#we'll bleed and fight for you

[championsofthegate]

//levels of pda muses are comfortable with

Gale: awkward about pda in front of Tara and his mother, otherwise all for pda. very much a hand holder in public

Shadowheart: once she gets used to it she's okay with a little bit of pda. But she's very awkward at first.

Vax'ildan: despite his teasing he tends to be a more private person where this sort of thing is concerned. Again a little bit of pda is alright, and if it's going to piss off someone terrible he's all for it lol

Ayla: absolutely down with pda at all times. being raised among wood elves pda is basically just her normal.

Cietan: gets awkward about pda. he'd prefer to keep things more private tbh, although he does like holding hands. but still kind of weird about it in public

Lucia: very awkward about pda, not much for it at all, she's not used to letting people see her emotions at all, so that's too vulnerable for her

Rosemary: all for pda, the more obnoxious and annoying the better. will obnoxiously make out with her partner to the chagrin of everyone else

Klio: easy flustered by pda. She likes it, she's just not used to it yet lmao

Elysia: she likes some pda but she's not overly affectionate in public, small things are usually fine.

Alea: she prefers to keep things more private, but if it's going to annoy someone she's down with it lmao

Alras: pda is his bread and butter, he will make out with his partner in public if he thinks he can get away with it

[withoutawar]

steve: as long as one man stands against you, thanos, you'll never be able to claim victory.

thanos: noble sentiments from one who is about to die.

steve: i've lived my life by those sentiments. they're well worth dying for.

[eryanlainfa]

Now that Aiden's parents have a design I can finally put a face on that Dear Theodosia animatic living rent free in my head since forever 🔥

[eupheme]

— you’ve got me wanting you

[part iii of sugar, sugar] | [part ii] [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 7.4k

tags: jealous/posessive!logan, baker!neighbor!reader, wingman!wade, flirting, feelings, (another short) miscommunication, immature humor, light angst, use of alcohol, threat of violence, use of alcohol and smoking, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, PiV, creampie

As the days pass, you think your time spent with Logan is pretty much perfect. Well... almost.

(Or - a dash of insecurity, some badgood advice from Wade, a near-fight at a bar, and the confession of overdue feelings.)

Those two nights spent with Logan turn into more.

The days are bleeding together, blurring. You fit well with him, you think. Together in Wade's apartment - spanning that space between their chatter and silence. Softening edges, though you think he's softened, too.

A stray cat coming around. 

Bristling, with narrowed, untrusting eyes. Slowly learning that he can lean into your touch. 

Your days since have been spent humming as you work. It had been an anchor once, this routine of yours. Getting up early used to give you something to get up for. Enjoying the whirlwind of prepping, measuring, making, decorating. 

Now - you're grateful for how quickly the day passes because it means you can't overanalyze. Because it means by the time you catch your breath at the end of the day, you're already heading home to him. 

Takeout was brought over to their apartment. A crappy movie with a hand curled around you, sending your heartbeat racing. The night ending at yours, hours between dusk and dawn spent learning every inch of each other. 

You think it's pretty much perfect.

Well... almost.

“Do you think Logan likes me?”

It slips out of you. Something that’s been worrying at you, a splinter trapped just beneath your skin. You regret asking almost immediately - the sun glinting off the silver needle as you push it through the lycra suit. 

“You mean the guy that’s been fucking your brains out for the past couple weeks?”

“Wade.”

“Oh, sorry.” He lines his knife up, poking a hole in the top of his styrofoam container - coaxing the waitress from lunch to give him a ‘take-home-margarita’. A cheerful “baby knife!” as he sheathes it again,” I mean the guy that’s been having totally-chaste-and-appropriate adult sleepovers with you?”

You understand what he’s getting at. Stalling, holding up his suit - another gash sewn shut with black thread, “You sure this is okay?” 

“Mhmm,” He hums, “Gives me that bride-of-frankenstein vibe I’ve always wanted. Besides, anything is better than before.”

“You insisted, you helpless little man-baby.” Al adds, from her lounge seat, “Learn to dodge.”

Wade splutters - your lips twitching, as you work.

“See what I live with?” He gripes, “Maybe the two of you outta trade. It’d be cramped, but I bet the three of us could sardine it.”

“You wouldn’t last a week without Althea,” You snort. A beat, before you gather the courage to circle back to the topic at hand, “And besides, that’s just it. I’m not sure he wants to sleep with me." 

The summer breeze feels better up here, on the roof. The whip of the wind cooling you, as you work your way across the once-again battered suit - propped up against the brick parapet. 

“Okay, time out. Missing link here.” Wade gives you a sideways look, before his head pivots, "You cannot hit me with this fake virginal act when I literally heard you two fuck an hour after you met."

A beat, "And like, pretty much every day since then. I think I even heard a howl last night-"

Your eyes roll, "Wade. He’s not a werewolf, he did not howl-"

"Well, not anymore.” Wade smirks, “And funny that you assume I meant the Moan Wolf, but I could have meant you-"

You groan, head cradled in your hands, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, we'll keep it down. It's just-"

It’s just you’ve been here before - this liminal space between an excellent physical connection, and more. You've done the hookup thing - casual, friends-with-benefits, lonely strangers. Thought you had learned how to keep your emotions in check, especially with those past experiences.

But you’ve never met someone like Logan before. 

He makes you feel bare. Soft-hearted and stripped down - wearing your feelings on your sleeve. Opening yourself up - only for your fingers to brush up against a brick wall, in return. 

Wade must catch your tone because he sets down the styrofoam container - the pink umbrella tucked against his ear. 

"Alright Sugarbuns, tell Papa Bear what's bothering you." 

You grimace at the names, another flicker of regret lingering in the corners of your mind. But you find yourself talking. Letting those worries flow from you in a rush.  

But Wade would know, wouldn't he? It's his friend, after all. 

"He leaves after."

His eyebrows raise, and you continue, "I mean, he'll stay for a bit but he always winds up on the couch by morning.  I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he’s out there. I mean, I thought he'd want a bed, after where he's been staying, no offense-"

Thought he’d want to stay with you. 

You nudged at it once. Getting nothing more than a grumbled excuse about not sleeping well, something about nightmares. Something you accepted, only to find him tucked in your bed a few days later - curled in your sheets when you had rushed back to the apartment after leaving your phone. 

Hadn’t wanted to push, even if it confused you. Wouldn’t he want comfort, after a bad dream? You always did. 

"Offense taken, Blind Al and I are excellent bedmates," Wade interrupts, "But please, continue."

His joke eases you a little. Risking a sideways glance, finding him already looking at you.

“I like him, Wade. I just really want this to work out.”

He hums, sympathetically. Knowing all too well the complexities of like and love. How you feel deeper than you’re letting on - he always was perceptive, after all. 

A beat, before your head turns. 

"Do you think it's me?" 

He does laugh then, his shoulder leaning to bump yours, "Sugar, you have a two-hundred-year-old boyfriend who's gone through a massive amount of trauma and has an alcohol problem, and you want to know if it's you?"

"Fuck." The heels of your palms press into your eyes, "Okay, okay-"

"I literally traveled through the void with him, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles-style. The John Candy to my Steve Martin, and even after saving the world he still wanted to kill me."

"Wait," Your head lifts, "Why would you be Steve Martin in that scenario?"

“He’s the main character, as am I.” He barrels past your question, "The point is, if he didn't like you, you'd know. You just need to be-"

"Patient." You finish, "Yeah, I know." 

And you do know. Even since that first meeting, you've known that he's been eaten up inside. Cracks of the man beneath leaking through his gruff exterior, as you had sat together on that couch. 

But Wade called him your boyfriend, but he's not. Not really - no conversation to indicate that's how he saw himself. 

It just left you confused. Vulnerable. Enough that you did dumb shit like this - going to Wade for romantic advice. The man who proposed with a ring pop and thought that a prostate orgasm was a sign of being soulmates. 

"Maybe you’re giving him too much. Withhold a little," Al interrupts, making you jump, "That's what landed me my second husband. Begged for it like a dog, and was married the next month. God rest his soul."

Wade mouths an exaggerated “what the FUCK" at you, before shooting a dark look in her direction - only just then seeing her smirk.

"Oh, you’re joking? She came to us for help and you’re joking-” A sniff, as Wade turns back, "So anyways, don’t do that. Do something normal. Like internalize it, until it makes you snap."

His face screws up, as he adds, “Or, maybe try it? That bricked me up a bit-”

"Or,” Al adds, “Maybe you should just talk to him, Sugar."

Althea always knew how to cut to the chase and give the hard advice you needed to hear. You just wish you weren’t afraid of the answer.

‘You’re both right,” Your head dips against Wade's shoulder, “I owe you. Again.”

Silence lingering, though it’s not uncomfortable. Leaving you to think about what he said.

The suit passed over to him, when you tie the final knot, “Done.”

“Thanks,” A beat passes, as he gives you a sideways look, “Any chance you want to cash in on that favor tonight?”

You know better than to agree without more info - an eyebrow raising as you wait.

“Vanessa is coming over tonight.” Wade gives you a meaningful look, “It would be great to have the apartment to ourselves for a bit.”

The serious tone does not last, as he smirks, “I fully intend to break my months of celibacy the second the opportunity arises.”

“Months?” You hadn’t realized it had been that long. Thought he would have moved on, in some ways. 

“Years, actually,” He adds, casually, “Turns out my obvious romantic hangups plus this-”

A gesture at his face,” Are a total boner-killer. As well as having an elderly roommate, apparently. Especially one who won’t leave.”

You shoot him a sharp look at the self-deprecation, Al’s voice cutting through.

“I told you, I’m hitting the casino for singles night.”

“Okay. I can drop Al off and pick her up,” Your mind is already racing ahead, “And Logan and I can go out to dinner or something.”

The prospect is exciting. Despite the time spent together, you haven’t really gone on too many dates yet. After your long hours and his rotating work schedule, your meetings have mostly been late-night. Quick meals whipped up in your kitchen. A rotating pile of delivery menus. 

“That would be great.” He smiles, “Thanks, Sugar.”

“Of course.” You smile, before adding, “What are you going to make?” 

A frown, when he hesitates.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to wing it.”

“I wasn’t winging it,” He protests, “I was going to hit up ol’ reliable.”

“For a second-first date? You can’t do takeout from Buns and Roses.”

A sigh, as you turn to face him, tugging out your phone, “You should make something nice. I have this recipe bookmarked for engagement roast chicken. I’ll help you-”

He tugs your phone out of your hand, scrolling through the eight-paragraph opener before the start of the recipe. 

“Make this for her, show her you’re serious-,” You start.

Wade finishes, with a smile. 

“-and there’ll be a cock ring on it before midnight.”

You keep catching yourself looking at him.

It’s almost embarrassing how bad you have it. Still not used to seeing Logan like this - away from your small apartment. 

Seeing him at work was different - a very cognizant realization that you were on the clock. The counter between you like a barrier, even when you slip a coffee and pastry across it. A lightning-quick kiss pressed into his cheek. The relentless teasing from your coworkers, after. 

But here - crammed in a booth, his hand slipping just under the hem of your dress, a palm curved against your thigh - it’s something else, entirely. Even in this dark corner, you have to resist letting your hands wander. Eyes flicking to the deep cut of his button-down flannel - dark hair peeking out from the curve of his white tank. The blue and grey pattern pretty against his skin. 

A curl of smoke pours from his lips, a cigar fit between two fingers. 

Logan had been curious to find you in the apartment when he got home. The aroma of the roast chicken wafting through the space, as you talked Wade through the last steps. The slow sweep of his eyes over the pretty sundress you wore, tugged from the back of your closet. 

It hadn’t taken much convincing, when you asked him to get dinner out with you. Even with Althea in tow, safely dropped off for her night out. 

“This is nice.” You smile, and his eyebrow lifts.

A glance around the room.

Dinner spent at a local pizza joint - stories shared, wound between updates about his new job at the local lumber company. About Laura, who you met two weeks ago. So much like Logan that it still catches you off-guard. Shared expressions, shared tempers. 

You think that it must have been hard for both of them, this reunion. That comparison between the Logan in this world, those memories that stay with her. She views him the same - even you can see that. He’s told you it came as a shock, but it’s easy to see how he’s warmed, with time. Finding joy, within the shared grief.

The conversations spill over into a bar you know well. Unsure what to do with yourselves with the order of “staying away”, the sun still setting when you had stepped inside.

“Not sure nice is the word I’d use, sweetheart.”

“Anywhere is nice if I’m with you. I am sorry, though. I know it’s not-” Your hand waves, shyness creeping in as you lean into his shoulder, “Wasn’t sure where else to kill some time. Dopinder and Buck run a tight ship, it’s really not so bad.”

