#I love her so much. she’s one of the best characters

[endearng]

Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 Masterlist | Part 2

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

[enemiestolovershoe]

I‘m here

Nick Sturniolo x bsf!reader

Summary: Y/N finds out she’s pregnant with her abusive ex’s baby. Her best friend Nick is there to support her.

Words: 11,6k (it‘s a long one holy)

Warnings: use of y/n, not proofread, mention of abuse, giving birth, pregnancy

A/n: This was a request by anon. If you don’t like it please scroll. Nick and reader are strictly just best friends. There is no love between Nick and a female character.

You never saw yourself buying a pregnancy test in the middle of the night, at the ripe age of 22. Yet here you were, standing in the fluorescent-lit aisle of a drugstore that had seen better days. The walls were dull, and off-white, and the hum of the overhead lights was enough to make your head pound just a little harder.

You grabbed the box off the shelf with shaking hands, barely registering the brands or the promises of "accurate results." Did it matter? A test was a test, and the possibility of what it might say made your stomach churn. You glanced at the clock on your phone. 2:16 a.m. A time when the world was supposed to be quiet, asleep, not dealing with life-altering situations.

The cashier, a disinterested-looking girl around your age with bleached-blonde hair and smudged eyeliner, looked up as you dropped the box onto the counter. Her name tag read "Bailey." She scanned the test with a little too much indifference for your liking, her gum snapping between her teeth.

"That’ll be $14.99," she said, tapping her nails against the counter like she couldn’t care less that your world felt like it was teetering on the edge of collapse.

You fumbled with your wallet, your hands still shaking. This was not how things were supposed to go. You weren't supposed to be in this position, not after everything with him. Your chest tightened at the thought of your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, you corrected yourself. The bruises on your heart were fresher than the ones on your skin, but it didn’t matter. He was still cheating, still lying, and now this?

Bailey gave you a once-over and raised an eyebrow. “You, uh, want a bag for that?”

You blinked, realizing you’d been standing there, frozen. “No, I’m good,” you muttered, stuffing the box into your jacket pocket as discreetly as possible.

“Yeah, sure.” Bailey chewed her gum louder, tapping her fingers on the counter in some kind of rhythm. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on, but I’ve seen plenty of girls buy these at 2 a.m. And, uh...”

You glanced up, catching her eye.

“You can’t shake away that plus sign if it shows up,” she finished, not unkindly. “Just... good luck.”

You nodded, your throat too tight to respond, and hurried to the back of the store, where a dingy, single-stall bathroom awaited. You locked the door behind you with shaky fingers, pulling the pregnancy test from your pocket.

Sitting down on the edge of the grimy toilet seat, you tried to focus. Just do it. It’ll be fine. It’ll be negative. It has to be.

The moments after felt like a blur. The test was done, and now there was nothing left but to wait. You set it on the edge of the sink, avoiding it like it might burn you if you looked too soon.

It's probably just late. Your thoughts spiraled, trying to find any possible explanation other than the obvious. Stress can mess up your cycle, right? And after all the stuff with him... It has to be that. Just stress.

You sat there, staring at the floor tiles, counting the seconds in your head. Maybe you didn’t even want to know. Maybe it’d be better if you just threw the test away, walked out, and pretended none of this ever happened.

But you couldn’t.

When the time came, you reached for it with trembling hands.

The world seemed to slow as you looked at the result.

Two lines. A plus sign.

Positive.

Your stomach dropped a wave of nausea hitting you so hard you thought you might actually be sick. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. You blinked, staring at the test like it might change if you looked at it long enough.

No, no, no...

You fumbled for your phone, the only thing grounding you in the moment. There was one person you needed to talk to, the only person who could make sense of the chaos that was crashing around you right now.

Nick.

Your best friend since forever. The one person who never judged you, never made you feel small, even when you made the worst decisions—like dating him. Nick had warned you about him, but you didn’t listen. And now here you were.

With shaky fingers, you hit Nick’s contact and brought the phone to your ear, your heart racing with each ring.

C’mon, Nick. Please pick up.

Ring.

You paced the tiny bathroom, unable to stand still, the walls closing in on you as the test sat on the counter, mocking you with its little pink plus.

Ring.

You ran a hand through your hair, blinking back tears you didn’t even realize had started to form. Your mind raced, jumping from one fear to the next. What am I supposed to do? How do I even begin to tell him this?

Ring.

The buzzing of the fluorescent light above you felt deafening, matching the pounding in your head. You leaned against the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

The ringing stopped, and then came the sound of a groggy but familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Girl, it's nearly 3 a.m.," Nick mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “What’s up? Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”

You swallowed hard, clutching the phone tightly in your hand as you stared at the bathroom floor. You could feel your pulse in your ears, every word sticking in your throat. How do I even say this?

“Uh, I know you’re sleeping, and I’m sorry, but... can you pick me up at the drugstore near your house? I walked here so I have no car.”

The line went quiet for a second. You could hear him shifting in bed, probably rubbing his eyes, trying to make sense of what you’d just said.

“Girl, what do you mean you walked there?” Nick’s voice immediately sharpened, the sleepiness vanishing as concern crept in. “That’s, like, an hour from your house. Are you serious?”

You cringed, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah... I didn’t really think it through. I just... I needed to clear my head.”

“Okay, but what are you even doing at a drugstore at this time? You didn’t feel like going for a walk, I know that.” Nick's voice softened but held that edge of worry he always had when something was wrong.

You inhaled sharply, your eyes flicking to the pregnancy test still sitting on the sink like it was mocking you. “I... I bought a pregnancy test.”

Silence.

The weight of your words hung in the air, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if he had heard you right. But then he exhaled, long and slow, like he was trying to piece it all together.

“Wait,” Nick said carefully, his voice gentler now, but still with that underlying shock, “you? A pregnancy test? As in... like... you think you’re—?”

“Yeah,” you cut in, your voice small. “I, uh, already took it. It’s... it’s positive.”

You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Nick was quiet again, but you knew him well enough to picture his face right now—his eyes probably wide with shock, hand rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was trying to process something.

“Girl,” he said slowly, his voice low and laced with concern, “you’re telling me, you walked an hour to a drugstore in the middle of the night, took a pregnancy test in some sketchy bathroom, and now you’re just standing there... by yourself? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, tears welling up in your eyes, making your voice tremble. “I didn’t want to drag you into this, Nick. And I was freaking out, I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Okay, no. You always call me, no matter what, you know that,” he said firmly, the protective tone in his voice unmistakable. “I don’t care what time it is. If you’re going through something like this, I’m there.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I’m sorry... I just didn’t know how to deal with this on my own.”

There was a pause, then Nick sighed softly. “Look, it’s fine. You’re not dealing with it on your own. I’m coming to get you, okay? I’ll be there in 15.”

You sniffled, wiping at the tears that had started to roll down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, babe.” His voice was softer now, more like the Nick you were used to—the one who knew exactly how to calm you down when everything felt too overwhelming. “But seriously, don’t freak out until I get there. Just breathe. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded again, trying to steady your breathing, even though your mind was still racing. “I’ll try.”

“And while I’m on my way... do me a favor and get out of that bathroom. Go stand by the doors or something, ‘cause, like, ew.”

A small, shaky laugh escaped your lips. Leave it to Nick to somehow make you laugh even in a moment like this. “Yeah, okay. The bathroom’s gross.”

“I can smell it through the phone,” he joked, the warmth returning to his voice, even though you could hear the worry lingering underneath. “Just hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping back into the cool, dimly-lit store. The fluorescent lights were harsh, casting long shadows over the aisles. You made your way to the front, standing near the automatic doors, arms wrapped around yourself as you tried to shake off the anxiety gnawing at your chest.

It wasn’t long before the cold air of the night outside started to seep in through the cracks in the doors. You stared out into the empty street, your thoughts swirling. Everything felt surreal—like you were watching someone else’s life unfold instead of your own.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. It was a message from Nick: “Almost there, hang on.”

You took a deep breath, glancing back over at the cashier, Maddie, who was still behind the counter, barely paying attention to you anymore. She probably thought you were just another lost soul wandering into the store in the dead of night.

But you weren’t lost, not anymore—not with Nick on his way. Even though everything was spiraling, you knew that with him there, somehow, things would start to make sense.

Another minute passed, and then you saw the headlights of Nick’s car pulling into the parking lot. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, your heart still heavy but just a little lighter knowing he was there.

Before you knew it, Nick’s car rolled to a stop, and you could see him through the windshield, already looking concerned as he squinted out at you, pushing his messy curls out of his eyes.

He stepped out, walking toward the entrance, his expression a mix of worry and exhaustion, but there was no question—he was here for you.

Just like he always was.

The tears started to flow as soon as you and Nick made eye contact. You couldn’t hold them back anymore; the weight of everything—the test, the fear, the walk—crashed over you all at once. Nick’s face softened immediately, his eyes widening as he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, warm hug.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he held you close. “I’m here. You’re okay, babe. I’ve got you.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, letting the sobs break free. Nick’s hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, the way he always did when he knew you were on the verge of breaking down. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, just letting you cry, holding you like he was physically keeping you from falling apart.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “We’re gonna figure this out. You’re not alone, I promise.”

The words were like a balm to your heart, calming you just enough to breathe a little easier. You pulled back slightly, wiping at your eyes, embarrassed by how much you were crying but too tired to care.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t apologize,” Nick said firmly, his hands still on your shoulders. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, okay? You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to cry.”

You nodded, biting your lip to stop it from trembling. He gave you one last squeeze before stepping back, though his hand stayed on your arm, like he was still making sure you weren’t going to fall over.

“Do you wanna sleep at mine tonight?” he asked softly, his eyes searching your face. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah,” you whispered, nodding. “I... I don’t want to go home.”

He smiled softly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes—he was still worried. “Good. Let’s get you out of here.”

Nick walked you to the car, his arm around your shoulder like a protective shield from the cold and the weight of the night. As you slid into the passenger seat, you could still feel the tension in your chest, but it eased a little with him next to you. He started the car, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between you both.

For a while, you just stared out the window, watching the empty streets roll by as Nick drove, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than usual. The city was quiet at this hour, the streetlights casting long shadows on the road. It felt strange—like the world had paused, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

Nick broke the silence first.

“So... do you wanna talk about it? Or do you just wanna sit in silence for a while?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Okay,” he said softly, glancing over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. “No pressure. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, your fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of your jacket. “I guess... I just don’t know what to do now,” you said finally, your voice small. “I never thought I’d be... here, you know?”

Nick nodded, his eyes fixed on the road, but you could tell he was listening carefully. “I get it. It’s a lot, babe. Like, a lot. But you don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

You let out a shaky breath, rubbing your eyes. “I just feel so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. I mean, after everything with him...”

Nick’s jaw tightened at the mention of your ex. He had never liked him, and it wasn’t just because of the cheating. It was the way your ex treated you, the way he chipped away at your confidence and left bruises on more than just your skin.

“Hey,” Nick said sharply, cutting off your spiral of self-blame. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. That guy is a complete piece of—” He caught himself, taking a deep breath. “You deserve so much better than the way he treated you. And now... this? You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. “I just... I feel like my life’s been on fire lately, and this is just... gasoline.”

Nick sighed softly, reaching over and giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now. But you’re not alone. We’ll figure this out, okay? Whatever you decide, I’m right here with you. Every step of the way.”

His words felt like a lifeline in the chaos of your thoughts. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without crying again.

The car ride was quiet after that, the sound of the tires on the pavement the only thing filling the space between you. Nick didn’t push you to talk more, and you were grateful for that. Just having him there was enough.

After a while, Nick cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “So... totally random question. But, like, do you want ice cream or something? I mean, I don’t know what you’re supposed to eat after... you know... life-shattering news, but I feel like ice cream’s a safe bet.”

You let out a small laugh, surprised by how light the moment felt after everything. “Yeah... ice cream sounds good, actually.”

Nick grinned, his shoulders relaxing a little at the sound of your laugh. “Perfect. We’ll swing by that 24-hour place near my apartment. They’ve got this ridiculous flavor called ‘Midnight Madness,’ and honestly, I think it was made for situations like this.”

You smiled, wiping the last of your tears away. “Midnight Madness. Sounds appropriate.”

“Exactly,” Nick said, turning the corner onto a quieter street. “I mean, it’s either that or we just drink a gallon of coffee and pretend like sleep isn’t a thing.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with ice cream,” you said, feeling a flicker of lightness in your chest for the first time in hours.

“Good choice,” he nodded, pulling into the parking lot of the ice cream shop. “Because caffeine and emotional breakdowns? Not a good combo.”

You smiled to yourself as the car slowed to a stop. Nick was right—you didn’t have to figure everything out tonight. You didn’t have to have all the answers right now. You had Nick. You weren’t alone.

And for tonight, that was enough.

By the time you got back to Nick’s place, the weight of the night had started to settle in your bones, exhaustion creeping up on you. But Nick, being Nick, refused to let the mood stay heavy for too long.

"Alright," he said, tossing his keys on the counter and motioning dramatically toward the living room. "We're watching a movie, and no, you don't get to pick some tragic, artsy thing that'll make you cry more. I’m thinking... something trashy and comforting. How do we feel about a classic rom-com? Or, wait—Legally Blonde? It's practically medicine."

A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. "Legally Blonde sounds perfect."

Nick grinned, pleased with himself as he grabbed the remote and flicked through the streaming options. He sat down next to you on the couch, grabbing a blanket from the back and wrapping it around the both of you without even asking.

As the familiar opening scenes of Legally Blonde played, the tension in your chest eased just a little more. You didn’t say much during the movie, and neither did Nick. It was a kind of comfortable silence you could only share with your best friend, the kind where words weren’t really necessary. Every now and then, Nick would shoot you a look, checking to make sure you were okay, and each time, you managed a small smile to reassure him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.

The next thing you knew, the movie was over, and your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. The warmth of the blanket, combined with the exhaustion of the night, finally pulled you under. You drifted off to sleep on the couch, with Nick quietly putting everything away, making sure you were comfortable before heading to bed himself.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was streaming softly through the curtains, casting the living room in a warm, golden glow. For a moment, you forgot about everything. The weight in your chest had lifted just slightly, and you could hear the comforting sounds of Nick moving around in the kitchen.

You stretched, blinking sleepily as the events of the night before slowly came rushing back. The positive test. The panic. The long walk to the drugstore. But then there was Nick—pulling you out of the darkness, like he always did.

The smell of pancakes drifted into the living room, making you realize just how hungry you were. You pulled yourself up from the couch, rubbing your eyes, and wandered toward the kitchen.

Nick stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other. He was speaking quietly, his tone casual but focused.

“Yeah, so we’re looking to get her an appointment as soon as possible... Yes, I know she hasn’t been in for a while, but this is a bit of an emergency situation.”

You blinked in surprise, watching him for a moment. He was making pancakes and calling your OBGYN? The knot in your chest loosened just a little more. You stood there, leaning against the doorway, feeling a wave of gratitude for him that was almost overwhelming.

Nick glanced over at you and gave you a small, reassuring smile, holding up a finger to let you know he’d be done in a minute. “Okay, that works. We’ll take that slot. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone, setting it down on the counter before turning back to the pancakes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “I hope you’re ready for the best pancakes of your life because I’m in a zone today.”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though your emotions were still all over the place. “You called my OBGYN?”

“Of course I did,” Nick said, not missing a beat as he flipped another pancake. “Figured you’d want to get in as soon as possible. I booked you for Wednesday morning—does that work?”

You nodded, the gratitude swelling in your chest. You didn’t have the words for how much it meant that he’d already taken care of something you hadn’t even thought about yet. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Nick turned around, his playful expression softening when he saw the look on your face. “Hey,” he said gently, stepping toward you. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing what any good best friend would do.”

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. He froze for a second, then hugged you back just as tightly, one hand rubbing your back as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“Seriously,” you mumbled into his hoodie. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Nick’s voice was soft, but steady. “You don’t ever have to find out, okay? I’m here, always.”

You stayed like that for a minute, just holding onto him. Tears threatened to spill again, but this time they weren’t out of panic. They were a mixture of relief and sadness, the enormity of the situation sinking in, but knowing you didn’t have to face it alone made it just a little more bearable.

Eventually, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “Okay,” you sniffled, trying to regain some composure. “I’m ready for those pancakes now.”

Nick grinned and turned back to the stove. “Coming right up. Get ready to be blown away.”

A few minutes later, you were sitting at his small kitchen table, plates of fluffy pancakes in front of you, topped with fresh berries and syrup. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the first bite melted in your mouth. It was like a little slice of comfort amidst the chaos.

Nick sat across from you, watching you for a moment before he picked up his fork. “So,” he said cautiously, after a few moments of quiet chewing. “I know we’ve kind of... avoided talking about this, but... do you think you’re gonna tell him?”

Your fork paused mid-air. You felt a cold wave rush through you, and for a moment, your heart stopped. You hadn’t even let yourself think about that—about him. The thought of telling your ex, of his reaction, made your stomach churn.

Nick noticed the way you froze, his brow furrowing with concern. “I don’t mean to freak you out,” he said quickly, setting down his fork. “You don’t have to have an answer right now. I just... figured we should probably talk about it at some point.”

You swallowed hard, your appetite vanishing as a knot of anxiety formed in your chest again. “I don’t know,” you whispered, staring down at your plate. “I don’t know what to do about him. I don’t even know if I want to tell him.”

Nick was quiet for a moment, giving you the space to work through your thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle but firm. “You don’t owe him anything. You know that, right? If you don’t want to tell him, you don’t have to.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you thought about your ex—about the way he had treated you, the cheating, the lies, the emotional scars that still hadn’t healed. The idea of bringing him into this, of him having any part in your life again, terrified you.

“I just... I don’t want him to hurt me again,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “And I don’t want him to have any control over this.”

Nick reached across the table and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “He won’t. Not if you don’t let him. You’re in control here, okay? You get to decide what happens next.”

