.”

The next hit cracks the door, your eyes dart to the small window a few feet off the ground. While you might not fit, it's your only way out at this point. You rush to the collapsible table and drag underneath the window; watching your step you climb up and unlock the window. It opens so you turn yourself to the side and start to pull yourself out.

König continues to bang on the door, ready to break in to get to you. He knows once he can get his teeth on your neck you will calm down for him. Just then he hears a thud. His ears perk up before he turns and runs out of the shop quickly. In the dark night he looks around, spotting you running towards your car. Last time was too close, this time he has to be faster.

You get yourself off of the floor quickly, running to your car. As you reach in your pocket for your key, you realize the keys feel when you dropped from the window. “Fuck!” You should as you turn back to grab them. Just as you do, König appears around the corner and just stares at you, breathing heavily. He stands on two feet and holds a hand out for you to accept.

König looks into your eyes. As much as you want to deny him, he knows that you’re attracted to his human form and he knows you enjoyed begin fucked like a wild animal. Yet, that silly human brain wants to reject what it doesn’t understand. You turn and run. He watches you for a few seconds as you take off across the open field before taking off after you.

In no time he is right behind you, jumping to knock you off of your feet. You both crash to the ground, but he quickly recovers and mounts your much smaller body under his. He sticks his wet nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent again. He grabs a fist full of your hair and turns your face towards his.

“Mine.” He growls as he sits you up.

You gaze up at him as he stands. He gets closer to you, letting his erect, leaking cock linger in front of your face. A part of you is disgusted by the sight and smell, wanting to turn away and turn. There is another part of you that just wants to reach out and grab it. A small gasp leaves your lips when he grabs your hair again and tilts your head back.

König steps forward and pushes your face into his groin. The strong smell of his musk consumes your nostrils as his long cock rests along your face, his balls pressing against your mouth. You try to shake your head back and forth, to pull away; but you can’t. He holds you there longer for every moment you struggle.

“Lick.”

You part your mouth slightly, letting the tip of your tongue pass back and forth. His sweaty skin is salty, but you find yourself enjoying it. Slowly open your mouth more and let out more of your tongue to lick over his heavy balls.

König looks down at you with a pleased feeling. You’re finally giving into what you know you desire. He pulls back, dragging his cock across your face and down your tongue. A small growl leaves him as he watches your pretty lips carefully wrap around the head of his cock and sucking lightly. His hips push forward, shoving more of his cock into your mouth.

Your hands shoot to his thighs as you gag from him shoving his cock in too far. Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you try to maintain your composure. The girth of his cock causes your jaw to tire quickly, but you don’t dare try to pull away. Thick globs of spit fall from your mouth and fall on to your shirt.

When he pulls back, you cough and gasp for air. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you pant. He watches you try to gather yourself, feeling proud of you for how well you’ve calmed down. His arms wrap around your body, lifting you up, and walking you into the woods so he can fuck you in his den.

[insert-this-fire]

Overpoweringly Sweet

Logan Howlett aka Wolverine x gn!nonspecified mutant! Reader

Summary: Somehow you contracted Hanahaki for a man you hardly ever spoken to. Cant end well can it?

W/C: ~9k Warnings: a little OOC, angst, graphic description of coughing up flowers with blood.

AO3 Mirror A/N: I never post actual fics on tumblr but I feel that it needs to be done here. So sorry if its kinda formatted weird? it will also be on AO3!. First x-men fic too so sorry if its a bit ooc. Not really based on any specific iteration of Wolverine. Also not edited like, at all. Also I take requests! :3

~~ :3 ~~

You know, having a crush on someone so unattainable is laughable at best. Having a crush on them and apparently somehow contracting Hanahaki is even worse. How does that even happen? You haven’t even spoken to the guy more than a few words. Too embarrassed to open your mouth to introduce yourself and you work together. Yet here you are, petals on the bathroom floor and a constricting feeling in your throat. Your head lying on the back of the stall door. Still heaving from the sudden onslaught of overly sickly floral-scented petals that spilled out.

Gardenias. Pure white and mocking. 

The smell of them made you nauseous. The sight of them even more so. After looking up what they meant. It just made things even worse.

Secret love. How fitting.

It’s a damn crush, and the world decided it was love. Love for a grumpy ass old man with hair that kinda made you think of a cat. Actually, he reminded you of a cat in general. One that you want to rest your face on and fall asleep. Bury your face in those pecs of his. Muscles may look hard, but they do have a bit of squish. By God, does he have muscles. You’ve caught him shirtless a few times. All by accident, of course. You weren’t a pervert. Anytime you think of it, your jaw clenches tight.

Ah, getting off-topic here. Back to the fact that apparently, hanahaki doesn’t care if you’ve ever talked to someone before.

The stall door was cool against your cheek when you turned your head, and it was less gross than hugging the toilet like you wanted to so you could flush the flowers down the drain. It was terrible. The petals surround you, and a single full bloom floats mockingly in the toilet.

You know how to cure it. The moment that the flower petals started to spill from your lips, you desperately looked for what it was. It wasn’t that hard to find, apparently some find it sickeningly romantic. Bet they never had to deal with the ache that was constant around your lungs. You found the cure for it as well. Should be easy to do, right? Tell the person how you feel and they return it, or get it surgically removed. The surgery should be the right choice. It’s the only choice. You’ve hardly spoken to the man who coveted your affection, but the thought of not feeling the tug of your heart when you see him was too much to bear. Which makes no sense! It’s a dumb crush.

God, you’re an idiot.

A deep breath fills your lungs slightly, and the pain wraps around your chest as you try to get a full breath. Your hands find purchase on the rim of the toilet, and you push yourself up. Now, on two shaky legs, you wipe your mouth. You need to clean up the petals before anyone comes in. It was still the middle of the day, and classes were still going. Thank God the coughing fit didn’t hit you till lunch, or you would have to explain to a classroom full of students. That would be embarrassing. Yeah sorry class, your teacher is in love with someone they can’t have, let’s continue with the lesson now! Embarrassing.

Your hands start to pick up the petals. Each one feels as if it was searing into your skin. One, two, five, ten, thirty. Thirty petals and one full bloom. You were screwed. You could go to Hank. See if he knew any other way around it, any way to fix the disgusting flowers that took root in your lungs. Maybe being a mutant changed how to cure the disease? That was just hopeful thinking, though.

After mulling over the choices for a few moments more, you finally unlock the stall door and walk over to the garbage, quickly discarding the petals that did not make it into the toilet.

Your feet then carry you out of the bathroom and, as luck would have it, right into the chest of the one person you did not want to face yet.

Logan.

You were right, though. The muscles on his chest were squishy. God you want to just motorboat him real fast. Would that be weird? Yeah it would be. As quickly as you ran into him, you tried to remove yourself from his personal space. You know the guy wasn’t too fond of touch. You think. You actually… don’t know. Words quickly spill from your mouth as you try to apologize. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t see you.”

Logan just makes some gruff-sounding noise and continues on his way. You could faintly see as he walked away scrunching of his nose. He was probably able to smell the faint floral scent that was clinging to you. It probably wasn’t pleasant. You didn’t like the scent, it probably was a lot stronger on his end.

As you stand in the hallway after the sudden bump into your crush, you place your hand on your chest to calm your beating heart, and you walk in the opposite direction to your classroom. It hurt that he didn’t even say anything back to your apology, but that seemed pretty in character. To you, at least. If you were on friendlier terms, maybe not, but you doubt he even knows your name.

The thought of the surgery resurfaces in your head. Maybe you should get it. Ignore the deep-seated pain in your heart at the thought of losing your feelings for him. However, the repercussions of a botched removal is another reason not to do so. It could remove the feeling of ever being in love again. Would that be so bad though?

You shake your head. You have a class you have to get back to… and a phone call to make.

The day continued on like normal after that. Classes, grading papers, discreetly removing petals from your mouth into the trashcan by your desk as you graded papers. A new norm for you. It did seem that a few students had noticed a slight change in you. In fact, one of them even got you a get well soon card. Sweet, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

If you don’t get better soon, you will probably end up another statistic for the disease. How many people were there that had it and perished as the roots wrapped around the lungs and slowly filled the valves on the heart. Too many, probably. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at that. That’s why you were now sitting in your now empty classroom, making a phone call. You had found a number to a doctor who specializes in the disease. You would get some advice and decide from there what you want to do.

The phone rings, once, twice….

“Hello, this is Dr. Forrest’s office. How may I help you?” How fitting a doctor who knows about Hanahaki has a nature-based last name.

You quickly introduce yourself and ask if you could speak to him or schedule an appointment. Apparently the only way to talk to him is with an appointment. The next one isn’t for a few months. You don’t even know if you’ll last that long. You’ve been keeping track. A full bloom appeared today. A singular full bloom, no steam. The petals were loose so it had to be in the early start of the mid stages. It was taking its time infecting you. It must be due to not seeing Logan all the time.

You do tend to avoid him when you can. The thought of seeing him always makes your cheeks burn. Man was just too hot. It made it seem like you were in love with just his looks! You weren’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be coughing up all these petals. You’re pretty sure it wasn’t just his looks. The flower has a meaning, after all.

Maybe if you avoid Logan, actually stop trying to see if you can see him across the halls. Stop looking for him during dining hours. Just try to ignore him. Though unless he was going to go on one of those sudden long vanishing acts. Well, you doubt that you actually will be able to avoid him enough to live till the next appointment. You really are screwed. Shit.

Running a hand over your face with a groan you lean back in the chair behind your desk. What should you do? The surgery now seemed to be out of the question. So now you either confess and die, or you just die. Which definitely was not the ideal thing to do. You were screwed. Hands down. Your name is on the death warrant the moment the receptionist said months. Maybe you should go to Hank. Dude was a certified genius right? He would know something.

A knock at your door made you jump. Quickly you lift your head and look over to the closed door to your classroom. Could be a student, another faculty member? Whoever it was either needed you or the room.

“Come on in.”

Silence followed and then the door opened up. Your gaze turns to the door, ready to answer whatever questions that are going to follow. Till you hear the tall tale sound of boots, heavy. The sound of jeans rubbing against legs. A jacket rustling slightly from movement. Jeez, why are you suddenly so aware of the sounds?

Your eyes hone in on the man you’ve been thinking about. Logan. Twice. TWICE in one day you’ve seen him up close. See him in your space. He never seeks you out. You never get to see him up close like this more than once or twice a week. It’s like you’re in a fanfiction and someone is pushing the two of you together.

That’s silly though, this was real life.

“Oh, Logan. How can I… help you?” Could you sound any more awkward? You want to bang your head on your desk. Especially with how he was just looking at you. Should you have called him Wolverine? Mr. Howlett?

“You need to let up on that perfume you’re wearing. Can smell it all over the hall.” His face gives away the fact he smells something he doesn’t like. 

Perfume?... Perfume… The flowers. Of course he could smell it. The floral scent has been clinging to you since the first petals slipped from between your lips.

“Oh, heh sorry. I’ll try to use less of it.” You just laugh a bit, still feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, the sudden tickle in your throat reminding you that you could not stop the smell from permeating your skin. That it will linger on you till you no longer have these flowers growing inside of your chest. “If I use too much again I’m sorry. Can’t really tell when I use too much or not.”

Blue eyes narrow at you, you can tell he doesn’t believe you. That he should call you out on it. “Thanks bub, it’s masking everything else.”