“Mm. Guess this is nice, then.” He corrects, a hint of a dimple as he smiles, “But you let me take you somewhere safer next time, yeah?”

“I’m safe with you.” 

You miss the way he looks at you, as you take a sip of your drink. The brush of his fingers against your skin. His voice going low, goosebumps rising as he murmurs in your ear. 

“How much longer do we have to stay out?”

A question that’s been on your mind as well. 

“Well, Al’s thing is over at ten,” Your teeth worry at your lip, “But, I guess we could sneak back early. It’s just, Wade-”

“What about Wade?” 

It’s unfair, how he crowds you in the booth. Torso twisting to face you. The warmth of his hand - how you’re aware of each and every movement he makes. It takes you a moment to answer.

“Wade is… Wade,” You manage, “But he doesn’t really ask for much. I owe him, you know?”

“You owe him?” He chuckles, “He’s lucky you stuck around after he tried to give you cocaine-”

“Hey,” You smile, “That was Al.”

That had been your second run-in with your neighbors. Only desperation had sent you over to the apartment, needing a cup of powdered sugar for a personal favor. Under-estimating how much you needed, in your rush to finish some cookies for a friend’s baby shower. 

Meeting Al instead. The powdered substance swapped when her roommate had rearranged the apartment as a prank. Only Wade bursting from the bathroom, a towel slung low from his hips, had saved you from disaster. The nickname had formed when you hadn’t written them both off. 

“And besides, Wade was the one who introduced me to you.”

Logan’s expression softens, “That is something, isn’t it?”

He holds your gaze for a long moment. Eyes drifting lazily down to your lips, with a low hum, then further. It sends a heat blooming in your cheeks, an unconscious press of your thighs together.

“I’m, um, gonna let Dopinder know we’re heading out.” You breathe, “He’ll worry if we irish goodbye.”

“You sure?” He husks, with another exhale of smoke - and you can feel the heat rising from your cheeks to your ears. 

“Yes,” It comes out breathy.

“Um, yeah. You finish that, and I’ll be right back.”

Your elbows pressing into the sticky bartop as you wait - watching Dopinder work his way through pouring pints of beer for a crowd of bikers, all in dark leather.

A glance over your shoulder, finding the booth tucked in the corner. The dark head of hair, the expanse of his shoulders - a thick arm slung across the back - as Logan waits for you. 

It makes you smile, and you almost miss the bump of a shoulder against yours.

“Oh!” You squeak, shifting to the side to make room, “I’m so sorry, I-”

The apology dies on your tongue, as you glance up at the man leaning against the wooden post at the end of the bar. Eyes drifting over the black field jacket, up to dark eyes. 

“Been a while, darlin’.” 

You inhale a breath, in surprise. Close to two years ago, if you remember right. Numerous meetings spread out over months, before he slipped out of your fire escape and into the early morning.

No note, no text. Walking out just as suddenly as he had appeared.

It had never been anything serious - he had made that clear - but you can’t pretend that it hadn’t hurt. 

“It has,” You agree, a low twist in your belly, “How have you been? Didn’t think I’d see you outside Hell’s Kitchen.”

Unable to help that flicker of worry, even after everything. It’s always been ingrained in you - thinking of others more than yourself. 

“Should ask you the same,” His eyebrow arches, “This isn’t your kind of place. Taking up mercenary work, beautiful?”

“I’m here with someone.” It comes out clipped, a glance over your shoulder - the nerves eased when you spot his form.   

“Mountain man?” 

A scoff - lip curling over sharp teeth, “Taking you to a place like this… You can do better than that. You can do-”

“You?” It’s your turn for your brow to raise, “We both know how that goes, Frankie. This-”

A pointed finger, gesturing around the room, “Was my idea. Things are different. I’m different.”

There’s the hint of a smirk - dark eyes that drag slowly down. Flicking back up to yours, as his voice pitches low, “I’m sure some things are the same.”

Your head shakes, “Not like that.”

There are lingering shades of purple that fade to yellow across his cheekbone. Never was good with this. All that time spent glancing out your window, waiting for him to show up, battered and bloody like he used to. All he did was keep you out, keep you at arm’s length.

Maybe that’s why you’re afraid of it happening again. A little shake of your head - a reminder that you need to be patient like Wade said. Logan isn’t him.

“I know what I want, and it’s-” The words die, as you look for him, again. Finding only an empty booth - your stomach tying up into knots. 

A palm touches at your hip, a chest pressing snugly against your back. Startling you, as you breathe, “Logan.”

“This asshole bothering you, sweetheart?” It’s growled out, Logan’s eyes fixed on the other man. 

“Nice guard dog.” There’s an amused appraisal - narrowed eyes, tongue trapped against teeth. “He do tricks as well?

The fingers at your hip curl, the smallest tug backward to bring you closer. The words ground out between bared teeth.

“You watch it.”

Christ. This was bad, you need to find your tongue - and quickly. 

You twist, a hand resting on his chest. Only now does Logan’s eyes drop to yours, the tight pull to his features only just ebbing.

“This is Logan,” You smile, your palm pressing over his heart, “He’s, uh, my-”

And for a brief second, your words fail you. The tension is thick enough to cut, acrid in the air. Would labeling this right now send him running? 

The man cuts through before you can finish.

“Frank Castle.” His eyes flick back to yours, as he adds, “Sure you can guess how we know each other.”

The muscles beneath your palm twitch. A light pressure against your hip, urging you away from the bar - the words low in your ear, “Alright. Let’s go.”

A nod, and you’re giving Frank a tight smile - letting Logan guide you towards the back. No more than a step taken before his voice cuts through.

“You still got my number?”

You shoot him an exasperated look, “Frank-”

“Gonna be back in town for a while, baby girl.” His arms cross, as he leans, “Call me when things don’t work out.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before a fist closes around the collar of his jacket. Logan stepping into his space, a forearm shoving Frank hard as he pins him against the post.

“I’ve had enough of your bullshit, bub.”

Fights are common in Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children, but you can’t say you’ve ever experienced one. Fear licks inside you, meeting Dopinder’s equally worried gaze as he starts to rush over.

Frank’s smile is dark, “You don’t want to start this.”

It’s met with a growl. Silver points peeking between the dips of Logan’s knuckles, the fabric straining in his tight grip.

“Fucking try me, you piece of shit.”

There’s a metallic click - the press of something cold against Logan’s groin. 

“Should shoot your dick off for that.” 

“Okay!” You shove between them, then. A hand on Logan’s arm, tugging - the other at his neck, trying to guide him back to you. 

“Hey. It’s okay,” It’s softer now, soothing, “Baby, let’s go.”

His hazel eyes are wild when they find yours. Face twisted in a snarl, deepened with the shadows cast in the dim room. Blinking, as he comes back to himself. A dark look as his arm eases - stepping away.

This time, it’s you that leads him towards the back exit. Something gritted out as you leave that you miss, but sends Logan bristling. An apologetic look thrown at Dopinder, before you’re stepping together through the swinging door, into the wood-paneled hallway. 

Ducking down one of the hallways, next to matching doors leading to bathrooms, and a storage closet. An exit sign, gleaming red at the end. 

The music and voices are muffled. His face silhouetted in the light of a vintage beer sign, his features outlined in gold as his back presses against the wall. A gritted, inhaled breath.

You haven’t seen him like this before. Seen him mad several times. Grouchy and annoyed with Wade. The sharp temper that hid his hurt when he thought you didn’t want him.

None of those moments match him now. You’re not sure what to make of it - the way your skin prickles. Something in your belly flutters, a warmth that drips from behind your ribs, settling low. You never wanted anyone to get hurt. But that look in his eyes, how quick we was to find you - it makes you inhale a breath.

“We-,” You start - your fingers still curled around his bicep, “We should talk about this. You okay, Logan?”

His eyes flick to yours, jaw working. The fury has bled from them, the sharp etches in his face easing, even as his expression stays guarded. 

“Yeah. ‘m fine.” Logan rasps, “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

A beat, before it slips from him, “Was he one of the ones Wade scared away?”

“What?” It takes you a long moment to remember. Your brow pinching, as you shake your head,” Frank? No. It was-”

The pull of his brow is back, his frown deepening with your explanation. 

“It was just casual.” You finish, lamely, “It wasn’t anything. Never was.”

“Didn’t sound that way.” It’s gritted out. 

His head turns, eye contact dropping. A hand, raking through his hair - pushing the dark strands back, “Listen. If you want to go with him, it’s fine.”

You’re left stunned for a moment. His jaw working, hands jamming into his pockets. It’s defensive - it’s familiar. 

“I don’t want to go with him-” You start, but it only makes him sigh. 

“Then what were you gonna say, Sugar?” The look he finally gives you is searching, “I’m your, what-, your neighbor?”

“No!” You cry, “I was going to say you’re my boyfriend, but you’ve never-”

Logan’s pitches low, “I’ve never what?”

Your shoulders droop. Curling around yourself, as you lean into the wall next to him. He leans, matching your height - trying to catch your eyes. 

“I don’t know, Logan.” It’s almost too quiet to hear. He might have, if he had been anyone else. “I told you I liked you the day after meeting you. But you…”

A little shake of your head, “You keep everything so close to your chest. You leave in the night. It’s okay, I just… sometimes I don’t know what to think.”

When his arms cross this time, there’s something in his eyes. A dark glimmer, the tug of his lips.

“You think that I don’t like you, sweetheart?”

A tilt of his head, a sharp edge slipping into his tone, “You think I wasn’t ready to tear that asshole limb from limb for talking to my girl that way?”

Something low in your belly twists, desire thrumming in an echo that radiates through you. A sharp inhale of breath at his words.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” You manage, transfixed.

It’s easier, this time, for him to step into you. Hands ghosting along your neck. Tipping your face to his, so you can’t look away. Can’t miss what he tells you.

“If-, if I open up.” It comes out hushed, his words soft and low, “You won’t like what you see, Sugar.” 

You reach for him - fingers curling around his wrists, “I like what I see just fine.”

He huffs. The barest hint of a smile, before his expression goes solemn. 

“This,” The word is punctuated by the way his thumb sweeps against your cheek, “Never goes well for me. Sleeping on the couch puts me between you and anything coming through that door.”

Your pulse races with the remorse in his words. He’s touched on the barest of details of his past. Those small moments shared in the night you met, riddled confessions in the late nights that have followed. 

“And the things I dream about-,” His eyes go hazy - lost in a memory, “They pull me back. I don’t want to hurt you because I can’t tell them from reality.”

The words slip from you automatically, without thought. Guilt floods through you, an ache from wondering - doubting. 

“You won’t hurt me.” 

“I will.” He breathes, “Sweetheart, I will. It’s not an if, it’s a when.”

Your head shakes - a stubborn set of your jaw, “You won’t. Please don’t shut me out, Logan. Please try…”

He huffs - eyes dropping to your mouth, as he leans. Hands slipping to cup your head, angle you to meet the press of his lips. A soft sigh that you swallow, something tender in the way he draws you to him. A hand curling around your back, splaying between your shoulder blades.

“Give me some time, okay?” Logan murmurs, when the kiss breaks, “Let me draw out the first good thing I’ve had in a long time. Just for a little longer.”

“Don’t have to draw it out.” Your body still curves to his, anchoring yourself to him. A hand touching his jaw so this time, his eyes have to stay on you.

“You deserve good things, Logan.” Your mouth brushes his, “Let me give them to you.”

The sound he makes is almost wounded, as if he wants to protest. 

As if he wants to believe you.

Breath ragged, as his hands trace down to grip at your hips. Leaning into you, your touch. What you offer him. A thigh fitting between yours, nudging against your core - and you think surely he must see how your eyes darken.

The rapid flutter of your heart, how it races for him and only him.

“Yeah?” He husks, as if reading your mind, “You ready to get out of here, Sugar?”

“Bathroom.” You breathe.

“Can’t wait that long.”

He’s on you the second the door swings shut. Fingers twisting at the lock, as his head dips - mouth finding yours again.

There’s a desperation to his kiss this time. One that you match with the way your palms trace up his chest. Fingertips at his neck, tugging him to meet you.

A thrill shoots up your spine. You’ve never done anything quite like this before. The space behind your ribs is soft and tender from his confession - already breathless before he deepens the kiss.

Backing you up against the old, chipped vanity that lines the wall. The stalls hanging open - empty as his hands trail down your spine. Fitting beneath the curve of your ass, tugging you up to fit on the counter. 

Finding your jaw again - guiding your lips to his, meeting the sweep of your tongue as he fits between your thighs. 

“Been wanting to get my hands on you all night.” He breathes, against your lips, “So fucking pretty, you know that?”