The tears finally spilled over, and you wiped them away quickly, frustrated with how easily they seemed to come these days. “I’m scared, Nick,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. “And that’s okay. This is a huge thing, but you don’t have to figure it out all at once. You’ve got time, and whatever you decide, I’ll be right there with you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and squeezing his hand back. "Thank you," you whispered again, the words feeling inadequate for everything Nick was doing for you.

Nick gave you a small, sad smile. “I’m always gonna be here, babe. Always.”

The two of you sat there for a moment in the quiet kitchen, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background. You knew you had a long road ahead of you, with more questions than answers, but having Nick by your side made it feel just a little bit less impossible.

Wednesday came faster than you thought it would, the days blurring together in a haze of anxiety and sleepless nights. You had spent the past few days trying to mentally prepare yourself for this moment, but nothing really seemed to make the weight on your chest go away.

And now, here you were, sitting in the OBGYN’s waiting room, tapping your knee nervously up and down. The steady rhythm was the only thing keeping you from feeling completely overwhelmed. The sterile scent of the office, the distant hum of soft conversations, and the quiet tapping of computer keys only made the whole thing feel more surreal.

Nick sat to your left, his arm casually draped around the back of your chair, gently stroking your shoulder. It was his way of grounding you, of reminding you that you weren’t in this alone. You were grateful for him, but no amount of comfort could shake the gnawing anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

"You’re gonna be fine," Nick said softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Whatever happens in there, we’ll handle it together. I promise."

You nodded, biting your lip, trying to hold on to his words. But it was hard to calm down when the future felt like it was dangling in front of you, just out of reach. A part of you still couldn’t believe you were sitting here, waiting to have your pregnancy confirmed by a doctor. It didn’t feel real—like you were watching it all happen to someone else.

The sound of your name being called jolted you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see the nurse standing at the door with a clipboard, giving you a polite smile.

"That’s us," Nick said softly, giving your back one last reassuring pat before standing up.

You swallowed hard, taking a deep breath as you stood. Your legs felt a little shaky as you followed the nurse, Nick right beside you, his presence a steadying force. The hallway seemed longer than it actually was, the walls feeling too bright, too clean. Everything felt too much.

The nurse led you into a small, dimly lit room and motioned toward the ultrasound bed. “You can go ahead and lie down,” she said, her voice kind but efficient. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

You glanced nervously at Nick, who gave you a small nod. "You got this," he whispered, standing by the chair next to the bed.

With a shaky breath, you laid down on the bed, trying to calm your racing heart. The paper crinkled underneath you as you adjusted, and your fingers instinctively gripped the edge of the bed.

A moment later, the OBGYN walked in—a woman in her late 40s with warm eyes and a calm presence that put you at ease, even if just a little. She smiled kindly at you, introducing herself before slipping on a pair of gloves.

“So, I understand you’re here to confirm a pregnancy?” she asked gently, her voice soothing but professional.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice just yet.

"Alright," she said, rolling her stool over to the side of the bed. "Let’s take a look, okay? This will feel a little cold."

She squeezed the gel onto your abdomen, and the sudden chill made you flinch slightly. Nick reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze, a reminder that he was right there with you.

The doctor moved the ultrasound wand across your stomach, her eyes focused on the screen next to her. You couldn’t see what she was looking at, and your nerves spiked as the seconds seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest, you were sure Nick could hear it from where he stood.

Finally, the doctor’s expression softened into a small, gentle smile. She turned the screen slightly toward you.

"There we are," she said softly, pointing to a small, flickering shape on the monitor. "It looks like you’re about eight weeks pregnant."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you stared at the screen, that tiny flicker—the heartbeat. It was so small, so fragile, but there it was. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave. This wasn’t just an idea anymore, not just a terrifying thought in the back of your mind. It was real. There was a tiny life growing inside of you.

Nick leaned over, his eyes widening as he looked at the screen. “Wow,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s... kinda wild.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t even sure what you were feeling—shock, fear, maybe even a little awe. It was all tangled together in a mess of emotions you couldn’t quite untangle.

The doctor gave you a few more details—your due date, some advice for the coming weeks—but most of it blurred in your mind. She printed out a few ultrasound pictures and handed them to you, along with instructions for your next appointment. You took them in a daze, your fingers trembling slightly as you looked down at the tiny, grainy images.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" the doctor said gently as you and Nick stood to leave. "If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call."

You nodded, managing a small “thank you” before following Nick out of the room. The hallway felt even longer this time, and your legs were heavier with each step. The weight of everything was pressing down on you again, and your mind was racing.

You were barely aware of Nick talking beside you, something about stopping for food after this. You couldn’t focus, though. Your eyes were glued to the ultrasound pictures in your hand.

As you stepped back into the waiting room, your eyes instinctively scanned the room. And then you saw him.

Your heart stopped.

Sitting on one of the chairs across the room was your ex. He was casually talking to a girl beside him, and as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough already, she was clearly pregnant too—her belly rounded and prominent. They were laughing about something, completely oblivious to your presence.

You froze in your tracks, the blood draining from your face as a cold chill washed over you. It was like time stopped, your body going rigid as your mind tried to process what you were seeing.

Nick followed your gaze, and when he saw your ex sitting there, his entire body tensed beside you.

“Oh my God,” Nick whispered, his voice sharp but low. He moved slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you from view, but your eyes were still locked on your ex, unable to look away.

You couldn’t breathe. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. The ultrasound pictures slipped from your fingers, fluttering to the floor in slow motion.

Nick crouched down quickly, picking them up. “Don’t... don’t look at him,” he said softly, his voice urgent. “Let’s just go, okay?”

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even think. Seeing him there, with her, laughing and looking so carefree, it felt like a knife twisting in your gut. Everything you had been through with him, all the pain he’d caused, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave.

The tears you had been holding back started to spill over. You felt Nick’s hand on your arm, trying to gently pull you toward the exit, but your legs were locked in place, your chest tightening with the familiar ache of heartbreak.

How could he be here, so happy, while you were drowning in the chaos he left behind?

"Come on," Nick said gently, his voice a lifeline in the storm. "Let’s get out of here."

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Nick tried to lead you toward the exit, his grip firm but gentle, urging you to get out of there before things escalated. But it was too late.

Your ex, Jaden, looked up, and his eyes locked on you. The lighthearted conversation he had been having with the girl next to him came to a screeching halt. His face twisted, and he rose from his seat with a sneer, his voice sharp and low as he cut through the quiet waiting room.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jaden whisper-shouted, his voice dripping with venom as he stormed toward you.

Your heart leapt into your throat. Every muscle in your body froze. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. You stood there, your mind blank, caught in the headlights of a train wreck you couldn’t stop.

Nick instinctively stepped closer to you, his posture protective, but before either of you could respond, Jaden’s eyes flicked toward the ultrasound pictures in Nick’s hand. His expression changed instantly, eyes narrowing, as if he was putting the pieces together in real time.

A sick smirk crept across his face. “Well, well, well,” Jaden drawled, loud enough that the other people in the waiting room started to glance over. “Looks like Nick isn’t so gay after all, huh? Guess you’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you, Y/N?”

The accusation hit you like a punch to the gut. The sheer absurdity of it—of him twisting the situation to fit his own narrative—made your head spin. He was the one who had lied, who had cheated, and now he was standing there, trying to paint you as the one who had betrayed him.

Nick’s jaw tightened beside you, his eyes flashing with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, but Jaden ignored him, his eyes fixed on you like a predator waiting for its prey to break.

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the wave of emotion threatening to pull you under.

“It’s yours, Jaden,” you finally said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “I never ever slept with anyone but you.”

Jaden’s smirk faltered for a split second, but he quickly masked it with a derisive laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, really?” he sneered. “And I’m just supposed to believe that? After all the shit you put me through, you expect me to buy that?”

Your fists clenched at your sides. The audacity—the absolute nerve of him to stand there and act like you were the one who had done something wrong. Anger bubbled up inside you, pushing through the fear and the hurt, giving you the strength to speak.

“You don’t have to believe anything, Jaden,” you said, your voice steadier now. “But it’s the truth. I’ve never lied to you. Not once.”

You glanced pointedly at the girl standing next to him—the girl who was now watching the scene unfold with a smug, snake-like smile curling on her lips. She was rubbing her belly absentmindedly, her eyes flicking between you and Jaden, clearly enjoying the drama.

“But I can’t say the same for you, can I?” you added, your gaze hardening as you looked back at him. “Since you’re obviously doing just fine, starting a whole new life while we were still together.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and tense. Jaden’s smirk faded completely, his face twisting in anger now, but he didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t need to. The girl next to him, however, decided to chime in, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Well, isn’t this a little awkward,” she said, her smile widening as she leaned into Jaden’s side. “I guess it’s a good thing Jaden moved on, huh? Clearly, you’ve got enough going on.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of anger through you, but Nick beat you to it. He stepped forward, his voice cold and sharp as he addressed her. “Oh, sweetheart,” Nick said, his smile saccharine and full of venom. “You’re really gonna sit there and act smug while he’s got two women pregnant at the same time? Trust me, you’re not as special as you think.”

The girl’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, the confidence in her eyes flickered. But Jaden quickly stepped in front of her, his chest puffed up like he was ready for a fight.

“Mind your own business, Nick,” Jaden snarled. “This isn’t about you.”

Nick didn’t back down. “Actually, it is about me when you’re out here accusing me of sleeping with my best friend—who, for the record, I would never. So, yeah, I’m making it my business.”

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of appreciation for Nick. He had always had your back, but seeing him stand up for you now, when you felt so vulnerable, meant everything.

Jaden looked like he wanted to say more, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of dragging this out any further. You were done—done with his lies, done with the manipulation, and done with the way he always found a way to twist everything around.

You straightened your shoulders, taking a deep breath as you looked Jaden dead in the eyes. “I don’t owe you anything,” you said firmly. “Not an explanation, not a conversation—nothing. This baby is yours, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure it’s safe. But you? You’re nothing to me now.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and Jaden’s face twisted with a mixture of disbelief and anger. Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked toward the exit, your heart pounding in your chest.

Nick followed close behind, casting one last withering look at Jaden and his girlfriend before catching up to you. As soon as the glass doors of the office slid shut behind you, the flood of emotions came crashing down, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

Nick gently placed a hand on your back as the two of you stood outside, the cool air hitting your face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, but your throat was tight with unshed tears. "I just want to go home," you whispered.

Nick wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a side hug as he led you to the car. "Then let's get out of here, babe," he said softly. "We’re done with him. You don’t have to deal with that shit anymore."

The past few months had been better than you ever could have imagined. Sure, things weren’t easy, but having Nick by your side through it all made it feel bearable. He had always been your rock, but lately, it felt like he was more than that—your lifeline, your sense of stability when everything else was chaotic. You leaned on him more than you ever thought possible, and he welcomed it, never once making you feel like a burden.

You sold your house a few weeks ago. It was bittersweet—leaving the place that held so many memories, but also so much pain. The house was a reminder of Jaden, of all the hurt he’d caused, and it was time to let it go. Moving in with Nick felt like a fresh start, a clean slate for you and the baby.

Nick had insisted, of course, that it was as much your house as it was his now. “It’s not just me helping you out,” he’d said, his voice firm and sincere. “This is our home. We’re in this together, okay?”

And that was how it had been. Together. Through the sleepless nights, the doctor’s appointments, and the overwhelming emotions, Nick had been by your side, never once wavering.

You were now 30 weeks pregnant, your belly round and prominent as you worked on putting the finishing touches on the nursery. The room was small but cozy, painted in soft shades of blue and white, the kind of space you hoped would feel comforting for the baby when he arrived.

Nick was nearby, busy assembling a crib with a determined look on his face, the manual spread out in front of him. He had been working on it for the past half hour, muttering things like “how does this even go together?” and “I swear they make these things impossible on purpose.”

You watched him with a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. He wasn’t just doing this out of obligation; he genuinely cared. He had stepped into this role with more grace than you could have ever asked for, and it made you feel less alone, less afraid of what was coming.

As you folded tiny baby clothes into a drawer, your mind wandered to a few weeks back—the fallout you and Nick had after a particularly rough night. You were in the middle of a full-blown breakdown, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Flashback:

You had been pacing around the living room, tears streaming down your face as you yelled into the void. “I can’t do this, Nick! I’m not strong enough. I don’t know how to raise a baby on my own!”

Nick had tried to comfort you, reaching out to hold you, but you had pushed him away, too consumed by your own fears to let him in. “I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay! What if I mess this up? What if—what if I’m not good enough?”

He had stood there, his own frustration evident, but never once raising his voice. “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N. You have me. I’m here. We’re a team, remember?”

But in that moment, nothing seemed to calm you. “You don’t get it, Nick!” you had cried out. “This isn’t your responsibility! You don’t have to do this just because you’re my best friend. This baby isn’t yours, and I—"

Nick had cut you off, his voice suddenly firm, yet full of emotion. “No. Stop. Just stop.”

You had frozen, stunned by the seriousness in his tone.

“I know this baby isn’t mine biologically,” he’d said, stepping closer, his eyes filled with both anger and love. “But I’m choosing to be here. I want to be here. This is our life now, and I’m not going anywhere. You and that little boy in there…” he’d gently placed a hand on your swollen belly, “...you’re part of my family.”

You had broken down completely then, collapsing into his arms as he held you, whispering promises that he would be there, that he would rise to this challenge right beside you.

“I’ll help raise this kid Y/N,” Nick had said, his voice cracking with sincerity. “I promise you, Y/N. We’ll do this together.”

That moment had changed everything for you. It was like something shifted inside, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Nick wasn’t just saying those things to make you feel better—he truly meant it.

Back to present:

Now, standing in the nursery, watching Nick fumble with the crib, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace, even amidst all the chaos. He had kept his word—he was here, by your side, every step of the way.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you teased, leaning against the dresser as you watched him struggle with one of the crib’s side panels.

Nick shot you a playful glare. “Oh, really? You wanna try putting this together then, Miss ‘I’m-Gonna-Supervise’?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll leave the heavy lifting to you. Besides, it looks like you’re almost done… maybe.”

He groaned dramatically. “Honestly, this should come with a warning. ‘Do not attempt to assemble without an engineering degree.’”

You smiled, feeling the baby kick inside you, a reminder of how real everything was becoming. “I think you’re doing great, honestly,” you said, your tone softer now. “I mean, if you can handle me, you can handle a crib, right?”

Nick looked up from the crib, a warm smile spreading across his face. “I’ll handle whatever comes our way. You, the crib, the baby… bring it on.”

That simple statement made your heart swell. It was moments like this—small, seemingly insignificant moments—that made you realize just how lucky you were to have Nick. He wasn’t just your best friend anymore; he was your partner in every way that mattered.

As you walked over to inspect the tiny bookshelf you’d been organizing, Nick asked, “So, have you thought of any more names yet? We can’t keep calling him ‘little man’ forever, you know.”

You smiled, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. “I’ve thought of a few… but I don’t know. Nothing feels right yet.”

“Well, no pressure. We’ve still got a couple of months,” Nick said, leaning back on his hands as he admired the crib he’d finally finished. “But I’m just saying, ‘Nicolas’ has a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You wish.”

Nick grinned. “Hey, I’m just throwing it out there.”

The baby kicked again, and you winced slightly, placing a hand on your belly. Nick’s eyes immediately widened in concern. “You okay? Is he kicking hard again?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling through the slight discomfort. “He’s been practicing his karate moves all day.”

Nick walked over, kneeling beside you and placing his hand gently on your belly, waiting for the next kick. “Damn, kid’s got some strength. He’s definitely gonna be a troublemaker.”

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of his hand on your belly. It was moments like this that made you feel truly grateful. You weren’t doing this alone. You had Nick. And even though things were far from perfect, it was okay. It was enough.

“You know…” Nick started softly, not looking at you, his eyes still focused on your belly. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom, Y/N.”

You blinked, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said firmly, looking up at you. “I’ve seen how strong you are, how much love you already have for him. You’re doing everything right.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They weren’t the same tears of fear or frustration you’d cried so many times before. These were different—softer, full of gratitude.

Nick stood up and pulled you into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you. “I’m here, okay? Always.”

You hugged him back, feeling the overwhelming comfort of his presence. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you whispered.

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out,” he teased lightly, but his words were full of sincerity.

The nursery was almost ready. Your life had changed so much in the past few months, and despite everything—the heartbreak, the uncertainty, the fear—you knew, standing there in Nick’s arms, that everything was going to be okay.

At 35 weeks pregnant, life had settled into a new kind of normal. It wasn’t the life you expected, but it was one that felt full—warm, even. Nick had been by your side from the beginning, supporting you every step of the way. And now, his boyfriend Henry had seamlessly joined the fold, bringing an ease to everything that made you feel a little more at home in this strange, unexpected chapter of your life.

Henry had been a pleasant surprise. When Nick first told you he was dating someone, you couldn’t help but worry about how someone new would react to the whole situation. After all, Nick wasn’t just your best friend anymore; he was also stepping up as a co-parent, and that wasn’t something everyone could handle. But Henry, with his calm demeanor and sharp sense of humor, never flinched. From the moment you met him, he treated the situation with warmth and understanding.

You remembered the first night he came over for dinner. The three of you sat around the kitchen, talking and laughing like old friends, the baby kicking gently as if reminding you that his world was about to get even bigger.

"So, how are you feeling?" Henry asked, his tone gentle but curious. "Nick tells me you’ve been getting a lot of kicks lately."

You nodded, smiling as you placed a hand on your belly. “Yeah, he’s pretty active. Sometimes it feels like he’s doing somersaults.”

Nick grinned, flipping a pancake in the pan. “She’s convinced he’s training for a future in sports.”

Henry chuckled, glancing at Nick. “Well, with the two of you handling things, he’s in good hands.”

That comment had meant more to you than you realized at the time. Having Henry’s support—even though he wasn’t as involved as Nick—made everything feel a little less daunting.