With that he left the room as quickly as he came, there was a slight pause and you can tell he glanced at the trash can by your desk. The trash can that had a few petals thrown in haphazardly. Thought to be hidden by the papers that you threw on top. You hope that is all he sees.

That was such an awkward interaction. You slam your head on the desk once more. God why are you such an idiot.

~~ :3c ~~

Time continues on like normal, but recently you catch Logan at the corner of your eye. Which is normal, you usually do seek him out. Yet now it’s like he is everywhere you go. Walking in the gardens, he’s out there smoking one of his cigars leaning on a tree or the wall of the mansion. You’d be eating and you’d see him a table or two away, his eyes on you. You can feel them boring into your skin. You’ll be walking in the hallways and see him turning a corner before you fully spot him. More often than not you find him outside of the bathroom you were just in after coughing up a storm. Just standing by the door like a guard dog. Always scrunching his nose when the door opens and the aroma of flowers follows you out.

He knew. He had to. He had to know something was wrong with you. There is no way he doesn’t. The man has been alive long enough that he probably knows the signs of what you have. The disease that is currently ruining your life. He has probably seen all sorts of people who have had Hanahaki. You won’t be the first, nor the last person he has seen inflicted with it either. It’s probably why he’s keeping an eye on you. He must have found out when he came to ask you to stop using so much perfume and yet you still smell that sickeningly floral smell on you.

Unless you’re just suddenly more aware of him than you were before. Which you shouldn’t be. You were already highly aware of him due to your damn dumb crush that’s killing you. Eyes are always lingering on him.

It’s probably because of the scent that’s following you around. It is probably sticking out more than your usual scent, which was. You don’t know. What do you normally smell like? Apparently, it’s something non-distinct since the new smell is pretty overpowering. If you can smell it, it must be strong.

You wish you knew what was going through the man’s head. You couldn’t really ask him. You aren’t close to him like that. Can’t ask the people he is close to either because you aren’t close to them. You kinda just, are here in the mansion teaching. You’re not a part of x-men, you aren’t too interested in fighting anyways. You earned your keep teaching. You are vaguely close to Hank though. Well, in recent events at least. You could ask him?

Yeah, no, you aren’t. You’re going to suffer through this. You can handle it. You don’t need to know what’s going on in his mind.

Which reminds you, you need to actually go talk to Hank. You’ve been putting it off, but the full blooms are startling. Every other coughing fit brings one full bloom. It has only been a week since the first bloom and with the sudden influx of Logan sightings, it is speeding up. You needed an out and fast. Before it kills you.

Thus here you are walking through the mansion to head down to his lab. Quickly avoiding anyone you see. The scent of flowers following you through the halls like a wraith. Leaving a trail of sweetness to waft into the air. Disgusting.

As you make your way into the lab you spot Hank, or Beast? Shit, you don’t even know which one he prefers to be called. You really should ask, huh. Anyway, you spot him.

When the blue-furred man spots you, he quickly greets you with your name: “It is good to see you this fine evening. What do I owe the pleasure? It is not often I see you down here.”

If you could, you would sigh deeply. The rattling of vines stops the motion before it begins. “Hi yeah uh. I got into a delicate situation and I don’t know who else to go to? The doctor I had called can’t really see me and I don’t know what else to do and you’re like… The smartest person I know so I’m hoping… you could help?” The words spill out quickly.

Hank raises an eyebrow and fixes the glasses perched on his face. The man was upside down for some odd reason, and he quickly flipped to land on the ground. With grace you don’t expect for someone his size. Then again, you’ve seen some weird ass mutations. He motions for you to sit down on one of the beds stationed in the lab. One used when needed for situations like this. Medical, scientific, not something you can throw a punch at and fix.

After sitting down on the bed, you start to explain. Words flowing like a waterfall. He is the first person you have gone into detail about your condition. How the petals slip from your lips like a poison, the tightening of your chest with each breath. The fear of losing yourself to unrequited love and dying because of it. You do not mention who it is directed at nor the fact you thought it was a crush and did not deserve to have evolved into such a disease.

The room fell silent after your reveal, a silence that stretched on longer than you would have liked. God, you hope he has an idea about how to help you out of this mess.

“From my knowledge there are only two cures. I assume you already know.” A pause as you answer with a curt nod. “I do not believe there are any other alternatives other than what has been proven to work. I assume that you are here to find out if there are any or that you require the surgery.”

“I can’t tell them… I really had hoped that you would know. I don’t.” You sigh and run a hand through your hair, messing it up slightly. It was already a mess from earlier, but you know how hands are in hair. “It’s not an option to tell them.”

“I see. It will take some time, but I will see if I can learn the correct procedure so that there will be minimal to no complications.” Hank pats you on the shoulder and motions for you to head out. He had some things to do and research to go over. Escorting you out of his lab so Hank may do what is necessary. He didn’t give a timeline, but you trust that he can do it before your time is up.

You really hope that he can do this.

After leaving the lab, you had to pass some of the other faculty. Or X-men? Yeah, it seems they are setting off on a mission of some sort. You pass Cyclops, Storm, Jean and. Yeah, that is exactly who you don’t want to see right now. Logan. Seems he is going with them. To, wherever they have to go. You give them all a small nod in acknowledgment as you pass them. Each one provides you a small smile or nods back.

Logan though? He pauses when you pass him. His face contorted into something you weren’t too sure of. He probably caught another whiff of the flowers on you. Great. The others give him a look and he just grunts at them. Somehow they understand and continue on their way. Leaving you with Logan.

A hand grabs your bicep, fingers wrapping around the muscle. Your gaze drops to the hand, in another life you were sure it would be rough with use, but it was surprisingly soft. The grip was not, natural strength hidden behind the hold. A promise that you would not be able to pull away without exerting yourself.

“You’re smellin’ worse. Thought I told you to let up.” A gruff voice, oh how you want to roll in that voice. That was a weird thought, you should probably stop thinking of that like a weirdo. God are you a weirdo?

An awkward laugh bubbles up from your chest. You can feel your own muscles tense under his hold and gaze. Damn he’s never looked at you like this before. A slight glare, crinckled nose, and a slight snarl on his lips. You must be really weird because damn was that kind of a hot look. Which somehow in turn makes your chest tighten and the tickle of a cough is trying to break free. You swallow hard to bite it back. Yet you can feel the petals moving through your throat. 

“Sorry sorry, I guess I overdid it?” You pull your eyes away from his. Unable to continue to look at his face. Be it from your weird thoughts, the tickle in your throat or your inability to keep eye contact with someone. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“You’re hiding that you're sick.” The grip on your arm tightens. Not in a painful manner no, but a reminder that you cannot run away from this conversation. Which is odd right? Why does Logan care? You two hardly know each other. Sure you apparently love the man, but you’re still sure he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve seen him care for others in the mansion, a good friend in an odd way. A father figure and mentor to some of the students. Also in a weird way. You’re sure he’d brush off that idea and say he isn’t. He is.

Wait, he just said you’re sick… “I’m not sick?” 

Logan's eyes narrow as he stares at you. Do you look sick? Sure you’ve gotten a little pale and eating has gotten a little hard so you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. Does being sick have a smell to it? Fuck that is weird. Well, some animals could tell when others are sick before physical symptoms show. Maybe that's how he knew. No, that wouldn’t make sense because you aren’t really sick. You just have a big fat crush that's killing you. 

You can tell Logan doesn’t believe you. “Just fix it. Can’t stand the smell on you.” His hand lets go and he stalks down the hallway to where the others had walked off to. Your eyes linger on his form as he walks away. The ghost of a feeling on your arm where his hand had wrapped around it. The slight warmth seeping into your skin slowly vanishes. God you’re fucked. 

~~ >:3 ~~

And fucked you are. It’s been at least two months since you told Hank about the hanahaki. Hank is taking his sweet ass time researching the procedure, the doctor you called has called back finally and mentioned that his next opening for a consultation was still months away. Which you decide to say fuck that guy, you trust Hank can do it. The doctor probably won’t even work on a mutant. Logan is still always at the corner of your eye. A scowl or sneer on his face anytime he looks at you. Not to mention the flowers! They’re getting worse.

Full blooms, multiple at a time. Their petals no longer loose around the center. Now they are tightly packed, fully bloomed and speckled with blood as they escape through your throat. Occasionally there would be a flower that had not bloomed yet. Still wrapped tightly, not fully formed. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you’re sure it wasn’t good. At least they were not roses. You feel bad for those who dealt with that. Thorns were something you were happy that was not in the mix of your own flower hell.

The flowers aren’t fully developed yet. Stems have not fallen with them. Yet you are unsure if you would survive long enough to see the end stages of hanahaki. Your body is getting weaker and weaker each day. Your own mutation even fighting against you. You can hardly call on it now. Once you had wished to be a normal person, but that has been years ago. Now you feel like you are losing a part of yourself. These damn flowers truly are killing you. Both physically and emotionally. 

You had to leave class more often. The coughs that tore through your chest made it unbearable to speak long enough to teach an entire class to its completion. Students start to worry, other faculty seem to notice the sudden change as you have to start asking for people to cover your class for you as you rush to the restroom to hug the porcelain throne to exude the flowers of love. Each time more and more petals fall from your lips, tears stain your cheeks more often due to the pain and energy it takes to clear them out from your throat. 

It has gotten to the point where you had to ask someone to cover your class in full, or cancel it. You don’t want to cancel your classes, but at the rate you are going it will be the only thing you can do. Today is probably the last full class you can handle, you feel like shit. Your throat itches, your stomach aches from the lack of food. Your head hurts because of the lack of sleep from the coughing. Yeah, you might have to take a break from it all. What surprises you is that Logan is waiting outside of your classroom.

Ok it’s not that surprising. You’ve been catching him outside your classroom since he came back. It is like he is suddenly more aware of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on you. You would be excited usually, your crush suddenly paying attention to you! How great is that? Yet lately it just makes things feel so much worse. Especially with that sneer on his face. You know he knows something is up, he made it clear two months ago. Though he hasn’t brought it up again. Yet he is always there. Like a shadow. 

Which is honestly a bit uncomfortable. You aren’t used to this amount of attention. 

“You don’t have to stand out here you know?” Papers you needed to grade were in your arms. You may need to take a break, but you should at least grade these papers before someone takes the class over. Your last bit of work. 

Logan just stares at you. The slight glare, the wrinkled nose, the arms crossing making those muscles bulge out of his shirt. You had to quickly drag your eyes away from his arms so you aren’t caught staring. You don’t meet his eyes though. It was too intense. 

“You’re getting worse.” Way to point out the obvious Logan.

“Good observation.” A short pause follows after. Silence falls for a few moments. “I uh, it’s why I’m takin a break. Sick leave? Uh… Yeah…” You really don’t know how to talk to him. The tickle in your throat is back again. Too soon, you just hacked up half your lung just moments before. You really don’t want to cough in front of him. You thought he might already know what it is, but he still thinks the smell on you is perfume. So no way do you want him to know the truth. 

Logan stares at you a few moments longer, a slight grunt. His head motioned for you to follow him. That’s how you read it at least as he starts to walk down the corridor and only pauses to look at you. Looks like you’re following him. This can’t end well can it? 

The two of you walk silently through the corridors. Your arms are still full of papers, but it seems the two of you are heading out into the garden. Probably for the best, the crisp air outside will dull the floral scent. Hopefully at least. Even if it lingers on your skin and it has gotten to the point others have even started to point it out. The halls were mostly empty though at this time. Most students are already off doing their own thing, you can vaguely hear a laughter from down the hall as the two of you finally make your way outside.