It sends a pulse through you, down to where you’re already responding to his touch. Your knees close around his hips, urging him closer. 

“Logan, please,” You hum, fingers tugging at his belt buckle. A palm pressing against the front of his jeans, where his cock strains against the denim. 

His moan is ragged, bucking into your touch. Fingers tracing up your waist. Letting your tits fill his palm, as you work him free.

“This okay?” Logan rasps, eyes half-lidded, “Pretty fuckin’ filthy, sweetheart.”

It’s hard to hold back a moan of assent, when his lips presses against your neck. Open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, the scrape of teeth pressing into your jugular.

“Good,” He growls against your skin, “Would’ve bent you over that fucking bar if you’d let me.”

It’s possessive. It makes you shiver - a sweep of his tongue, the suck of lips as he marks you. The sharp sting of his bite fading into sweet bliss. 

“Need you.” Your fingers wrap around his cock, stroking. The lightest of tugs to bring him closer, your thighs inching further apart.

He groans, “You have me.”

The pretty dress you wear is pushed up to your waist. His palm cupping you, feeling your warmth before he’s tugging the fabric of your panties to the side. 

Need rushes through you. A heave of your chest against his as your mouth meets his, greedy. A tilt of your hips, a leg lifting to hitch around his waist. Your hand curling around the edge of the counter, the other guiding the tip of his cock against your slick folds.

“Hold on, honey.” Logan’s fingers slip against your pussy, nudging inside, “Gonna be sore.”

“I can take it,” You insist, pleading, “I can take you, wanna feel it.”

His eyes darken. A little inhale of breath, watching as your lips part as two fingers press deep. Your teeth already sink into your bottom lip, muffling a whine.

Slipping them free, after crooking inside you. Wrapping his hand around his cock, a rough stroke to smear your slick around him. Lining the tip up with your opening, as his hands fit against your waist. His hips pressed snugly against the chipped counter, as he begins to tug you to meet him. 

You can feel every inch, as he moves you. He splits you open, your shoulders arching against the dirty mirror as your nails bite into the laminate. A hand pressed against his chest, as you urge him to go slow. 

A held breath coming in a rush, as he slips deeper inside you with a grunt. Filling that ache you’ve been carrying - your eyes dropping down to watch the slick shine of his cock. Sinking into you with the slow saw of his hips, a clink of his belt with movement. 

“Just for me, yeah?” He rasps, a hand drifting down. Fingers splitting where he fills you, drawing slick tips up to circle your clit.

“Just you.” You nod, breathless. Rocking into his touch, taking more as you adjust to the weight of him inside you. 

His teeth flash white, in the dim room.

“That’s my girl.”

The moan you’ve been holding back slips from you, as you clench down hard around him.

He hums, “You like that?”

“Yes.” You whine. Reaching for him, as he tugs you closer. The slow plunge of his hips turning into a shallow grind.

Fingers circling and pressing, in rhythm with the heady drag of his cock against your walls. Your fingers grasping onto his arms, his shoulders - the kiss is messy when he meets the tilt of your head. 

Leaning into you as his tongue licks into the cup of your mouth, your tits pressed up against his chest. A broad hand slipping from your waist, curving against the swell of your ass and squeezing.

“That’s it,” He rumbles against your mouth - eyes half-lidded. A groan when you nip his lower lip - grinning at the way you gasp, when his hips surge forward, “Atta girl, taking me so well.”

Each swipe against your clit feels like a countdown - hips angling until he finds that spot inside you that makes your teeth click together. That slickens him up even further, until he’s pounding into your wet, tight heat. 

Your fingers pinch down. Breath going short, until you’re panting. Unable to do more than buck into his touch, as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm you.

“Couldn’t even wait to get home,” Logan growls, “Needed this cock so badly, didn’t you?”

“Needed you,” You whine, hips rocking to meet his. Eyes fluttering shut, as the winding pressure builds, “Fuck, needed you. Gonna make me-”

The words break on a bitten-back whimper. Your muscles go stiff, bracing yourself in his arms. 

“Want you to look at me, sweetheart.” He coos, with that steady roll of his hips. Nudging deep inside you each time, as his fingers circle against your clit, “Eyes on me when you come, alright?”

Your answer is a breathless nod, as you listen. 

You don’t think you could look away if you tried. Not with him right in front of you. So close you can see the pull of his brow in concentration, the pretty shade of his eyes. 

Fixed on you, as his lips part. The soft pant and grunt as desire throbs in your veins, your fingers curling into a fist in his flannel.

“Come for me, baby.” He urges, “Wanna feel you, let me fucking feel you come.”

It’s there, swirling inside you. Liquid heat between your thighs, yanking you to an invisible edge. Leaving you to dangle, breath held -

“Oh my god, Logan-“

You’re falling - clenching down hard around him. His name is a chanted prayer as he fucks you through it - a ragged, pleased sound rumbling in this throat as you pulse around his cock. The slap of his hips growing louder, more wet as your release coats his cock. His base and balls sticky, when they press flush to your cunt.

“That’s it,” He growls. Fingers leaving your clit, so he can grip your waist. Drive into you harder, chasing his own impending release.

“Come on, that’s my girl.”

It’s pulled from you, sweet and smooth.

“Yours.”

Logan’s moan is ragged, coming from low in his chest. His pace stutters - the steady thrust turning sloppy. A messy rut of his hips, grinding himself as deep as he can before he finds himself again. 

You forget the dingy bar. The flickering overhead lights. Filth and phone numbers scrawled on the walls. Everything narrows down to him.

How he holds you. Looks at you -  so much said in the way they soften. You don’t know how you ever could have doubted. 

Blinded with uncertainty. Fears from before, that will no longer have a hold on you. 

“Logan,” You sigh, your heel digging into the curve of his ass. Eyes still on his, as your plea slips from you, “Fuck. Don’t pull out.”

You want to feel him. The throb of his cock when he comes deep inside you. How he lingers, slick and dripping from you - now, and later, and tomorrow. 

A gritted-out groan, as the sharp tempo increases. Fingers pinching hard enough to bruise, and you’ll wear him there, too - fading marks against your hips. 

“Yeah?” Logan husks - that look back in his eyes. Pupils blown wide, as his lips part with a groan, “Gonna be my good girl, gonna fucking take it?”

“Mhm,” It pitches high, as you nod. 

“Fuck.”

It comes out choked, as he loses himself in you. One, two, three thrusts, and Logan is growling - hands slipping down to tug you flush against him, as he spills inside you with a muffled shout. 

Hips grinding himself deep into you, his words a rough rasp in your ear, “Take it. Just like that.”

He pulses inside you, filling you with each twitch of his cock. Marking you fully, as he tests his teeth against your shoulder. A moan, as your thighs hitch around his hips - nudging him deep, where you’re wet and warm and wrapped around him.

Leaving him to grind every last drop into you, slumping back when his grip finally loosens. Your limbs feel like liquid lead, head tipped back against the glass. A groan muffled against your neck, as your fingers slip beneath the tugged-open flannel.

Nails scratching along his back, the tight muscles beneath easing.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Logan hums when he finally leans back - and you already miss his hands on you, as they shift to brace against the counter.

It feels cruel that he teases you like this. When you swear you can still feel the throb of his cock inside you. When he’s still sheathed to the hilt.

You groan, “Don’t make fun of me, Logan.”

“‘m not sweetheart,” He huffs, eyes going soft.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

There’s something off about your apartment - he can sense it the moment they make it to the landing. 

This is exactly what he had been trying to tell you. The when, not if, something will go wrong. His senses flickering into overdrive, nostrils flaring. 

Catching the light that creeps from under the door, when he knows you clicked it off. His hand automatically leaves yours, reaching out to tuck you safely behind him.

“Logan?” There’s confusion in your voice, a hand at his shoulder.

He shushes you, his words a low growl.

“Someone’s in your apartment. Stay here, sweetheart.”

There’s the soft snick of his claws, your fingers untwisting from his shirt. A breath, and then his hand is closing around the knob - a sharp jerk of his fist as his shoulder slams into the wood.

Teeth bared, as he bursts into your apartment with a snarl. 

All that fury bleeds to relief, and then disappointment.

“How’d you get in here?” Logan grits, his claws sheathing. 

Your voice joins his, from where you had peeked around the doorframe, “You okay, Wade?”

Hazy, morose eyes peer back at him - a hand lifting to wiggle “baby knife” at him. A newly-opened bottle of your cooking sherry in the other - a plate balanced on his chest, filled with a half-eaten chicken breast and vegetables. Legs stretched out on your sofa, Dogpool curled between his ankles. 

“She didn’t show,” Wade mutters, with a miserable smile, “Didn’t want to be alone.”

Logan can’t help the soft flicker in his chest when you go to him. Sinking to your knees by the couch - moving the plate to the coffee table, lifting Dogpool into your arms. She licks your chin as Wade lets loose a long, drawn-out sigh - flipping to face the back of the couch. 

"What was the point of the first two movies?" The words are muffled into the fabric, "Why would Disney do something like this? We were picking out baby names for fuck’s sake-"

“I’m so sorry,” You soothe - a hand on his back, “What can I do to help? Can I get you anything?”

Wade’s head turns to the side, with a long sigh.

“Thor’s phone number.”

“How about I take this,” You tug at the bottle, until it loosens, “And I text Peter? We can have a movie night, okay?”

He turns further, until he’s facing you again, “Even that one you hate?”

"Don’t hate it." You sigh, “It’s just so sad. I don’t know why it’s your favorite.”

“It’s not my fault they made that tree star look so goddamn delicious.”

You’re beckoning Logan over, a gesture to take his place. You hand on his arm, beseeching - but you don’t have to beg this time. The snarling dog inside him calmed - the fury from the bar and from the hallway ebbing at your touch. He can still feel your lips against his, when his eyes close.

The uncomfortable itch of opening up oneself still lingers, but it’s soothed by the way you smile at him in thanks. By the words that he still clings to.  

Logan has to fold himself into the space, knees folding. Mary Puppins tucked in the crook of his elbow - his other hand patting against a curved-in shoulder. 

Sincerity, as he offers, "Tough luck, bub.”

“It’s her loss.” You call, thumbs tapping away a message. 

“Her loss.” Logan echos, “You’re… you’re a good man, Wade. It’ll work out.”

It comes out clumsy. It always does - he never had a silver tongue like the Professor did. His edges as sharp as his claws, never one to waste words if his fist could do the job. 

Wade flips back over. The hint of a smile, “That’s the second nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Before his eyes are flicking over to where you pace, voice lowering.

“And I gotta ask, did you maul Sugar? What is with that mark on her neck?”

Logan huffs, lips twitching.  

“We’re all set,” You smile, “Your Emotional Support Peter is on his way. He’s bringing Al and some ice cream.”

A glance his way, the question written so plainly in your eyes - the lift of your brow. “That okay?”

It’s not the way he imagined this night going.

Had thought he’d take you to bed when he got back. Take things slower, this time.

Using his touch and the greedy press of his mouth to make sure you understand that he heard every word you told him. That he meant each one he said back - make sure you never made the mistake of thinking he didn’t care for you again.

But when he looks at you - how you’re ready to sweep into the kitchen to make some popcorn, he thinks-

That he might just prefer this. Even as messy as it is. 

He smiles back. 

The couch is crammed with far too many people. Five squeezing into a space meant for three at best. You’ve been half perched on his lap all night, his arm slung over your shoulder - tempted to pull you the rest of the way.

A couple months ago, his skin would have crawled to be this close to others. Would have peeled himself away with a scathing word and a sharper bite.  

But something softened him, during his time in this world. Days, to weeks, to months. 

Couldn’t go back, he knows that now. All the wishing and TVA TemPads couldn’t undo what was done - he’s known that for a while. It would take a long time, but he could try to come to terms with what happened. Try to do better, moving forward.

Starting with himself. A scrap of paper - snatched from a bottom of a flier with a brightly-printed 12-step program, shoved deep into his leather jacket pocket. Relearning how to be patient with others, and even more so with himself. Trying to listen what you and Wade told him.

He’s done walking away from things. You make him believe that whenever, if ever, he manages to open that tightly-sealed lid… you’ll stay.

The thought is one that he'll cling to.

“Alright. Enough bullshit.”  

It’s announced, as the credits roll - breaking him out of his thoughts. A creak of the couch as Wade shifts - crammed between you and Al, his head twisting on her shoulder to peer over his way. 

“‘m being serious now.” He insists, though the words slur together - the bottle stolen back during the movie and drained, “I’m so happy my two besties are falling in love, even if I am a jealous little bitch.”