But the biggest change of all was that Matt and Chris were finally back from their year-long YouTube break. You’d known the triplets since you were all kids, and they were like brothers to you in every sense. While they were off traveling the world separately, they’d kept in close touch, FaceTiming regularly to check in on you and Nick. But there was nothing like having them home, right in the middle of the chaos.

The day they returned was filled with the kind of energy only the Sturniolo brothers could bring. You were resting on the couch when you heard the front door swing open, followed by the familiar sound of Matt’s voice.

"Home sweet home!" he called out, his voice carrying through the hallway.

Nick, who was lounging beside you on the couch, chuckled. “Brace yourself. Here comes trouble.”

Chris followed right behind Matt, his voice louder and more playful. “Where’s Y/N? I need to see her.”

You smiled as they appeared in the living room, their faces lighting up when they saw you sitting comfortably with your hand resting on your belly.

“There she is!” Chris beamed, dropping onto the couch beside you. “Finally. I feel like I’ve been gone forever.”

Matt plopped down on the other side, nudging you gently. “You look amazing. Seriously. We were worried we’d come back, and you’d be, like, ready to pop.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, I feel ready to pop some days.”

Chris grinned, leaning back as he looked between you and Nick. “So, how’s it been? Are you all settled in? Nursery done?”

Nick nodded, smiling proudly. “Yeah, we finished the nursery a couple weeks ago. It looks great.”

Matt raised an eyebrow, glancing at you. “And how are you holding up? Any last-minute panics?”

You hesitated for a second, your mind drifting to the occasional worries that popped up—about the baby, about the future—but you brushed them aside. “I’m doing alright. It’s been... a lot. But with Nick here, and now you guys back, I feel good.”

Chris shifted beside you, his tone softening. “We’re here now, okay? Anything you need—doesn’t matter what it is—we’ve got you.”

Matt nodded, his expression serious for a moment. “Yeah, we’re not going anywhere. You’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in their voices brought a wave of emotion over you. These were the people who knew you before everything fell apart. They’d been there through every high and low, and now, as you faced one of the biggest challenges of your life, they were here again, standing by your side.

Nick smiled, clearly relieved to have his brothers back. “I told you they’d be all over you the second they got back.”

You laughed, wiping at your eyes before any tears could fall. “I’m used to it.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with the familiar banter that always made you feel at ease. Matt and Chris quickly fell back into their old rhythm, cracking jokes, making plans, and offering help—whether you needed it or not. You could tell they were excited to be back, and you couldn’t deny that having them here made the house feel fuller, more alive.

Later that evening, Henry came by after work, seamlessly blending into the lively dynamic. He greeted Matt and Chris with ease, already knowing so much about them from all the stories Nick had told him. The brothers took to Henry immediately, especially after he made them laugh within five minutes of walking through the door.

“Alright, so,” Henry said, settling into the armchair across from you. “When’s the baby shower? I feel like we need to throw a proper celebration now that everyone’s here.”

Nick groaned from the couch. “You know I hate that kind of thing.”

Matt shot Nick a teasing look. “Yeah, but it’s not about you, is it? It’s about Y/N and the baby. Come on, we should do something.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “You guys are ridiculous. I don’t need anything fancy.”

Chris leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “What if we keep it low-key? No big party. Just us. Something chill.”

Nick sighed dramatically. “Fine. But only if it’s small. No crazy decorations or whatever.”

Henry laughed, giving Nick a playful nudge. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it under control.”

The conversation shifted into light-hearted plans for the baby shower, with everyone tossing out ideas for food and music. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable.

Later, after the evening had quieted down and everyone started heading off to bed, you found yourself sitting in the nursery. The room was ready—crib, baby clothes, little stuffed animals. Everything was in its place, waiting for this new life to arrive. It was strange to think how different your life had become, but at the same time, it felt like it was exactly where it needed to be.

Nick poked his head into the nursery, his voice soft. “You okay?”

You looked up at him, smiling. “Yeah, I’m good. Just... taking it all in.”

He stepped inside, sitting down on the rocking chair across from you. “It’s surreal, huh? Everything’s coming together.”

You nodded, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “I didn’t think it would. Not after everything with Jaden.”

Nick’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Y/N. You’ve done so much already.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked down, blinking them away. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Nick stood up and walked over, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug. “And you won’t have to do it without me. We’ve got this.”

You hugged him back tightly, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You didn’t need to say anything. Nick already knew how much he meant to you, how much his presence had saved you from feeling completely alone in this journey.

As the night drew to a close and you finally headed to bed, the house felt full in a way it hadn’t in a long time. You had Nick, you had Henry, and now, Matt and Chris were back, bringing their chaotic energy with them. It wasn’t a traditional family by any means, but it was yours, and that was enough.

At 39 weeks pregnant, you felt like a ticking time bomb. Every day could be the day, and you were more than ready to meet your little boy. It was a bright Saturday morning, and you had decided to take advantage of the sunshine with a picnic at the park. Nick, Henry, Matt and Chris joined you, excited to celebrate your last few days of pregnancy in style.

You settled down on a blanket, surrounded by fresh strawberries, sandwiches, and a giant pitcher of lemonade. You were in the middle of enjoying a particularly juicy strawberry when you heard a faint pop. The moment felt surreal, like a scene straight out of a movie.

“What the hell was that?” you muttered, trying to brush it off. But then you felt a wet spot forming under your summer dress, and panic set in. “What the fuck? Did I just piss myself?” you exclaimed, reaching down to feel the dampness.

Nick was the first to react, his eyes widening in realization. “Girl, did your water just break?”

Before you could respond, a sharp pain shot through your lower belly, stealing your breath away. It felt like a vice tightening around you, and you gasped. Matt, who had been busy munching on a sandwich, put it down and jumped to his feet. “Yes! That was definitely your water breaking. We need to get you to the hospital—like, now!”

Henry was already moving, rushing to the driver’s seat of his car. “Chris, get in! We’ll drive her. You guys hop in the back!” He motioned for you to follow as Matt and Chris quickly rounded the blanket, helping you to your feet.

The ride to the hospital was a chaotic whirlwind. You were crammed in the back seat, Matt and Chris on either side of you, while Henry navigated through traffic with urgency. Each contraction sent waves of pain through your body, and you couldn’t help but cry out as they intensified.

“Breathe, Y/N, just breathe,” Nick said, his voice filled with concern. He took your hand in his, trying to anchor you amid the chaos.

“I can’t! It hurts so much!” you cried, gripping Matt’s hand tightly, nails digging into his skin.

Chris leaned closer, his expression serious. “It’s okay, you’re doing great. Just focus on the end goal. You’re about to meet your baby. Just hold on!”

“Why is this taking so long?” Henry asked, glancing nervously at the traffic ahead. “Come on, people, move!”

Finally, the hospital loomed in front of you, and Henry pulled into the emergency lane. He quickly parked and jumped out, running to the entrance to grab a nurse.

“Stay with me,” Chris said, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You’re almost there. We’re right behind you.”

When the nurses arrived with a wheelchair, you were relieved and terrified. They helped you into the chair, wheeling you quickly through the hospital corridors. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, and you could hear the distant sounds of other mothers in labor, some crying out in pain just like you.

They wheeled you into the delivery room, and once inside, the nurse quickly assessed the situation. “Alright, let’s get you settled in. Can you tell me your name and date of birth?”

You breathed heavily, focusing on the nurse’s face. “Y/N, and it’s 'your birthday'.”

“Perfect, thank you.” She kept moving, adjusting things around you as you tried to catch your breath. Just then, Nick poked his head through the door, looking slightly frazzled.

“Hey, can I come in?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes darting between you and the medical team. You could see the concern etched on his face.

“Nick, if you don’t mind, I want you by my side,” you managed to choke out between contractions. “But just if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” he said, rushing in and taking a seat beside you. His presence calmed your nerves slightly, grounding you as the pain surged again. “I’m here. You’re doing amazing, Y/N.”

The nurses continued preparing the room, and the energy shifted as they asked you a series of questions. One of the nurses turned to you, her voice warm. “Can you tell me when your last contraction was?”

You were about to answer when another wave hit you, sending you into another bout of crying. “I can’t—please, I don’t know!”

“Okay, okay,” Nick said, gently squeezing your hand. “Just breathe through it. I’m right here. You’re going to be okay.”

Once the pain subsided, you caught your breath.

“We’re going to monitor you for a bit. Is there anyone else you’d like to have with you?” the nurse asked.

You glanced at Nick, who was looking back at you with concern in his eyes. “I don’t know. I mean… I have the guys. They’re outside.”

“Let them in if you want,” Nick encouraged. “The more support, the better.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. “Yes, please. I’d like them here.”

The nurse stepped out, and Nick kept talking to you, trying to distract you. “You’re so strong, Y/N. I can’t believe you’re doing this. I’d be a mess if I were in your position.”

“I wish I could say the same for you, but you’re always a mess,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Touché. Just think about how much fun we’re going to have with this little one.”

The door opened again, and in walked Matt and Chris, their expressions a mix of excitement and worry. “How’s it going?” Chris asked, rushing to your side. “What do you need?”

Matt leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. “You look like you’re handling it like a champ.”

“I don’t feel like a champ!” you exclaimed, another contraction hitting. You cried out, gripping Nick’s hand tighter. “Oh God, I can’t do this!”

“Yes, you can,” Chris said, looking you in the eye. “Just keep focusing on that little guy. You’re almost there.”

The nurse returned, adjusting some monitors as the guys settled in. “You’re doing great, Y/N. We’ll keep you as comfortable as possible. Just breathe, and let us know if you need anything.”

As the contractions continued to come in waves, you focused on the faces around you—Nick’s steady reassurance, Chris’s calming presence, and Matt’s playful banter. It was a whirlwind of chaos and love, and in that moment, you knew you were surrounded by your support system. You weren’t alone; you had them, and together, you were ready to face whatever came next.

After what felt like an eternity, the moment had finally come. The doctor and nurses began preparing for the final stage of labor, and you could feel the excitement mixed with anxiety in the room. Nick, Chris, Matt, and Henry were all right by your side, ready to support you through this monumental moment.

“Alright, Y/N, it’s time to start pushing,” the doctor said, her tone encouraging. “Just remember to breathe and push when you feel the contraction. You’ve got this!”

You nodded, adrenaline surging through you. “Okay, I’m ready,” you said, determination lacing your voice. Nick squeezed your hand tightly, his face a mask of concentration. “You’re going to be amazing, Y/N,” he said, his eyes filled with support.

“On the next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can,” the nurse instructed, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. “Just keep your focus. We’re almost there!”

As the contraction began, you felt a wave of pressure and instinctively tightened your muscles. “Here we go!” you exclaimed, gritting your teeth as you pushed with all your might.

“Come on, Y/N! You can do it!” Chris cheered, leaning closer to you. “Just like we practiced, right?”

You shot him a glare. “What did we practice, exactly? I don’t remember practicing this part!”

“It’s all about teamwork!” Matt chimed in, chuckling nervously. “We’re right here with you!”

The room filled with the sounds of encouragement and guidance as you continued to push. “Good job, Y/N! Keep going!” the doctor urged. “You’re so close! Just a few more pushes.”

“Just like you can take down a giant slice of pizza!” Henry added with a grin, trying to lighten the mood as he held your hand. “Picture that pizza in front of you. You’ve got this!”

With each push, you felt a mix of exhaustion and hope. You glanced at Nick, who was practically bouncing on his toes, his eyes wide with anticipation. “I can’t wait to meet him!” he said, his excitement palpable.

As the contraction peaked, you bore down again, the intensity taking over. “Push, Y/N! Push!” the nurse encouraged, her voice steady. You grunted, your body working against the pain, feeling every muscle straining as you focused on the task at hand.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the doctor said, “This is your last push, Y/N! Give it everything you’ve got!”

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself. “Okay! One last time!” you shouted, pushing with all your strength. It felt like the world narrowed down to that singular moment, and you poured everything into that final effort.

As the last push came to a close, the sound of a baby crying filled the room, echoing off the walls. You froze, disbelief washing over you. “Did… did he just cry?” you gasped, tears springing to your eyes.

“Yes! You did it, Y/N!” the nurse exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face as she carefully took your newborn son and laid him on your chest. The warmth of his tiny body against you sent waves of love crashing over you.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, looking down at your little boy. He was so beautiful, with a tuft of dark hair and tiny fingers grasping at the air. “He’s perfect.”

“Look at him!” Chris exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement. “You did amazing!”

“Best. Baby. Ever,” Matt added, his eyes wide as he admired the tiny bundle.

The nurse quickly cleaned him up, her hands gentle and efficient. “Does anyone want to cut the umbilical cord?” she asked, looking around the room.

“I want to!” Nick said without hesitation, his face lighting up with joy. “Can I do it?”

“Absolutely!” the nurse replied, handing him a pair of sterile scissors. Nick approached the bedside, his hands shaking slightly with excitement. “I can’t believe this is happening right now,” he said, eyes glued to the tiny baby.

“Be careful, Nick!” you joked, unable to suppress a smile through the flood of emotions. “I’m trusting you not to drop him!”

“I’ll be the best cord-cutter ever!” he declared, his voice almost a squeal of excitement.

With the nurses guiding him, Nick carefully positioned the scissors and made the cut, his expression a mixture of awe and concentration. “There! I did it!” he announced, stepping back as the nurses wrapped your baby in a soft blanket.

“Congratulations, everyone!” the nurse said as she placed the baby back on your chest, this time fully bundled. “You did an incredible job, Y/N. You should be so proud.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you cradled your son against you, his little cries softening into gentle coos. “Thank you,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the moment. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” Nick said, his eyes shining with pride as he watched you bond with your baby. “Look at how cute he is!”

Matt and Chris crowded closer, their faces filled with wonder. “We’re officially the coolest group now,” Chris said, beaming at the tiny being in your arms.

“Wait until he’s old enough to play basketball!” Matt laughed, already imagining all the fun times ahead. “He’ll be the star of the group!”

“Let’s just hope he inherits your appetite and not your cooking skills,” Henry teased, leaning in to get a better look.

“I think he’s going to be a pro at both!” Nick said, looking between you and the baby with sheer joy.

You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have such an incredible support system around you. Surrounded by your best friends, you knew that this journey of motherhood was just beginning, and you couldn’t wait to embrace every moment of it.

“Welcome to the world, Landon Nicolas Y/L/N.''

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: I Knead You | SFW

This was just a quick writing warm up, because I was playing the event (has no spoilers in here) and I just...give Zayne a pet cat. He deserves one. The title is from a song my friend shared with me when I was trying to come up with what to call this.

(Also sorry if there's typos, they're paid actors)

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: None ❧ Synopsis: You come home, and you brought home a new addition to your little family with Zayne. ❧ Word Count: 1.3k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Zayne

I Knead You

It wasn’t often that Zayne found himself getting concerned by something you did. For the most part, he was used to your antics. You would always do something to keep him on his toes, and it brought a sense of excitement to his life. Today, however, was bringing more concern than any other emotion.

It was as though the moment he said, “Welcome back,” he found himself regretting it. Watching as you walked backward into the home with something in your hands made him wonder what you did. The way your shoulders had also tensed up wasn’t doing much, and then the gentle ‘meow’ from your arms solidified in his head, which is precisely why you had come home so late today.

“What’s in your hands?” Zayne said with a sigh, already knowing the answer but needing you to confirm it.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be mad.” You said, not turning around just yet. You were facing away from him with the creature firmly pressed against your chest as if trying to keep it calm and quiet.

“I won’t get bad, but I make no promises on being disappointed in your actions.” He said, a ghost of a smile already on his lips. You were acting like a child right now who did something they definitely weren’t supposed to do. You were aware of this as well, but you honestly had a feeling if you had straight up asked him to do this, he’d say no. If he had seen it in your arms already, the chances of keeping the creature would have been higher.

In truth, you had already spoken to Yvonne about the situation, and she claimed she had been thinking about getting a cat. You had asked her if Zayne says no to keep it and if she’d be willing to. Of course, she said yes, excited about the prospect, and if Zayne happened to be fine with keeping a new pet, then she’d just go out and get her own, and you would set up kitty play dates.

“Okay, see, I think being disappointed is ten times worse, but I think that’s the best imma get out of you so…” You finally turned around to show Zayne the orange tabby in your arms. The small cat let out a confused ‘mew’ noise as it looked around the nice house. Zayne took a moment to stare and shook his head, letting out a small sigh.

“If you had wanted a cat, we could’ve discussed it.” He said, already standing up from his spot on the couch. He placed his laptop on the coffee table as he got closer to you. The cat in your arms is wriggling a bit at hearing someone and smelling the subtleness of Zayne’s aftershave in the air. It was clear the man had been ready for bed, wearing some pajamas with his hair still slightly damp; he had been waiting for you to come home, “We don’t even have cat supplies.”

“Oh see, that’s where you’re wrong.” You said with a chuckle. Zayne looked confused for a moment as you placed the little fur ball into his arms. The cat immediately began curling into him, nuzzling its face against his chest as if Zayne had always been its owner. “Come, follow.” You said, and Zayne found himself doing just that, following you through his own house to the guest bedroom he had set up.

When you opened the door, he saw a variety of cat supplies: toys, a bed, a few cat trees, treats, and food. Of course, he hadn’t checked the guest room; he never had a reason to, judging by how it was rare for a guest to say the night. It used to be for you, but you had long since evolved in your relationship and now shared the same room.

“What brought this on?” He said he was going to pet the cat. The small tabby began batting at his hand as if he were playing with it, and he found himself going alone, moving a finger around for his paws to tap at it. He was a bit surprised when it didn’t try to use its claws on him, and it even seemed comfortable being in his arms.

“Well…after that photo shoot last month, I just thought…maybe it was time to expand the family.” You said with a subtle blush. You and Zayne weren’t married, not by a long shot, but you acted like a married couple of 20 years most of the time. So, of course, you had thought of the two of you as a small family at this point. Zayne’s eyes widened a bit in surprise before going back to the usual, relaxed demeanor he had around you.