Into the garden, the cool air bites at your exposed arms. You should have worn a jacket. Too late for that now it seems. The trees are already turning orange, autumn making its way across the land. Oranges, reds and browns. If you weren’t full of anxiety you would be enjoying the sights. Especially as Logan brings you over to a small bench by the man-made pond. A bit away from everyone, but still close enough to the mansion you can dash inside if needed. 

You take a seat first. The papers sit beside you. Logan stands in front of you. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He isn’t sitting. Why isn’t he sitting?

“So uh…” Your voice comes out first, awkward and a bit unsure. The tickle in your throat grows again as you fight it back.

“It’s not perfume on you is it?” Logan’s gaze never leaves yours, but you can’t help but look away. Too uncomfortable with the eyes boring into you. You never once used perfume, though you did use that as an excuse didn’t you?

Silence followed after. Your eyes looking at the ground as you kick your legs back and forth. Unable to voice the truth. Logan is still looking at you, jaw clenching most likely. You don’t have to look at him to know.

His voice finally cuts through the silence. Apparently he was sick of you beating around the bush and not answering him. Your name on his lips startling you slightly. You honestly thought he didn’t know your name, but it seems you were wrong. “What's makin you so sick that it’s leaving you to look like that and smell like that.”

You should tell him. Tell him. TELL HIM. 

… 

You’ll tell him without actually telling him. You don’t think you’d survive telling him the full truth. You’re a pretty good liar most of the time. He might be able to pick through the lie but he’s not that perceptive right? 

“I uh… It’s.” You feel like you’re stumbling over your words, your throat constricting. “I have.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your muscles tensing as a cough tears through you. Violently. Your body lurching forward as your hand shoots up to cover your lips as the cough pulls out petals and blossoms alike. Your hand can’t catch all the petals as they spill to the ground. Your eyes clenching shut as tears prickle the corners due to how painful it was. The other hand not covering your mouth grabs at your chest. As if you could claw the roots out through your skin. It burns. 

It burns, it burns, it burns. 

It won’t stop. You can’t stop hacking up the petals. Each cough brings out a sob with it as well. It has never been this bad. The scent of gardenias explodes. It burns your nose. You hate the smell of it. If you survive you’ll never be able to handle this scent again. Your body retching forward as you double over. Body crumpling in on itself as you try desperately to get some air into your already filled lungs. You would think having plants living in your lungs would give you more oxygen. If only it didn’t wrap tightly around your lungs and neighboring organs. Leaving little space for what you truly needed.

You almost forget Logan is there with you. An unexpected presence sits beside you. Warmth seeping into your side. He doesn’t set a comforting hand on your back. Doesn’t say any words. But him sitting beside you is enough comfort. You don’t think you could handle physical touch anyways. Your body would probably jerk harder at it. Hanahaki really was a killing disease wasn’t it. It was going to kill you before even getting to the final stage. You can’t do this.

Slowly the coughing fit lessens. The petals and blooms spilling from your mouth as if it was all you breathed came to a stop. Your body still hunched over, tears filling your eyes as you finally, finally stopped coughing up the damned flowers. You were still shaking, trying to catch the lost breath.

“You’re ok sweetheart. Just try and breathe.” Something large, heavy, warm rests on your upper back. Small soothing circles. He called you sweetheart, that was strange. You don’t expect comfort. You don’t think Logan expected to comfort you like this either. It was an awkward movement, but comforting. You wanted to lean into it, lean into him. You weren’t going to though. Pain was radiating through your chest and you weren’t sure you would be able to sit up straight without coughing again. Fear that any movement will bring on another coughing fit settled inside of you like a vice. You can still feel the slight tickle in your raw throat. 

You taste blood.

It takes a few tries, gasping tries, before air finally was able to fill your lungs enough that you could breathe properly. Or well, as well as you can with roots wrapping around your insides. You pull out a few petals that were still stuck in your mouth and let them fall to the ground as you slowly sit up. Still slightly hunched over but no longer practically hugging your legs. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, blood from your lips smearing across your skin. Eyes on the ground where the mess you made mocks you. There's so much, white and red. White flowers that you would have thought beautiful covered in splotches of your own blood. Tainting the gardenias, tainting the meaning of secret love. Disgusting. You’re disgusting. 

Your eyes linger on the ground as you finally speak. Voice raspy and strained. “Sorry.” 

“Nothin to be sorry about, nasty thing you got. Seen it a few times.” Logan’s voice is gruff, yet there is a touch of something tender in there. Unexpected. You don’t like it. He shouldn’t be treating you like this. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know that you’re like this because of him, because of your dumb crush on him that the world decided was good enough to practically kill you.  

Ok that’s not true. You know under his rough and tough demeanor and the huge, insensitive ass he could be. He’s caring and trustworthy. Loyal as fuck and self-sacrificing. It’s what had drawn you in in the first place. The soft look he’d give to people he cared about when no one was looking. The way he treats the younger mutants. It was heartwarming. Your admiration for him turned from simply looking up to him to wanting him to look at you that way.

Silence falls between the two of you again as you continue to try to take in oxygen. The taste of iron and earth is still on your tongue. The sound of fellow mutants distantly chatting and the occasional bird cuts through the silence. You don’t want to talk, you don’t want to tell him who your affliction derives from. You doubt he would ask, but he might. You’ll need to think of an excuse. A lie. Anything to keep him from finding out it is him. He’d reject you. You know this already. You’ve seen him look at others. He doesn’t look at you like that. You just learned he knew your name too! The two of you hardly spoke before. This is the most attention you have ever gotten from him. He doesn’t love you the way the disease needs him to. 

“Who's the asshole?” His words cut through the silence again. Surprising you once more. This definitely is the most words he has ever spoken to you.

“Doesn’t matter… He doesn’t feel the same.” Your throat continued to feel raw. It hurt to speak, but you needed to answer. You couldn’t stay quiet when he asked. Your gaze moves from the ground to glance at him from the side. You try not to meet his eyes but you can see a look on his face that had never been directed towards you. In any other situation you would be happy, ecstatic. Right now though, it makes your stomach tie up in uncomfortable knots. 

A slight hint of anger crosses Logan’s face and his hand just rests on your back, no longer rubbing those soothing circles. You know he wants to know. The look he has on him makes you think he sees you as someone under his protection, it’s nice. Even if it is not really what you want at the moment.

“So you’re willing to die for him.” There was a short pause between his words. His tone is soft, you don’t like it. “Seen most with it die that way. Shouldn’t have to die like that.”

You decide not to reply to the fact that you were willing to die for these feelings. Why? Because you still don’t want to believe it is true. Even with the flowers clearly showing signs the crush was love. Infatuation. You hate this. “Dr. Mccoy is going to perform the surgery for me. Should be any day now.”

You at least hope it will be any day now. You spoke to him a couple days ago and he seemed a bit all over the place so you couldn’t ask him if he was ready yet. You know he hadn’t forgotten, you saw the books laying on one of the tables next to some tools, but time was ticking and it was ticking fast. You know it and now… Now Logan knows it too. You’re on limited time. 

“I… can’t tell him. He doesn’t feel the same, he can’t. I’ll die if I tell him. I have to do the surgery. I’d rather chance not feeling love again than to confess and die. I…” Your hands curl into themselves as you look back down at the flowers. The tightening in your chest squeezes harder. You don’t need to explain yourself, but you feel like you have to. This way you can come to terms with it. Speaking it out loud makes it all too real. “I trust Dr.Mccoy. He won’t fail. He… he can’t.”

“Lotta trust in the guy.” Logan leans back on the bench, his hand lingering on your back removes itself as he crosses his arms. You feel the itch in your throat again, it’s too soon for more petals. You at least hope so. Logan then continues, “Remember watching someone choke on their own blood cause of that shit. Don’t want to see you on that end sweetheart.”

Logan called you sweetheart, again. It made butterflies fly around your stomach, churning with the anxiety already there. It was not the most comfortable of feelings. You weren’t expecting it this time either. It was nice. Would be nicer in better circumstances though. “Thanks Logan, but I’ll survive this. I have to…”

“Still think you should tell me who this asshole is. Could talk to him.” You hear the familiar snikt sound, a clear sign he extended his claws. A glance over was all you needed to confirm he did, the light gleaming off the metal. 

“God no! Sure actions speak louder than words for him, but it wont help.” Because he’d be threatening himself. You couldn’t help but let a pathetic laugh bubble up. Pain radiating through your chest and throat as you do so. At least you can still find some humor in this. Logan’s claws go right back under his skin and between his knuckles at your words. Though you can tell he still seemed interested in using violence against who is causing this for you. God, you wish you could tell him.

The two of you fall into another silence. Your own thoughts are swirling through your head and you’re sure Logan is also dealing with his own thoughts. Your disease is now out there. What truly ales you has been revealed without you actually saying the words. You wished you could have said the words, said what it was, told him your feelings. Though things never work out that way do they. 

You aren’t sure how this was going to end.

Logan looks at you the same time you gaze at him. Your eyes meet his blue ones. You would wax poetic about his eyes, but that seems pretty cliche. Everyone always does when talking about blue eyes, how they look like the ocean, or the sky. Logan’s reminds you of steel, the silvery blue that almost matches the adamantium claws you see on occasion. There is something in those eyes though, something you can’t read. Something behind that wall everyone knows he puts up. You want to dig deeper, fall into those eyes to avoid all your problems. Be free of the pain you can’t escape. The two of you seem to just stare at each other far longer than it felt. 

“Tell me when you get the surgery. I want to be there.” 

“...Okay.”

And just like that, the two of you break eye contact and fall into a silence. A silence only broken by the occasional cough from you and the sounds of nature and other mutants about. You wish you could have experienced this sooner. Before your world decided to crash down on you. You’ll just have to enjoy the time with him like this while you can. Before the feelings you have for him are forever torn away. Leaving only a hollow space in your chest for the fellow mutant. 

You’re not ready. 

~~ :3 !! ~~

Hank Mccoy finally let you know he was ready to do the surgery a few days after your chat with Logan. You weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to lose these feelings, you didn’t want the complications that may follow, but fuck you don’t want to die either. You will die if you don’t do this surgery. You can’t… You have to do this. 

Which is why you are outside of the room Logan usually occupies when he is in the mansion. You've been standing outside of his room for what felt like hours now. You knew he probably could hear your heartbeat, but he isn’t coming out. He asked to be there when you got the surgery. He wanted to support you for some reason. You could just go, leave and get the surgery without telling him. Your anxiety welling up along with the urge to throw up. Your hand is already raised before you could stop yourself and you knock three times.

Silence follows after. The sound of shuffling and the door opens. Logan standing there in one of those slutty little white tank tops and jeans. A classic look that was all too hot in your opinion. Your mouth feels dry as he looks at you.

“I’m getting it now.” You rub your arm, unable to look him in the eyes. You do look at his face though. Just long enough to see shock cross his face for a few seconds, which quickly vanished back behind his usual look. Logan steps out of his room and shuts the door, head tilting to the side a bit as he waits for you to start walking to Hank’s lab. 