A gasp, as he remembers - a reaching over to pat Peter’s shoulder, “Not that I’m forgetting about you, sugar bear. You too, Blind Al. I’d be just as happy if you two were dating. It'd be like a less fucked-up Harold and Maude."

A derisive snort from Al. 

Peter smiles, “Just happy to be here, pal.”

“Anyways, life sucks balls. Big, fat, sloppy, wet, balls, but goddamn if seeing you two happy doesn’t fill me with hope.”

Logan can hear the hitch in your breath. The pressure of your fingers, entwined with his. Embarrassment flickering across your face, when you are unable to help glancing his way. 

Exasperation and something else mixing in when you meet his gaze. Something soft and tender and directed so solely at him, that for a moment - he forgets to breathe.

Falling in love, huh?

Yeah. He might just be. 

a/n: i adore frank castle, haha. i thought he would be a fun person to pull in for a jealous!logan scenario - and thank so from the bottom of my heart for all the love on sugar, sugar - I honestly had no idea so many of you would like it, and I can’t tell you how much it means to read your sweet asks and comments 💖 this is all I have planned for them right now, thank you for letting me share this series with you!!! (though I am definitely not done writing for logan!)

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You tend to Alastor's wounds after the fight with Adam. The weight of almost losing him nearly breaks you.

☒ Warnings: gn!reader, hurt / comfort, implied established relationship, descriptions of injuries and stitching them up, mentions of anxiety, the reader cries a bit, comforting!alastor, and also soft!alastor, one kiss, non-sexual undressing, soft touches

☒ Word Count: 1,010

All you could think of the moment the battle ended was Alastor.

The last you saw of him, he was going head-to-head with Adam. But witnessing Nifty stab the lowly man made you worry something terrible happened to Alastor.

The moment you had a second to breathe, you rushed toward the Radio Demon's tower. A trail of blood leading toward his sanctuary sent a wave of fear down your spine. Your steps quickened at the sight, and all the worst-case scenarios flooded your mind. 

When you swung the door open, the view of Alastor blanketed your body with a cold sweat in the weight of a moment. He was doubled over the control panel, ears pinned flat to his head as the crackle in his voice echoed through the space with each breath he took. 

"Alastor!" You cried out, rushing over to his side in an instant. The sound of you calling his name caused his head to whip around. You wasted no time assessing his injuries, scanning your anxious gaze over his frame. 

"Worry not, my dear," Alastor coughed, blood spilling down the corner of his mouth. Your eyebrows knit in concern as you began raiding his radio tower, frantic to uncover a first aid kit. "Of course, I'm going to worry- you're bleeding all over the place!" You exclaimed, letting out a breath of relief as you found the emergency medical kit. 

Hastily, you began pushing Alastor's torn overcoat past his shoulders. The injured man simply gazed down at you, a weary smile decorating his visage. "Darling, I can handle this myself," Alastor clamored through gritted teeth, stopping your hands with his own before you could start unbuttoning his dress shirt. 

You shot your head up to meet his gaze, frustration evident on your face. "No, you can't! You need to let others help you when you need it! Stop trying to handle all these battles on your own. Please, Al," Your voice softened toward the end of your sentence. You didn't want to shout at him while he was wounded so badly, but Alastor's stubbornness got under your skin. Especially now. 

Alastor closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in a shaky breath before releasing his grasp around your hands. "Alright, my darling... I won't stand in your way any further," His voice was barely above a whisper as he presented you with an apologetic look. You offered him a weak smile in return before undoing the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. Peeling it off his frame with great gentleness. 

Your eyes widened in fear as you finally saw just how gnarly the gash across his torso really was. Your hands shook ever so slightly as you began threading the needle you uncovered in the first aid kit. "Tell me if it hurts too much, and we'll take a break." You expressed softly, eyes meeting his crimson ones. Alastor only nodded at you as he gritted his teeth harsher than before, bracing for impact. 

Alastor's grip on the edge of his desk tightened, leaving deep claw marks in his wake. You tried to make the stitching process as painless as possible, but there was only so much you could do. "I'm almost done, my love. You're doing so well," Alastor endured the grueling treatment, letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding as you finished patching him up. 

You generously applied ointment before wrapping gauze all the way around his frame. Alastor let out a hiss as the bandage came in contact with his gash. "I know, my love... just hold on a little longer for me," You snuggly secured the gauze before bringing your hands down. You grasped his hands. Clutching his large palms comfortingly as you beamed up at him. 

"There, now you're as good as new." You quipped, massaging the pads of your thumbs into the back of his palms. Alastor grinned wearily, his crimson eyes holding much adoration for you. "Thank you, my darling... I reckon I should apologize for being so uncompromising before," A slight chuckle escaped his lips as Alastor squeezed your hands right back.

You let a laugh of your own fill the room as you leaned in closer. "Ah, don't be... I'm just glad you're okay," Before you could catch up, your head came flush against his shoulder. The adrenaline finally wore off, leaving your body shaky and weak. Alastor didn't miss a beat. He gripped your hips to stabilize you instantly. "My dear, are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern, radio static crackling out ever so slightly.  

Tears began brimming in your eyes before you could stop them, and a lump formed in your throat. One that you couldn't seem to swallow down. "Sorry, I just..." A hiccup shook your body as your hands came up to his chest, being careful not to graze his injury. "If you would have died... I couldn't bear it!" 

Alastor felt his heart ache at your sorrowful cries. Your solemn words only added fuel to the fire. One of his hands unhurriedly came up to the back of your head, cradling your neck as Alastor cooed at you. "Oh, my dear," He allowed you to sob into his shoulder for as long as you needed, only releasing his grasp around your head when he heard your cries fizzle out. 

You slowly pushed yourself back against Alastor's chest, sniffling softly as you looked up at him. Before you could process it, Alastor captured your lips with his. Pouring all of his love into the chaste kiss. Your heart fluttered as he rubbed soothing circles into your hips. Your worries seemed to melt away from his embrace. Alastor was your everything, and the fact that you nearly lost him today scared the fuck out of you. 

Alastor pulled back unhurriedly, still keeping his face close to yours. He nuzzled his nose against your own before he whispered, "I'm not going anywhere, my darling. You're stuck with me for all of eternity. I expect you haven't forgotten that already!"

[syn0vial]

Astarion Voicelines: Healing/Helping/Buffing (Now updated for Patch 1.3)

A compilation of Astarion's voicelines when he's healing a character with a spell, using the "help" action to free them from an immobilized position, or casting a buffing spell.

Voice lines added between patches 1.1 and 1.3 have been marked with bold text.

Healing (Negative Approval)

Of course you need help.

Waste of a spell.

There's always something.

A poor investment.

Don't bleed on me.

If I must.

Just don't bleed on me.

I should let it fester.

Do I have to touch them?

You're bleeding. Again.

Oh for Gods' sake.

I won't always save you.

Healing (Neutral Approval)

Stop bleeding - it's distracting.

We'll fix what we can.

Try not to die.

You're leaking.

Let's not die yet.

You owe me.

That's enough wasted blood.

There's life in you yet.

Let's fix what we can.

Healing. How novel.

Stop bleeding!

Fine, I'll save you.

Healing (Positive Approval)

A helping hand.

No more wasted blood.

We need you strong.

Let's play doctor.

We'll patch you up.

Let's not die yet.

You're wasting blood.

We need you strong.

It's not your time.

Let's fix that.

You're not dying.

Healing (Romantic Interest)

Let's fix you up.

Let's not waste any blood.

Let's lay on hands.

Let's play doctor.

No, no - that won't do.

The kiss of life.

Stay strong, darling.

You're not going down.

A little pick-me-up.

Healing touch.

Shhh, it's all right.

Helping (Negative Approval)

Of course you're stuck.

Of course they're trapped.

Let's get you loose.

Help the idiot.

Worse than useless.

Some don't deserve saving.

I should just leave you.

Oh no, is someone stuck?

You're a danger to yourself.

How have you survived this long?

I could just leave them...

I'll help. This time.

Can't they wriggle free?

So helpless...

Damned fool.

Give me patience.

Give me strength.

Oh no, they're stuck.

Helping (Neutral Approval)

Why am I not surprised?

Someone needs help.

What have you done now?

Yes yes, I'll save you.

Not that I'll get any thanks...

Must I?

Yes, fine.

Fine.

All right, I'm coming.

Yes, I'll free you.

Let's go already.

Your hero is here.

Do I have to do everything?

Yes, yes, I'm coming.

All right, I'm coming!

Fine, I'll free you.

Let's get you loose.

Oh for goodness' sake.

Because I've nothing better to do.

Get back in the fight.

I swear...

Helping (Positive Approval)

Ha! Oh I shouldn't laugh.

Help is here.

Relax, I've got you.

Come on, let's move.

I'll free you.

Your hero is coming.

All right, all right.

Let's get you up.

I'll get you loose.

Come on, move.

Easy, I'm here.

Hold on, I'm coming.

Helping (Romantic Interest)

A sticky situation.

Let's get you free.

I'm coming.

Really, darling?

Don't worry, I'm here.

Let's get you moving.

You look good helpless.

Maybe they like being restrained?

Don't worry, I'm here.

Let's get you moving.

You'll be free soon.

Oh I shouldn't laugh.

In a spot of bother, hmm?

Buffing (Negative Approval)

Try not to waste it.

Let's waste a spell - why not?

Do I have to do everything?

Useless.

Of course you need help.

Just try not to die.

What a waste.

Yes, fine.

Fine.

If I must.

Do I have to?

Buffing (Neutral Approval)

How did you last so long without me?

Do not waste this.

Don't worry, I'm here.

Someone needs help, I see.

Yes, all right.

A little help.

All right, here.

Don't waste this.

You clearly need some help.

Let's try to survive, hmm?

Stay strong!

Do not let me down.

Try not to die.

I swear, if you just die...

Fine, here!

Just try to survive, will you?

Buffing (Positive Approval)

Lucky I'm here.

Where would you be without me?

Here you go.

This should help.

Better safe than stiff.

A little boost.

A friend in need.

Someone needs a little help.

Just a moment.

Buffing (Romantic Interest)

I've got you.

Let's keep you safe.

Let's keep you cute.

Help is here.

Don't worry, I'm here.

For you, darling.

Just in case

Let's be safe.

Here, darling.

This should help.

No need to thank me.

[cap-winter-barnes]

Home (Tyler Owens x Reader)

You're soaked to the bone, clothes torn, bloody and clinging to your skin. Hair plastered to your face, blooding running down your face like tears. The wind still howls around you as you help people to safety, Tyler by your side. The gash on your forehead is numbed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You've always loved storm chasing, but this time it's different, too close to home.

That moment in the motel pool, clinging to the piping for dear life, Tyler moments from slipping through your fingers - that was the most terrifying moment of your life. Yet here you are still riding your fears.

As the streets of El Reno begin to tumble and tear apart before your eyes, you push forward, trying to save as many people as you can. With no space in the small number of bunkers, basements & shelters there are, you have no choice but to guide everyone to the movie theatre.

"Y/N!" You turn at the sound of Tyler's voice above the cacophony of chaos around you. You still lose you breath every time you look at Tyler Owens and fall in love with him like it's the first time you met all over again. "Baby Girl, we need to get inside before it's too late." His hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you closer to his side.

Tyler was the one who brought your love of storm chasing to life, made your childhood dreams a reality. Your parents thought you were crazy to go off with the self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wrangler' but upon learning the reason behind his dangerous adventures and of your utter happiness and adoration of the man, they came to terms with your decision.

With a chaste kiss to your forehead, Tyler takes your hand in his and pulls you along hurriedly toward the movie theatre. Gathering the last few families through the doors with you and taking a glance back at the fast approaching tornado, you close the door behind you. Once inside the theatre, hunkered down between rows of chairs, the adrenaline begins to fade.

With the horrendous sound of the rain, wind and destruction echoing around the large space, panic begins to set in. This building wasn't made to withstand such a destructive force of nature. Tears spring to your eyes as your fear takes over. The cut on your forehead still bleeding, throbbing above your eyebrow. "Ty?" He can barely hear you above the roar of the storm above you, chunks of ceiling ripping away into the sky. "Ty?"

"I'm here Baby Girl, I'm here." You feel him wrap his body around yours as you both lay on the ground, arms tightly wrapped around them to keep you anchored. His warmth envelopes you and the smell of him immediately calms you somewhat. "I'm here, I gotcha." Sobs wrack your body as you try to take your mind away from this godawful situation. You should be celebrating your engagement but instead you're fighting for your lives. "I gotcha, darlin'. We're gonna go home after this." He kisses your temple, his body wrapping tighter around yours as the eye of the storm grows closer. "Wherever you wanna call home, that's where we'll go. We'll st-"

What's left of the movie screen disappears as the wall is torn away from the building, debris and innocent people being ripped away with it. Your fear returns tenfold, Tyler holding on with all his strength to protect you. His life, his home. "We'll start that family we talked about, hmm?" He presses his cheek against your own. "We're gonna make it through this, darlin'. I promise."