“So this has been on your mind for a while then?” he asked, slowly letting the cat down onto the floor. The small tabby began wandering off into the room, probably to explore some things while you two talked.

“Yes, it has been…so can we keep him?” you asked, and Zayne had a hard time saying no. Thankfully, you hadn’t brought home a puppy, or he’d be turning down the offer so much faster. Cats could be independent for long hours of the day, and if needed, they could set up an automatic feeder for nights when they’d both be coming home late.

“We can…have you named…him?” Zayne asked, unsure as to the gender of the cat. You giggled as you looked at the cat and then back at him.

“Figured if you said yes, we could brainstorm some names together.” You said, grabbing a small name tag that was blank. You’d have to go to the pet store to have it engraved later, but you placed it in his hand. He moved it around like it was a coin and gave you a small, knowing look.

“So you wanted to name our new child together?” the way he said it had your entire face going hot. You cleared your throat as you nodded.

“Yes, after all, he’s our kitty. I chose him specifically for us. He’s perfect in every way.” You began, and then Zayne heard a small thump as the cat ran into the bed frame. The small cat looked at it, using its paws to look over the frame, “It’s a bit quirky. It runs into a lot of things. It actually ran into my leg in the shelter and then the glass window. It was funny, and I loved him.”

“You bought a blind cat,” Zayne said as the realization dawned on him.

“I bought a blind cat. He didn’t like to eat his carrots.” You were trying so hard not to laugh at the statement. While the cat wasn’t fully blind, the person at the shelter did warn you that his eyesight wasn’t very…good.

Zayne was silent for a moment before grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. He put his forehead on yours as he looked at you, “Is this a warning about my future?” he asked, a subtle smile on his lips.

“Would you eat carrots if I made it into cake form?” You asked, then jumped slightly, your body pressing into Zayne’s as the cat suddenly began rubbing against your leg. You heard Zayne chuckle as he let you go and opted to scoop the cat back into his arms. The cat seemed to enjoy being held as it immediately relaxed into his grasp, once again nuzzling against him.

“I’m fairly certain carrot cake gets rid of all the nutritional benefits of the actual carrot.” He explained, and you hummed.

“It probably does, but that doesn’t answer my question.” You said, your voice still taking a teasing edge.

“It’s a no from me.”

“Rude.”

If you comment on this fic and leave notes, I ask kindly that you don't discuss Zayne being a father. Pregnancy and children make me uncomfortable.

[lukalnst]

I have 2 requests if you dont mind. 1) their reaction to receive flowers. 2)making them pick a number from 1 to 50 and kissing them to that number. (You can do any character if it gives you ideas.✨)(Alien stage) I think there are 4 requests, feel free to reject them.💗

ALIEN STAGE CHARACTER REACTIONS TO GIVING THEM FLOWERS + KISSING

Includes: Mizi, Ivan, Till / Gender neutral pronouns for reader / Fluff / Kisses / Gift giving

Mizi

"You — You really got these for me?"

She is pretty flustered by your gift. She has received flowers in the past on a few occasions, but it didn't mean that much to her; however, you had gotten those for her!

She tries to get you a gift back as soon as she can!

She will maybe try to ask for what you'd like (which she would try to do subtly, but fail miserably at it), and then gift you the things that you asked for.

Chocolates? Flowers? Plushies? Just ask for it!

As for the kisses, I'm pretty sure she'd be flustered by your first kiss with her.

She was a bit awkward when doing it, yes, but she tried her best!

As for the kissing number thing – she chose a number somewhere around 20~.

You can imagine her face when you kissed her around 20 times!

She's not complaining, though.

"Mizi! I got these for you!" You said, practically shoving the flowers in her face. She was a bit taken aback, but she hesitantly took them.

"You got these for me? Why – why?" She managed to stutter out. She was a bit confused, but she wasn't upset. Was it your anniversary and she had forgotten? Did she forget her own birthday?

You just smiled at her. "Well, because I love you!" You beamed out. Now, her face had warmed up slightly and also had a pink blush covering her cheeks.

"I... love you too."

Ivan

He had gotten flowers for you in the past on many occasions but never expected you to do the same.

"You... you don't have to."

He wasn't upset – just confused at why you would get anything for him. He hadn't done anything particularly great, so there wasn't any need to gift him anything.

Ivan was about to speak again when he simply got interrupted by your question. Choose a number? Odd, he chose 35 though.

Oh, the way he got embarrassed after each kiss was nearly adorable.

Mwah, mwah, mwah, mwah.

He didn't want to admit to this, but he loved each time you kissed him. He was quite disappointed when you finished, though. For him, this should've lasted 5 hours at least.

Ivan was quick to return the favor! Gently holding your face in his hands, he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

He was... so gentle with it, too. His touch was feather light, and the way his lips brushed against yours was so soft.

"I love you," he whispered.

Till

Flowers...? had someone died and he just wasn't aware of it?

He was reluctant to take them at first, he looked around to make sure there was no one around and then took them.

He didn't want to admit this either, but he appreciated everything you did for him.

"Idiot. You don't have to," his words would be harsh to basically anyone who didn't know him, but you knew those words lacked any real meaning.

He grabbed your hand and took you to a secluded place, making sure that no one would see any of you.

Hesitant, he kissed your cheek.

How absolutely adorable.

You asked him to choose a number from 1 to 50, and he chose the highest; 50.

He didn't have anything to loose anyway...

You can imagine his reaction when you kissed him nearly 50 times.

By the time you were about to finish, he pushed you away, his face being practically beet red, and he gently brushed his hand over the places where you had kissed him on.

"Don't – don't do that in public!" He reprimanded you.

Secretly, he enjoyed each kiss.

"Stop– stop doing that!" He protested as you placed your lips against his face once again. He didn't hate those kisses – it was pretty much the opposite.

But what if someone saw you both? They'd definitely tease him about it.

Even though he was deeply embarrassed, he softly kissed your lips and then just hoped it was enough to keep you satisfied.

"Freak," he stuttered out.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-”  Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.” 

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples. 

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were? 

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had. 

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure. 

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.” 

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building. 

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would. 

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you. 

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately. 

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him. 

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now. 

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips. 

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties. 

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on. 

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

[azulapunchedozai]

Can we like.. normalize skipping contents that we hate or contents that don't align with our opinion? I've seen the most beautiful ship arts in almost every social media platform and there would always be like

"Love the art! Hate the ship!"

Look, I know social media peeps do their best to stay positive but is it really that important to accompany your compliment with a COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY statement? Can people normalize keeping their opinions to themselves when it's not needed? Girl that is obviously a ship post. Why do you feel the need to say you hate it after complimenting?

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the compliment but I'd rather have you not comment on my post at all if you're just gonna leave backhanded compliments. Is it really that hard to JUST say "I love the art!" and be respectful? And if you hate the ship so much then do yourself a favour by scrolling up or down to avoid the content. Trust me, avoiding negativity would be better for your mental health.

It's not just happening in ship arts. Fanarts in general. There'd be like, a fanart of a character or a redesign and there will be comments like "I prefer them with this-that though." or "This-that suits them better!" or "I don't like them with this-that!".

Or there would be contents that talks about how this character is the best character of this show/game/movie or how this character has the best game effects and there would be like, "I prefer this-that character though." or "I don't see anything about *charactername though." or "Nope, *charactername is the best."

An example of this is when I was scrolling through contents about Furina's c6 plunge attack and infusions and how they are the best and there are a bunch of comments saying "I don't see Raiden though" or "Raiden's plunge is the best"

And I was like NO ONE ASKED??? Look, no hate to Raiden Shogun because she's literally one of my favorite characters. I love her plunge attack and I have an undeniable bias when it comes to purple and pink but the video was OBVIOUSLY NOT ABOUT HER. The video was not a misinformation and simply someone's opinion/preference.

It's like going to a room full of people talking about how they like the color red and saying something like "I prefer blue though!" Gosh why would you do that? It's just so EMBARRASSING and SO ATTENTION SEEKING at it's finest. And then when people call them out, they'd pull the "opinion" card and act like s victim. If you want people to respect your opinion, why don't you do it first?

People need to learn that not everything that appears on their feed is about them and to not take everything PERSONALLY because OMG not everything is about you and not everything revolves around you. People can have different opinions and enjoy any content that they want even if those are opposed to your preferences. Being different from you doesn't make them less valid in any way.

If it's not illegal or harmful just keep your mouth shut OMG is it really that hard?

Instead of wasting your time commenting on a content that you don't like (and by doing so, the said content would just appear on your feed more frequently), why not search for contents you enjoy to satisfy yourself, yah?

Why? Because that's the normal thing to do. People have become so brave on whatever they say on the internet because they know they'd never suffer real life consequences.

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[saturncoyote]

After much work i have finally written down my analysis on the fictional character Creek from hit children's movie Trolls 2016, open Read More on your own discretion because this shit is about to get long

Alright let's start with a small summary for the folks that have never watched a Trolls movie and don't really know anything about Creek outside of the plethora of art i've made about him

Creek is one of the movie's side characters and secondary villain, he is Poppy's (the main character) friend and acts as a short-of twist villain (i'll explain that 'short-of' later,). Although shown to be a stereotypical nature-loving hippie he later betrays his friends and everyone he's ever known as he sells out the location of their village to Bergens, a race who 20 years ago used to keep the pop trolls in a large cage and would eat them once a year during a holiday called Trollstice.

He is first introduced when Branch (the movie's second protagonist) is confronting Poppy about her decision to throw a party, arguing that this could attract the attention of the Bergens, this is also where my first point about Creek's character begins First thing to notice is that, unlike what some people would like you to believe, Creek is NOT the only troll in Poppy's friend group (the Snack Pack) to be dismissive towards Branch, if anything Poppy herself is the only one in the group that seems to want to give him a chance ("i think everyone deserves to be happy"). Creek also shows up late to the conversation, only appearing once Branch escalates the situation by throwing Poppy's party invitation to the floor and stomping on it. You could easily argue that, in Creek's perspective, he is only doing what a good friend should do and protecting his friend from someone who is being cruel towards them, and although Branch has a GOOD reason to be upset and we later find out more about his backstory, there is no reason for us to believe that Creek or even the rest of the Snack Pack know anything about his situation, to THEM Branch is nothing but a party pooper who actively chooses to stay miserable ("some folks just don't want to be happy")

One point that i sometimes see that i would like to snip in the bud as soon as possible is that Creek doesn't truly care about his friends, especially Poppy, and is only using her to get something out of her (what exactly ? well we don't know, we could especulate that since she is the princess, he may want to use her for her status, possibly wanting to become royalty himself, but we're not here for that), the reason i bring this up now is because of the scene that follows the interaction with Branch, where Creek is the first one to notice that Poppy is still upset about the results of the conversation, not only that but he doesn't seem too happy about it himself

It would have been extremelly easy to animate him smiling or looking smug after Branch storms off, but that doesn't happen, he even glances down at the ground before looking towards Poppy, which is when he attempts to cheer her up. This small scene ALONE already leads me to believe that he truly does care, and although his attempts at cheering her up aren't exactly the best nor the most productive ("tune out his negative vibrations Poppy, they're toxic") he is still trying.

However we do not get enough time to find out more about his relationship with Poppy outside of this very moment as the next scene in the movie is the party and their imminent capture by the Chef Bergen, this is where i'd like to remind you that i called him only a "short-of" twist villain. For a twist villain to truly work we first need to understand why this character is considered to be a "good guy", and their relationship with the protagonist, so that the incoming reveal of them being the antagonist has a impact, not only on the other characters, but the audience themselves. The thing about Creek is that we don't GET that insight into his relationship with Poppy, they interact TWICE before the reveal, and one of those interactions is Poppy attempting to save him from being carried away by a Bergen, therefore the "twist" itself falls flat... but what if i told you that was done on purpose by Dreamworks ?

Before the existence of Creek there was another character who was meant to take his place in the storyline, and her name was Miss Guffin

According to concept art, Miss Guffin was originally going to be Poppy's mentor, and be captured by the Chef Bergen, and much like Creek she would sell out the other trolls as an attempt to save herself. Now that would have had a much bigger impact, not only on the audience as they realise that the respectful elderly character was a selfish coward at heart, but for Poppy as she would have had a much closer relationship with Guffin as her mentor. So why was she changed ? It's simple really, she was just too likeable.

Creek, by design, was created to be unlikeable, not only so that his reveal wouldn't upset the audience, but so that you wouldn't feel pity about his eventual demise. THIS is what i mean when i refer to him as a character "doomed by the narrative", he only exists because a much more appealing character had to be turned down for the sole reason of not upsetting those who watch the movie, he would never have been allowed to have a closer relationship with Poppy, because that would have given the viewer a emotional attachment to him, and we can't have that. Creek is a tragic character in the sense that he was destined to be the traitor, not only a traitor but a unredeemable one, and i understand why that is, there was never going to be enough time in the movie to give him a satisfying redemption, and it would have thrown off the entire flow of the story, killing him off was a much easier choice than trying to squeeze an awkward redemption at the very end, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that there WAS more. His fate feels unfair to me, as his only crime is being kind of a dickhead, and it's hard to blame him for his decision to sell out Pop Village when his only other option wasn't much better, so let's talk about that next.

In the next scene where we see Creek, him and the rest of the Snack Pack have been put in a cage by the Chef, this is where i'd like to point out that his first reaction to this predicament is to try and get everyone else to stay calm ("Woah, woah ! Everyone, we must all remain calm") This scene leads directly to the one where he gets nearly eaten by King Gristle, and when i say nearly i mean it, he is shoved INTO his mouth and assumed dead by everyone except for Poppy, who is only holding out hope that he is still alive. Of course we later find out that he is indeed, not dead, but that is only because he clung to Gristle's uvula causing him to choke and spit him out. The way we find out that he is alive is through Gristle himself, who reveals to Bridget that he has him locked inside his cape's clasp

Notice how little space he has in there, i'd say barely any to move let alone breathe, as he lets out a desperate gasp just as the clasp is opened. We do not know how much time has passed since he escaped being nearly eaten alive, but we can estimate it has to have been at least a few hours, as quite a few events happen between the formerly mentioned scene and this one. We do NOT get to see what happens between him, Gristle and the Chef during that time, which means we can only ESPECULATE why he was put in there in the first place, so allow me to do just that:

- Firstly, we do not know if Creek agreed right away to the Chef's request to reveal the location of the village, for all we know he might have declined to do so, and putting him into a small claustrophobic space was a way to give him that final push. - However this could have also been a way to stop him from escaping and telling the other trolls of the Bergen's plan, but i fail to see why they would have had to resort to such a, let's be honest here, barbaric method of keeping him put, when a normal cage would have done the job just as well, perhaps the Chef wanted to make sure he wouldn't change his mind. - Thirdly, this could have been a way to have someone keep an eye on him as the Chef busied herself with other things, essentially making Gristle the guard to Creek's prison No matter what option you decide makes the most sense, one thing is clear: Creek was tortured

At last we finally reach the moment he reveals to Poppy, Branch and the rest of the Snack Pack that he plans on betraying all of them and selling out the location of the village, this is the scene that is supposed to make you despise him, for being so cowardly and selfish that he'd rather let everyone he's ever known die horribly than.... give up his own life ? Hold up did i read that right, oh... hm Creek is a character who finds himself in a situation out of his control and is forced to make a decision between two truly awful options, he can either let himself be eaten or everyone else goes, there is NOT a correct answer here, and in the end his sense of self preservation wins. A decision probably influenced by the fact that before this moment, he had spent hours trapped in a small space with barely enough oxygen. There was NEVER going to be another way, as the Chef states herself:

Especially bringing attention to how he acts in this scene, to me it comes across less like he's finally showing his true colors as a manipulative person, and more like he's desperately trying to justify his actions not only to Poppy but to himself ("At least you get to die with a clear conscience")

And it seems like he's successful in doing so, for him at least, what other options does he have ? It's either give up your own life, or convince yourself that what you're about to do isn't truly that bad, he chooses to look at it with a positive outlook, ignoring the very obviously bleak reality he finds himself in ("So in a way... You could say... I'm doing this for you")

Another thing about this scene is that we don't really get to see his true feelings on the situation, as during this conversation the Chef Bergen is actively sharpening knifes in the background, even if he did want to come up with a escape plan or air out how he feels about this predicament they find themselves in, he would be unable to do so, as the person who could easily just snatch him up and kill him right then and there stands in the very same room. And that is a recurring thing when it comes to Creek, we don't get to SEE much of him, we don't see the events leading up to his betrayal, we don't really get to see his relationship with Poppy or even the rest of the Snack Pack for that matter, we don't SEE how he feels about being trapped inside Gristle's cape clasp or having to choose between himself or his friends, and honestly we probably never will. For a secondary villain he barely gets any screen time at all, and the screen time he does get is spent in near constant live-threatening danger.

And finally, his story comes to an end, the Bergens discover true happyness, Chef Bergen is defeated, and the last time we see Creek he's getting swallowed up by a mountain sized creature, the very thing he tried so hard to save himself from, to the point that he would give up everyone he's ever loved, happens regardless of his choice, was he even given a choice in the first place ? When both options led him to the same fate ? I would say it's almost tragically poetic if it didn't feel like salt to the wound.

Of course, Trolls: The Beat Goes On exists, but it's not even close to being a good continuation of his character let alone a satisfying redemption, his introduction is incredibly rushed, characters who have no reason to forgive him for his actions immediatelly welcome him back with open arms, and the one person who doesn't do so is shown to be in the wrong even though his reaction and suspicion make complete sense.

Besides, TBGO is it's own can of worms and opening it now would only make this post longer than it needs to be, so i'll spare you from that.