The two of you walk silently through the halls. It was late in the afternoon. You could have gotten it earlier in the day but your body was so exhausted from the coughing fit you had that night that you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. In fact you’re still in your pajamas mostly. Sweatpants and a t-shirt. Comfy. You’re going into surgery, you deserve not to dress up for it. Logan doesn’t comment on it either so it’s fine. You’re fine. 

Everything is fine.

The two of you enter the lab quietly. No one else seems to be here but Hank. After all, one else knew. People knew you were sick of course, but you kept a tight lip on what exactly was inflicting you.

Hank greets you with your name. A look of surprise as his eyes drop onto Logan. Quickly he glanced back at you and you just shrugged your shoulders slightly. Letting Hank know the situation. How Logan knew what was wrong with you and wanted to be here with you. Moral support from the emotionally constipated x-men. Well, mostly constipated. 

After going over the procedures and what needed to be done you step behind the curtains, changing into one of those flimsy hospital gowns. The cool air nipping at your skin as you bite your bottom lip. You were scared. You didn’t want this. You couldn’t do this. You can’t do this! You don’t want to lose your feelings for Logan. He just now is starting to show you attention. It’s not fair! You shouldn’t have to deal with this! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

“Are you okay?” Hank's voice cuts through your spiral. Eyes watering and your chest heaving. Ohm you were crying. No, you were sobbing again. Your hands are shaking at your side. You glance at the curtain that hid you from the other two. You know they heard you crying, heard you falling apart. How embarrassing. Your hand grips at the gown, bunching it up at your chest as you take a shaky breath. Lungs barely able to hold a full inhale. 

“Yeah… Yeah sorry. I’m ok. I’m ready.” You step out from behind the curtain. Clear concern was on the blue mutant's face. You can’t read the others. You don’t like this. You silently pad over to the table, bed, whatever it is, that is set up for you. Another strained breathe and you sit on the surface. A glance at the two of them and you lay back. You’re surprised the professor wasn’t here to help out. Maybe he wasn’t needed. Hank could handle this on his own. You can handle this. Logan was here, you didn’t want him here, but it was a strange comfort knowing the man you loved was here to support you. Even if said surgery would remove all feelings for him. How poetic. 

You stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to do as Hank moves around you. Logan who had been leaning on the wall walks over and takes your hand in his. Holding it as if you would shatter at the softest of touches. You hate it. 

“Offer still stands darlin’. Can make the guy love you back.” Although the words would work well in a teasing tone. There was a hint of seriousness behind it. Like he didn’t want you to go under. To have the gardenias removed from your chest. Your hand squeezes his weakly. You knew you didn’t have much time left. You had to do this or confess. Only one of those was an actual option.

Hank returns and holds up the mask. You lift your head up as he slides it over your mouth and nose. It’s too late. You can feel the tears threatening to fall again. You’re scared. Your grip on Logan’s hand tightens as Hank moves around you, making sure you’re hooked up correctly. Your vision starts to blur slightly. You try to inhale the gas as deeply as you could, it hurt. Your lungs didn’t want to fill, you think you can feel the roots wiggling deeper through your lungs and closer to your heart. Your eyes are on Logan, fear clearly radiating off of you. Your own eyes showing the anxiety inside of you. Logan just stands strong next to you. Like a silent guard. 

As the world starts to blacken around you, the corners of the room vanishing slowly. You couldn’t help yourself. You were getting the surgery. You can say the words now. It won’t matter. Your head was already floating and consciousness was fading. Eyes focusing on Logan, like a tunnel. All you could see was him as the world around you slowly vanished into nothingness.   Three words slipped out of you without much thought.

“I love you.” 

The world shifts and the world goes dark. 

The quiet beeping echos. A steady rhythm that matches the slight pounding in your head. Your eyes slowly open, only to quickly shut again. The lights were a bit too bright and everything was… Numb. Your mouth feels dry and you physically can’t feel anything. Did the surgery go wrong? Why can’t you feel anything? A groan bubbles up from your throat as you force your eyes to open. That’s when you feel it.

You can feel every muscle, every fiber of the blanket covering you. The heaviness in your chest is gone. You take a breath. You can… You can take a breath. Your lungs are fully filled with oxygen. Chest rising higher than it has in months. You can breathe. Your eyes open again, the bright fluorescent lights above you illuminate the room. You tilt your head away from looking up at the ceiling. Eyes moving around the room. Gaze falling on the little monitor you’re hooked up to. The beeping was your heartbeat. Ok. That looked good. 

Your head turns the other direction as you take in another sweet deep breath. Eyes landing on Logan. He was still here, sitting beside your bed, head lolled to the side clearly asleep. Your chest tightens in the familiar feeling you have been dealing with for months. That can’t be right. You shouldn’t still be feeling this longing. You shouldn’t still be feeling the warmth that spreads through you over the fact that he had stayed. You shouldn’t be feeling the soft tug on your heart as you look at him or the soft smile pulling on your lips.

This was wrong. Something was wrong. You raise the arm that wasn’t hooked up to all the devices and set it on your chest. There was pain there, raw and uncomfortable, but there was no bump on your chest to show there was a bandage, no pain pulling at your skin. The pain you felt was all under your skin. This isn’t right, something is wrong. Your chest felt clear but you have no evidence that you underwent the surgery. You force yourself to sit up. Pain shoots down your spine. You groaned in pain and a hand was suddenly pressing down on your shoulder. Forcing you back onto the bed. Logan had gotten up.

“Logan?” Your voice was scratchy. It felt just like the times you coughed up all those flowers when he found out. “What… What’s going on? Why do I…” 

“Yeah it’s me. Lay back down. Can’t have you moving around too much yet.” Logan’s hand was still on your shoulder, a gentle pressure making you lay back down onto the bed. Your eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the look he is giving you. You can’t read him. “Don’t talk too much either. Hank said you got to heal.”

Yet you’re pretty sure you didn’t get the surgery though! You should be dead. You… You told Logan how you felt. How you still feel. Yet the urge to cough is gone. Your chest feeling lighter than it has since before the disease took its hold on your life. That has to mean something. Something happened when you went under. What happened? Why won’t he tell you? Why is he looking at you like that? 

Logan’s hand finally pulled away from your shoulder. He just stares down at you as you stare at him. Silence falls between you two. His hand then slowly moves again. Your eyes darting down to the hand. Slowly his hand goes to push some hair out of your face. The same look he has been giving you for the past few months crosses his face. You still don’t know what it means, but it is making your stomach flip. 

“Glad you didn’t die for a guy like me. World be a lot darker without you in it.” His hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. His hand was soft and warm. The touch a bit too tender for someone like him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. He heard you. He heard what you said before going under. You didn’t go through the surgery yet your chest feels lighter than it should. That could only mean one thing. Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips part as you go to speak. Pain still itching at your throat.

“You heard me…” Of course he heard you! He was right next to you holding your hand. He has enhanced senses. He heard you confess. He heard you say you loved him. You’re still alive, you still feel for him and you confessed! That has to mean. Your face suddenly lights up. Heat pooling both on your cheeks and in your stomach. There is only one explanation. There is only one way you were able to live and still feel this way. Logan loved you back. That doesn’t make sense though! Before you started smelling like flowers the two of you never spoke to one another. Yet he…

He loved you back.

“Yeah, I did. Could have told me sooner to save you the pain. Told ya I’d make sure the guy felt the same.” His hand leaves your face. He turns to grab the chair he had been sitting in before and pulls it over. The chair legs screeching across the floor making you flinch at the noise. Once the chair was next to you he sat down and took your hand in his again. Once more treating you like glass. Though you appreciate it, you feel like glass right now. 

Logan lifts your hand up to his face, blue eyes staring straight into your own as his lips find your knuckles. Leaving a soft kiss. You were already blushing before, but you swear you feel like you’re on fire. His lips brushing against your knuckles as he speaks once more. You really aren’t used to hearing him speak so much. “Looks like we got a lot to talk about sweetheart.”

You just silently nod, unable to break your gaze from his. Your hand is lowered, your heart beating out of your chest. You are sure he can hear it. You lick your lips, unable to speak a word out of fear you’ll embarrass yourself further. Logan just chuckles slightly, a deep reverberating one. 

“Guess I should say it, not really good with the emotions shit, but I love you too.”

A few blinks and then a small laugh comes out of you. A wince follows after, but the biggest grin spreads on your face. All it took was you almost dying to finally hear those three little words. You’ll never look at gardenias the same again, nor will you be able to stand the sickly sweet smell of a strong floral scent. That doesn’t matter to you though. You obtained something you thought was unattainable. The love of the man you were in love with. The secret love no longer hidden. 

You can now understand the look Logan was giving you. It was the same you had been giving him. You both were in love with each other but were unsure how to go about it. All it took was the flowers that no longer were growing inside of you. 

You finally say the words, more confident than when you went under. “I love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart.” 

[strwberri-milk]

i hate you

Rafayel x Reader || Fluff, Rafayel's a Bully || 1, 140 words

The burst of giggles dies in your throat as the bed finally settles, no longer bouncing as Rafayel lays himself next to you. You barely get the chance to look at him before he’s aggressively pulling at you, putting you against his chest and sighing happily as your face instinctively goes to settle at the crook of his neck. Your arms wrap around him, holding him tightly as he pulls the blanket over the two of you, seabreeze outside a little chilly but smelling too sweet for either of you to contemplate closing the window. 

Playfully, you nip at his throat, the yelp he gives you in conjunction with the slight smack against your back always worth it because you know his face is bright red from the attention you’re giving him. He pulls back slightly, the warmth of your breath and his skin hanging in the air before he leans down to kiss you. His lips push and pull against yours slowly, thumb stroking against your bottom lip. 

“What do you think you’re doing down there, huh?” he asks, voice distinctively raspy as he presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek. 

“You’re not supposed to try and eat me. I’m cooking dinner for you later.”

“I just wanted a taste. You’re making seafood tonight, aren’t you?” you laugh, burying your face back into his neck to nip lightly at him again. 

You feel his fingers press into your back again, nails lightly digging into you. Despite his words, everything about him was keening for you to touch him more, begging for your attention with every fiber of his being. 

“Don’t - don’t do that,” he says with a whine. 

He allows you to indulge for just a little bit longer before finally overpowering you. He pins your hands over your head, burying his face into your neck and collar as he gives you a taste of your medicine. His lips skirt over your skin, biting you hard enough to leave some marks as a gift.

“I love you,” he says sweetly, pressing a kiss behind your ear. 

You feel your face heat up, able to take your hands back from him as you cover your face, shaking your head slightly as you whine. 

“What? Did I say something weird?” 

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you mumble, looking away from him. 

He looks at you with a bit of concern in his eyes, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter? Did I…did I do something?”

You can hear the soft tone in his voice, clearly a little panicked that he somehow hurt you. Even the way he rests above your body is gentler, making you feel bad for making him doubt even an ounce of your affection for him. 

“No! Nothing like that I just…”

You fall silent, trying to figure out what you want to say to him. Unfortunately for you he takes that as an opportunity, beginning to pepper you in kisses again.

“I love you so much though. You’re the love of my life, the only reason I get up in the morning. Don’t hide yourself from me,” he pouts, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. 

When you meet his eyes again he smiles at you, arms wrapping around  you as he presses another kiss to your lips. 

“There you are. Look at you - what a perfect little thing.”

Your heart bursts with affection for the man on top of you, overwhelmed just the slightest bit. 

“Don’t do that - I like it better when you’re mean to me!” 