You turn to face him, noses brushing against each other. "I promise you, baby." You waste no time in pressing your lips to his own, the taste of blood, dirt and tears on your tongue as you press yourself to him.

"I love you."

"I love you, Baby Girl." You rest your forehead against his as you both prepare for the worst. The building shudders and shakes, groaning against the worsening wind speed. With eyes closed tightly, hands wound around each others, both you and Tyler hope with all your might that you survive this. But no matter what, you were home. Tyler is your home.

[thefairfolk]

Hi, Iranian here, a longtime resident of Tehran.

Do not send support to the Iranian government until Israel hasn't attacked. Do not.

Iran used the attack on its embassy as an EXCUSE to send missiles and drones to Israel. Iran is NOT doing this for Palestine's gain, it's for THEMSELVES. The government is full of lazy, uneducated dictators who will do anything to spread propaganda.

Do you know what it's like seeing posters everywhere on the streets of bruised and bleeding children of Gaza with slogans like "DEATH TO AMERICA!" or "ISLAM WILL ALWAYS PREVAIL" on them? every day?

This is not a tactic to support Palestine. It is a tactic to support ITSELF!

And you know what? It'll work.

The protests last year were due to brutal oppressions of women and children in Iran. If a war starts, nobody will have time to focus on how abusive and theocratic this piece of shit government is, because we'll be too busy forcibly uniting in order to stand against a common enemy- Israel.

And we can't do that. We genuinely do not have the firepower.

We could scrape past a scuffle with Israel, but absolutely not with the US.

It isn't a "zionist mindset" to not want your country to attack Israel when you know full well how much chaos and trouble it could cause for yourself.

I am begging people not to support this. Do not send support for the IRI. Iran has enemies inside and out. Nobody will fight for a country that oppresses it so brutally.

Edit: hey, zionists? Stop interpreting this as a pro-Israel post and thinking that gives you permission to reblog. I am fine with Jews. I am fine with Israelis. I am absolutely not fine with pro-Israel and/or pro-zionism people. Especially those "anti zionism is anti semitism !!1!1!1!!" folks.

[mingtinys]

" i will never be too mad to take care of you "

pairing : yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : language , descriptions of a wound , blood

word count : 0.5 k

a/n : last minute i actually decided to flip jeonghan's and joshua's prompt , we'll see if i regret it

Your eyes follow Jeonghan carefully, tracking his movements throughout the kitchen. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn't, he simply continues to mull about his business. Completely ignoring your presence and the tension that hangs heavily in the air as a result of your recent argument.

It wasn't the biggest fight you've ever had, but it was surely up there. In the heat of it, you said some things you didn't mean, things that seemed to hit Jeonghan in just the right spot to set him off. You felt bad at first. The moment tears began to gather in his eyes and his face dropped you felt the urge to apologize. But then he opened his mouth and shot some choice words back at you in a way that hit just as hard. All thoughts of talking it out ceased then and there, and so ensued the ongoing silence between you two.

Even just his lingering presence as you try to prepare dinner has you on edge. So much so, that you focus all your attention on what he's doing and what he could be thinking rather than the onion you're chopping up. With your mind split, it only takes a few seconds before you feel the knife slice into your hand. It clatters to the ground as you cry out and cradle your injured hand.

"Ah– shit!"

Jeonghan is at your side in half a second, maybe less. Reaching out to take hold of your hand so he can examine it. "What happened?" His voice is urgent, but his grip is gentle as he hovers over the bleeding wound.

"Ow– I'm fine, it's fine—"

"No, you're not. Just take a seat, I'll be back in a second." He's gone and back in under a minute, the first aid kit from the upstairs bathroom tucked under his arm. You sit in the nearest chair and Jeonghan kneels in front, delicately taking your hand into his palm.

It stays silent as he cleans around the cut and begins to tenderly wrap the fluffy white gauze around your hand. "It looks pretty deep. I think it'd be best if we go to the emergency room and have it looked at, I can drive."

"Why?" The word slips out before you can stop it.

Jeonghan gives you a funny look. "Um, because you might need stitches?"

"No. I meant why do you care?" Tears brim at your lashes and you can feel the tidal wave of pent-up emotions ready to crash down. "I said some really awful things. You should be mad right now, not helping me—"

"Woah woah woah, hey," He soothes. His palm softly cups your face while the other rests on your knee, squeezing it. "I will never be too mad to take care of you." The sincerity in his sparkling gaze never falters.

"I'm really sorry, Jeonghan. I promise I didn't mean what I said."

"I know," he smiles, rising to his feet to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "I'm sorry as well. We can talk about it once you're better."

[ddejavvu]

omg tyler owens x shy!reader where they got separated (in a storm or whatever you’d like) and reader is usually so hesitant on public PDA but tyler got hurt and the team is shocked to see reader freaking out over him and he’s just being so gentle and calm

feel free to change whatever 🫶🏼💕 thank you for putting the imagination into words so well!!!

Aftermath - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're typically less obnoxious about your relationship with Tyler Owens in front of his mass of fans, but Tyler isn't typically bleeding from a head wound, so today is different all-around.

One of the windows of his truck had broken, shattered and disappeared into the mass of swirling winds and debris, and an unfortunately sharp chunk of the mess had slashed Tyler across the forehead, leaving an open gash in its wake. Long but thankfully shallow, the cut drips deceptively copious amounts of blood down his face, and your fingers desperately try clearing it away.

"Baby, baby, I'm okay." He vows, keeping his voice low even though it's shaking. Perhaps his adrenaline junkie habits do have a ceiling.

"You're not okay," Your voice wobbles as if you yourself had been in the twister, instead of watching on his live stream as his head was cut open, "That- that thing could have hit your eye, it was so- so close, or it could have hit-" You devolve into deep, choking sobs, one that rip gasps from your throat and leave your heart pounding.

"Breathe." Tyler prompts you, taking your face in his shaking hands the way you're holding his, "Breathe. It didn't go through my eye. It went through my forehead, and it's just a little thing. It's gonna heal up just fine- just need some stitches. And I'll get the window fixed tomorrow, before anything else. 'Cause-" He breaks off, voice still shaky and hollow, "That's- that shouldn't have happened. My truck's supposed to be stronger than that."

"If it happens again," You fret, voice slowly strengthening as you muscle down your aching sobs, "If-"

"No, it's not- it's not gonna happen again." Tyler's hands squeeze your face gently, providing comforting pressure as he holds you steadily against him, "I'll test it myself. I'll- I'll bash the windows with a hammer or somethin', and- and make sure they won't break."

"Don't bash your windows with a hammer," You laugh, and it's a wet, barely-there sound, "That's- that sounds dangerous. And expensive."

"Okay." He nods, and you stare at each other in reverie, one coming off of the high of near-mortality and the other sponging away grief that had already taken up residence over the heart. Tyler is alive, he's injured but he's alive, and you'll reinforce the truck with solid steel if you have to, just to be sure a stray chunk of debris doesn't shatter the window again.

"Can- can you take a little break?" You ask Tyler, and you're not doing it on purpose, but you're pretty sure your eyes are stuck in puppy-mode, and it must be lethal, "I don't want you going back into a storm for- for, I dunno, a few weeks maybe. I just- let your head heal first, please?"

"Alright. Yeah, a- a break sounds nice," Tyler admits, grinning absently at you. You wonder if his body is out of its fight-or-flight response yet, "Maybe even a month? We'll see how the channel does, 'make sure we don't lose too much of an audience. We can pay the bills until then."

"Thank you," You breathe, inches away from Tyler's face as you drink him in, and you're unsure whether you're thanking him for stepping down and playing it safe, or whether you're thanking the universe for sparing him by an inch.

"Mm-hm," He nods, and you really can't tell whether he's talking to you or the universe either. Maybe a transcendent mix of both, but as long as there's still air in his lungs and fire in his eyes, you don't care too much about the details.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VIII

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You have your baby

It all happened so quickly that Alexia didn't know what to do.

One moment, the cries of your new baby girl filled the room.

She was perfect, bright eyes and a little tuft of wispy hair.

Alexia was allowed to cut the chord.

"Hello, Elena," You said when Alexia presented her to you.

"You did so well, amor," Alexia said, eyes shining with unshed tears," I'm so proud of you."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes." A little bubble of laughter spilled out of Alexia's chest. "She is."

She'd turned away for a second. Only a second to give baby Elena to the nurse to weigh and check. It was just a second, not even that.

A hint of a second.

A bare moment of time when her eyes weren't on you.

A tiny amount of time in the grand scheme of things. Not even enough time to say a word.

You were pale, much paler than before and breathing heavily.

You were already panting through the birth but this was different. It was worse.

You were clammy and unfocused and Alexia reached for you.

Only to have her hand knocked away from you by a doctor hurrying forward.

He said words but either Alexia couldn't understand them or didn't hear them at all. His mouth moved but nothing computed.

Bags were hung up on your iv pole, something injected into you, something else put on a drip.

But you didn't look any better.

You didn't even look really present at all.

This was meant to be one of the best moments of your lives, on the top spot alongside adopting baby Maya and marrying your wife but something was wrong.

Something was so wrong.

"No," Alexia said, scrambling to force words out of her mouth," I...What's going on? No! Stop! Don't take her! Please!"

The doctors were already activating the wheels on your bed, already pulling up the guard rails.

One of the nurses caught Alexia's arms as a flurry of activity happened around her.

"Miss Putellas, y/n is haemorrhaging. Has she told you what that means?"

"Mrs," Alexia says faintly, staring down at the wedding band on her finger, hot like flames against her skin.

"What?"

She looked up at the nurse. "It's Mrs Putellas. We're married."

The nurse's features softened a fraction as she gently led Alexia to the seat by your bed.

"Y/n is bleeding. Heavily. We can keep her on a blood transfusion or we can take her to surgery but we need permission."

"S-Surgery?" Alexia's eyes widened in panic. "She's dying?! She's going to die?!"

"Miss-Mrs Putellas-"

"You need to save her," Alexia insisted, a prickling feeling in her stomach," Anything! Everything! You have to save her!"

"We'll try," The nurse promised," We're going to take her in now but, for you, do you want to wait here or down by delivery with your baby?"

"Elena."

"Huh?"

"Elena. The baby. Her name is Elena."

"That's a beautiful name."

"My wife chose it."

Alexia sat by delivery practically catatonic.

Elena was in the nursery with all the other babies, routinely checked upon but Alexia couldn't bring herself to move, mind swirling with thoughts of you and just how weak you looked in that hospital bed.

You had been smiling before she turned away. You had been happy, eager to have Elena in your arms.

The pitter patter of little footsteps was all Alexia could hear and her body turned automatically, drawing Maya closer to her.

"Mami!" Maya chirped," Abuela say our baby is here?"

"She is. Elena. Your baby sister."

At some point, Alexia had called Eli. She didn't know how. She didn't know when but Maya had been sent to Eli to babysit when you went into labour.

For her to be here now means that Alexia had called Eli.

Maya stood on her tiptoes to look into the nursey.

"Alexia-"

"Mami, they took her. She's in surgery. They're-They're-"

The sobs that had been forced down until now, sprung out full force and Alexia sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"She's going to be okay, Alexia," Eli said," She's strong. She's going to fight."

"I want my wife, Mami," Alexia said," She didn't even get to hold Elena."

"Something wrong with Mama?"

Maya stood in front of them, bored of staring at the babies and Alexia tried to clamp down on her tears, tried to explain but her words got stuck in her throat.

"Maya," Eli took over though," Your Mama just needs to be checked out a little more. Having your baby sister-"

"Elena," Maya interrupted," Name is Elena. Mama name her."

Alexia bit on the inside of her cheek to clamp down a heart-breaking sob.

"Having Elena has taken a lot out of your Mama so the doctors are checking her over."

Maya took a step closer. "Mama is doctor. Looks after hurt people. Mama hurt? Mami, Mama hurt?"

"Mama is going to be just fine," Alexia said, desperately wishing it into existence," She's going to be perfectly fine. She just needs a bit more rest."

Maya burst into tears.

Alexia cried harder.

The clock taunted them, the hands moving slowly but surely until it was hours past since you had first been taken away.

Maya kept crying.

Alexia cries some more.

Eli kept them hydrated and fed, making stops at the café to get them food.

"Mrs Putellas?"

Alexia was up like a shot, Maya already on her hip.