My final point is that Creek is a much more complex and interesting character than the story would like you to believe, and it CAN be quite frustating seeing people brush him off as just a selfish fraud who never truly cared about anyone but himself when there's really so much more under the surface. Of course i'm not saying that you should love him, hell you don't even need to like him, he has a lot of flaws and has made terrible decisions, but that's also exactly the reason why i am so keen on giving him a better ending. He shouldn't need to be perfect to deserve a nicer fate, to be given an actual choice for once, one that isn't going to blow up in his face in the end, the ability to be better and do better. You don't deserve to be tossed aside just because you have a big ego or some other personal flaw, you don't deserve to be considered unredeemable because you were put in a situation out of your control, making a bad decision shouldn't define your existence for the rest of your life.

I've come to accept that Creek is a very important character to me, he's a character who NEEDS to be selfish for the story to work the way it does, one who's the narrative is actively trying to make as unlikeable as possible at all times, but it's attempts had an opposite effect on me, and the more i dug only solidified him as my favorite in the entire franchise. I love him because of his unused potential, potential that'll most likely never get a true chance to shine due to Dreamworks not seeming to really care about him as a character, so i have taken upon myself to do what canon failed to. If i had to pick ONE THING for folks that read this post to get out of it, is that you should never be embarassed of your enjoyment for a fictional character, no matter how unlikeable or one-dimensional they seem to be, analyse every frame they show up in, write that fanfic, draw that art, create that self indulgent AU, find meaning where no one else did

[sillywormz]

some thoughts/things i liked about the hypothetical s2 scavengers reign teaser

AZIIIIIII LOOK AT HER!!!!!!!! my jaw hit the floor..... dgmw i love a good buzzcut but she looks so handsome with the slightly longer hair i want her so bad. also she looks kinda sad/melancholy in this scene....... babygirl are you ok😢

THE FREAKY SPACE DEATH CULT WERE GONNA HAVE SKULL LASERS????? FUCKING SKULL LASERS

their ship is the coolest thing i've ever fucking seen what the hell. it reminds me of a rlly ornate vase

i'm guessing this person was gonna be the leader of the space cultists, or at least someone important to them? idk anything abt her but i'm fucking obsessed with her from design alone. like this is one of the best character designs i've ever seen just from seeing her face......graaaagahh she's so coooooool

HI LEVI HI BABYGIRL <3 <3 <3 getting up to their One With Nature activities as usual i see

kamen 😒........ (just kidding i was excited to see my horrible little guy even if it's just the back of his head lol. i wonder if s2 would've been a redemption arc for him, he kinda looks like he's just chilling here)

barry has got facial hair!! i wonder if that means a relatively large timeskip was gonna happen between seasons? his hair has grown out a lot too :') he looks so grown up aww

URSULAAAAA!!! idk what she's doing inside this alien pod but it looks badass. this scene honestly gives me the vibe that she's preparing for a fight or some kind of other rlly dramatic event? also if you look there are little metal darts in the side of the pod she's in, i think?? i wonder what the context for this was...........

ANYWAY i am heartbroken to know that scavengers wasn't renewed....... but equally i'm so glad to have got this glimpse of the series again and i am not giving up hope that it'll get a second season. maybe if enough people watch season 1 and hype up the show on social media there's still a chance it could be renewed! regardless, please watch scavengers reign if you haven't yet. this show is fucking everything to me and i love it so much

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.

One Night Can Change Everything

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader 

Word Count: 6400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.

Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. 

I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”

She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”. 

Fuck this asshole.

I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least. 

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.” 

I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her. 

“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”

Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”

—--------------

An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender. 

“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over. 

“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?

The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose,  sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”

I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”

The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever. 

“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”

He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”

I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”

“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly. 

Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”

He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile. 

“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.

Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”

I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”

Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks. 

“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”

“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”

“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”

Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.” 

His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”

He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”

“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”

The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 

“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.

“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”

I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”

He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.

“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.

I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”

She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”

I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”

Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here. 

“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”

“Sage! I have to go!”

“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”

I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”

Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot. 

This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”

I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us. 

“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?

“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”

Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”

I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”

He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.

“Where to?”

It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”

His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”

I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”

He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”

That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his. 

There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.

“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.

“More like, not enough.”

Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.

Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust. 

He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”

I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”

I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”

He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs. 

Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing. 

Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release. 

My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”

His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own. 

“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.

“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care. 

And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”

I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.

“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down. 

We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.

“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”

I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”

Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.” 

“Well that definitely works!”

His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”

After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”

Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”

“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”

His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”

“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”

—----

A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me. 

I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable? 

I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home. 

—----

Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name. 

—----

2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.

“Rea?”

I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”

She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”

I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

I scoff. “How, Sage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”

I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”

Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”

“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”

—----

“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”

I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”

Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”

“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”

Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.” 

Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.

I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”

So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know. 

Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”

A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.

“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”

Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.

Benny. 

My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about. 

A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.

“Rea?”

Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.

“Rea? Is that you?”

Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-

“Are you ok?”

His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.

“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”

I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”

I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”

His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react. 

I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.

“Is that…am I…the dad?”

I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.

“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”

His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement. 

“He was just kicking over here.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”

Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”

And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.

“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”

He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”

We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other. 

“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”

He cocks his head. “Do…what?”

“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”

“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”

“Benny, really. It’s ok.”

“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”

I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand. 

“I don’t need money, Ben-”

He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me. 

It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.

Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?” 

His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”

“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.

“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”

My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”

“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”

“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him. 

“So when’s that dinner?”

We’re married a year later. 

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

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[amethystarachnid]

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part III

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★ Word count: 8.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: Your life with Logan was going just fine, but fine doesn't last long in celebrities' world: first rumors of a break up, then of him having an affair, Logan can't stand to see you so upset and decides to take matter into his own hands with a livestream.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of cheating

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies

ᯓ★ Request: I would love to read more of this. Can you imagine Logan's reaction if the tabloids spread crazy rumors of a breakup or an affair like they do to celebrities all of the time (especially if it's about him). He'd be so confused and probably annoyed if the reader teased him about it (@needz1nk)

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

In the weeks following the premiere and the much-talked-about bathroom incident, the media whirlwind surrounding you and Logan only intensified. What started as a curious whisper in celebrity news quickly exploded into a full-blown frenzy, with headlines splashing your relationship across screens and magazine covers everywhere. The story of an A-list actress and her bodyguard falling in love had the public hooked, and as the details trickled out, interest only grew. Some saw it as the ultimate fairytale romance; others found reasons to criticize. But the one thing that everyone seemed to agree on was that they couldn't look away.

To your surprise, the publicity sparked an unexpected wave of support from fans, old and new. Overnight, you gained a whole new group of followers who adored the idea of a love story that defied Hollywood norms. Your existing fans were thrilled to see a new side of you, one that was raw and authentic, and they rallied around you, excited to see you so visibly happy. They shared clips from interviews, fan edits of you and Logan on the red carpet, and screenshots from the infamous bathroom encounter. The comments flooded your social media: "Finally! She's found someone who treats her like a queen!" "They are SO cute together, I’m obsessed!" "This is real love. Logan’s the best thing to happen to her!" These fans painted your timeline with heart emojis, hashtags about true love, and affirmations that they’d “ship” you and Logan forever.

But it wasn’t just your fans who were excited; Logan found himself with an entirely new fan base of his own. Almost overnight, he was propelled from being a low-key presence in your life to a reluctant but undeniable celebrity in his own right. Fan pages popped up dedicated entirely to him, featuring candid photos of Logan at events, his brooding glances at premieres, and, most frequently, the rare, disarming smile that he would flash only at you. Girls who had likely never noticed Logan’s existence before were now obsessing over his rugged looks and quiet confidence. They analyzed his style, dissected his every movement, and swapped theories about his background. Despite his straightforward nature, Logan was an enigma to them, a new kind of celebrity who neither wanted the fame nor cared about the public adulation. The mystery only added to his appeal.

Social media was brimming with Logan-related content, much of it filled with admiration and even longing. Comments like, “If I can’t have a man like Logan, what’s the point?” and “Forget actors—I want a real man like him!” filled his unofficial fan pages. People shared photoshopped images of themselves with him, fan fiction imagining scenarios where they were in your place, and “Logan appreciation” threads discussing every aspect of his appeal. Some even went so far as to analyze the subtle possessiveness he had towards you, swooning over how protective he seemed. To many, he was the embodiment of an old-school romance hero, a modern knight who had swept in to protect and claim his woman in a world where that felt rare.

But as with anything that reached this level of fame, not all of the attention was positive. Alongside the supportive comments and fan accounts, there were plenty of harsh, critical voices determined to tear you down. Many people were quick to question what a successful actress like you was doing with someone like Logan, a bodyguard whose life had previously been so removed from the glitz of Hollywood. They called you names, some implying that your relationship was a publicity stunt, a bid for attention rather than a genuine connection. Others criticized Logan, saying he was just another “bodyguard boyfriend” trying to capitalize on your fame and insinuating that he was only with you for personal gain.

The hate was worst on social media, where anonymity often emboldened people to say things they wouldn’t dare voice in person. Comments like “What does she even see in him?” or “She’s just desperate for attention” littered your posts. Some were even more malicious, accusing you of “using Logan to stay relevant” or “replacing real talent with a guy she pays to protect her.” A few particularly harsh ones left a bitter taste in your mouth, claiming things like, “He’s way too good for her. She’ll chew him up and spit him out like every other guy.” Or, “This relationship won’t last—she’ll move on when something better comes along.”

As more and more of these comments appeared, you found yourself drawn to reading them, almost obsessively. Logan noticed, of course. He was perceptive enough to catch the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you looked at your phone, and he’d quietly reach over, pulling you close or brushing his hand along your back, grounding you in the simplicity of his presence. He didn't bother with comments himself, brushing them off like flies, reminding you time and again that the opinions of strangers meant nothing to him. But for you, it was harder to ignore. You were used to some degree of online criticism as an actress, but this—people questioning your worth as a person, as Logan’s partner—felt different. More personal.

Logan’s attitude was almost infuriating in its calm. "Why are you letting this get to you?" he’d ask in his straightforward way, his tone gruff yet gentle as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "We know what’s real here. We know us." And, for the most part, you tried to hold onto that—his certainty in the face of so much noise. But as the relationship continued to grow in the public eye, so did the backlash, and it felt relentless.

One evening, after a particularly long day filled with work obligations and negative comments online, you finally snapped. You were sitting on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling through the endless barrage of insults, unable to look away. “I just don’t get it, Logan,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “Why do people hate that we’re together? Why does it matter so much to them?”

Logan took a seat beside you, his arm draped over the back of the couch as he looked at you with that steady gaze. “Because it’s easier for them to tear down what they don’t understand. They don’t know us—they only know what they see through a screen. And that’s their problem, not ours.”

He took the phone from your hand, setting it aside. “Let them talk,” he said simply, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “We don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Not them, not the press, no one.”

You looked into his eyes, and something inside you calmed. There, in his gaze, you saw a reminder of why this was worth it—why he was worth it. Logan’s love was fierce, unwavering, unbothered by the noise of the outside world. His grip on you was steady, grounding, reminding you that while the world might be relentless in its opinions, your relationship was a world in itself, untouched by the chaos outside.

In the following weeks, you began to focus more on the people who supported you, on those who cheered you on. Fan art, letters, and messages poured in from people who felt inspired by your relationship. There were stories from fans who saw your romance as proof that love could be found in unexpected places, that there were still people in the world who loved fully, openly, and without pretense. You shared little glimpses of your life with Logan—a cozy coffee date, a lazy Sunday spent reading together, the way he cooked you breakfast, often burning the toast but always insisting on making it himself.

The support grew, and eventually, it drowned out the negativity. You learned to scroll past the hateful comments, ignoring them in favor of the warm messages of encouragement and love. Fans sent you photos of their own relationships, shared stories of how they met their partners, and thanked you for showing a love story that felt real and grounded. You and Logan became symbols of something rare, a reminder that even in the glamorous world of Hollywood, love could be simple, honest, and unbreakable.

And though Logan still brushed off his fame with a gruff indifference, even he couldn’t ignore the sheer number of fans who now adored him. He’d laugh and shake his head at the fan edits, the swooning comments, and the declarations of love from girls around the world. It was amusing to him, in a way, but he never let it distract from what mattered most to him—you.

On one of the quieter nights, after the frenzy had calmed a bit and life had settled into a new rhythm, Logan pulled you into his arms, his gaze soft and tender. “They can say what they want,” he murmured, his thumb tracing gentle patterns along your hand. “I don’t care about the fans, the reporters, the hate. I care about you. Just you.”

In that moment, you knew that nothing could shake the foundation you had built together. You’d face the public scrutiny, the fan obsessions, and the media circus as long as you had Logan by your side. His love was your safe haven, an anchor in the storm. No matter what the world threw your way, you’d face it together, knowing that what you had was stronger than any headline, truer than any rumor, and more resilient than the relentless opinions of the world outside. And with that knowledge, you finally felt at peace.

But peace never lasts long.

The morning sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You blinked awake, still heavy with sleep, finding yourself entangled with Logan, both of you cocooned in the soft sheets, the remnants of the previous night still lingering in the gentle aches and comfortable mess you lay in. Logan was tucked against you, his face nestled against your chest, arms wrapped securely around your waist. It was one of those rare, quiet moments where his usual stoic, protective demeanor softened completely, replaced with something vulnerable and at peace.

You reached up, gently running your fingers through his messy hair, savoring the way he leaned into your touch, almost nuzzling closer with a content sigh. He was still half-asleep, his breathing steady and deep, and you took a quiet moment to simply enjoy the closeness, the peaceful warmth of his body pressed to yours.

Trying not to disturb him, you carefully reached over to the nightstand for your phone, scrolling through notifications and messages that had piled up overnight. A headline immediately caught your eye, its bold letters practically screaming back at you: “Hollywood It-Couple Split? Inside Sources Say Y/N and Logan Call It Quits.” Your mouth twisted in frustration as you read the so-called “insider scoop,” filled with baseless claims and invented reasons for your supposed breakup. There were even theories about a “rising actor” who had “come between you,” speculating wildly about drama that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The words clawed at you, stirring irritation—but then you looked down at Logan, blissfully unaware, relaxed and vulnerable in a way only you ever saw. A mischievous idea sparked, and you carefully angled your phone to capture the scene, framing his face nestled against you, his arm looped around your waist, both of you tangled together beneath the sheets. You barely stifled a laugh, sure that Logan would have rolled his eyes if he were awake.

After double-checking the photo, you typed out a quick caption: Woke up to some…interesting headlines this morning. We’re fine, thanks. Adding a winking emoji, you hit Post and set your phone aside, the grin still playing on your lips.

The post took off almost instantly, notifications flooding in as fans and friends alike chimed in. Most comments were thrilled reactions, with fans sending heart emojis and playfully chiding the tabloids for trying to mess with “the ultimate couple.” Others were friends and fellow actors tagging Logan, with messages like “Better watch out—she’s got the receipts!”

As the notifications rolled in, Logan stirred, blinking awake and looking up at you, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, as he stretched and tightened his arm around you. His eyes shifted to your phone, catching a glimpse of the notifications lighting up the screen. “What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, barely holding back a laugh as you handed him the phone. “Just correcting a few tabloid rumors.”

He squinted at the screen, his expression shifting from confusion to a smirk as he took in the post. “So…we’ve broken up, huh?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t realize that’s how I spent my night.”

You snorted, shaking your head as he looked back at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Guess they think I dumped you or something,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. “But, you know, I figured I’d let them know I’m still kind of attached.”

He let out a soft chuckle, leaning down to press a slow kiss to your lips. “Good. Maybe now they’ll back off.” He nestled closer, resting his head back against your chest, his hand finding yours beneath the sheets. His thumb traced gentle circles on your skin, and he took a long, contented breath, settling back down beside you. “But if they keep it up…maybe I’ll give them a real reason to talk.”

You laughed, the two of you lingering in the warmth of each other and the morning, the world and its noise fading completely into the background.

The decision to go public that day felt more like a playful challenge than a chore. After the tabloid drama and breakup rumors, you and Logan wanted to make a statement—and what better way than a casual, romantic date in broad daylight? The plan was to keep it simple: a quiet brunch in one of the city’s more charming cafés, followed by a relaxed walk through a nearby park. It was your kind of day, one that would be easygoing… at least in theory.

As you strolled into the café, Logan’s hand resting firmly on your waist, you couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill at the curious glances that people threw your way. Some recognized you immediately, eyes widening as they connected the dots, their gazes shifting from you to Logan. There was something invigorating about the excitement, the quiet murmur of onlookers exchanging theories and tidbits of information about you two. Logan, however, seemed undeterred. He wore that calm, collected expression, the slightest smirk on his lips as he leaned down to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

You laughed, giving him a quick nudge with your shoulder. “Just relax. If we don’t play into it, maybe the rumors will die down, and everyone can go back to wondering who the next big rom-com couple is.”

Logan chuckled softly, but the humor didn’t mask the possessiveness in his gaze as he looked at you. “Let them look,” he muttered, his voice low and more serious than before. “They’ll get the message.”

You ordered your coffee and pastries, taking a seat by the large window, where sunlight poured in and gave the whole scene a warm glow. Logan stretched an arm along the back of your chair, his fingers tracing idle circles on your shoulder. You leaned into him, savoring the intimacy. His touch was protective, almost territorial, a statement to anyone paying attention. And given the covert snaps you noticed from a couple of phones nearby, people were most definitely paying attention.

As you sipped your coffee, you felt the heat of his gaze on you, and when you looked up, his eyes were smoldering, hinting at the simmering tension between you both. His thumb traced light patterns on your skin, a touch that seemed innocent to anyone watching, but you knew better. You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face.

“Behave,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, grinning.

“Trying to,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’re making it difficult.”

Just then, a group of young fans approached your table, their excitement barely contained. “Y/N, we’re so sorry to interrupt, but could we maybe get a picture with you?” one of them asked, her voice shaking slightly as she held out her phone.

You smiled warmly and stood up, nodding. “Of course! No need to apologize. It’s great to meet you all!”