The words leave you so abruptly he thinks he misheard you. However, when you turn your face away from him for the nth time he slowly starts to put together the pieces of the puzzle, a smirk gracing his features. 

“Is that so?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way! I just - you’re so - god, you’re infuriating,” you finally decide, leaning wholly into the idea of him bullying you despite knowing that it’s incredibly far from the truth. 

“I’d rather you tell me how much you hate me than butter me up with sweet words.”

“You don’t mean that. No, no I know you don’t. You want me to tell you that I’ve fallen in love with you time and time again just from the way you look at me. That if I died tomorrow I’d be content with just the memory of you, that every moment you choose to be with me I find myself holding back the urge to sink to my knees and pray that you never leave my side.”

“Rafayel!” you scold, pulling the blankets over your face to try and escape his sweet words.

“No, maybe you’re onto something actually,” he says suddenly, pulling back the blanket. 

“Maybe I do hate you.”

The words hang in the air. You know he doesn’t mean it - he’s probably just being dramatic. You look up at him through your lashes, trying to ascertain the expression on his face. He looks as though he’s pondering something, trailing a finger down your jawline.

“Mmm, yeah, I think I do,” he muses to himself before pressing his thumb against your bottom lip as your breath hitches. 

“I hate the way you fit perfectly into my arms whenever I hold you. I hate the way you call out my name, the way my heart forgets how to beat whenever you come near. It’s tiring you know - to love you as much as I do.” 

He speaks so reverentially you think you’ll break. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a slight whine sitting in your throat as you processed his words. The dam bursts and you feel tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. Rafayel coos at you sweetly, wiping away your tears with his thumb as he hums, peppering your face in kisses. Before you realise it you’re crying out loud, breath catching as you hiccup slightly from the mess of emotions he stirs up in your chest, beating your fists against him weakly. 

“I’m such a mean boyfriend, aren’t I? I make the love of my life cry in my arms and I have no idea what to say to make it all better,” he says lowly, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. 

“All you do is bully me!” you say mournfully, tears a result of your love for him as you bury your face into his chest. 

“I know, I know, I’m so cruel aren’t I?”

You nod childishly, letting him take care of you. His hands gently run over your body, kissing away the salt of your tears as he continues to speak to you quietly. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart but you’re going to have to get used to it. 

“I’m going to hate you for the rest of my life.”

[jermer10]

hiiii I love love love ur writing sm !! do u think u would mind like. doing the trope where reader and merc get stuck in like a reaaaally teeny locker/closet/box etc and like basically have to be cuddling the whole time?? any mercs u want but I'd esp love scout, Sniper, and soldier :3 <3<3

TF2 forced confinement

gn reader, suggestive | wait i love this ask

includes: scout, soldier, sniper

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - The second the door closes, trapping the two of you inside, Scout freaks out - “Oh man, oh man, we’re stuck in here! What’re we supposed to do?” - "We'll just have to wait for them to come and get us." You grimace - He can’t stop blushing the moment he realizes just how close you are, he’s trying to act cool, but his face is beet red, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes - He keeps shifting, trying to get comfortable without, you know, touching you too much, but it’s a tiny closet, so he’s got no choice but to be practically on top of you - Every time he accidentally bumps into you, he mutters, “Sorry, sorry,” like it’s the end of the world - To cover up how flustered he is, Scout starts talking. A lot. “This closet’s so freakin’ small, huh? Like, who even makes closets this tiny? I mean, what’re people even supposed to keep in here? Brooms? Ha! Weird, right?” - You ease up at the realization that he's just as awkward about this as you are - After a few minutes, he tries to act like he’s totally cool with the situation - He’ll awkwardly drape an arm around you, trying to make it seem casual, but his heartbeat is way too fast, and he can’t stop glancing at you to see if you’re uncomfortable. “We’re cool, right? Yeah, totally cool.” - He is obviously, not cool - Eventually, the awkwardness turns into something a little more comfortable - He’ll laugh at how ridiculous the situation is, maybe even teasing, “Bet ya didn’t expect to spend the day stuck in a closet with me, huh?”

Soldier: - When the door slams shut, Soldier isn’t fazed at first - He just stands there, arms crossed, as if being stuck in a tiny closet with you is totally normal - “This is nothing. I’ve been in tighter spaces during training!” he declares with full confidence - But once you’re both standing way too close for comfort, even Soldier starts to feel the awkwardness - You’re practically chest-to-chest, and he can’t ignore it anymore. “Ah… this is… strategically inconvenient,” he mutters, his bravado slipping a little - Soldier tries to stay as still as possible, his body rigid as he avoids making too much contact - He won’t admit it, but he’s extremely uncomfortable being in such close quarters with you—not because he doesn’t like it, but because he likes it too much - After a while, Soldier starts to relax (as much as he can). If the two of you are sitting or huddling together, he’ll instinctively wrap an arm around you in a protective way, as if guarding you from the cramped space itself - He won’t acknowledge it, though - just gives a gruff, “Stay still, it’s more efficient.” - Soldier keeps trying to frame the situation like a tactical operation. “We must conserve space. Stay close. No sudden movements,” he’ll say, his voice serious, but inside, he’s silently praying you don’t notice how his heart is pounding from being so close to you - As time passes, Soldier’s stiff demeanor softens, and he might even say something like, “You are… not a bad person to be stuck with in combat—or a closet.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment he’ll give, but it’s sincere

Sniper: - The moment the door closes, trapping you both inside, Sniper freezes - He’s not someone who’s used to physical closeness, and now you’re practically on top of him in this tiny closet - his first instinct is to go completely silent - Sniper tries to move around in the cramped space without invading your personal bubble, but it’s impossible - Every time your knees or shoulders brush against each other, he stiffens, his face heating up. “Uh, sorry ‘bout that…” he mumbles, barely able to look at you - He’s incredibly polite, despite being obviously flustered - “I’ll, uh, try not to get too close, if I can help it…” but then he realizes how ridiculous that sounds, given the size of the closet, and he just shuts his mouth, embarrassed - Sniper leans back against the wall, trying to stay calm, but his heart is racing, and he’s hyper-aware of every tiny movement you make - Sniper doesn’t say much, but if you get uncomfortable or need to shift around, he’s quick to make sure you’re okay. “Here, move this way—it’ll be more comfortable,” he’ll offer, gently guiding you into a better position, even though it means getting closer to you - After a while, the tension dies down a bit, and he might quietly admit, “I’m, uh, not used to this sorta thing. But… I don’t mind, bein’ close to ya.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking away, but you can tell he means it

[warlocksoup]

into the spider-verse: nishinoya yuu

volume one, chapter two: calls

word count: 2.5k

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, she leans back, and stares at the sky above her. She’s learned that looking down gives her vertigo, and if she’s lying down, she can pretend she’s not twenty-two stories off the ground.

Noya laughs at her, because he always does, but he still holds her hand, because he knows it makes her feel better. “I can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.”

“I feel like this is a super reasonable fear to have.” She inches a little but further away from the edge as she speaks. She doesn’t even wanna be close to it. “Plummeting to my death isn’t like, a big priority for me right now.”

He squeezes her hand. “You know I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He would. She doesn’t even doubt that for a second. If right now she stood up and decided to take a swan dive off the side of the building, there would be nothing getting in between him and her, and Noya would have her safely in his arms before she hit the fifteenth floor.

But still. It fucking terrifies her.

“Okay, sorry my primal instinct does not recognize that you got bit by some weird science experiment spider and now you defy all laws of nature,” she rolls her eyes, still tightly holding onto his hand as he sits upright beside her. “I’ll work on that.”

Nishinoya leans over a lightly pinches the soft skin of her stomach under her t-shirt. She squeals. “Keep it up with the attitude and I’ll throw you off the side of this building myself.”

“Hmm, not very hero-like of you, Spider-Man.”

“You bring out the worst in me.”

She grins. “I’m going to have to write an article about this. ‘Spider-Man throws innocent journalist with fear of heights off Flatiron Building.’ Jameson will love it.”

Nishinoya scoffs. “Yeah, I’m sure he would. Too bad you’ll be busy being a sidewalk pancake.”

Her eyes find their intertwined hands. It’s always been natural, their friendship, everything that happens between them feels like it’s supposed to. The handholding and the couch-sharing and the arm over her shoulder. It’s always right, with Nishinoya. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

She watches his thumb as it brushes against her skin. “How’s it been out there lately?” she asks.

“Quiet,” Nishinoya replies. “Saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies across the street. Besides Sytsevich, everything’s been quiet since Osborn died. It’s kinda weird, y’know? Like eerie.”

“Yeah, I imagine waiting for the next disaster to strike can feel like that,” she comments, leaning back to stare up at the empty sky. You can’t ever see stars out here. “Hey, Noya?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you’re gonna stay here forever?” she asks. “Just stick around and be Spider-Man for the rest of your life.”

He hums a bit. “I dunno. I think I’ll probably just go wherever you end up.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

She’s sitting on the train, a hot cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other. She’s looking down at an email from her favorite Yahoo user: If you don’t want the whole world to find out, do as I say.

It’s pretty explicit. It’s hard to misinterpret that kind of message, as much as she’s deliberately trying to. Her fingers tap against the paper cup, trying not to let panic work its way up her throat in the middle of this train cab, surrounded by bored commuters that wouldn’t flinch twice at any sort of breakdown she could have.

A heavy breath leaves her lung, and she pockets her phone, trying, with a tight feeling of desperation around her throat, not to think of it. If it’s not in her face, it’ll be marginally easier to pretend.

Yachi’s waiting for her at her desk when she gets into work. She slides into her chair, and Yachi skips the greeting. “Jameson’s pissed,” Yachi says, tapping a pencil against her desk.

“Yeah? What’d Spider-Man do now?” she questions, typing her password in. She mistypes it, and curses slightly under her breath.

“The PI he hired to find out his identity quit,” Yachi laughs. “Apparently there wasn’t enough for him to go off, and the guy got tired of Jameson raising his blood pressure at him for forty minutes a day.”

She snorts. Noya’s told her about private investigators before. Everyone touts that they’re going to be the one to unmask Spider-Man, but it’s kinda tricky trailing a man with superhuman sixth sense and the ability to basically fly through the city. “I give it another three months before he tries this one again.”

“I give it one,” Yachi counters.

Her desktop loads up, and she is immediately hit with a barrage of emails, looking like they’re coming in all at once, all in caps lock. “Fuck, looks like he’s taking it out on me again.”

Email after email, the subject lines varying from things like, “This piece is crap!” to “How are you still employed here?”

Yachi leans forward to get a better at her screen. “Oh, that’s bad. I’ll leave you to that.”

And it’s just that Yachi gives her a sharp grin and two-finger salute that another email pops up. No subject line, just a simple: Wait for my instruction.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn looks smarmy on the television screen, a thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead and slick smile that looks a little bit too pleased for his father’s funeral. She knocks her knee into Noya’s leg underneath the blanket they share. “That guy’s such a piece of shit,” she comments, jerking her chin forward towards the younger Osborn.

Noya knocks his leg back into hers. “My guy looks like he just won the lottery,” he remarks, eyes not leaving the screen. There’s a bit of history between Spider-Man and the Osborn family, mainly consisting of Norman committing acts of domestic terrorism from the vantage point of a hoverboard, dressed like a fucking goblin.

“Yeah, well he basically did,” she snarks. “Imagine inheriting Oscorp before you’re twenty-five. Basically guarantees you a fucking thirty under thirty spot.”