"Yes? That's me! How's my wife?!"

"She-"

"My Mama going to be okay?" Maya asked.

The doctor nodded. "She suffered a post-partum haemorrhage but we performed a laparotomy. It was successful and she's being taken back to her room. Should we bring the bab-"

"Elena," Maya said," My Mama name her."

"Should we bring Elena back too?"

Alexia nodded, wiping her tears. "That would be nice."

She was by your bedside when you woke up, Maya fast asleep on her lap and a little bassinet nearby.

"Hello, my love."

"Amor, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been cut open," You teased but Alexia's face fell," Too soon?"

She nodded. "A little bit."

"How are our babies?"

"Maya was worried. Elena is still perfect."

"Can I see them?"

Alexia gently transferred Maya onto the bed with you. The little girl automatically curled into you in her sleep as Alexia gently lifted Elena.

"Well, hello there, beautiful girl," You cooed as Elena was placed on your chest," It's nice to finally meet you."

She was asleep too, a nice weight on your chest with her scrunched-up little face and even smaller tuft of hair.

"My love," You said," Don't cry."

Tears rolled down Alexia's face as she joined you on the other side of the bed, burying her head into your shoulder as she sobbed.

"I thought I lost you," She choked out," Amor, I was so worried. I didn't understand what was going on."

"I'm okay, Ale," You assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head," I'm alright."

"But you weren't. They took you to surgery."

"And they saved me, Ale," You said," They saved me and I'm here, with you and our children and I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[edenesth]

The Captain's Favourite

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

Struggling to steady your laboured breath, you pressed a trembling hand against the stab wound beneath your chest. Blinking rapidly, you attempted to regain clarity in your vision. From what you could discern, it seemed like the injury might not involve a vital organ, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

However, the stark reality hit hard – you were the sole medical professional on board.

You were always the one attending to the health of your fellow crewmates and never the one in need of medical attention. That all changed abruptly during the unexpected ambush launched by a rival pirate crew.

They strategically targeted a crucial member of the crew before escalating the assault further. The rationale was clear – if the ship's only medical personnel was incapacitated, who would attend to the wounded? Save for the captain, you were the next most important person on the vessel.

But the enemy was also aware you were so much more than just a doctor, "There she is, Captain Hongjoong's favourite. Get her," were the chilling words that you heard before feeling the sharp pain of a dagger piercing your abdomen.

The duration of the battle became a haze, with moments of consciousness slipping in and out as you observed, through blurred vision, your crewmates fighting back fiercely to defend your ship and all the treasures within.

The fight finally ended when your captain impaled the rival leader directly in the heart. Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, let out a weary exhale as he dropped his sword, "Take him and go, the rest of you. If you don't wish to join him in the afterlife." He commanded.

The rival pirates hastily moved to remove their leader's lifeless form from your ship without having to be told twice. It took no time for Captain Hongjoong to scan the surroundings anxiously, his heart racing as he searched for you.

"Wh-where is she—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed what seemed to be your boots tucked away in a corner, cleverly concealed behind barrels. The enemy had evidently gone to great lengths to ensure you wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

Without wasting a moment, he sprinted towards you, pushing all the obstacles out of his way with newfound strength fueled by desperation. His eyes widened, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of the red staining your shirt and your pale complexion.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare leave me!" Hongjoong screamed, gently pulling you into his arms, "Hey, look at me. I'm your captain, and I order you not to close your eyes."

However, no amount of commanding could mend your injuries, and he was acutely aware of that fact. Time blurred as he urgently directed his crew to transport you to the nearest town without delay. Losing you was not an option he was willing to entertain.

Drawing on his experience from observing you tend to injured crewmates countless times, the captain applied pressure and bandaged your wound to minimise the bleeding until you could receive proper medical treatment.

Upon arriving at the closest town, you were swiftly taken to a medical facility, where Hongjoong fought to catch his breath as they gently took you from his arms, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her," He gave the medical staff a firm glare, "You better."

The nurse nodded nervously, motioning for him to wait by the available bench. Everyone in the facility recognised him; it was the very place he had taken you away from many years ago. As a woman, you had been denied the chance to prove yourself despite being an apprentice there.

That changed the day Hongjoong arrived, bloodied and in need of help.

With all the doctors unavailable, you, the only trainee present, seized the opportunity to showcase your skills by treating the pirate captain.

While he rested after you tended to his injury, Hongjoong overheard a conversation between you and your superior. Rather than receiving praise for your competent work, you were berated for not adhering to the rules and taking matters into your own hands.

Enraged by what he heard, he proposed taking you in as the crew doctor. Despite being aware of his pirate status, you agreed because no one had recognised and acknowledged your skills the way he did.

As time passed, you'd grown to harbour feelings for one another. Though neither of you openly admitted to them, the entire crew was well aware of the captain's undeniable affection for you. They often wondered when Hongjoong would muster the courage to confess.

You were used to him always watching out for you; he would go to great lengths, even pretending to be unwell just to stay near you. He'd reprimand other crewmates for inconveniencing you with their minor issues; a total hypocrite himself. It was hard for you to not realise the fact that he was clearly favouring you, especially when everyone aboard has been calling you 'the captain's favourite' since day one.

Except he would always be in denial whenever teased about it, despite his actions proving completely otherwise.

Now, waiting anxiously, he regretted not revealing his feelings sooner. The thought of you potentially dying without knowing his love haunted him. Reflecting on missed opportunities, he questioned why he hadn't uttered those three words earlier. What was holding him back? What was he so afraid of?

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally allowed to see you. Entering the room where you rested, he held his breath until relief flooded over him at the sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your palm, "Oh, thank god, you're okay."

Tears streamed down his face silently, oblivious to the fact that you'd awakened to his sobs. You smiled weakly, moving your fingers to wipe his wet cheeks, "Who would've thought? The mighty Captain Hongjoong is crying for me."

His head shot up immediately, a tearful chuckle escaping him and he nodded, "That's right. Do you see the power you have over me?" Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never, "I love you so much, you know that? You mean the world to me."

You nodded, "I love you too, captain. Thought you'd never admit it."

Leaning in, he kissed your lips softly, "I'll tell you I love you every day now if I have to. And I refuse to let anything like this happen again. You're moving to my quarters at once."

If you thought he was joking, you were mistaken. Things were about to change drastically. Consider yourself promoted from crew doctor to the captain's most valuable treasure, as if you weren't already.

Now that we have Prince San, General Seonghwa, and Captain Hongjoong, I'm still contemplating what other roles to assign to the rest of the members.

Anyway, really hope you're all enjoying these imagines. Thanks for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[metranart]

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you, sweet annoying thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face, like a good girl. Fuck—"

ft. Katsuki Bakugo & Dabi x reader, both thirsty for your attention, both willing to do whatever it takes to have you just for themselves, a complete story with strong overtones of jealousy, sexual frustration and possessiveness.

Bakugou & Dabi X Reader (Shameless smut teaser)

You still remember the day you met Bakugou Katsuki, better known to the world as Dynamight. 

You had been deliberating for weeks about leaving the League of Villains, Shigaraki was losing his temper and every day there were more innocent civilians killed and less progress towards their mutual goal. It was no longer the same League you had joined so long ago, All for One had changed it, deformed it and now their goals and yours were different. Same reason why you asked help from Hawks, you and Dabi never believe his change of sides and in the end, you were right. He helped you leave the League. 

"You'll be okay, (Y/N)" Hawks promised as he flied you away from the secret lair of the League of villains, "we'll protect you, the information you've given us is vital to be able to stay one step ahead of them," the Winged Hero encouraged when he noticed hesitation still present in your eyes, "don't feel bad, I know it wasn't your intention to betray them... after all, they are your friends," he paused to gauge your expressions and soon added, "... you're doing them a favor by trying to stop them, their path only leads to self-destruction. You'll see, everything will be okay." 

Hawks swears to you. The need for you to stand firm in your decision, imperative for the success of his mission. Nevertheless, the blonde still didn't trust you one hundred percent but only time would tell which side you were on. If you were a spy, they would find out, just had to put you under the watchful eye of a competent enough Hero, and that was when you were assigned to him.

Bakugou Katsuki. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Already an experienced ProHero after graduating from UA Academy as the best of his class. A full-fledged adult on his way up the charts.

You were welcomed into his penthouse temporarily while another safe house was found for you, he would protect you... and keep a close eye on your every move.

At first it was difficult for both to live together, Bakugou was too open with his opinion about the League. "They are bumps who didn't have the courage to be anything more than villains." And your insistence on defending them always sparked a debate. "They are people rejected by society for being different... you wouldn't know it, since you fit perfectly into the gears of this rotten mechanism."

Bakugou barked his protests at you, even so, you never backed down, always standing firm before his imposing personality. You were a beautiful contradiction, the champagne-haired man had never met someone like you. You tempered and sailed his explosive temperament without fear or intimidation and that had him captivated, perplexed, highlymesmerized. Slowly, earning yourself a special place in his complicated heart, crawling under his skin despite his protests... every day, there was less screaming and more laughter, less fighting and more flirting. 

Bakugou Katsuki's bleeding heart had learned to race at dangerous speeds in your presence, and more so, when an accidental, playful romp led to this embarrassing situation: Him on top of you in the living room couch, pinning your petite form under his massive one.

Weeks ago, you’d been quarreling with him no end, and he’d appeared all the less happy to have you as a roommate, like an unwelcome guest. And now here he was, nested between your spread legs, sucking your clit into his mouth and nibbling on it like it was his favorite candy.

Your legs twitched as his mouth worked with expert dexterity and shot pleasure up your spine, arching your back off the couch just for your pussy to meet his face in a blunter smash. Even so, he kept pushing you down on him, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Katsuki Bakugou was greedy, greedier than you ever anticipated. Even greedier than him.

His tongue licked a particularly skillful heart-shaped form over your clit and your thoughts abandoned the memory of that crispy skin and cerulean eyes that insisted on chasing you. Your hands shot down to grab him by his sweaty neck just to end up, scrunching into his hair to pull him hard. 

"Yeah, baby—" his voice was a mix of a snicker and a heady groan, such a sultry tone it made you feel drunk. "Ride my tongue, you sweet annoying, thing," he praised with eyes shut close in concentration and utter enjoyment, "let your hips stutter against my face. Fuck— I love it so damn much!" 

Bakugou licked and sucked with insatiable hunger. You didn’t even realize you kept smashing your throbbing cunt into his mouth until a hot trail of spit ran down your thighs, down the curve of your ass.

"I, myself, love a messy pus-"

"-Bakugou." Your complaint cut him midsentence, but his playful spank on the side of your ass, startled you. 

"What the fuck did I just say, (Y/N)?" he growled into your folds, your pussy twitching in tandem. A moan forcing its way from your throat to become a timid and embarrassed purr.

"I-I mean, Katsuki." He had cornered you to use his first name, after all, he was going to have his mouth on your pussy.

He hummed pleased, and in appreciation, put his whole mouth on you and making a seal with his lips, sucked hard. Your hips twitched and you whimpered, fingers digging into his muscular shoulders.

He gripped your hips a little harder, brought you closer, fingers massaging teasingly into your soft flesh. His tongue flicked wildly against you. The wet, lapping sound ridiculously and unfairly lewd.

He made a pleased, humming growl against you, and the vibrations made you shiver, made your eyes flutter closed. 

His mouth sucked in a hurried, excited breath, and then went back down, sloppy and hot and wet and so ready to make you cum. You were awfully close, painfully ready to burst when suddenly he stopped his movements all together like the expert tease that he was.

A slick-stained smirk peeked up at you from between your trembling thighs and his dripping chin, glazed in your juices, got cleaned up on your discarded panties.  

“I know, I know.” He sing sang pretending to be apologetic. “Is just that I want us to cum together the first time.” Bakugou chuckled quietly, adoring the way you couldn’t catch your breath, “I’m a romantic like that.”

He was an irremediable asshole, an incompressible tease, the worst kind of human being… and you were loving each little fiber of him, Damn it! He was so infuriating, effectively domesticating you in every possible way. 

“You ass,” eventually were able to mutter in a broken, ragged gasp, just managing to make him snicker even louder. Those deep crimson eyes drinking attentively every heave, pant and groan you had in you.

Your eyes fluttering open as you felt him fit himself between your tense thighs again, the thick length of his warm cock a huge distraction as it squeezed its massive girth against your sensitive, recently licked, folds. 

“You are the worst, Katsuki,” you meowled aggravated, "using me as a glorified cocksleeve-"

His strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to swallow your complains and grumbles with a savory kiss, allowing only the moaning pleasure to flood the living room, the feel of him through the thick fabric of his jeans, somehow more erotic than having him fully naked. 