Logan remained seated, watching with a mix of pride and amusement as you interacted with them. You could feel his eyes following you, as if even this brief separation was pushing the limits of his patience. When a few other fans spotted you, they hurried over, and you ended up signing a few autographs, sharing laughs, and answering quick questions. But all the while, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Logan’s gaze—protective, possessive—burning into you.

When you finally returned to your seat, you found him leaning back, a smug grin on his face. He reached out, taking your hand in his, but instead of his usual steady grip, he laced his fingers through yours, holding you close, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His thumb traced along your knuckles, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and heat. “Missed you,” he murmured, his voice low.

You bit your lip, the warmth in his touch sparking a subtle thrill. “I was only gone for a minute.”

“Yeah, well, felt like longer,” he replied, his gaze slipping down to your lips. And with that, he shifted closer, so close that his arm practically enveloped you.

As you exchanged glances, you noticed movement outside the café window. A few paparazzi were hovering, cameras clicking as they angled to get the best view of you two. You suppressed a sigh, your fingers giving his a light squeeze.

Logan noticed them too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “They’re going to have a field day,” he said, voice low, almost amused.

“Well,” you replied, leaning back in your seat and resting your hand on his leg, “let’s give them a reason to talk.”

Without hesitation, Logan slipped his arm fully around you, his fingers gently tracing up your spine, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. He pulled you in a bit closer, his other hand finding its way to your knee, sending sparks through you. His touch felt like a secret promise, an unspoken agreement that this day would end much differently than it started.

For a while, you both stayed there, the casual intimacy you shared made even more tantalizing by the audience beyond the glass. The café staff seemed oblivious, while the other patrons either pretended not to notice or tried unsuccessfully to hide their intrigue. But Logan’s focus was solely on you, his gaze dark and hungry. When he shifted his hand slightly, trailing his thumb along your thigh, you felt your breath catch. His fingertips pressed into your leg with a subtle possessiveness, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, drawn by the warmth radiating between you.

After what felt like an eternity of heightened tension, you finally looked up at him, the simmering heat between you both almost unbearable. “Maybe we should head back?” you suggested, your voice a little breathless.

Logan’s smirk widened, and he nodded, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Good idea.”

You left the café, his hand resting on your lower back as he guided you outside. The paparazzi didn’t miss a beat, following as you both made your way down the street. Logan’s arm slipped around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch protective and intimate. You felt the heat of his body against yours, the silent promise in every gentle graze of his fingers, and it made your pulse quicken.

Once you were out of the immediate view of the photographers, Logan’s pace quickened, his hand firmly grasping yours as he practically guided you through the bustling street back toward your penthouse. The urgency in his touch sent a thrill through you, and you matched his steps, the excitement building with every block closer you got.

By the time you reached the front door, he was practically pressing into you, his hands slipping to your waist as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss. You fumbled with your keys, finally managing to open the door, and Logan wasted no time as he swept you inside, shutting it firmly behind you. His hands found your waist, drawing you close as he kissed you again, his touch heated and demanding, all traces of the earlier restraint gone.

In the elevator up to your penthouse, the air between you was charged, every glance and touch laced with unspoken desire. When the doors finally opened, he pulled you through the hallway, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. You finally reached the bedroom, and Logan wasted no time, pressing you gently against the door as he captured your mouth in a kiss that was fierce and full of promise. His hands roamed your body, drawing out every shiver and gasp as he reminded you exactly why you were his and no one else’s.

Hours later, the two of you lay tangled in bed, your skin still warm and hearts racing. Logan’s arm was wrapped around you, holding you close as you traced lazy patterns on his chest, both of you basking in the afterglow. His fingers trailed along your back, grounding you in the quiet intimacy that followed the rush of your passion.

You looked up at him, finding his gaze soft and content as he watched you, the earlier fire replaced by a gentle warmth. “That was some date,” you murmured, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best one yet.” He wrapped his arm tighter around you, his hand resting on the small of your back as he held you close. “You think they got the message?”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him, savoring the way he responded, his touch possessive yet tender. “I’d say so. But even if they didn’t, I think I did.”

Logan’s smirk softened into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he gazed at you. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And you believed him when he told you that, maybe it was a mistake.

Logan's departure that morning had been straightforward enough, or so you thought. He’d given you a warm kiss, his hand lingering at the small of your back before he told you he had to step out for a meeting with his boss at the security company. He looked over at you with a reassuring smile, promising to be back soon, and you smiled back, content to spend a few hours on your own, catching up on your script and maybe even indulging in a bath while he was away. But as soon as the door closed behind him, you felt a pang of loneliness tug at you, surprising you with its strength.

Settling into your routine, you tried to distract yourself. The penthouse was quiet, bathed in soft, early-morning sunlight, and you could almost convince yourself to relax as you flipped through the pages of your script. But then, only half an hour after Logan left, your phone buzzed with the first notification, and then another, and another.

With a quick glance, you saw a string of messages, each one loaded with concern—or worse, nosy excitement.

“Did you see?!” “Is it true? I can’t believe it!” “Are you okay, Y/N?”

A frown creased your brow as you scrolled, your stomach sinking. It wasn’t like you to entertain rumors, especially when they came from gossipy texts and half-informed messages. But curiosity, and a rising dread, got the better of you. Taking a deep breath, you tapped on one of the links a friend had sent, dreading what you might find.

The headline blared across the screen: "Hollywood Bodyguard Logan Hunter Seen Entering Hotel of Y/N's Onscreen Rival—Secret Affair?"

You felt a pang in your chest, an ache that spread like ice through your veins. The article went on to detail how Logan was supposedly spotted entering a high-end hotel known for housing out-of-town celebrities. It even specified that just last night, the actress playing your onscreen rival had checked into that very hotel, sparking an avalanche of speculation. Photographers had apparently captured Logan, his head down, wearing his usual serious expression as he slipped through the hotel doors.

Scrolling down, you were greeted with low-quality images that only seemed to confirm what the article suggested. Your stomach twisted as you looked at each one, desperately searching for anything that might tell you it wasn’t him or that this was just some ridiculous, elaborate misunderstanding. But there was no denying the figure in the pictures, no denying his familiar stance and his unmistakable gait.

The words blurred on the screen as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You wanted to dismiss it as another fabricated rumor, but you couldn’t shake the sick feeling churning inside. Why hadn’t he mentioned meeting anyone else? And why had he gone to a hotel—especially one that you knew was currently hosting the actress you’d been cast against?

Your phone buzzed again, breaking you from your spiraling thoughts. It was a text from your best friend:

“Are you okay? I’m here if you need to talk.”

The floodgates opened, and you wiped at a tear slipping down your cheek. The logical part of you wanted to believe there was some other explanation, that this was all just some twisted coincidence, but doubt gnawed at you. How many times had you seen stories of relationships torn apart by the pressures of Hollywood, of people you thought you knew falling for someone else?

The hours ticked by slowly, each minute dragging as you paced the penthouse, your mind replaying the images of Logan entering the hotel over and over. You tried distracting yourself, tried focusing on the work in front of you, but everything felt meaningless, drowned by a painful insecurity that left you feeling hollow. Every time your phone buzzed with another notification, you felt a jolt of dread, bracing yourself for more damning evidence, more messages laced with pity or curiosity.

By the time the sky had darkened, you’d grown exhausted from waiting, from the endless battle in your mind. Just when you were beginning to think you couldn’t handle it any longer, you heard the click of the front door. Logan stepped in, looking tired but offering you that familiar smile. But one look at you, and his expression softened, worry instantly replacing the calm he’d walked in with.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle as he crossed the room toward you, brow furrowed with concern.

You swallowed, the hurt in your chest making it hard to meet his eyes. But you forced yourself to look up, forcing out the words. “Where were you today, Logan?”

He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “I told you—I had a meeting with my boss. It was… it took a bit longer than expected.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Why did I see pictures of you going into that hotel? The one where…” Your voice trailed off as you struggled to get the words out. “Where she’s staying?”

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he reached out, but you took a step back, needing space to breathe. The last thing you wanted was to let him see how deeply his absence had hurt you, but you couldn’t help the hurt and confusion that flashed across your face.

Logan’s gaze softened, his shoulders slumping as he realized the depth of your pain. “Y/N… I can explain everything. But please believe me, I would never hurt you. Never.”

His words were soft, sincere, and they tugged at your heart, urging you to believe him. But the images, the articles, and the words of everyone who’d reached out to you that day weighed heavily on your mind.

“Then tell me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan took a deep breath, looking down for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “I was at that hotel, yes, but it had nothing to do with her.” He took a step closer, hands raised in a calming gesture. “My boss, he’s in town for a security conference. He booked a suite there for some meetings, and that’s where we met. I didn’t even know she was staying there, Y/N. And if I had, I would’ve told you.”

Your heart ached as you listened, torn between relief and residual doubt. “But why didn’t you tell me you’d be going somewhere like that?” you asked, the words spilling out, carrying with them the vulnerability you’d tried so hard to hide.

Logan’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I should have. You’re right. I didn’t think twice about it because it was just a meeting. But I never meant to hurt you, and I certainly didn’t mean to give you any reason to doubt us.” His thumb brushed gently along your cheek, his touch grounding you, and you closed your eyes, leaning into his palm.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re the only one, Y/N. I don’t care who else is around, or what anyone else thinks. It’s you. Always.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, but this time, it was from relief. His sincerity, the warmth in his eyes, and the quiet conviction in his voice slowly chipped away at the walls you’d built up over the course of the day. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as the tension in your shoulders began to dissolve.

“I was scared,” you admitted, the words spilling out in a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it, but… seeing those pictures…”

Logan’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and you buried your face in his chest, letting the warmth of his embrace soothe the ache that had settled in your heart. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I never wanted to put you through that. I should’ve thought it through, should’ve told you exactly where I was.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through damp lashes, a weak smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to having you here, with me, that even a few hours apart feels… different.”

He smiled softly, his fingers brushing along your cheek as he gazed down at you. “And I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His voice was steady, and you felt the weight of his words settle over you, anchoring you in a newfound sense of security.

As the evening continued, the doubt that had clouded your mind all day finally began to dissipate, replaced by the reassurance of his presence. You knew there would always be whispers, rumors, and challenges that came with dating someone in the public eye, but standing there in his arms, you realized that together, you could weather anything.

For the rest of the evening, Logan held you close, his touches soft and gentle as if to make up for the strain you’d endured. You knew that while today had shaken you, it had also strengthened your bond, reinforcing the trust that lay at the heart of your relationship.

And as you fell asleep that night, wrapped securely in his arms, you knew that no matter what headlines the world threw your way, you and Logan would face them together, grounded in a love that was real, unwavering, and stronger than any rumor.

As the gentle rise and fall of your breathing softened into an even rhythm, Logan watched you, a small smile tugging at his lips. You looked so peaceful curled up beside him, your face nestled in the crook of his arm, completely unaware of the world—and of the storm of rumors that had swirled around you all day. The day had been rougher than he’d anticipated; the flood of doubt and worry on your face when he’d walked back into the penthouse had hit him harder than he wanted to admit. And now, with you safely sleeping, he wanted to reassure you and everyone else that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As his eyes drifted toward your phone on the nightstand, an idea crossed his mind, one he hadn’t considered before. Logan wasn’t exactly tech-savvy—social media wasn’t his thing—but he had watched you do enough Instagram lives that he thought he could probably figure it out, even if he wasn’t sure why people watched them. Maybe if he said something himself, directly to the people spreading rumors, they’d get the message. He carefully leaned over, stretching for your phone without disturbing you. Punching in the familiar digits of your anniversary date, the screen unlocked, revealing your Instagram feed. The notifications were relentless: messages, comments, and tags, all seemingly tied to today’s hotel incident.

Taking a deep breath, he found the camera icon, hesitating as he checked the lighting. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp, which cast a warm glow over your face as you slept soundly against his chest. He shifted the camera angle to show you snuggled against him, and after a moment of deliberation, he pressed Go Live.

The screen suddenly transformed, displaying a timer and a small notification telling him people were beginning to join the live stream. His brow furrowed as he stared at the screen, suddenly feeling a wave of nerves he wasn’t used to. Hundreds of comments began to flow in, and he squinted at them, trying to make sense of the tiny, fast-moving text.

“Alright, uh…” he began, his voice low and gruff, though he kept his volume low to avoid waking you. He fumbled for a moment, adjusting the angle so more of his face was visible, along with a glimpse of your peaceful form. “So, yeah… I’m not sure exactly how this works, but I think I’m doing it right. People are watching, right?” He squinted at the screen, realizing there were now thousands of people in the chat.

OMG, is that Logan? Is Y/N asleep?! This is so cute! What’s going on? He’s using her phone?!

“Okay, yeah, I see you guys commenting.” He cleared his throat, glancing down at you to make sure you were still fast asleep. “So… I’m here because there’s been some… well, garbage circulating today about me, and I didn’t want you—any of you—to get the wrong idea.”

He ran a hand over his face, clearly uncomfortable but determined. “Look, I’m not the kind of guy who does this ‘social media’ thing. I leave that up to her because she’s got that… influencer magic touch or whatever.” He let out a small huff, almost laughing at himself. “But there’s one thing I won’t tolerate, and that’s people thinking I’d do anything to hurt her. That’s not happening. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever.”

The comments poured in, filled with everything from declarations of support to playful teasing:

Protective Logan is everything. Never thought I’d see this man on IG live. Logan is going OFF and I’m here for it. Who else is already recording this?

Logan sighed, glancing down at you with an unmistakable softness in his gaze. “She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I know you all see us together on red carpets or in the news or whatever, but what you don’t see is this.” He adjusted the phone so it framed you perfectly, curled up in his arms, the corners of your lips turned up in a peaceful smile. “This is her. My girl. She’s got the softest heart in the world, and today… today she was hurting because of something stupid. Something that never even happened.”

He paused, as if collecting his thoughts, then let out a breath. “People are saying I’m seeing someone else. They got pictures of me going into some hotel, and yeah, I was there, but it was for a meeting with my boss. That’s it.” He emphasized the words, his eyes narrowing as if daring anyone watching to argue. “She knows now; I explained it to her, and she trusts me. That’s what matters. But just in case any of you want to keep talking about it… remember this.”

The camera shifted slightly as he moved his hand, gently running his fingers through your hair as he looked down at you. “This is the only place I want to be. Right here, with her.”

The comments exploded.

THIS IS THE CONTENT WE DESERVE Is he really doing this while she’s sleeping? Protect them at all costs, pls. Logan, you absolute legend.

Logan squinted again at the comments, clearly struggling to keep up. “There’s… a lot of words on here,” he muttered, looking slightly flustered. “Not sure I get how you guys read all this so fast. Anyway, I just wanted to set the record straight. I’m not seeing anyone else, I’m not cheating on her, and honestly, if you keep saying it… well, I’m not gonna be happy about it. And you don’t want to see me unhappy.”

There was a beat of silence as he scratched his head, visibly uncomfortable but pushing through, clearly determined to make his point. “Look, I don’t care about fame, or fans, or what any of you say about me. I’m here for her. I want to protect her, to take care of her. If any of you really care about her too, then… then don’t buy into this nonsense. Don’t let them tear us apart with stupid rumors.”

Another wave of comments flooded in, and he leaned forward, trying to read a few.

Can we talk about how soft he looks rn? Why is this the cutest thing ever? Logan’s angry rants are kinda romantic?!

“Yeah, yeah, I see some of you making jokes,” he grumbled, though his lips twitched as he read the reactions. “Think I’m soft, huh? Well, maybe I am—maybe I am a little bit soft when it comes to her.” He looked down at you, his features softening again. “She deserves it. She deserves everything.”

He paused, scratching his head again, then sighed in defeat. “Alright, how do I turn this thing off? Seriously, does anyone know?” He squinted at the screen, tapping at random buttons and muttering to himself. “I swear, I’m gonna break this thing if it doesn’t—”

The comments came to his rescue:

Top right, Logan! Hit the ‘X’! Someone help this man before he deletes her whole profile.

“Right, thanks,” he grumbled, following the instructions. “And if any of you save this video or… or make this into some kind of meme, I’m gonna find out. Got it?”

With one final glance at you, Logan ended the livestream, letting out a long exhale as he set the phone down. He looked down at you, his heart swelling with relief and affection as he watched you sleep peacefully, blissfully unaware of the emotional monologue he’d just delivered to thousands of fans.

Unbeknownst to him, the livestream was already gaining traction, clips of his soft, protective words flooding the internet. By morning, #LoganProtectsY/N and #SoftLogan were trending, with fans dissecting every second of his heartfelt speech. They praised his loyalty, laughed at his awkward attempts at using Instagram, and swooned over the way he’d looked at you, sleeping in his arms.

But for Logan, all that mattered was knowing that he’d done everything he could to protect you. He’d cleared the air, shut down the rumors, and, hopefully, sent a message to anyone who dared question his commitment.

When you woke up hours later, snuggled in his arms, you had no idea of the viral sensation that had taken place while you slept. Logan greeted you with a quiet kiss, a content smile on his face as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t until you reached for your phone and saw the thousands of notifications, trending hashtags, and tags of Logan’s accidental “love confession” that you looked up at him, wide-eyed and stunned.

“Logan… what did you do?” you asked, a mix of amusement and surprise in your voice.

He simply shrugged, his expression calm as he held you close. “Just told them the truth.”

It didn’t take long for Logan’s unexpected livestream to become a global sensation. In the days following, clips of his heartfelt speech continued to circulate, with fans clamoring for more of his accidental charm. The two of you were trending for days, fans flooding the comments with supportive messages, heart emojis, and endless excitement over Logan’s protectiveness and gruff sweetness. You couldn’t resist laughing when you saw the #SoftLogan hashtag popping up alongside video edits and reaction memes. And as soon as you showed Logan, his eyes rolled, but his cheeks flushed, a telltale sign that he secretly loved it.

So, when the holiday season rolled around and you suggested going live together—on purpose this time—Logan didn’t put up much of a fight. A Christmas-themed livestream, with baking and festive lights? He pretended to be indifferent, but you could tell he was secretly looking forward to it. The idea of spending the holidays together was already a dream, and now, getting to share a cozy, lighthearted moment with fans made it even better.