He snorts. “I’d rather not have anything to do with Oscorp. I’d rather be broke.”

"Oh, you mean the company that basically sponsored the lizard-ification of Dr. Connors? I can't imagine why." She lops her head to the side to look at him. “And anyway, I’m broke. You’re a freeloader.”

Nishinoya waves her off. “Same difference.”

She snorts, turning to face the television again to see they’re playing old footage of Norman Osborn in a lab (coat and everything), explaining the mission statement of Oscorp. To build a better future.

There were rumors about Norman, post-mortem. Details floating around about how he was driven mad in his final year. That the Osborn curse had infected him beyond hope, and his mind had began to decay, along with his body. Some people think he’s been dead for much longer. Some people think a group of investors had been secretly running Oscorp for years while Norman received private care upstate. Some people even suspect him of being the Goblin.

She wonders if that was the better future he had envisioned.

Noya shifts uncomfortably in his seat. She reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers. She’s sure he’s wishing the son will be better than his father. She’s hoping too.

His thumb traces circles over her knuckle. He doesn’t look in her direction. She tries to focus on the news and enjoy the way his hand feels in hers before there’s some police broadcast or distant siren or whatever to call him back to duty.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Meet me @ 300 W 57th St tomorrow at 8am. Or I tell everyone about him.

She sits at her desk, biting down on the end of a pencil, and weighing her options.

One: she could tell Noya.

There’s not even a chance he would let her go. Not even if he were there. No matter the argument she would present. Nishinoya would sooner web her to the couch than let her go meet up with some mystery blackmailer. She also knows that this threat would do little to sway him. If she tells Noya, the most likely outcome is him, masked up and aggravated, showing up to fight.

Which would result in ijs99ETJfdhsg@yahoo.com telling everyone.

Two: she could do nothing.

There’s really been no hard proof presented to her that shows that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg knows what he claims he knows. This could all very well be a big misunderstanding on her end. And so what? Even if he does know what he claims to, it’s not like the world would so easily believe that Nishinoya Yuu, random unemployed man, is Spider-Man. Random liars claim to be Spider-Man every day. Noya could easily blend in with random liars.

The consequence of doing nothing though is, of course, him telling everyone. And still, the possibility that the masses believe him or that Yahoo user ijs99ETJfdhsg does have some hard evidence on his side gnaw away at her. She can’t shoulder that.

Three: she could show up.

She could put some pepper spray in her bag and give Noya the address just in case something happens, and she could go and meet with this mystery blackmailer to see exactly what the fuck it is he wants.

And then, he wouldn’t tell anyone.

The thought of it puts knots in her stomach, and those knots are worsened by the acknowledgement that it’s probably her best course of action.

She sighs, using her cursor to highlight the address he provided and plopping it back into search bar. She’s envisioning some deserted alley, an abandoned storefront or someplace that would leave no witnesses if she were to be kidnapped and/or murdered.

What she wasn’t expecting was fucking Oscorp.

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

Harry Osborn’s office is neat. Almost empty, save for a few hard-drives and a stack of unopened newspapers at his desk. The wall to ceiling windows provide a view of the city she’s never seen before, and standing in the middle of it, she feels so starkly out of place. She looks behind her, just to see the assistant that led her up here closing the door behind him.

She feels trapped, at once.

Harry himself is leaning against a window, and as if operating on a que, he turns on his heel, a sickly grin plastered on his face, and, if she squints, she can almost see a greenish sort of hue in the undertones of his skin. “There’s my favorite journalist,” he greets, arms extended out as if he was going to hug her.

She steps back. “Erm, yeah,” she responds, head turning slightly to eye the closed door behind her. There’s something off in the air of room, something off-putting in the way Harry is looking at her. “Is there a reason you summoned me here through cryptic emails, or did you just wanna like, hang out?”

He stops, and lets his arms drop back down to his side, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets. “Straight to the point. I like that. I like that quality.”

It’s strange to be in the same room as him, New York City’s prodigal son. She’s seen his face on the cover of magazines and on news segments and she’s written articles about him. Harry Osborn has almost always been some kind of mythic figure in her head. An untouchable prince. Nothing she could get away with printing in the Bugle would ever have any impact on him.

But here before her, he does not look mythic, or untouchable, he looks like a very sick man. His hair falls flatly on his forehead, and he uses the back of sleeve to wipe off droplets of sweat. The longer she looks at him, the greener he seems, like his whole body is lightly stained.

Harry takes another step towards her. She steps back again.

“Y’know,” he drawls, and moves to stand behind the large desk that takes up most of the room; she watches him carefully, eyes trained on his every movement, “one of the most underrated parts of a power acquisition in a company like Oscorp, is that you suddenly have a lot more information at your disposal. A lot of information that money can’t buy.”

There’s something about the way he talks that is starkly unnatural. The PR training bleeds out of every word, and though he looks young, but the way he carries himself is eerily like his father. It makes goosebumps rise on the back of her neck. She looks over her shoulder, back at the door behind her. “O-okay.”

Harry takes a seat, like he’s unbothered by her presence. His hand lingers over one of the hard drives. “Did you know that, back in the early two-thousands, this company poured millions into researched on genetically enhanced spiders. They were supposed to be this miracle cure. A magic spider that could cure any illness. Until, of course, the head scientist died in some accident, and they had to kill off the whole project, including all the spiders they bred. Y’know, today, I think we only have one thing to show for that project.”

Her face is hot, and her ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. This all suddenly feels like a mistake, like she’s in over her head and she never should’ve come here without Noya. Her tongue is dry when she tries to speak. “Is this, is this on the record, or…?”

Harry leans forward in her chair, and sneers. It chills her blood, that expression, cold and gnarled. “I’m not interested in going on the record with some second-rate journalist at a trash paper. I’m interested in this.”

Harry Osborn grabs the newspaper on his desk and slams it forward. She takes a step forward to get a better look and knows immediately what it is. It’s the Daily Bugle, with Spider-Man on the front page and her name printed on the bottom.

The First-Ever On-The-Record Interview with the One and Only Spider-Man!

Her hands are shaking. She looks up to see Harry grinning at her. “It’s funny, actually, how someone right out of school, with no credentials and no reputation to go off, could get this kind of interview.”

She can hear her heartbeat, and all she can think of is how unbelievably, colossally fucked she is.

Harry Osborn stands and makes his way to stand directly in front of her. The closer he is, the more of him she can see. The green tint of his skin, the almost scaly quality, the point of his teeth. “I want you to find Spider-Man, and I want you to get him to give me his blood.”

🕸 ｡𖦹°‧✩｡🕷˚⋆｡

On the busy street beneath the Oscorp building, her fingers tremble as she dials Noya’s number. He answers after the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? I’m just dropping this bodega thief off at the station-“

“Noya,” she cuts him off, trying to hold back the sob in her voice. “I fucked up.”

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[hunnyswift]

prologue: i died on the altar

summary: this was supposed to be the most wonderful day of your life; you were marrying the man you wanted to spend forever with. that was until you were standing at the altar , hand in hand with bradley , that he decided to make this day the worst of your life instead.

cw: profanity , accusing bradley of cheating ( he would never! ) , being left at the altar , mentions of canon death of a character , mean!reader , and i think that’s it!

casting: chace crawford as danny , michael b. jordan as harrison , zac efron as casey , jamie chung as cierra , and bianca santos as liv

18+ minors dni

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

you were standing in your childhood bedroom , looking out the window into the backyard that had been transformed into your dream wedding. there were flowers , friends , and family scattered all around. it couldn’t be more perfect weather , sun shining bright but not so much to where you’d be sweating through your white dress.

the only other person in the room with you was your mother. until you heard a knock on the door , you rush to it , opening it wide and smiling when you saw your best friend. “danny! i thought you were going to be late!” you laughed , yanking the man into a hug, “i’m completely ready and you’re just now getting here?”

danny walked into the room , kissing your mother on the cheek. “connie forgot the rings , so i had to run to mom and dad’s before the ceremony. sorry for taking so long,” he explained , sitting down on the edge of your bed and taking you in. your hair was done , makeup perfected , and the dress “wow , you look sublime , squirt.” you blushed , swishing around the bottom of your dress for effect.

“oh ya know , just getting married. gotta try and look good so he doesn’t run,” you joked , sitting down next to him, “mom , give us a minute?”

your mother smiled sweetly , nodding at the two of you before taking her exit from the room. danny could feel the nerves coming off of you. it was making him nervous , and he wasn’t the one getting hitched. “i think bradley is cheating on me.” you blurted , your hand flying up to cover your mouth. it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“what the hell are you talking about?” danny catechized you , eyes going wide as your mouth.

“he’s been acting weird. not normal wedding coming up jitters weird. like standoffish and elusive and secretive. and i think he’s cheating,” you rambled on , breathing coming quicker than before, “and even case and harrison have been off. i just feel like there’s this big secret i’m not in on , and it’s that bradley’s cheating.”

danny grabbed your hand and looked you in the eyes. “trust me , bradley isn’t cheating on you. there’s no way. he’s probably just got a surprise for you as a wedding gift or something,” he’d explained , trying his best to calm your nerves, “look , it’s five til , he’s on his way downstairs any minute , and you’re going to walk down the aisle to him and get married , y/n. this is just nerves.”

you take a deep breath with danny , closing your eyes and breathing out slowly. “you’re right,” you decided. bradley wasn’t cheating on you. you were nervous and coming up with disasters in your head to fuel the fire in your stomach. “okay , okay. go! i’m gonna wait for my dad to walk me and then get married.”

“atta girl!” danny cheered , hopping up from the bed and kissing your temple before rushing out the room and down to his position.

as the door clicked behind your man of honor , you stood in the mirror , checking over everything. your hair was done , your makeup was set , your dress was perfect , and most importantly , your fiancé was downstairs waiting to marry you. your eyes flicker to the ceiling for a moment , “thank you , carole and nick. we love you,” you whispered , holding onto the necklace bradley’s mother left for you.

they’d be so happy to know you and bradley did in fact end up together.

a knock at the door pulled you from your moment of silence. “princess? time to get hitched,” your dad smile came from behind the door , peeking his head around the corner.

just like bradley’s mother , your father was just as adamant about you two getting together. he helped raised bradley , knew he was a good man. he let him into the family with no problems , always hoping you’d fall for bradley like he had. ron loved bradley like his own. it almost seemed like he was more excited for the marriage than you two were.

“i’m ready , daddy,” you beamed , leaving the room with your arm in his, “brad waiting for me down there right?” you laughed lightly.

your father let out a hearty chuckle with you , helping you down the stairs. “i might just have to kill him if he wasn’t.”

he was.

as the song started playing , you and your dad made your way to the bunches of flowers set up behind your groom. there he was , standing with his hands behind his back , tears in his eyes , and the biggest smile on his face.

you finally reached him , your smile matching his , practically blinding your friends as family as they watched the two of you almost kiss out of instinct.

“you look perfect,” you whispered , tears coming to your eyes, “everything is perfect.”

“you’re perfect,” bradley sighed , holding your hands in his. god , he hated himself right now. you were perfect , the exact person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with , but he knew in that moment it wouldn’t be long enough. convinced he was destined to have the same fate as his father , bradley couldn’t leave you alone that way.

there was a moment of silence as you both took each other in and everyone settled in their seats. “can we —“ bradley cleared his throat , his words coming out far weaker than he expected, “can we talk really quick? in private?” he asked , eyes pleading and watery.