“I’m going to take care of that pouty mouth of yours,” he warned you between gluttonous kisses, teeth grazing the corner of your mouth  before, in all suddenness, lifted you off the couch as if you weighted nothing and started to squeezed himself behind you, until his back was flush against the backrest and your body cuddled in front of him, close to be hanging from the edge of the sofa, if it wasn't for his arm holding you tight against him, strapping you safe to his muscular body.

"Just like that..." he muttered in a quiet grunt, more to himself, "...relax for me, pretty. Let me take care of everything."

“Bak-...Katsuki,” you breathed, correcting yourself before you could call him by his surname again.

He stared down at you from the rim of your shoulder, crimson-red eyes near reverent, and the entire new position crawled chills up your spine.

“Are you comfortable?” the Prohero asked you in a sultry purr and you nodded, dreamily. 

Strangely, you were more than comfortable, you felt immensely safe inside his covetous hug, two strong arms claiming you to its owner. The position carving each pectoral and abdominal muscle of Bakugou's body on your back. He kicked down his jeans until pooled at his ankles and then slowly shove your skirt further up until bunched around your waist and pushed your panties down your calves, letting them hang from one ankle, precariously. 

"Good, I need you to be comfortable," he stated in an odd, perverted pride, “…I’m quite big.” 

You squinted your eyes at him, playful doubt shining on your orbs, and he chuckled. “You’ll see.”

-

After countless encounters with Bakugou's possessive nature, he had tagged you as his and now, you felt worse than even since you had led him right into a trap... but that wasn't your intention. Apparently, Shigaraki had learned to read you better than you remembered and what was supposed to be a surprise attack turned into a full-blown fight.

"—Where's (Y/N), Deku?" Bakugou yelled at the green-haired Hero when he couldn't find you anywhere.

"She was behind me just now," Deku said but soon realized his mistake. "Dammit!"

ProHeroes and League members were fighting in every corner of the place, it was a real mess but even more disastrous was the fact that you were now cornered by the person you least wanted to see.

“Oi.” 

Dabi greeted you, blue flames dancing across his slender fingers like a vivid threat, an amused smirk gracing his lips almost offensively. 

“Was it seven months?” those lips pursed, mischievously, at how uncomfortable he was making you. “I must admit, I was almost hoping to see you, all round and heavy, with my child in that cute belly.” You squirmed visibly at the thought, “after all, we used to fuck like rabbits,” he took one step towards you and you took one step away, “so full of disappointments—my little, beautiful traitor."

Shallow breaths contaminated your peace and in a foolish hope you tried to run but he was expecting it, and in an unfortunate turn, you found yourself draped by two strong, scarred arms. Hot breath fanning your ear. 

“My memory never does you justice,” his voice shared in a hiss and grunted, jaw tensing, and with practiced composure put the fire down in his fingers. You noticed it.

"I thought you wanted to crisp me to death." Dabi entertained your little outburst with sadistic patience. Circling a loop of blue flames between his fingers to keep you on your toes. "—Don't tell me you actually miss me." You scoffed openly and the flame-user extended a glowing palm for it to blaze in front of your face. 

“You can’t just keep burning everyone you don’t like—” 

He happily ignored you. The hot glare of his palm smoldered into the bursting blue of his flames as they lit up his fingers, menacingly. 

“Says who?” Cerulean eyes spared a glance down at you, with a droll look on his face that put the hair in your arm on end. "Dynamight?"

Your tensed frame hooked the corner of his lips farther up. "Fond of your new boy toy? such a shame," he muttered, looking down on you with a cheeky smirk, "I’m gonna break him."

Those shinning, crazed eyes suddenly took a side-long inspection of your reaction, then hardened ever so slightly to see the poorly hidden condemnation on your face.“Don't fucking tell me ya love him.” He demanded quietly, heavily sarcastic to hide his interested disdain and your silence only made his flames fan harder with a hint of unrequested but very real, jealousy. 

“Him or me?" Dabi asked oddly calm, "You ought to solve this... before I do.....”

*READ THE COMPLETE 8000 WORD COMISSION IN MY PATREON. (Includes heavy/possessive/mouthwatering smut and NSFW art from scenes of the fic. Plus, lot of MHA NSFW content in general)

[northwest-by-a-train]

Real talk. It's been 9 months since I've seen Palestinian children bleeding to death every day of the week. I don't particularly seek it out, I don't revel in it, if I'm being fully honest, every time I see it cross my dash I feel the urge to close my eyes and keep it out of my mind. Just the description of what I've seen is too gory to write without my stomach churning. And I think I'm not alone in having seen that. I know some among you have seen worse. I know that even those of you who have not seen the worst of it have seen things that will haunt you for a lifetime.

Of course the right, US as well as international, will mobilize like crazy over this grazed ear and those two droplets of blood. But if we on the left are not motivated, are not radicalized, are not incensed to act decisively after having seen this. And the fascists wackos are more motivated with these remarkably clean images of violence. Then we are doing something wrong.

The moral high ground, the revulsion at blood, at crass disregard for human dignity, at targetting the innocent is on our side. And acting like this will galvanize our enemies while we'll stand helpless is baby shit. We must use every means at our disposal to stop the violence in Palestine and defeat the fascism that around the world makes cover for genocide. This is not a moment to fall to the ground and cry, this is a moment to fight for those who need it most.

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

L'appel du Vide

Pairing- Sully Family x Sully!Reader

Summary- You feel the urge to engage in destructive behaviors just to feel alive and your family wants to get to the bottom.

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

Warnings- self destructive thoughts/actions, getting slapped, biting someone's ear off, hateful thoughts, description of self harm, self harm, blood/bleeding, crying lmk if I missed something

A/N- did I cry writing the last part bc of my crippling mommy issues yes yes I did but we don't talk about it also tell me how it is 🤭🤭

It's like a call to a void, the adrenaline of putting yourself in danger. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing if your banshee is going to catch you, or slicing your hand with an open blade, or getting into a fight with someone ten times bigger than you. It made you feel real, made you feel alive. And if your not doing it your thinking of it. So why wouldn't you go with your siblings to the old battle field.

"Tuk keep up." Lo'ak said as you pushed a branch out of the way. "Why'd you bring her?" Spider asked and Lo'ak huffed. "She's always like 'I'm telling if you don't let me come you know your not supposed to go to the old battlefield " Lo'ak mocks your younger sibling only making Spider laugh and you roll your eyes at his childish tactics. Tuk pokes her tongue out at him and Kiri comes to her defense. "Don't pick on her." And finally you make it, you and Lo'ak crouch Kiri beside you. "Dad is going to ground you," she whispered to you, "shush can you stop." You reply and she only rolls her eyes. "For life."

behind some bushes you and Lo'ak look around there was all kind of rubble and metal on the ground you hit Lo'ak on the stomach to get his attention. "Let's look around." You say before immediately jumping back, Avatars. "Shit." You whisper Lo'ak looks at them his body freezes. "We have to tell dad." Kiri whispers. Lo'ak goes to touch the microphone on his neck. "Hey dad." Lo'ak whispers, your eyes were glued to the avatars.

"Lo'ak." You hear your father's gruff voice over the ear piece. "Yes we are at the old battle field and there are some Avatars we've never seen them." Silence, "Who is we." Was all your father said afterward you and Lo'ak share a look. "Me, Y/N, spider, Kiri and Tuk." He paused before he said Tuk and you could hear your father sigh. "Just stay safe, Lo'ak Lo'ak!"

Suddenly before you could think your queue was being pulled roughly making you wince in pain. You look around at the kidnappers around you. The avatars. "Show me your fingers." An older man said to Lo'ak and he flips him off and give a screechy hiss and you laugh loudly making Lo'ak chuckle. "Your his alright and you," he says turning around to you pointing a finger. "Your a cute little thing aren't ya' think that's funny?" He asked. You cringe at his statement. "I do actually." He smirks gripping your face. "We'll keep you." He said and all you did was hiss it was deeper and louder than the one Lo'ak previously did.

He gives you a hard slap and all you did was smile as you hear your mother's war call. The man's face fell, "I will kill you as many times as I have to demon." Was the last thing you heard before you saw your father and brother, Neteyam sweep in and get the avatars holding your siblings but they couldn't help you but you didn't need any. As your father held you sister in her arms you took this chance to kick the man holding you kick him in the knee he filps you around arms locking around you and before you knew it you opened your mouth clamping down on the first thing near you and it came off in your mouth the taste of iron on your tongue filling your mouth, the man screamed letting you fall to the ground. You jump up and spit the piece of skin in your mouth blood spilling from it as you spit. "She bit my ear off! The bitch bit my ear off!" He yelled you smiled as you pick a gun up that he had dropped and run off next to your dad.

It was hell after you got home. Your father yelled at you and Lo'ak about how irresponsible you two were and how stupid it was to attack the man holding you. But, this was the usual for you not taking anything to heart but you could see Lo'ak every heart breaking thing your father said to you two it stabbed him a hundred times over. And then your father put everyone of lock down and suddenly everything darkened around you, it felt like you were a dead person in someone you didn't know, like your family and friends weren't really your family and friends.

So there you are sitting at the back of your families home watching the sky, you had the razor blade you swiped from Norm in hand and all of those bad thoughts flew into you again. You griped the balde t as tears fell down your face, "Your not real." Your head thought. "Your nothing." The thoughts consumed you as the blade got closer and closer to your skin and it made contact you held it to the base of your palm. Your eyes clench closed as you held the blade hard and sliced all the way down, the throbbing pain was there and then you take the balde off of your palm and as the blood dropped from your hand, and a sense of comfort fell over you.

Your mother looked at your hand as she wrapped it up, "And you say you accidentally cut yourself when sharpening your dagger." She asked once again and you smile. "Yes I was being stupid I know." You laugh as she lets go of your hand. Before you asked your mother to wrap your hand your father gave you the news you had to leave, it hurt it really did you were leaving the only place you called home but you knew you had to stay strong for your siblings for your Mother.

When you finally made it to the Meykayina all of their eyes were on you and your family it was strange, unsettling. It only got worse the more you stayed there people made fun of you, of your siblings. And that feeling you knew all to well came back you had to cut, and everytime you had a quick explanation. Soon you had scars in various parts of your body, on your sides, inner and outer thighs, your calfs, you even had to wrap you hands up. And after an altercation with Lo'ak and the chiefs son they were forcing you and your siblings to hang out with him and his sister Tsireya. She was nice, sweet you sort of envied her but didn't show it. "Hey forest people." Ao'nung laughed and all you did was roll your eyes. "Hey fish boy." You reply opening your eyes and giving him a sarcastic smile.

He looks taken back but Kiri and Lo'ak burst into laughter as Neteyam hits your arm. "Let's get this day over with." He said getting the ilus saddled up. You stand up and head towards your ikran and they just look at you. "Forest girl where you going!?" Ao'nung yells and you turn around. "I'm going to ride Amhel." And then Neteyam huffed. "What is wrong Neteyam?" Tsireya asked as she lifted her leg over her ilu. "When she rides Amhel that means shes gonna do something stupid and then get in trouble for it." He shook his head as you jumped into her and connected taking off into the sky. It was a dangerous speed, but you didn't care. You did all kinds of things in the air the farther you got into sea. "Flip upside down." You thought and that's what she did. "She's not strapped in!" Tsireya yells watching you as you let your arms swing in the air. Neteyam watched he hates when you did this, but he couldn't stop you.

You made it to the island you land on the warm sand and hop off as the other five to make it to you. Kiri hit you upside the head. "Why are you so stupid always doing dangerous things." She scolded. "Ah and it's not dangerous it's fun have some." You joke rubbing the sore spot she made. "Fun? We rather keep our lives thank you." Neteyam chimed in and you only rolled your eyes. "If I wanted to get scolded I would have stayed with mom and dad..." Trailed off by seeing a huge rock. It was beautiful it started in the water where it has a teal ring, and it goes up as moss and leaves grow on it, it had to be at least fifty felt in the air. "Y/N don't." Neteyam spoke, to late.

You rode Amhel up to the rock and looked down you were sure to die if you jumped and no one caught you. "Perfect." You thought.

Meanwhile on the shore your older brother and sister sit down and put their face in there palms. "Told you, something stupid." Neteyam muttered to the group. Ao'nung had his transparent eyebrows furrowed as he looks between you and your brother. "What is she going to do?" He asked as you got of of Amhel. "Just watch it's so cool." Lo'ak said.