And so, a few days before Christmas, the two of you set up in your kitchen. The decorations were up, twinkling lights wrapping around the windows and mistletoe hung strategically above you—an idea Logan had teased you about at first but eventually grew fond of himself. The flour, sugar, butter, and other baking ingredients were all lined up on the counter as you set up your phone on a tripod.

You hit the Go Live button and waited as viewers began flooding in, the comments coming in almost immediately.

OMG they’re back together in a live! Are we getting a SoftLogan Christmas special?! Y/N, girl, blink twice if you’re safe with Logan in the kitchen! Does Logan even know how to bake?!

You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ingredients with a mix of curiosity and mild apprehension. “Alright, everyone,” you began with a grin, addressing the growing audience. “We’re going to attempt to bake Christmas cookies today. And by ‘attempt,’ I mean Logan has promised to help, even though he has very limited experience in the kitchen.”

“Limited?” Logan scoffed, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at you. “I’m not that bad.”

“You burn toast,” you shot back, laughing. “So, yes, we’re going to attempt baking Christmas cookies, and I can already tell this is going to be… interesting.”

The comments were rolling in faster than you could read them:

Logan is definitely the guy who thinks ‘preheating’ is optional. We love to see Y/N dragging him; the dynamic is everything! CAN WE PLEASE SEE LOGAN IN A SANTA APRON?!

You grinned at the last comment and nudged Logan. “The fans want to know if you’re willing to wear the Santa apron.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you noticed the small smile on his lips. “No way am I wearing an apron with Santa on it,” he protested, but he reached for it, putting it on with exaggerated reluctance. “Only because it’s Christmas,” he muttered, the red apron looking unexpectedly charming on him.

As you got started, Logan reached for the flour, spilling an unnecessary amount onto the counter in his attempt to pour it into the mixing bowl. You couldn’t hold back your laugh as you tried to rein in his enthusiasm.

“Logan! We only need a cup of flour, not the entire bag,” you teased, wiping some of the flour off the counter.

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Can’t make cookies without flour. I’m just… being thorough.”

You shook your head, adjusting the camera slightly to catch both of you as you attempted to salvage the flour situation. Your fans were in hysterics in the comments:

We love a man who’s thorough, Y/N! Does Logan think flour is the only ingredient?! Imagine calling this thoroughness ‘baking skills.’

“Next is sugar,” you continued, holding the measuring cup out. “And we need half a cup, half, Logan. Not ‘one heaping mountain,’ just half.”

He gave you a look of pure innocence, his hand hovering over the sugar as he tried to pour it carefully. But his definition of “half” was still far more than necessary, and you bit back laughter, shaking your head. “We’re making cookies, not cement, Logan!”

Logan chuckled, a soft laugh that brought a twinkle to his eye. “Look, this is harder than it looks, alright? You just tell me what to do, and I’ll follow.”

You shot him a skeptical look but continued with the instructions, going step-by-step as he did his best to keep up. Between his overly generous measurements and your frequent corrections, the kitchen was quickly filled with laughter and playful banter.

When it came time to roll out the dough, Logan took the rolling pin in his hands, looking at it like it was an alien object. “How hard can this be?” he muttered, pressing down on the dough with way too much force, causing it to stick to the counter and flatten beyond recognition.

“Logan!” you cried out, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. “You’re supposed to be gentle with it, like… like when you’re putting your arm around me or something.”

“Oh, like that,” he said, his tone teasing. He softened his touch, rolling the dough more delicately, though it was still sticking in awkward patches. You tried to help him, guiding his hands, and by the end, the two of you were a flour-covered, laughing mess.

“Okay, now we’re going to use these cookie cutters,” you said, holding up a few shapes: a snowman, a reindeer, and a Christmas tree. “Pick your favorite.”

“Easy.” Logan grabbed the reindeer cutter, pressing it into the dough and proudly holding it up. “Reindeer cookies it is.”

The two of you cut out the rest of the shapes, arranging them on the baking sheet and finally putting them in the oven. As the cookies baked, you read through more fan comments, laughing with Logan at the endless string of humorous observations and questions.

Please tell me Logan won’t be in charge of frosting. This man is dangerously close to ruining Christmas cookies. But seriously, they look so cute together. I’m calling it now: Logan doesn’t even know how to use an oven timer.

Logan furrowed his brows at the last comment. “Wait, we need a timer?”

“Logan!” You let out a laugh, immediately setting the timer yourself. “Yes, we need a timer. Otherwise, we’ll just have burnt reindeer shapes instead of cookies.”

When the timer finally went off, you took the cookies out, laughing together over the misshapen but somehow adorable treats. The two of you set about decorating, Logan’s hands steady but not quite precise as he attempted to pipe frosting on a reindeer. The result was… less than impressive, and you both burst out laughing at his attempt.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, trying to hide his embarrassment as the fans commented enthusiastically.

Logan’s reindeer is questionable, but we stan his effort. I’d still eat it! Best rom-com scene ever.

Finally, with the cookies decorated, you turned back to the camera, holding up a plate of your (very creatively decorated) creations. “Well, here you have it, folks. Our version of Christmas cookies! We may not be experts, but we had fun, right, Logan?”

“More fun than I expected,” he admitted, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Thanks for making me do this.”

You smiled up at him, and for a moment, you forgot all about the livestream. That was, until the comments started rolling in faster than ever:

OMG did he just look at her like that?! THE SOFT LOOK, I CAN’T. Guys, please tell me you saw that too. He’s going to propose. He has to.

Logan read the comments, his face shifting to something both nervous and determined. He glanced at you, taking a deep breath as he reached into his pocket, fingers grazing over something small and shiny. You looked at him, curious, as he took your hands in his.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice suddenly a little rough. “These last few months… they’ve been everything to me. I didn’t think I’d ever be the guy doing Christmas cookie livestreams or… any of this social media stuff. But I’d do it every day for you.”

Your heart was pounding as he knelt down on one knee, pulling a ring box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a beautiful, sparkling ring.

The comments erupted into chaos, but you barely noticed, your focus entirely on him as he held your gaze.

“I don’t know if this is the way you imagined it, but…” he smiled, that soft smile that had become your favorite. “Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You threw your arms around him, laughing through the tears as you whispered a quiet, “Yes.”

The fans went wild, and Logan chuckled, holding you close as you realized that the whole world had just witnessed your engagement. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were in his arms, right where you belonged. And as he slipped the ring onto your finger, both of you covered in flour and frosting, you couldn’t have imagined a more perfect, hilariously romantic proposal.

The comments from fans cheering and congratulating the two of you were endless, but Logan just looked at you, a gentle pride in his eyes as he whispered, “Merry Christmas, love.”

it's November so it's basically Christmas I don't make the rules I'm sorry, maybe at December I could start a new game where you can request any type of fanfics set in Christmas? Or something like that? let me know in the comments If you have other ideas! <3

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

[the-midnight-blooms]

ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ

PROLOGUE

pairing: ghostface!song mingi x reader (ft. ghostface!jeong yunho)

AU: modern au

word count: 3.2k

masterlist

warnings: yandere themes, stalking

A/N: I've never actually watched Scream but I love the concept, so general ideas revolving around the character will be used here (i also saw yungi!ghostface fanart, which i am OBSSESSED with).

A chat room is an online platform that enables users to communicate with each other in real time. Chat rooms are typically hosted on a server with an internet connection, enabling members from around the world to hold conversations about various topics.

Upbeat 80s rock music reverberates of the four walls of her room, the pen nib scratches, furiously, across the thin lined paper as her mind spills the plethora of knowledge that's locked up within it. Dropping the pen to the side, a long groan escapes her lips in tiredness the bright light of the computer screen gnawing at her attention. As she flicks between the several open tabs on her web browser, loitering in the far corner is an underground chat room for ‘conventional losers’, i.e. nerds, geeks, freaks, goths and emos and every other ostracised sub-cultural group you could think of. The thought itself was quite fascinating to her, which one was she? Or rather, was she the pretentious introvert who thought herself higher than those who defied society's conventional train of thought and aligned herself with the populars?

Snapping her book shut, she closed several of the academic pages she had open; leaving her with the final one: the infamous chat room. She’d already logged in, curiosity masticating her rationality and browsed a few pages, sent a few quick messages to people the website had recommended based on her “favourite topics”.

Her eyes glance carefully across the blaring screen, the blue light penetrating into her steady gaze as she reads the username that steals her undivided attention.

@ pyscho.killer

A snicker escapes her lips, she surfs their profile finding very little information about them, other than ‘Fix on’. Goodness, is she really going to talk to this person just because he too enjoys listening to Modern Talking? Her lips purse in contemplation as she clicks on ‘Message’, there’s no harm in conversing with someone you don’t know. Right?

modern-division: Fan of the Talking Heads much?

She prides herself on her nonchalance, if he wasn't to respond she really wouldn't care. After all, Yeji had invited her to join a number of societies at university and despite the fact that none of the them seemed particularly interesting to her; there was no harm in joining at least one or two if the outcome was a few friends to make her strenuous four years more bearable.

Ping. Her head snaps back to computer screen as she shoves all of her pens back into the pencil case; a dirty habit from childhood to spread all of her things across the table and then spend five minutes, impartially, cleaning everything up.

psycho.killer: Psycho Killer, Qu'est-ce que c'est?

modern-division: Fa-fa-fa-fa, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa-fa, better

psycho.killer: Run, run, run, run, run, run, run away,

psycho.killer: I think I have met my match. To whom do I now call mine?

A childish giggle escapes her, she leans back in her seat in a knowingness that she may now actually enjoy being on this sketchy platform. Careful, yet. She doesn't actually know this stranger.

modern-division: AHAHA you’re funny, Mr Fix On (what does that even mean?)

psycho.killer: that’s not for you to know, darling.

psycho.killer: let me guess…you like joy division and modern talking?

modern-division: what gave it away?

psycho.killer: I guess you’re pretty funny too

It's quite absurd to believe that a famous hit song by the 'Talking Heads' is what got her, her new best internet friend yet the notion is very much a fact. So much so, her life is now consumed by the chat rooms she used to look down on. Social media is very much a vortex, or vacuum of some kind, sucking one in; leaving them void of humanity, stripping them down of some yearning for human interaction. Or at least that's what it did to most. After a long day of lectures, she found herself wanting to be able to see 'Mr Fix On' in person, talk to him in person, be able to stare into his eyes.

Speaking of. As a matter of fact, she didn't even know what he looked like. Just that he was South Korean, had short black hair and brown eyes. She too allowed herself to share the same amount of information that he provided. Mum did say not to go around talking to strangers, and even if she was doing just that; she was not dim enough to start revealing absolutely everything about her identity.

The autumn leaves sway softly with the gentle breeze, a waft of biting air floods over her sending a ripple of goosebumps over her supple skin. Her shoes crunch the delicate leaves, that pave the way to her home, yet she feels a daunting figure stalk after her. For a split second, she believes herself to be hallucinating as she takes a daring look behind her shoulder to find the street behind her, empty.

A tall figure strolls after her, picturing landmarks that carves the path to her home. His soft dark brown hair tousles with the wind, the cold forging a pink blush over his cheeks; sinking his long nose into the woollen scarf his movements come to an abrupt halt as his heroine plunges her eyes into his.

God, she's fucking pretty.

They move over his, hastily, as to her he's simply rifling through his bag for a wallet in line for an expensive coffee alongside a couple of old-age pensioners.

Conclusion: She is paranoid, there is no one after her. Yet as it is autumn in her unsafe town, its better to be cautious than to walk across the surface of the earth with no walls at all.

psycho.killer: wanna join a gc with my friend? he likes some of the same music as us.

psycho.killer: plus, he's a compsci loser who needs a friend

It's been at least a month since she had began talking to 'psycho.killer', who she had learnt his name is: Mings. Or rather its a shorthand version of his forename that he is weirdly reluctant to disclose, as he insists on her calling him 'Min' or "darling, my lover, husband- whatever floats your boat." He is truly charismatic, his charms are perceived from the other end of the screen. She wonders what it would be like to see him in real life. Is he truly as amiable as he reads?

modern-division: haha, i don't mind. what's his @ ?

psycho.killer: its @ killed.theradio.st4r

modern-division: you guys are my people

She hums the tune to 'Video Killed the Radio Star." Her mother's soft laughter pervades her way into her room; the older woman places her washed clothes on the Chester drawer wondering how the younger generation manage to get invested in the songs of the past.

[psycho.killer added you to 'two losers and a hot nerd']

killed.theradio.st4r: helloo, i'm yuyu :)

modern-division: hi!

modern-division: also, who's the hot nerd?

psycho.killer: me.

killed.theradio.st4r: lmao. its you, doll.

Does Mings just refer to me as, Doll to everyone he speaks to?

modern-division: you don't even know what i look like

killed.theradio.st4r: guess we just know you're a hot girl by intuition

modern-division: what if i'm a man? ever thought about that?

psycho.killer: your bio literally states that you're a girl

psycho.killer: not-so-mysterious babe

It wasn’t so bad for someone online to know your gender, it was just ensuring that your femininity wasn’t exploited. She knew they would never ask her to share explicit content nor would they force her to engage in it, though talking to the pair of ‘Killers’ preserved an ominous feeling in the airs. She couldn’t tell if at any point, she really felt comfortable talking to either of the two.

To begin with, Min was always trying to call her. Ask her where she was, what she was doing, if she had she eaten, what time she was going to bed. He asked about her day, and if anyone bothered her in particular. To any other he may have seemed like a kind-hearted boyfriend yet to her it felt like an intruder had permeated into the walls of her bedroom and dominated her life. Then you had his esteemed friend, Yun. He was always deeming her the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She could see within his words the robust desire he had manifested from her words, the way he had subtly requested for her photos in order to fuel the raging fires burning in her absence.

He wanted her. Physically, to put it lightly. Indeed, she was a doll to him and to have her in his arms would purify him of all his sinful thoughts. Yun always brought it up with his friend, who had simply told him to put out those fires. (For the time being).

“Have you heard of ‘Ghostface’?” Her head snaps up from her workbook, in the library where one of her closer acquaintances sits opposite playing with her water bottle. A newspaper article sits in front with the notorious blurry image of a man with a ghost mask roaming around town.

“This is the first I’m hearing. I mean it’s Halloween soon, so it’s probably some idiot roaming around town.”

“An idiot? I don’t think so, ma’am. Read on, he’s been going around stalking people in his costume.” She raises her eyebrows, nimbly scanning her eyes over the text before returning back to her work. Though she cannot help but stare back at the blurred image of the figure. “I bet there’s a sexy man under all that.” Scowling at her friend, she sends a dirty look.

“You have got to be kidding me. A ‘sexy’ man. You said it yourself, he’s stalking people.”

“Yeah but, one of the girls from Art said he was mad tall and had this deep, attractive voice.”

“Yes, I bet he goes: ‘come here babe, let me kill you’ in his husky voice and you all go running to him because you have no morals.” Once again, she rolls her eyes whilst her friend merely giggles as if she is just pleasantly awaiting to be a victim. She rarely meets women who have an ambition for a victim complex, yet those she does: she steers away from.

“I’m only joking, but be real. Have you never heard a guy with a deep, attractive voice?” Her friend questions, making her pause her writing. In fact, she has. Mins’ voice has a sent over her railings during their late night calls, there’s something so potent residing within it. Intoxicating. It almost has her want to do everything he asks.

He is too, tall with a deep voice but there must be so many like him in this world.

The thought is dismissed and she shoos away her friend to allow herself to prioritise the exam that’s pending in two weeks time.

modern-division: have you guys heard of ghostface?

killed.theradio.st4r: why?

modern-division: just asking, apparently some loser is dressing up in a ghost mask and stalking people. idk if it’s just halloween round the corner though

killed.theradio.st4r: oh no :(

killed.theradio.st4r: could just be a halloween thing

modern-division: yeah, I think so too.

“So you like the librarian?”

“Mhm.” She steals her longing gaze away from him towards Yeji, who sends a vicious smirk her way. A blush taints her cheeks, knowing that Yeji will never live it down now. “I’m not gonna deny he’s pretty good looking.”

“Pretty good looking? He’s gorgeous as fuck. He’s not a want, he’s a need.” Playfully, she bites her lip suppressing a fit of giggles by burying her face into the textbook. A few others send irritated looks from across the room, which has the pair sinking in their seats. “You think a guy like him is single?”

“Absolutely not. If I had the chance, I’d snatch him up right away.” Her eyes flicker back to the tall man who catches her stare in an instant, he holds it before moving back to surf through the books on the trolley.

A low beat surfaces along the posters, her phone is sandwiched between her shoulder and cheek as she trudges furiously around the room looking for her scarf. Min's voice permeates her ears delicately, despite the alarming sentences he speaks; he converses in length about human anatomy saying that raw flesh must be easier to study than cadaveric tissue. As much as she agrees, just to play devil's advocate she will never admit that.

“I love your voice, Mings. It’s so deep, but like in a comforting way. As if you can protect me.” The declaration escapes her mouth before she can even stop it.

“Do you want to be protected by me, or from me, doll?” A pause lingers in the air, before he lowly chuckles—one that forces her to laugh with him though an uneasy feeling resides within her bones.

“By you, preferably.” She jokes, playing with the pendant of her necklace. A shadow looms by the open doorway, obscuring the stream of light that spills in from the hallway; the deafening silence panics her. “Mum!” She shouts, discarding the phone to the side in a frenzy.

“Yes! I just had a cup of tea for you, were you not studying?” The door is pushed open by nonetheless, her mother who waddles across the carpeted floor to settle the hot beverage down on the table.

“I was, I’m just tired now. Maybe I’ll come back to it later.”

“No, no. Go to bed, dear. I’m off to work, make sure you’re outside by 8, I’ll drop you.” A soft kiss is placed on her forehead, she is calmed by the maternal affection seeing her mother to the door before she dashes back into her room to find her phone.

The call must have been disconnected in the process of her flinging it elsewhere, her hands shake violently as she’s, pathetically, unable to hold the phone steady in her grasp. Mings has spammed her several times with messages, she doesn’t bother to read any of them.

modern-division: i’m tired, going to bed.

psycho.killer: goodnight, babygirl

In the midst of wandering through the aisles of the library, seeking books two shelves above her head, it instantaneously occurs to her that she’s never actually paid much attention to Yuyu and Mings’ pet names that they have for her. Doll, babygirl, darling, love, honey, etc. The list seems to never end yet she ponders the primary reason they get so comfortable around her is because she has never actually given them a reason to stop being so affectionate.

A cascade of books tumble down from the shelf, hitting the floor with a powerful slam—jumping backwards on instinct, she grimaces reaching down from them as a few pairs of eyes stare at her from their tables. Her face heats red in embarrassment, until another pair of hands comes to assist her.

"Goodness, how did you manage this?" Her eyes gleam up into another's; words lodge in her throat upon realisation of the being in front. It's the 'hot librarian', as her and Yeji have trademarked.

"Oh, I—they just fell." He raises his eyes at her.

"They just. Fell." A mischievous smile is sent her way as he stacks the books back onto the shelf, that's too high for her to reach anyway. "We'll call it the force of gravity then, shall we?" Shyly, she nods, handing him the last of the books. Her eyes reel in the name scrawled across the name tag. A thought Yeji will be pleased to hear drifts into her mind.

“I’m Yujin, by the way. I’m always at the help desk if you need to me to stack book that fall off the shelf again.” Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. It clearly says ‘Yunho’, on his name tag. He stalks off in the opposite direction before she can question him, leaving her abandoned in the desolate aisle.

modern-division: the hot librarian lied about his name.

modern-division: I wonder why

Paranoia is no longer a delusion. It must be very true that someone is following after her.

Under the banner of the night, herself and Yeji walk back home after a long day of studying. They amble down the cobbled roads, yet her eyes cannot help but glance over her shoulder. There must be a man of some sort following them, his long calculated strides send a wave of fear pummelling through her. Instantly, she grabs Yeji’s hand dashing down the road towards the convenience store.

The dim lights flicker upon their arrival, she cowers behind the large aisles; ignoring her friend’s imperatives watching as a tall figure saunters into the store.

It’s him.

Jeong Yunho, the Librarian.

Or ‘Yujin’ as he addresses himself for reasons she assumes she will never know why.

Is he her stalker?

“I thought there was someone stalking us. There was a guy who walked all the way from the library to the road we just crossed behind us. I took a detour as well and he kept following.” She breathes out, leaning her head against the shelf.

“Are you kidding? Why didn’t you tell me?” Yeji squawks.

“I didn’t want him to suspect that I knew he was following.”

Her eyes sought ‘Yujin’ who gives her a sincere smile before he makes his way to the exit.

modern-division: I think there was someone following me

psycho.killer: ??? are you home? are you safe now?

modern-division: yes, but shit that was scary.

psycho.killer: let me call you bbg, I’ll help get your mind of it

Her phone vibrates in her hand, her finger traces over the red button before she lifts the device to her ear. His smooth tone infiltrates her ears again, easing the anxiety prevalent in the fibre of her muscles. She doesn’t know how Min does it. He helps her forget all about her problems, it’s as if he himself is the cure.

“Oh hey, baby. There was something I wanted to ask.” He pants slightly, the distant sound of leaves crunching drifts from the other end of the line.

“Are you outside?” He laughs.

“Yeah I’m walking home.” His hasty breaths pervade the line. One after another, a series of profane thoughts enter her mind. She is so disappointed in herself. “So, you got a boyfriend?”

“Why? Do you wanna ask me out on a date?” She teases, a lock of hair curls around her forefinger, the vibrato of his voice truanting into her ears, exhilarating her core as rush of certainty floods into her.

“Maybe, do you have a boyfriend?” He piques, she cannot help but grin at his words as if they are both playing a dangerous game of seduction, one she has never played before and one he has won a countless number of times.

“No.” Her truthful answer is not one that hurts her, though she says it as if she’s lying and has had countless lovers before in the past. Perhaps this is the persona that will have her enigmatic paramour crawling towards her.

“You never told me your name.” He acknowledges, 'Mings' has only ever called her 'doll'. Her moves are careful as she continues her cyber relationship with this unknown man, there's a reason she's at the top of her class—he thinks. A thread of messages enter from another chat room, his sharp eyes reeling in the words of his partner.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” Sheer curiosity. Yes, he told her he’s called ‘Mings’ but it’s just a silly nickname used to gain her trust. What is it really short for: Mingi? Mingyu? And Yuyu? Is it possible that he is Yunho? A foreign uneasiness rushes into her skin, she’s cautious as she sits up in her desk chair.

A bad feeling, an intuition of some sort.

He’s going to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.” Her finger immediately presses, harshly, onto the red button throwing her phone onto her desk. Her body jumps up from her seat, heart pounding furiously against her chest. With her body leaning closer to the window, her eyes outcast the front lawn in which a slender figure stands outside. A ghosts mask rests upon his face, his lanky frame is shrouded in a loose black cloth concealing the shape of his body. A large brick phone is held up against his ear, when he catches her staring down at him, his head cocks eerily to the side.

psycho.killer: Pick

psycho.killer: Up

psycho.killer: The

psycho.killer: Phone

psycho.killer: Doll.

•••

All Right Reserved © the-midnight-blooms

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, REPURPOSE, OR PLAGISRISE ANY OF THE WORK HERE

A/N: happy 'late' Halloween! my timing is atrocious, but here's a 'small snippet' of a fic i may continue if my writing schedule allows. atm its a one-shot. What's your favourite scary movie? 👻

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for any future fics I post!

tag list: @n0v4t33z @potatos-on-clouds @jjongwho

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

“Riptide is so plain and/or boring!”

You know what? I genuinely don’t give a f***.

He’s a caring and nice character, that I like and even enjoy, and I think it’s quite neat that Tsunami had someone else she could rely on when she was having troubles within the SeaWing palace while living with freaking Queen Coral and - three moons - Whirlpool.

Plus, Riptide is NOT as plain as some people view him - or at least, he has the potential to be (seen as) a interesting character, but unfortunately wasn’t as explored and/or developed upon unlike some other characters within the series.

Riptide had a rather bad and traumatic past. Webs left him when he was 2 years old - about the current age of Anemone and MINK - in order to take Tsunami’s egg to the the Talons of Peace so he can raise her to be within the prophecy. His mother was indirectly KILLED by Coral by her purposefully putting his mom in the front lines of the war, due to her helping Webs take Tsunami’s egg. 

Due to this, Riptide probably became a literal ORPHAN as a very young dragonet, while living under a violent Queen who HATES his guts.

And due to Webs taking Tsunami’s egg, Coral unrightfully viewed Riptide to be an awful dragon, due to him being related to Webs. Because of this, Riptide is hated and discriminated by Queen Coral and her relatives, and he has a bad and low reputation within his Kingdom based off of crimes he DIDN’T EVEN COMMIT. With this reputation being something that he lived with through the MAJORITY of his life. Which includes him being given the lowest ranking job and duty within the SeaWing kingdom.

Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised that the reason why Riptide seems so ‘plain’ and/or ‘boring’ because he literally HAD to act that way around others - with him placing that part within himself and ingrained it within his personality and/or behavior - in order to NOT stand out and grab the attention of others who actively hate him, and would harm & even KILL him. Especially from how much he’s canonically hated by Coral.

Because if Riptide was noticed to be against Coral’s actions or beliefs, and/or was seen doing something that (majorly) upsets Coral, there’s a good chance - heck, a HIGH chance - that Coral would instantly brutally harm and/or kill him on the spot.

Riptide is one of the characters within the series that, despite the awful treatment and trauma he experienced throughout his life, is STILL a kind, caring, and/or empathetic dragon, who does his best to helps others that he cares about - including Tsunami.

He’s a dragon who cares about his tribe to the point he fought the SkyWings for them instead of fleeing away from the Summer Palace with Webs and Tsunami (and Tsunami’s friends), despite the awful treatment Riptide experienced for the majority of his life under his tribe’s royalty.

Who’s also a dragon who still wanted to form a connection with his father, who left him and hasn’t seen Riptide for a long time. One who is the only potential dragon who would love and/or care for Riptide for who he is.

A father that Riptide then learned later with TLH that Webs was a enabler of the abuse that Tsunami and her friends experienced from Kestrels and Dune, due to Webs not stopping them from being harmed until Queen Scarlet tried to imprison them in her arena.

Plus, when knowing about Riptide’s trauma and how much he experienced prejudice from others, his relationship and interactions with Tsunami honestly are more interesting than they seem to be.

How Riptide INSTANTLY rushed towards Tsunami in order to embrace her after she unintentionally flirted with him.

How Tsunami is probably the first dragon he’s known in a long while who respects, appreciates, and even enjoys his presence and existence.

That Riptide followed and watched over Tsunami while she was at the SeaWing Kingdom, probably due to him being worried about her being with Coral.

That Riptide selflessly helped and hanged out with Tsunami despite Coral potentially punishing and/or harming him for doing so.

How Riptide hid the fact that he was related to Webs, and that he’s a member of the Talons of Peace, probably in fear that Tsunami - the only dragon he has a positive bond with in TLH - would be angry at him, & dislike and/or hate him, possibly similarly how other dragons (including her relatives) hate him.

But despite this, he cared about being honest with Tsunami that he had the mental maturity and/or mental strength to tell Tsunami that he joined the Talons of Peace in order to know more about his father.

So yeah - Riptide is quite a nice character, who’s even pretty interesting, or at least is when you really think about him.

But he unfortunately isn’t viewed that way and/or isn’t even appreciated by multiple parts of the WoF fandom, due to him not having an prominent and/or strong personality compared to other love interests within the series.

.

[drdrizzey]

Late Halloween drawing!!

The good old Creepypastas from the mid 2017s are what basically got me into drawing and art in general. I quite literally started off just to make fanarts of them and boy, I made so much. I know some of those characters are outdated now but I don't want anyone to feel offended from me drawing them, that's really just a really nostalgic Fanart for me with the classic found family dynamic we loved!! Then later on I really got into those slenderverse ARGs and especially marble hornets and again, I filled sketchbooks just with marble hornets comics and fanarts so thats also something lmao

I had a hard time choosing who to draw here arggh

My inner child heals a bit more every time I draw any Slenderverse and Creepypasta character or even my old Creepypasta ocs

Also I want to add a disclaimer that I do not ship Creepypasta characters with anyone and that to me, they always acted all like siblings to each other! (Saying that because I know some people are really sensitive about ship art in this peculiar fandom and I agree that's a tricky one, but for me they've always just been a big silly family in their spooky manor, having fun)

Here's some dynamics I love and loved picturing them with :

- sally is the cute little sister that nobody can say no to and she KNOWS it, she WILL make everyone play dress up with pink ribbons and no one can do anything about it

- Jeff is a really good big brother to her and really tries his best for that

- Masky is 100% the tired big brother having to care for all of his annoying siblings. Since he's a proxy, Slenderman especially asked him to keep an eye on them and to quote, "give them what they ask for and not letting them break stuff or argue too much" which leads him quite often to having to drive to MacDonalds at 3am, because one of them whined for it. He also pretends he hates it but in reality he really cares about them. Also headcanon, this is some alternative version of Tim/Masky from marble hornets because we'll, obviously this is supposed to be Masky and somehow some people literally dont know where he comes from and just twinkifies him (which is a jumpscare to me because tim is literally amazing, hello?but a lot of people seemed to not know where he came from, well go watch marble hornets if you havent its awesome (i'm looking at yall tma and mouthwashing fans, you WILL love it too)

- my HC for Toby is that the guy has a lot going on but he's also not a kid, i like seeing him in his twenties or so. And he loves ranting about really random stuff just to annoy pretty much anyone and especially Masky because he doesn't complain much, and if he does then Toby will just find it even funnier and follow him around, explaining to him like...I don't know random stuff like describing his whole feed of cat videos or something or internet drama

(also that's not a mischaracterization of them as characters it's just my version of them in the way my little autistic brain in sixth grade pictured them, which means very non canon inaccurate)

Here's the fun reference I used :

[ask-the-colony-tree-siblings]

How did Riv find out about Saint's third eye? Also I find it kind of wild how they think the colony would care about their 'unusual features' when Riv is literally some kind of salamander hybrid slugcat or something like that lmao (not that I blame Saint for it, given their anxiety) ... though hypnotizing their way into the colony on the otherhand...

The first question will be answered later, (I’m too lazy to draw rn sorry lol) but I’m gonna ramble about the second thing you said now! I love rambling ✨

They think that the colony would hate them for not looking like normal slugcats because of things like in these two examples (from an old comic featuring one of Inv’s flashbacks) that were said to them when they were younger.

In the comic (don’t go look at it the art is so old lol) Inv says that they’re going to run away and find a nice slugcat family to adopt them, and Bountiful’s response is to basically call them a freak. When the thought of being driven out or killed for their odd appearance doesn’t scare Inv enough, she turns to posing the question of if Inv will leave Saint alone with her (not safe) or take them out into a dangerous world that will hate them (also not safe). By making Inv think that running away will get Saint hurt just as much as leaving them unprotected with her would, she makes it so both Inv and Saint stay with her.

Of course, eventually they both ran away anyways, but the idea that they’ll be hated for their appearances is still firmly implanted in their heads. Despite the colony’s obvious diversity, they’re still scared that they’re too different.

But, they’re starting to grow away from that internalized idea of “we’re not normal (derogatory)” and are heading more in a “nobody’s normal (positive)” direction! Inv’s best friend, Riv, was the first to know about the siblings’ true appearances, and had the polar opposite reaction to what Bountiful had said would happen. Riv though that they both looked very cool, and was confused as to why they’d ever hide that. The siblings are starting to question what they were taught, but still think it’s too risky to be themselves.

The growth is visible in the banner change btw! In the current banner, Saint is wearing a bandanna instead of a hat. The bandanna shows a lot more of their face, but it still hides their third eye. Inv’s wearing their sunglasses on their forehead in the new banner, not covering their eyes. It isn’t that big of a change, but you can still see that they’re not hiding quite so much of themselves anymore. :3

(Inv doesn’t realize they were ever manipulated by Bountiful, by the way. They think that Bountiful was crazy manipulative with Saint, but never bothered with them. While it’s true that she manipulated Saint more, Inv wasn’t spared from her influence. It’s definitely something that will be part of their arc later, so I thought I’d throw this part of their character out there, since I’m not sure if people have picked up on it yet lmao)

[doodler16]

To HB credit, Brandon did the bulk of the writing for s1 and established that these characters are friends or at least chummy with each other. Than s2 happened and it’s been the stolas cry baby show ft fizz.

In HH none of the characters moments are earned. They all just sit (I swear to god there’s more time of them sitting and doing nothing than there is of them actually doing something) react to shit happening around them or wait for the story to happen. I don’t get friendship strangers who are forced to live with a coddled sheltered rich woman and her codependent gf. Angel and Cherri are established as “friends” but all Cherri did was call Angel a nerd for not taking drugs and caring too much for nifty. Didn’t do shit when valentino was hitting Angel. Husk is just there to guilt trip Angel for taking drug and being promiscuous, sir p gets shitted on by all these assholes I legit got mad when they cried and acted like they cared. (Fuck all of you, you didn’t treat sir p with respect) nifty is also just there to be funny, I guess. She didn’t make me laugh she got annoying real quick. Alastor is the worst fucking character, I don’t wanna get into a rant about him but he sucks so fuckimg hard. Angel is ok, would’ve been nicer if we saw him actually progress and if his “friends” cared he was getting SA’d on a daily basis but they don’t care, if they did we would get more poison mv. Vaggie exist to serve Charlie, which sucks because she had so much potential but she’s a nothing burger and Charlie is just a selfish brat who cries till people give her what she wants and tells her she’s great when she isn’t

Yeah, during season 1 Brandon carried in more ways than one especially guiding Vivziepop. Vivziepop admittedly has her moments in season 1 where she can read the room. Honestly, in retrospect for Helluva Boss season 1 and 2 regarding the IMP gang I see them being more chummy/tolerating each other than being friends.

They had their moments I will admit but most of the questionable stuff they do each other feels more out weighed than the good. Luciferanalyzestar and Tooningin say it best:

If Stolas and by extension Stoliz drama wasn’t hogging all the screen time, IMP could’ve been something more. As for Hazbin Hotel they can pretend all they want how close and how they care for each other but their actions and dialogue say otherwise. In the pilot and addict while Cherri was a bad influence in a different way, she had a heart of gold, and cared for Angel. Now in the show, she is shallow.

I guess Cherri Bomb is a nerd by her logic for caring about Angel Dust and trying to take care of him in Addict. Yeah, Angel Dust’s arc is super rushed and don’t get me started on the timeline of it, it’s extremely janky the more you think about it. The aftermath scene of Valentino and Angel Dust in episode 6 was crazy. Cherri and Husk didn’t even help, they just stood there then once Angel Dust walks away from Valentino, now these chumps want to do something and do the bare minimum by congratulating him.

If Angel Dust’s arc is rushed, then Sir Pentious is a background character. Not only was his character development nonexistent but no one attempted to helped him or even try to wonder where he was. They just forgot about him. The most tonal whiplash, Vivziepop love her cake and want to eat it too. Haha, Anons never change it’s so funny when y’all drag Charlie.

With Vaggie there is so much you can do with her character and story wise, it’s not even funny. She’s not even my favorite yet I can think of so much. If Vivziepop and writers are going to go with the direction like purposefully have be Charlie’s bootlicker only for her to realize she’s been following orders her own life then slowly does things outside of Charlie. Then Yeah, I would love that. I really hope isn’t completely static.

Series Alastor will always be a loser bum, but the fans will eat it up. I wouldn’t mind listening to some Alastor slander. 😗