“honey , we’ll have plenty of time for that after we get married. time and place,” you giggled , thinking he wanted to take a few moments for a quickie upstairs. while that was true , you looked beautiful and he couldn’t help but let his mind wander and think about how amazing the night could end.

“no , we need to talk first,” he reassured you , hands squeezing yours far too tight.

your eyes darted around , looking at casey and harrison behind your groom before meeting bradley’s gaze again. “okay?” you mumble a quick sorry to the pastor and start to walk back down the aisle with bradley , whispering you’ll be right back to your guests.

once you get into the house , bradley lets out a deep breath , like he’d been holding it in all morning. “are you okay? what’s going on?” his back was to you , hands planted on the kitchen island as he focused on his breathing. “bradley thomas , what is going on?”

he finally turned to look at you , the tears running down his face far different than a few minutes ago. these ones were filled with regret , a deep seeded sadness that you’d only seen once or twice before. “i can’t marry you.”

you didn’t hear anything after that.

you were right. you told danny you had a gut feeling. you knew something would go wrong. you knew it. after years of being together , today was supposed to be a dream and with just four words it’s your worst nightmare.

“what?” you choked out , tears filling your eyes once again, “what do you mean?”

“i can’t — i can’t marry you,” he repeated , looking down at his feet. how could he possibly say all of this and not look at you?

“look at me and say it again,” you demanded , chest rising and falling quicker with your uneven breaths. it took a moment , but his brown eyes met yours and he repeated the words , softer this time , but just as clear. “why not?” he turned away from you again. “why the hell not , bradley?” your voice was louder now , anger seeping through your words just as much as the hurt and confusion.

“i don’t want to,” he lied, “i don’t want to get married anymore ; i don’t want to be with you.” if you didn’t kill him , he thought he should maybe do the job for you.

“so…” your turn to take a deep breath, “after eleven years together , you’ve decided in what? the last twenty-four hours you’re over it? you’re just willing to throw everything away for what?” you were trying to figure it out , but bradley wasn’t giving you anything. he stood silent , eyes fallen on the floor once again , where he stared at your heels that carole wore on her wedding day.

“i’ve gotta focus on my career right now , honey,” bradley groaned at the lie, “getting married just isn’t what i need to do.”

“oh , my god! are you kidding?” you laughed , hands resting on your hips as you look to the sky in disbelief, “are you hearing this?”

“i’m sor—“

“shut the hell up,” you barked , finger pointing at bradley like a gun, “your — wow , your parents would hate to see you right now,” you scoffed , shaking your head violently.

“excuse me?” both of your tears had dried , exasperation and hurt flowing between you two in words now.

“you want me to repeat it? your parents would be disappointed , bradley. i mean , can you imagine having to go home and tell that what you’re doing to me right now?” it was mean , cruel even. you knew that , but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

“okay,” bradley hummed , taking a few steps away from you.

the silence was killing you , and him. a knock on the back door pulled the two of you out of whatever was going on. “hey,” casey peeked his head in the house, “slider’s asking what’s taking so long?”

“shut up and go back outside before i kill you , casey,” you growl , head turning to him quickly. yes , your anger was slightly displaced , but it’s not like he had no idea what was happening. the red eyes bradley adorned were clear , and your makeup was mussed up from your own tears.

casey’s eyes glanced between his best friends , turning to look outside at the waiting crowd. “i know , but people are getting impatient?”

“tell them she’ll be out in a second,” bradley spoke up , voice uneven as ever. your friend nodded , closing the door quietly behind him. you both watched as he went up front and explained to the guests you two were taking a moment to yourselves. “i think that’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” he stated , going back to your conversation before the interruption.

“you saying you can’t marry me is the worst thing you’ve said to me,” you replied, “guess we’re both hitting lows today.”

“guess so.” it almost came out as a laugh. truly , the situation wasn’t funny , not to bradley and not to you. “i’m gonna get my stuff,” he announced , pointing over his shoulder to the guest room he was set up in for the day.

your face was still hot , breathing shallow. “bradley?” a whisper left your lips , getting him to stop and look back to you again. he took a step toward you again , scanning your face for any idea of what you might say to him now. “if you do this , there is no fixing us. you leave and we are over.”

“baby , we’re arguing in the kitchen we grew up in on our wedding day with all of our friends and family watching from the windows,” he sighed, “we’re already over.”

your eyes wandered to the backyard seeing that bradley was right. everyone was looking , trying to decipher what was happening to the happy couple. thankfully , your yelling wasn’t heard , but the tears were seen.

bradley began his way up the stairs to pack up , but you follow closely behind. “tell me about the moment you knew you wanted to marry me,” you requested , wringing your hands together as you stood behind him packing his bag.

“y/n , please don’t make this harder than it already is. please,” bradley begged , pausing only for a moment before resuming his getaway.

“please , bradley? one last time?” you hoped he would tell you the story.

it was one of those weekends that danny had managed to come out to your college campus. it was a surprise ; he just showed up to the house you all lived in with a bag packed and ready to party. you , bradley , danny , harrison , his girlfriend cierraa , casey , and casey’s new girlfriend liv were all pregaming at the house before heading to the bars.

“you know , i don’t think i’ve ever seen squirt say yes to a free beer and not bring it to you,” harrison laughed , watching you making your way through the crowd back to the boys with liv and cierra behind you. you all had beers in your hands , all of them meant for your boys. you carried two and laughed harder than the other girls.

“i’m gonna marry that girl,” bradley smiled , eyeing the way you moved around everyone else on your way back to him like always.

“it was as simple as that,” bradley shrugged , sitting on the bed now, “i mean , i always knew , but that moment in time i knew.” your eyes were flooded with tears once again as you stood in front of bradley.

“so what’s changed?” you asked , lowering to your knees as you tried to find bradley’s eyes again, “why don’t you know anymore?”

“all i know is that i can’t marry you , squirt,” he answered with another shrug, “oh , i want to. i really do , but honey , i can’t.”

his hands found your face , swiping at the tears that were running through your makeup as you sniffled. “why? i just don’t understand why,” you cried , holding onto his wrists tightly.

“i can’t,” bradley simply said. he couldn’t marry you , and he couldn’t tell you why , and he couldn’t bear to watch you cry any longer. “go , baby. they’re all waiting for you,” he tried to smile , nodding his head in the general direction of the wedding to not be.

“i don’t want to without you,” you sighed , getting more comfortable on your knees. you didn’t plan on leaving this room unless it was hand in hand with your fiancé. “i love you , bradley.”

“oh , god. i love you too,” he replied softly , pressing a kiss on your lips so soft you don’t think your brain even recognized it until it was over. you chased him , leaning in for another which he gladly gave you. “i love you enough to let you go , so go. please.”

your eyes stayed closed , but you felt bradley shifting and standing up to continuing grabbing his things. it took you a minute to stand. you dusted your dress off and turned around not saying another word as you left the room and headed back outside.

at that point , everyone was mingling again as they waited for the wedding to go on. the second you opened the back doors , all eyes were on you. one look at your face and everyone’s gaze turned empathetic rather excited.

“everyone—“ your voice cracked, “you can all go home. the wedding’s off,” you announced. the only person you could bring yourself to look at was your father. in a flash , slider was rushing past you and running on the stairs to find bradley— to kill bradley.

danny , cierra , and liv all came to your side , pulling you around the front away from the prying eyes of your guests. “c’mon , babe,” cierra whispered , wrapping you in her arms.

you could hear the yelling from upstairs all the way outside. it was your dad. bradley was silent. “where do you want to go?” liv asked , looking around the small group just as casey and harrison found you all.

“what happened? what’s going on?” harrison questioned ; he had no clue. casey was quiet. danny was on the phone , texting your mom small updates as your friends all talked.

“bradley left me,” you deadpan , your face now void of emotions just like your voice, “we’re done. it’s all over.”

◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟ ͜ ◞ ྀི◟

yallllll it’s finally out. it’s a long one , but i wanted to fit it all in for chapter one. lmk what you think<3

[bitterbutblue]

Is it bad i can imagine Robin as a hopelessly inlove girl like ofmgsh?? Like knowing how popular she is, she doesn’t have an attraction to anyone, seeing how some of her fans are just obsessed. She doesn’t like any of that.

But when she sees how polite and respectful you are, she’s immediately hooked.

Like you’re taking a liking to new cafe? You'll find that all your orders are on the house, already paid. Needing to vent? Her phone is always available ready for any of your calls or messages with flowers mysteriously on your doorstep the next day. You’re sick? She immediately drops everything to take a drive to your house with medicine and some of your favourite snacks in hand.

Please i love Robin, and i will ramble on and on about her everyday 🥺

~🍷

the way i manifested for robin before my final exams like i sat down with a group of friends and we did a little prayer circle and i hit the ten pull button while on 5050 adn we got robin and i proceeded to absolutely NAIL the exams on that day. she's my favourite for a reason.

⤷ you were just one of the people who worked in the fan meet and greets, setting up the venue and whatnot.

⤷ everyone there was going insaneee about THE robin being there, and you were excited too but upon seeing the way her fans treated her or behaved when seeing her, you couldn't help but feel bad

⤷ poor bby looked so uncomfortable, especially when the men are talking to her and trying to touch her as she walks off the stage. so you quickly took action (knowing it mayyyy cost you your job cause they could file complaints) but you couldn't care less.

⤷ you walk up to the man and aggressively shoulder him, pushing him aside as you approach robin to ask if she's okay with a very gentle smile

⤷ oh she's so gay.

⤷ fell for you hard and fast. literally offered you a job on the spot and you were like wtf

⤷ the entire time you worked as her assistant she clearly was in love with you. remembered your birthday, your favourite drinks depending on your mood, your favourite foods, snacks, everything. Always ordered a drink for you too, and you felt bad but she keeps insisting on treating you

⤷ no assistant of hers has ever been as caring as you!! always looking out for her, and arguing with the higher ups if you feel like they're pushing her too far and that was reallyyy what made her fall in love

⤷ you cared so much about her, not just because she's a celebrity but because she's a person. it's been so long she's forgotten how it feels to actually be cared for and not just looked at

⤷ she confesses to you one day when you snapped at her manager for commenting on her body weight again. you were sick of it- robin had barely gained anything but they wouldn't stop talking to her about losing weight so you snapped.

⤷ the manager demanded to have you fired but robin refused. instead she had sunday fire the manager.

⤷ it was a weird surge of emotions she felt in the moment, having someone actually look out for her. your face was red from anger and your breathing was unsteady, a look of pure irritation in your eyes but the moment you laid your eyes back on her the irritation fades into nothing but worry and she's smitten.

⤷ she asks you out on a date when you were walking her down to her car that'll drive you home and you thought you were dreaming.

⤷ she giggled at how u just stared at her, looking so confused and shocked

⤷ she kissed you on the cheek and your entire face just turned brick red

⤷ the next day, she got you another drink. except this time there was a heart doodled on the side, and a promotion letter next to it- asking you to be her manager.

⤷ the most loving girlfriend SERIOUSLYYYYY she doesn't take SHIT from anyone if they say anything bad about you. okay they can talk shit about her, but YOU? she'll start throwing hands

⤷ now that you're dating she spends even more money on u like christ, you knew she was rich but this is a whole other level.

⤷ rented out your favourite cat cafe for the day so you two could have a date in silence and peace without the stress of the cameras

⤷ wrote an entire album about you and you melted when you listened to it for the first time

⤷ despite how busy she was, she still makes you the most thoughtful handmade gifts. she learned to crochet to make you a beanie for when it gets cold when she realised you didn't have one in possession

⤷ she's your lover girl, forever and always <33

[iamwinklebottom]

THEME: “Random Ass Messages?”

Choices:

1. If this resonates with you, consider getting a personal reading here @ https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/advice-psychic-mediumship-divination/32

• I keep hearing “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” by Kylie Minogue: https://youtu.be/c18441Eh_WE?si=vfUS2-a-jjamnS81

In the past, you used to fall in love with unworthy people and easily become obsessed a lot. You healed from this and realized that you went through these karmic cycles so many times, so your heart won’t get stolen by unworthy beings anymore.

You are very high vibrational. Please be careful. Check your astrology chart and become familiar with it.

You may not realize it, but people become obsessed with you easily. If you’re in danger, please reach out to me if you want my professional help and services: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/conjure-services/30

Dealing with stalkers can be very weird and uncomfortable, but please understand what the situation tells you and is teaching you about the “human condition” and your future.

Low vibrational obsession is not attractive or cute, but many people don’t understand that. Protect yourself. Some stalkers genuinely do attack and even hate the people they’re obsessed with and cannot possess.

2. If this resonates with you, consider getting a personal reading here @ https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/advice-psychic-mediumship-divination/32

• I’m hearing a song I wrote. It’s personal and not public yet, but it’s about seeing a divine lover in a dream.

You need to start preparing yourself for love. I offer Divine Romantic Union Preperation services and Divine Love services: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/s/search?q=Divine%20

These magical services also help with being able to only accept high quality love and give high vibrational love to high vibrational beings who actually deserve it.

Some self love work will benefit you too + Beauty Conjure & Confidence Charisma Conjure: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/conjure-services/30

You really feel like you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. You’ve grown comfortable with that because of your past, but please understand that you specifically are meant to love and be loved genuinely. Great luck and much love to you.

3. If this resonates with you, consider getting a personal reading here @ https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/shop/advice-psychic-mediumship-divination/32

• I’m hearing “Hey Joe” by Jimi Hendrix: https://youtu.be/biguQQBpHjY?si=fv1DGjjjUgf7fs1E

At first I felt feelings of nervousness. Like “oh god.”

I heard “hey Joe, where you goin wit that gun in yo hand… I’m going to shoot my old lady; I caught her messin round with another man,” but that was just my human self perceiving only the meaning of the song.

You’re safe. Don’t worry. I’m not channeling MUCH about violence.

The thing is, this message is about Jimi Hendrix himself. He was perceived as ONLY a talented, confident, and charismatic sex symbol. Yes, he had those traits, but he was honestly very shy and kind (he did become violent when his mental health started to decline, so continue to prioritize emotional stability please: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/product/-emotional-stability-conjure-service/260?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=true).

People will perceive your power and want you far away from them, but so close at the same time. You are a spectacle: a rare breed of being that people want to degrade and abuse, view up close with a glass between contact, or drag you into their personal space to hold forever. Be aware of this.

You must understand the vortex swirling around you and your existence. You are an odd starlight. It can be beautiful and healing, don’t let it become dangerous and unhealthy FOR YOU…

Prioritize evolution and development to assist you in this lifetime and the lifetimes after. Proper social navigation is necessary as well: https://www.iamwinklebottom.com/product/-social-navigation-conjure-service/295?cp=true&sa=false&sbp=false&q=true

[charlesslut16]

hey girly!!!

i hope you had an amazing day! I would like to request,if ou could maybe write a imagine about liam lawson x his girlfriend,who is a massive daniel ricciardo fan. They are both so happy that liam is racing for the next weeks but you are also sad for daniel and now you are in a weird situation.

Hope you could do it!

PS : I will miss him so dearly but i am so so happy for liam

-you can be both-

summary : you and liam talk about his new F1 seat but you tell him about the sadness in your heart,as you are a hardcore fan of daniel

PAIRINGS : liam lawson x fem!girlfriend (daniel ricciardo)

WARNINGS : none

notes : i hope you will like this and I WILL MISS DANIEL SO SO DEARLY!!! (please send in more requests)

masterlist

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

You’re sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed you and Liam Lawson, your boyfriend, shared, your phone resting on your lap, endlessly scrolling through the latest F1 updates. 

Your stomach twists with a mixture of emotions as you read another article about Daniel Ricciardo leaving and Liam stepping in to take his place for the races. It still feels so strange—like you’re caught in two opposite worlds.

Being beyond proud of Liam. The man you love is getting his shot at Formula 1. You’ve been there through the highs and lows, watching him grind through junior formulas, putting in the hours, dreaming of this exact moment. 

He’s worked so hard, and this chance means everything. But at the same time, you’re gutted for Daniel, who you’ve been a fan of for years—long before you met Liam.

The door clicks open, and you glance up to see Liam walking in, fresh from a meeting with the team. His eyes immediately find yours, and there’s a light in them, that familiar spark of excitement, but you can tell he’s a little on edge, too. This is his moment, after all.

“Hey, babe,” he greets you with a soft smile, dropping his bag by the door. His voice is calm, but you know him well enough to sense the nervous energy humming beneath the surface.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back happily. You want to jump up, throw your arms around him, tell him how proud you are, but the knot in your stomach holds you back.

He sits down beside you, his arm automatically wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. His touch is warm, comforting, but the whirlwind of emotions is still there.

“I’m so happy for you,” you blurt out, your words rushing together before you can stop them. “I mean, this is your dream, Liam. You’ve worked for this your whole life, and now it’s finally happening. But…”

Liam’s eyes soften, and he tilts his head to look at you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your side. “But?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. I guess I feel kind of weird about it all. I’ve been a fan of Daniel for so long, and it just… it sucks that he’s leaving. Not only that, but I was so excited to see him back this season, and now he’s expected to leave, and you’re the one replacing him.” 

Your words feel tangled in your throat, and you hate how conflicted you sound, you didn't like it, you were happy, why did it feel so wrong. “I’m happy for you—so, so happy—but I feel bad for him too, you know?”

Liam’s quiet for a moment, just listening, and it’s one of the things you love most about him. He doesn’t interrupt or rush to reassure you. He just lets you get it all out.

“I get it,” he finally says, his voice soft, understanding. “You’ve always loved Daniel, and honestly? So have I. I’ve looked up to him for years. He’s a legend in the sport, and it’s not fair that he’s out like this. If I weren’t racing, I’d be rooting for him, just like you.”

You exhale, relieved that he understands, but still feeling a little guilty for having these feelings at all. “I know I should just be focusing on you, and I want to. It’s just… I never thought I’d be in this position—where I’m excited for you, but also sad because of what happened to him. It’s like I’m stuck between wanting you to kill it on track and hoping Daniel doesn't leave.”

Liam pulls you closer, his lips brushing your forehead as he lets out a small chuckle. “It’s okay to feel that way. You don’t have to choose between supporting me and being sad for Dan. You can do both.”

You glance up at him, feeling your heart swell with affection. How does he always manage to make everything seem so simple? Because he was the man you fell in love with.

“You think so?” you ask, your voice softer now, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little.

“Of course,” he replies, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not competing against your Daniel fangirl side.” He teases you lightly, making you laugh, which feels like a release. 

“Besides, I think Dan would want me to do well. He knows that I will be a good person to race in his place, even tho no one can ever replace him.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude wash over you. “I guess I’ve just been a little overwhelmed by it all. You deserve this, and I’m so proud of you. I just hate that it’s happening like this.”

“I know,” he says, his voice steady, reassuring. “But this is my chance to show what I can do, and I’m going to give it everything. For me, for you, and for Daniel too. He’d want someone who respects him and the sport to be in the car.”

You smile up at him, feeling the tension in your chest start to ease. He’s right, of course. Daniel would want that, and more than anything, you want Liam to succeed.

“Thanks for understanding,” you murmur, leaning into him.

He wraps his arms around you fully now, holding you tight. “I’ll always understand. And hey,” he pulls back just enough to catch your eye, “when you see Daniel on the grid, you can go right back to fangirling over him.”

You roll your eyes, swatting him playfully. “Don’t get jealous.”

“Jealous? Me? Never,” Liam smirks, but his eyes twinkle with that playful charm that always makes your heart skip a beat. “As long as you’re wearing my team cap and cheering for me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I will. But seriously, Liam, I’ll be cheering for you every second. This is your moment.”

He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I’m lucky to have you here with me.”

At this moment, the confusion, the conflict—it all melts away. There’s only you and Liam, and the road ahead. Whatever happens with Daniel, you know you’ll be there for both of them. But right now, this is Liam’s time to shine, and you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

[muldermuse]

girldad!butcher when one your daughters has a ‘boyfriend’ at primary school and he gets all huffy about it and ends up lecturing both your girls on how men are trash but they steamroll over him just like

“You lot need to understand, that men, as a whole, are horrible.”

“But you’re nice, daddy!”

“Well, I’m the exemption, I’m talkin’ bout-

“Uncle Hughie is nice too!”

“Well yes, but listen love I-“

“And Uncle Marvin!”

“Oh- don’t forget Uncle Frenchie too, he taught me this French song. Daddy, do you want to hear it?”

“Yeah! We can sing it to you!”

And by this point he’s been verbally defeated by his two little ones and is just accepting of the fact that he’ll be fighting off boys for the foreseeable future😭

im so in love with this

i love girldad!butcher so much- his girls just run rings around him. the man truly stands absolutely no chance

ALSO IMAGINE when your daughter is like 13 and she gets paired up with a boy in her class to do a science project. he’s coming round to do the project on like a Saturday afternoon and butcher is livid. he’s trying to call the school to get her in a team with some girlfriends instead of some kid named briar.

later in bed that night, he’s grumbling that the “kid sounds like a fuckin’ cunt”. you remind him that the ‘cunt’ he’s referring to is a 13 year old boy who he has never met. also, you know briar’s mom and he seems like a nice kid. you tell butcher this but he just grumbles unhappily until he starts snoring

butcher is cancelling all family plans so he can stay in and make sure no ‘funny business’ happens during the study session. when your daughter answers the door she says ‘ignore my dad, he’s being weird’ and briar looks terrified of butcher immediately- avoids his gaze and calls him mr butcher when he greets him

of COURSE, after a few hours, butcher realises that briar is actually a nice kid. butcher even offers to make him dinner and drop him home. refers to briar as ‘his little mate’ everytime he sees him at school events from now on. even when your daughter has her first boyfriend at like 17 (and butcher is not a fan), he’s saying she should call briar instead.

“i did one science project with him like forever ago dad! he has a boyfriend now!”

[girldraki]

i have to pause our rant we were kind of but not entirely vaguing this one specific article and i just have to say uh

man what the fuck

[fawn-tongues]

Safe Bet

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

I’ve been highly confused as to why Michael “deeply openly thirsting on Twitter about David Tennant for half a decade” Sheen is half-in half-out the closet but apparently Wales is absurdly homophobic lmao what the fuck how is a country the size of New Jersey that much of a hater bruh we out number the shit out of you

[gas-station-chai]

Au where jack grows a full kieffer plant behind the gas station and it imprints on him like a baby duck

[spacelazarwolf]

always wild to get the most horrifically transphobic comments from someone then check their profile to see they have “she/they” in their bio.