You disconnected you queue as you let the side of your head. "Remember catch me." You whisper to her and she only gives you a small chirp in response as she takes flight. She circles around the rock getting ready to catch her rider. You take one more look down stepping back a few steps you take a deep breath. Closing your eyes you run and jump. Falling through the air you could hear Tsireya yelling, "She's gonna die, she's not gonna catch her!!" This time your siblings got up and started yelling Neteyam jumped to his ilu ready to rush toward you and then everyone stopped as the heard you. "Why are you guys so serious." From behind them.

"Holy shit that was cool." Lo'ak laughed you got off of Amhel and walked to them sitting down in the sand letting the warm sun hit your skin. "I thought you were going to die." Tsireya said sitting down next to you. "Not today." You say smiling as you close your eyes.

"You did What!" You father yelled, you have Lo'ak a side eye, why did he have to be such a blabber mouth. "It wasn't anything serious me and Amhel used to do it all the time back home." You say putting your hand on your hip. "Okay we'll talk about that later but you jumped off a cliff that was over fifty feet in the air, what the fuck is wrong with you." Clenching your teeth, "Nothing is wrong with, I'm sorry I'm not an uptight asshole and like to have fun." You say suddenly feeling defensive as to why he asked what was wrong with you. "Don't curse at me and that's not fun you could have killed yourself." He yelled and you only rolled your eyes. "No more riding Amhel." He said and your face dropped. "What t-thats not fair." You protest before your father clicks his tongue. "Fine." Was all you said before storming up to your room of the pod.

It had been a little past eclipse and your shoulders felt heavy and that question ran through your mind over and over again, "What the fuck is wrong with you." Your father's words never stuck but this did. Your hands shaked you jumped out from under the hand-made blanket your mother gave you. You tiptoe over to your bag and rummage through it and you found it. You bit your lip as you looked at the blade. You sit on your cot and grabbed the blanket you were previously covering up with, putting it between your teeth you bit down, now you look at the blade and you press it onto your upper arm, pressing down hard you guide the blade down you sighed and bite the blanket because of the pain, but the more pressure you put into the cuts the more mental relief you felt. You dropped the blade and looked at your hand you held it so hard it cut through your fingers.

You let the blanket slip through your teeth and your breath was heavy and then you look up and your eyes were met with ones of your mother. You gasp. Flipping the blanket over your arm and hide the blade. Neytiri walks closer bottom lips shaking, "Show me." She demands and you only look away wiping the tears away from you face. "Show me." She says this time a little harsher. "Fine mom, you wanna see!" You say loudly getting up and the balde falls to the ground, you show her what you had just did, then you ripped the bandages you had on your thighs and then your hands. "Is this what you wanted to see." You say crying. Neytiri tilts her head as she falls to the ground. "My baby, my daughter my special girl." She cried out holding the blade throwing it across the room. "Mom don't cry." You say holding yourself looking from your mother's broken figure.

Neytiri was gasping through her tears, "Was it me was it Jake, did we do something, did we do something wrong I know we haven't been the best parents but I tried to protect you I-"

"No it's not you or dad it's me I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up but it's not you mom it's not you." You say falling to the ground next to her. She looks at you and holds your arms, going over every scar she helped heal and guilt fills her. You cry watching her reaction and then she brings you close, "It's okay my special baby, my sweet girl." She coos rocking you back and forth as your tears soak her chest. "I'm sorry mama I'm sorry."

"nothing to be sorry for my sweet." She said guiding you back to the bed holding you she pressed sweet loving kisses to your wrist. "Nothing wrong my sweet girl." She whispered holding you as she did when you were a child and your cries softened and your eyes began to get heavy for the first time you felt loved, you felt safe.

[triptuckers]

here when you wake up - remy lebeau

Request: nope Pairing:  remy lebeau x reader Summary:  your errands are rudely and violently interrupted, but luckily the x-men are never far  Warnings:  *cracks knuckles* fighting, violence, blood, death, angst, injuries, mentions of hospitals, guns and gunshots, blacking out/losing consiousness, there’s a robery and I think that’s all whew (sorry. get ready) Word count:  2k A/N: “ooohh this trope is overused” no it is not and I will die on this hill. enjoy!

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as you're walking through the busy street, you mentally curse yourself for not going to the bank beforegetting your groceries. and you wish you had taken a bigger bag with you.

you're holding your bag in one hand but it's heavy, and you're slightly tilted to your right side as you walk. every now and then you have to stop to shove a box of pasta back in there so it doesn't fall out.

you just really hope there isn't a huge line at the bank. right now, you just want to get home. remy is coming over tonight and he's going to teach you how to make one of his signature recipes. 

as you round the corner and see the bank, you sigh when you see the line is so long people are waiting outside. of course everyone had decided to go to the bank today.

you take your place in line behind the last person, hoping the line will at least move quickly so you can go home and put your groceries away. 

the line moves slowly until finally you're actually inside the bank. you stand on your toes to look at the desks ahead and see the reason why the line is moving so slow: only half of the desks have employees sitting behind them.

you're seriously doubting going home and going to the bank tomorrow. but you're about halfway through the line now, you might as well stay. even if it meant your milk being outside the fridge for a while longer. 

you're zoning out, occasionally shuffling forward in line, when you hear a commotion behind you. 

as you look over your shoulder, you see a group of masked people shove their way into the bank. you're about to roll your eyes and turn back when you notice one of them is holding a very large, very dangerous looking gun.

of course they had to pick today. 

as more people realise what's going on, panic spreads as people start to scream and run away. you drop your bag of groceries and run away, towards the desks and away from the armed men. 

one of the employees shoots you a terrified look as you jump over the desk, pulling her down with you.

that's when the gunfire starts. 

you squeeze your eyes shut and clamp your hands over your ears, trying to drown out the sounds of bullets hitting flesh and bodies dropping.

you feel someone grab a hold of your arm and open your eyes slightly to see the bank employee clutching your arm, a terrified expression on her face that mirrors your own.

'it's gonna be okay.' you whisper, hoping you sound braver than you feel. 'what's your name?' 

'katie.' she says. 

you notice she's not much older than you.

'I'm y/n. we'll get through this okay?' you say and katie nods at your words. 'we're just going to stay here and keep silent.'

you shuffle closer to her beneath the desk, as the gunfire finally stops. katie shoots you a terrified look as you put you hand over your nose and mouth, trying to silence the sound of your rapid breathing.

'we'll be in and out!' yells an unfamiliar voice from somewhere in the bank. 'just need an employee to help us out.'

you hear the sounds of several people walking around, mixed with the sounds of people breathing heavily. you're too scared to think about how many people are bleeding on the floor.

'no one wants to volunteer?' says the same voice. 'how about we play a little hide and seek?'

you and katie try to stay as silent as possible, holding onto each other, as the sound of footsteps comes closer. eventually, they stop. way too close to you. 

suddenly, a face appears over the edge of the desk above you. you can't help but to let out a small, frightened yelp.

'got ya!' says the masked man above you.

his head tilts towards katie. even though he's wearing a mask, you can see him smile.

'hello miss...' he leans in closer to katie, who's got silent tears running down her cheeks, dripping from her chin onto her uniform. 'katie. what a lovely name, want to help us out?'

both you and katie are frozen in fear. then the man suddenly grabs a hold of katie's arm and pulls her up.

'no!' you yell, reaching out to grab a hold of her other hand. 

but the robber slams the back of his gun into your head. you fall back, pressing a hand to your forehead. it comes away sticky with blood.

you see how katie struggles in the guy's arms. she manages to hit him in the eye and he swears and drops her arm. just as she runs away, the sound of a gun being fired fills the room and katie crumbles to the floor. 

you watch in horror as she looks at you, seems the mumble something, before she stops moving at all. you're breathing heavily, your eyes glued to hers.

there's more commotion outside, but your eyes are still on katie. 

suddenly, the sound of many guns fill the air and you tear your eyes away from the girl in front of you. you see a flash of red. 

you crawl over to the other side of the desk and look around it. the red flash was scott. you recognise him in his signature cyclops suit. if the x-men are here, maybe that means-

'oh, you gon' pay for that, mon ami!'

you swear you burst into tears again at the sound of remy's voice. you say his name, but it comes out as barely a whisper, and the sounds in the room are so loud. 

you close your eyes and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. you desperately wish for all of this to be over. you wish it was all a bad dream and you'd wake up. 

suddenly, a harsh hand grabs a hold of your arm and pulls you to your feet. an arm encircles your body, holding you firmly against a chest. you let out a gasp of surprise as you feel a gun being pressed to your temple.

you close your eyes, not wanting to see anything. it's a bad decision. it makes you focus on the sounds in the room and the feel of the cold gun against your skin. 

'chéri!' comes remy's familiar voice.

you open your eyes and see him standing a few feet away, card at the ready between his fingers.

'what are you doing here?' he says.

you look into his eyes, focusing on them. you want to answer him, but it's like you lost your ability to talk. 

'let her go!' says remy, dangerously twirling the card between his fingers.

'here's what's going to happen.' comes your attacker's voice from behind you. 'I am going to walk out of here with this pretty lady, and you two are going to let me. If I see you move, she's dead.'

you whimper in fear as the guy starts slowly walking towards the exit, pulling you with him. 

remy and scott both look at you, but stand still. they know the risk is too great. but you don't miss the look of absolute loathing remy gives your capturer. then his eyes soften as they land on you. he nods at you, as if trying to tell you it'll all be alright. 

as soon as you're outside, you're pulled into an alley, away from the curious onlookers on the other side of the street.

'those damn mutants ruin everything.' says the guy in your ear. 

you hear running footsteps behind you. 

'I said move and she's dead!' yells the robber. 

in one quick move, he turns you around and you see remy sprinting towards you. 

the next moment, you see remy throw a card your way at the same time you feel something hard and cold against your head and the world goes black.

when you open your eyes again, bright lights shine in your face. you squeeze them shut, noticing the way your head is pounding. slowly, you open your eyes again, letting them adjust to the light.

once you can look around without the bright lights irritating you, you take in your surroundings. you appear to be in a hospital. you can hear the faint beeping of a monitor on your right. 

the view out the window shows a bright sunny day, and some of the tall buildings in the city. you slowly reach your hand up. you feel a bandage encircling your head. from the way your head is pounding, you can tell the guy really hit you hard in the head.

when you look to your left, your eyes land on a chair next to your bed. or rather, the person in it.

it looks like remy didn’t go back to the mansion after the robbery. his suit is dirty, as are his fingers. his hair is a mess, and from the way he’s sitting in the chair, you can tell his back is going to hurt.

he’s fast asleep.

‘you look lke shit.’

at the sound of your voice, remy wakes. he blinks a few times before sitting up straight, rolling his head from side to side to ease some of the stiffness in his neck.

‘quoi?’ he says, crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

‘I said you look like shit.’ you repeat.

remy’s eyes snap open suddenly as he looks at you. instantly, he’s by your side.

‘I look like shit? you’re the one in a hospital bed, mon amour.’

you smile tiredly at him, reaching out to lace your fingers with his. remy runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

‘it’s good you still have your sense of humor, but you scared me, chéri.’ he admits softly.

‘I’m sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to.’

‘it was real close. when that guy hit you in the head and I saw you fall to the floor… merde, it was awful. luckily we got beast. he helped the doctors here.’

‘give him my thanks, will you?’ 

remy nods, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it. he eyes the bandage on your head.

‘how are you feeling?’

‘I’ve got a pounding headache. I’m tired. besides that, I’m okay.’ 

remy looks at you, and you can tell there’s something on his mind. he’d never been good about hiding his thoughts from you. 

‘what’s on your mind, love?’ you say.

‘come live at the mansion with me.’ he says.

‘what?’ you chuckle.

‘I’m serious. if we hadn’t showed up on time, I don’t want to think about what could have happened. come live at the mansion with me, you’d be safe. and I’m tired of seeing you only when our schedules line up.’

you look him in the eye. remy smiles at you. he’s really serious about this. he wants you to move in with him. to move to the mansion where he lives with his fellow mutants.

‘remy, I’m not with the x-men, I’m not a mutant.’

‘you don’t have to be.’

‘what would I even do there?’

‘teach the kids?’

‘teach them what?’

‘we’ll find something.’

‘remy… you’re really serious?’

he leans in and kisses your forehead. you close your eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘oui, chéri, I’m serious. I don’t want to be apart from you.’

‘and the team is okay with it?’

‘they will be.’

‘why am I not surprised you haven’t asked them yet?’

‘come on, they love you. I’m sure the kids will, too. we’ll find something for you to do, I promise. I just want want to be away from you.’

‘alright. we’ll talk it over with scott and jean. and I’ll have to talk to my boss and my landlord. we’ll figure it out.’

remy smiles at you and kisses your hand again. ‘get some rest, mon amour. I’ll be here when you wake up.’

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit