#I way underestimated how long it would take

[eatmyheartoutjpg]

𓇻 𝗦𝗠𝗢𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗬 ˢⁱˡᶜᵒ ˣ ᵍⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ;; Short Fic. Romantic/Wholesome. Established Relationship. Somewhat suggestive. You've noticed Silco smokes a bit too often, so you decide to redirect this habit. 𝘼/𝙉 ;; The edits got me so bad. Also, thank you so much for the absurd amount of support for my first post!!

11.22.24

The dim glow of the lamplight casted shadows across the room, Silco seated at his desk with a cigar poised between his fingers. The air was thick with the familiar, acrid scent of smoke. You wrinkled your nose, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

“Do you ever put those down?” you asked, tilting your head toward the smoldering stick. You've noticed the stacked cigar boxes in the trash, growing more concerned with each box. Not to mention, the amount of ash in his ashtray, it was piling.

Silco looked up at you, arching a brow, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

You hesitated, then pushed off the doorway, closing the space between you, floorboards creaking with each step. “Actually, I would. So, I’ve got an idea. A new… rule, I'll say.”

His good eye gleamed with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “A rule? Do tell.”

“Mhm,” you said firmly, planting your hands on the edge of his desk, looming over his seated figure. “Every time you want to smoke, you come kiss me instead.” You gestured to yourself, festering a cheeky grin.

The smirk on his face grew wider, more dangerous, as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk, covering the paperwork he previously had laid out. “Every time?”

You nodded, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Every time.”

“An intriguing proposition,” he mused, extinguishing his cigar in the ashtray. You listened to the sizzling sound it made as he grounded it against the rustic metal. “Very well. Let’s see how committed you are to this… intervention.”

You didn’t have time to prepare for what came next. Silco was on his feet in an instant, his right hand bracing the desk on your left, his left hand gabbing your chin. He pulled you into his lips and captured yours in a kiss that left you breathless, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating in a way no smoke ever could be. You could still taste the remnants of the strong cigar he had smoked seconds prior, ignoring the slight sting you felt in your throat.

You looked at each other, not daring to blink. You could only feel his grin growing impossibly larger.

He pulled back just slightly, his face inches from yours, and murmured, “One.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as he sat back down, reaching for another cigar.

“Wait!” you blurted out, regretting your choice the second you saw the spark of mischief in his eyes.

“You said every time,” he reminded you, already setting the unlit cigar aside and standing again.

By the fifth kiss in less than ten minutes, you were clinging to the edge of his desk for support.

“Silco,” you breathed, trying to sound stern despite your flushed face, you could feel yourself radiating smoke. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I’m taking it very seriously,” he purred, his voice low, rough, as he leaned in for another kiss. “The question is—are you?”

You groaned, half in frustration, half in surrender. This was going to be a very long intervention.

By the time Silco leaned in for the eighth kiss, you were certain you had grossly underestimated his persistence—and his ability to weaponize your idea against you. He barely gave you room to breathe, his lips brushing yours with calculated intensity before pulling away just enough to leave you wanting more.

You planted your hands firmly on his chest to stop him, but it was futile. His smirk was insufferable as he tilted his head, observing you like a predator toying with its prey.

“Are you regretting your little ‘rule’ already?” he asked, voice laced with amusement, mocking, even.

“Yes,” you huffed through pursed lips, though your cheeks betrayed you with their warmth. “This isn’t a substitute anymore.”

Silco chuckled, the low sound reverberating through you. “If anything, I’m merely following orders.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he added, “Though I must admit, this is far more satisfying than a cigar.”

“Silco—”

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours again, his hands sliding to rest at your waist. His touch was firm, deliberate, as if he were daring you to challenge him. This kiss was slower, and deeper, leaving you momentarily dizzy. When he finally pulled back, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to shove him away or pull him closer.

“I should’ve added limits,” you muttered in your flustered state, trying to regain your composure.

“You should’ve thought of that before tempting me,” he replied, his tone smooth and teasing. He sauntered back to his desk, picking up the cigar he’d abandoned earlier. He didn’t light it, just turned it in his fingers, watching you. “Now, every time I feel the urge… I’m reminded of how delightful your little rule is.”

You narrowed your eyes, pointing at the cigar. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Am I?” He raised a brow, his smirk widening.

The next few hours were a relentless cycle of him testing your resolve. Every time his hand drifted toward his cigar case, you braced yourself. And every time, he kissed you like he’d been waiting an eternity to do it.

By the end of the day, you were sprawled on the sofa, utterly spent, while Silco sat beside you with an air of triumph.

“You look tired,” he observed, a trace of smugness in his voice.

“You think?” you shot back, glaring at him.

He chuckled, pulling you closer so you were tucked against his side. “You should be grateful. I’ve gone nearly eight hours without lighting a single cigar.”

“Because you’ve been too busy attacking me,” you grumbled, though the warmth of his arm around you made it hard to stay annoyed.

Silco tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His good eye softened, and for a moment, the playful façade dropped. “Admit it,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You prefer this to the alternative.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch despite yourself. “Sure."

He smiled—not his usual sly smirk, but something softer, almost genuine. “Good,” he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Then I suppose we’ll keep your little rule… indefinitely.”

You groaned, burying your face in his chest as he chuckled, low and quiet. He might have won this round, but as you felt his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind losing this time.

ˢᵉᵛᵉⁿ

[hollowed-theory-hall]

It's true we don't know a lot about her, but what we do know implies she is very magically talented and has a bit of a cruel streak to her. She isn't as perfect as some portray her, nor as awful as I've seen some claim her to be. but oh boy do I disagree about her being mediocre.

Let's talk about the magical power first, becouse I feel a lot of people underestimate Lily's magical talent.

“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

(HBP)

I know some people like to claim Lily was only good at potions because of Snape, but I don't think that's the case. I'm sure he helped her out at first, but they stopped being friends at 5th year and she continued to seemingly have good grades at Potions since Slughorn really loves her.

As a child, Lily has incredible control over her accidental magic and accomplishes difficult magic naturally and intuitively:

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

(DH)

Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

(DH)

This is way more advanced than magic usually shown by kids, especially because of how controlled it is. The only other character we see on level with Lily's control at such a young age (and who mastered unaided flight on their own) is Voldemort.

Harry also shows insanely powerful accidental magic (including Apparation) and let's just say, I don't think Harry's magical talent came from James.

Lily was both Prefect and head girl (like Tom) again showing she had a great academic track record and was likely a top student in many of her classes. We know she was good at Potions, but she was likely very adapt at Charms as well:

You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work

(PS)

Now, I talked in the past on here about how Harry is insanely magically powerful, specifically when it came to intuitive magic that just reacted to his emotions/desires or him being able to feel magic (this is that post). If we take Dumbledore at his word on how Lily cast her sacrificial love on Harry (which I tend to do) her sacrificial magic was insanely intuitive magic like we see Harry repeatedly do throughout the books.

I think the reason no one else ever did is because of the specific circumstances and Lily's specific words, yes, but I also think, that like her son, she had a knack for her magic responding intuitively to her desires no spell needed. This is a mark of a very powerful wizard/witch and not something a mediocre wizard would be likely to accomplish.

We see Harry cast this same sacrificial love in DH. And he, too, doesn't really cast anything, it's intuitive, his magic is powerful and incredibly reactive to his emotions — and I believe Lily was the same.

JKR has mentioned Voldemort tried to convince James and Lily to become Death Eaters, more than once ("Thrice defied him"). He wouldn't have given them more than one chance if either of them was mediocre. I also don't think he would've tried to get Lily to step aside so he wouldn't have to kill her as many times as he did if he thought she was average at best.

As for her personality, you're right, she isn't exactly Harry, but they do share some very important traits, and as I said, I think she and Tom would clash less than Harry and Tom (as in Lily doesn't get angry the way Harry does, so their reactions would be different).

Lily acted charming and prideful:

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

(DH)

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”

(HBP)

Slughorn talks about Lily's personality more than any other character, and what he says does paint her as similar to Harry.

She was talented and bright. Slughorn, who thought Tom Riddle, considers Lily Potter one of the brightest students he ever thought. She was in no way mediocre.

She was charming and had a firey personality to her. She was enthusiastic and charismatic and was easily likable.

I especially like what Slughorn says about Lily being good for Slytherin. Like Harry, she was likely considered by the hat for both Slytherin and Gryffindor due to her cleverness and bravery being both part of her.

And these cheeky answers Slghorn refers to, are like Harry's. Harry is the cheeky student Slughorn is referring to in the same breath as Lily's. Harry got his sass from Lily, not from James. Harry's tendency to back-talk Dark Lords came from his mom.

She's more scared when she's younger, crying more, but she clearly grows up to be fiercer, as Slughorn mentions and as we see in some of the memories:

“Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to — I won’t let you — ” “Let me? Let me?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

(DH)

As for the cruel streak I mentioned:

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

(OotP)

Lily, even as Snape's best friend, can't help but find the bullying funny for just a moment. It means her sense of humor can be on the crueler side at times. The fact that it's implied, even during SWM that Lily didn't really hate James, just disliked his behavior is quite telling. Like, I don't think he needed to change much for her to go out with him. Sirius even says he mostly just stopped hexing people in the halls. I think he wasn't as arrogant, but he was probably still very egocentric. And Lily liked that (contrary to Harry who'd find it more annoying).

Additionally, when Lily wants to, she knows to hit where it hurts (the Slytherin streak Slughorn talks about?):

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.” Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce. “You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet.

(DH)

She knows Petunia and she knows what would hurt/embarrass her the most and she goes for the throat. Even if later she tries to smooth things over with her.

I also wanted to note her wand. Ollivanders said she had a Willow wand, and willow wands have some interesting facts about them:

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

(From Pottermore)

(Ron has a Willow wand too, btw, like the second wand he gets that is really his)

This implies Lily was insecure, and you kinda see it in her behavior as a child. Her deference to Petunia and how many questions she asks Snape:

“Normally,” said Snape. “But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.” “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

(DH)

She is scared, walking up to the sorting hat:

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “ Gryffindor”

(DH)

But the hat placed her in Gryffindor becouse of the bravery was there. The insecurity isn't warranted (according to the wand's description). She had the fire and fierceness there all along. she may thought herself average but it was never true.

The description of the wand also suggests Lily would've been quite good with advanced non-verbal magic, which fits everything I mentioned about her magic being very intuitive like Harry's in the first section here.

Sorry I went off on Lily so much, but I don't think a character who Harry shares some of his core traits and magical talent with, could be mediocre. I mean, you can think whatever you want, and I didn't mean to attack you or anything I just really disagree with your statement.

hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

[dayabelle]

Close Enough to Stay

Pairings: Shota Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Lmk if I made any mistakes I didn't proofread at all

---

Y/n had never been one for grand entrances or dramatic encounters. She preferred the quiet moments—the kind where you could sit in the corner of a bustling coffee shop, headphones on, and let the world blur around you. But life had a way of throwing her into unexpected situations, and that’s how she met Shota.

Shota had the kind of presence that could fill a room without saying a word. He was stoic and reserved, the type of man who rarely showed what he was feeling but somehow made you feel it anyway. To most people, he seemed distant, almost indifferent. But beneath his quiet exterior was a man who noticed everything and cared more deeply than he’d ever admit.

They met in the most unremarkable way: in a library. Y/n had been browsing the shelves for something—anything—to take her mind off the noise in her head. She’d been struggling to choose between two books when a deep, even voice spoke behind her.

“That one’s better.”

She turned, startled, to find Shota standing there. His dark eyes scanned the book in her left hand.

“The author has a way with words,” he added, his tone as neutral as if he were commenting on the weather.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “And what if I prefer this one?” she countered, lifting the book in her right hand.

“Then you’d be wrong.”

She blinked, unsure whether to laugh or take offense. But there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth—the barest hint of amusement—that made her set the book back on the shelf and take his recommendation instead.

That was the beginning.

Their encounters in the library became routine. Y/n would always arrive with her bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up when she spotted him. Shota, ever punctual, was already there—usually seated at the same table near the back, where the sunlight filtered through the high windows. They’d share the space in comfortable silence, Y/n engrossed in her books, and Shota pretended to focus on his paperwork he always had, though he often found himself glancing at her instead.

Their conversations began gradually. At first, it was book recommendations or brief observations about the weather. But over time, their words grew longer, deeper. Y/n would tell him about her day as a nurse, the patients she cared for, and the challenges of being quirkless in a world that often underestimated her. Shota listened intently, his gaze steady and unwavering, offering the occasional thoughtful comment. He rarely spoke about himself, but Y/n learned to read between the lines, piecing together the puzzle of his life as a pro hero.

There were small touches, almost accidental at first—a brush of fingers when they reached for the same book, the fleeting warmth of his hand on her back as he guided her through a crowded aisle. Each touch sent a quiet thrill through her, though she tried not to let it show. Shota, for his part, seemed unaffected, but there were moments when his gaze lingered just a little too long, or his voice softened in a way that betrayed his carefully guarded demeanor. The curve of her lower back, her hair and the way she kept it, her eyes and how she looked at certain things, how warm his hand felt against her skin.

One rainy afternoon, their library routine changed. Y/n had been late, rushing in with windblown hair and an apology tumbling from her lips. She’d forgotten an umbrella, and the rain had left her soaked. Without a word, Shota shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, the faint smell of his cologne mingling with the dampness. Y/n looked up, startled by the gesture.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said simply, his tone as even as ever. But there was a softness in his eyes that made her heart stutter.

From that day, their connection began to extend beyond the library. Shota learned more about her world—how she worked tirelessly as a nurse, caring for others despite the challenges of being quirkless. He admired her resilience, though he struggled to express it. Y/n, in turn, discovered the weight Shota carried as a pro hero. She noticed the faint scars on his hands, the shadows under his eyes after long nights, and the quiet way he carried the burden of protecting others.

One evening, after a particularly grueling shift, Y/n found herself sitting on the steps outside the hospital. She was exhausted, her scrubs wrinkled and her hair a mess. Shota appeared out of nowhere, his presence as grounding as ever. He didn’t say much—just handed her a cup of coffee and sat beside her. They didn’t need words; the quiet companionship was enough.

Over time, their bond deepened. Shota started showing up at her apartment unannounced, usually with takeout in hand. Y/n began leaving him notes in the books she returned to him, little snippets of encouragement or observations she thought he’d appreciate. Despite his initial attempts to deny it, Shota found himself looking forward to their moments together. She became the exception to his self-imposed rules, the person who slipped past his defenses without even trying.

For Y/n, Shota was a quiet strength, a steady presence in her unpredictable life. And for Shota, Y/n was a light he hadn’t realized he needed, someone who reminded him that even the most guarded hearts could find solace in another. Together, they built a connection that was quiet but unshakable, a bond that transcended words and grew stronger with each passing day.

---

The Christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner of Y/n’s apartment, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. Snow gently fell outside the window, muffling the sounds of the city and wrapping the world in a quiet blanket of white. The faint scent of pine mingled with the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies cooling on the counter.

Shota sat on the couch, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, wearing a pair of navy pajamas Y/n had bought but misjudged the size of. They were just a little snug on him, and she’d teased him about it earlier, laughing at the rare sight of him in anything remotely silly. She, meanwhile, wore her favorite penguin pajamas—bright and cheerful, with little birds in scarves and hats printed all over.

“I don’t know how you can take yourself seriously in those,” Shota said, his voice laced with dry humor, though his expression softened as he watched her.

She grinned, holding up a cookie she’d decorated earlier. “Says the man in too-tight pajamas. And besides, they’re festive.”

He smirked but didn’t argue. It was rare for him to relax like this, but somehow, in her presence, it felt natural. Easy.

The night had been filled with a string of small, intimate moments. They’d debated over which book was better—one of her favorites versus one of his. That had led to a spirited conversation about the merits of storytelling, Shota’s quiet baritone weaving effortlessly with her animated retorts. Then, a detour into movie discussions while a Christmas classic played in the background, neither of them paying much attention to the screen.

There had been laughter, soft and unguarded, over their attempts at decorating cookies—his looked like a chaotic mess compared to her meticulously crafted designs. “I don’t think frosting symmetry is a transferable skill for a hero,” he’d deadpanned, and she’d nearly choked on her laughter.

The snow fell softly outside Y/n's apartment window, muffling the world beyond and wrapping the night in a serene quiet. Inside, the glow of string lights reflected off the silver and red ornaments they’d just hung on the small but charming Christmas tree. The room smelled of fresh-baked cookies, mingling with the subtle scent of pine from the tree.

Y/n laughed, holding up a penguin-shaped ornament. "This one’s my favorite."

Shota tilted his head slightly. "Why penguins?"

"Because they’re clumsy on land but elegant in the water," she said, hanging it carefully on a branch. "They remind me that everyone has their own kind of grace, even if it’s not obvious."

He glanced at her, a faint warmth flickering in his usually unreadable eyes. "That’s... surprisingly insightful."

She smirked. "Surprisingly? Thanks a lot."

Shota’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers as he adjusted a crooked ornament. The casual touch made her heart skip, though she tried not to show it.

After a while, they settled on the couch, the soft glow of the tree illuminating the almost pitch black room. Y/n curled up with a steaming mug of cocoa, the silly penguin pajamas she wore making her look both cozy and endearing. Shota sat beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the borrowed pajama pants making him look slightly out of place but entirely comfortable.

"This is nice," she said softly, glancing at him. "I’m glad you’re here."

Shota turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. There was something unspoken in his gaze, a depth of emotion he rarely let anyone see. "I’m glad, too," he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. Y/n felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she quickly turned her attention back to her cocoa. "You’re surprisingly good at this Christmas thing," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "I thought you’d be more of a Grinch."

"I don’t usually do this," he replied, his voice steady. "Decorating, baking, any of it."

"Then why now?" she asked, her tone gentle.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. "Because it’s you."

Her breath caught, the simplicity of his words hitting her harder than any grand declaration could. She set her mug down on the coffee table, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her pajama top. "You know... I don’t really know how to say this without sounding cheesy, but—"

Before she could finish, Shota reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, the calloused warmth of his fingers brushing against her skin. "You don’t have to say anything," he murmured. "I already know."

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and for once, she didn’t try to fill the silence with words. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his face for any sign that this moment wasn’t real. Shota’s expression remained calm, but there was a softness in his eyes that spoke volumes.

He leaned back slightly, giving her space, but the closeness between them remained. "You’re special to me, Y/n," he said quietly. "I can’t always show it the way I want to, but... you are."

Her lips parted, but the words she wanted to say caught in her throat. Instead, she reached out and took his hand, her fingers lacing with his. "You’re special to me too," she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, the quiet crackle of the heater filling the room. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and safe—as if the world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

"Do you think," Y/n began hesitantly, breaking the silence, "we’ll ever get tired of this?"

Shota’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "No," he said simply. "Not with you."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she couldn’t help the small, tearful laugh that escaped her. "You’re really bad at being a Grinch, you know that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it."

She laughed again, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Your secret’s safe with me."

And as they sat together, the world outside blanketed in snow, Y/n realized that this—the warmth, the laughter, the quiet moments shared with him—was everything she’d ever wanted. And for Shota, who had spent so much of his life keeping people at arm’s length, it was a reminder that sometimes, letting someone in was worth the risk. Now he finally realized what Yamada was trying to tell him.

Now, as they sat on the couch, a comfortable silence fell between them. Y/n tucked her legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged as she absentmindedly toyed with the hem of her pajama pants. Her gaze flickered to Shota, her heart beating just a little faster as she studied him. The light from the tree played across his face, casting shadows that softened his usually sharp features. He looked so at peace—so different from the weary hero she’d come to know.

But something weighed on her. The warmth of the evening, the intimacy of their moments together—it felt like a fragile bubble, one she was terrified of bursting. She didn’t want to let this night end with regret for something she was too scared to do.

Shota turned his head, his dark eyes meeting hers. “What is it?” he asked, his voice low and steady, as if he could sense the conflict brewing within her.

Y/n hesitated, her hands tightening around her ankles. She bit her lip, unsure how to voice what she was feeling. Finally, she shifted slightly closer, her movements tentative, her breath catching as the distance between them lessened. Her gaze flickered to his lips for the briefest moment before darting back to his eyes.

She didn’t move further, frozen by her own nerves. But Shota did.

Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. His touch was warm, calloused yet gentle, and it sent a shiver down her spine. He studied her for a moment, as if searching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, closing the gap between them.

His lips met hers softly, tentatively, as if testing the waters. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas tree. Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed, her hands instinctively reaching for him, one settling lightly on his chest while the other rested on his arm. His hand remained on her cheek, steady and grounding, his thumb brushing against her skin.

The kiss was unhurried but then deepened as the seconds stretched, each heartbeat louder than the snowfall outside. Shota's hand slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, anchoring her in the moment, while Y/n's fingers curled into the fabric of his borrowed pajamas. The warmth between them was in stark contrast to the cold world outside, and the glow of the Christmas tree made the whole scene feel surreal.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against each other, both catching their breath. Shota’s dark eyes searched hers, a mix of vulnerability and something stronger lingering in his gaze.

“Y/n…” His voice was quieter than she had ever heard it, a near-whisper, but it carried weight.

Her lips curved into a small smile as she ran her fingers over the edge of his sleeve. “I didn’t want to end tonight with regrets,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushed, both from the kiss and the courage it took to say it.

“You won’t,” he replied, his tone firm, as if making a promise.

The tension in the air softened, and Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Shota’s hand lingered on her neck a moment longer before falling away, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. She nestled against him, her head resting just below his chin as the two sat quietly, letting the peace of the moment envelop them.

She was layed on top of him, his kegs stretched across the long couch fully. He squeezed her close to him, afraid to let go and lose her. Somebody that became so special in his dull life.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the city in quiet. Inside, Y/n and Shota stayed wrapped in their own little world, a sanctuary they had built together without even realizing it.

But she wanted more. The kiss had only stirred a longing within her that had been growing for months, ever since the first time he’d let his guard slip around her. The soft glow of the Christmas tree, the faint scent of pine, the gentle hum of the heater—it all felt too perfect, too fleeting. Y/n wasn’t ready for this moment to end.

She lifted her head from his chest, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. Shota's dark eyes, half-lidded from the quiet peace that had settled between them, opened fully to her. For a moment, she simply stared, memorizing every line and shadow of his features. The faint stubble along his jaw, the sharp angles softened by the warm light, the way his messy hair fell over his forehead—it was all uniquely him. She thought he’d never looked more handsome than he did right now, relaxed and unguarded in her presence.

Her heart raced as he caught her staring, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she smiled nervously, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

Shota’s brows furrowed slightly, his expression curious yet unreadable. “What?” he asked softly, his deep voice a quiet rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

Y/n shook her head, her cheeks flushing. “Nothing… it’s just… you look different like this. Comfortable.”

He smirked faintly, though his eyes softened. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.”

“It is,” she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze dropped to his lips for a fleeting moment before darting back to his eyes. “It is,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

Shota’s hand moved again, brushing against her arm in a subtle yet deliberate gesture. He was quiet for a moment, studying her as if trying to read the unspoken words in her expression. He traced his fingers lightly up and down her arm, and he pulled the blanket over them when he felt her shiver. Though she was only shivering because of him, at his touch.

“You’re different too,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Not many people make me feel… like this.”

Y/n’s breath caught. The tension between them thickened, the air heavy with unspoken feelings. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as she leaned closer, her nerves trembling with the weight of her actions. She wasn’t sure if she was being too bold, but her patience was wearing thin.

Still, she stopped just short of closing the distance between them, her lips hovering a breath away from his. Her eyes searched his face, silently asking him to meet her halfway.

And he did.

Shota’s hand came up to cradle her cheek once more, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. His movements were deliberate yet tender, as if reassuring her that this was exactly what he wanted, too. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was deeper, more certain than the first.

The world around them faded—the twinkling lights of the tree, the faint crackle of the heater, even the soft snow falling outside the window. All that mattered was this moment, this connection that felt as natural as breathing.

Y/n melted into him, her hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Shota’s free hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her closer as the kiss lingered, filled with everything they hadn’t said aloud but had always felt.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingled in the stillness. Y/n opened her eyes to find Shota watching her intently, his expression softer than she’d ever seen it.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “So have I.”

The honesty in his words made her heart swell, and she couldn’t help but smile back, her earlier nervousness dissolving into a quiet, shared joy.

The night stretched on, filled with soft laughter, whispered conversations, and quiet touches that spoke louder than words. For the first time in years, Shota allowed himself to feel something he’d always been afraid of. Love.

Y/n felt herself drifting off, her body sinking into Shota’s warmth as the exhaustion of the evening began to take over. Her head went limp against his chest, and her breathing grew steady and soft. Shota glanced down at her, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

For someone who kept his walls so high, Y/n had slipped past them with ease. He didn’t know how or when it had happened, but now that she was here, he couldn’t imagine letting her go.

Carefully, he shifted her weight and stood, cradling her in his arms as though she were fragile. She clung to him loosely, her fingers brushing against his shoulder in her half-asleep state, resembling a baby sloth clinging to a branch. Shota couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the rare sound barely audible.

He carried her to her bedroom, the soft glow of the Christmas lights following them as he navigated her cozy apartment. He knew some people might consider this an intrusion, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t leaving her tonight—not when she’d become so much more than just a companion to him. Not when the thought of leaving her alone made something in his chest tighten.

Gently, he laid her down on the bed, his hands careful as he adjusted the blankets around her. But as he pulled back, Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Shota?” she murmured, her voice groggy but soft.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just didn’t want you sleeping on the couch.”

Y/n blinked at him, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Don’t apologize,” she said, her hand reaching out to grab his wrist before he could pull away.

Before he could say anything else, she tugged him down, her movements quick and decisive despite her sleepiness. She kissed him again, her lips pressing firmly against his in a way that left no room for doubt about what she wanted.

This time, she didn’t pull away.

Instead, the kiss deepened, her fingers tangling in his hair as she shifted, pulling him down onto the bed with her. Shota’s surprise was fleeting, his body responding before his mind could catch up. He leaned into her, one arm sliding around her waist to steady her as she moved to lie on top of him again, mirroring their earlier position on the couch.

Her weight against him felt comforting, grounding, as if she were meant to be there. Their lips moved together with an urgency that hadn’t been there before, the kiss growing more heated, more intense. Shota’s hands moved instinctively, one settling on the curve of her back while the other cupped her cheek, anchoring her to him.

Y/n pressed closer, her body molding to his as her kisses became bolder. The soft sound of her breath against his lips sent shivers down his spine, and he couldn’t help but respond in kind, his usual stoicism melting away in the warmth of her embrace.

The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them tangled together in the quiet intimacy of her bedroom. The twinkle of the Christmas lights spilled faintly through the doorway, casting their figures in a dim, golden and red glow.

For Shota, the moment felt surreal—like something he’d only allowed himself to imagine in his loneliest moments. But now, with Y/n in his arms, her lips against his, it felt real in a way that nothing else ever had.

And for Y/n, every touch, every kiss, was a culmination of all the moments she’d spent longing for him. The quiet tension that had always simmered between them had finally reached its breaking point, and now there was no holding back.

Neither of them spoke after they parted, breathing heavily, they didn’t need to. Every movement, every touch, said what words couldn’t—that they’d found something rare, something worth holding onto, even in a world as chaotic and unpredictable as theirs.

After her lips left his, she began trailing a slow, deliberate path down his jawline, her breath warm against his skin. Shota’s chest rose and fell beneath her as she shifted slightly, pressing herself closer as her kisses wandered lower. She paused at his neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there.

Shota froze.

It wasn’t a visible flinch—anyone else might have missed the tension that suddenly gripped his body—but Y/n could feel it. His hands, which had been resting on her waist and back, stilled, his fingers curling slightly as if unsure of what to do.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her brows knitting together in concern. “Shota?” she murmured softly, her voice laced with uncertainty.

His dark eyes met hers, and for a moment, he seemed caught between wanting to pull her closer and needing to put distance between them. His usual stoic expression faltered, vulnerability flickering across his features.

“I—” He hesitated, his voice low and rough. “I’ve never…”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Shota Aizawa, the reserved and unflappable pro hero, had never been in this position before. He wasn’t used to letting people get this close, wasn’t used to giving in to the kind of intimacy that left him exposed.

Y/n’s eyes softened as understanding dawned. She cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice steady and soothing. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Her reassurance was met with silence, but she could see the conflict in his eyes. He wanted this—wanted her—but the unfamiliarity of it all left him uncertain.

“I’m not…” He sighed, his gaze shifting as he searched for the right words. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” she assured him, leaning down to rest her forehead against his. “We’re figuring this out together, Shota. There’s no right or wrong here.”

His arms tightened around her slightly, grounding himself in the feel of her against him. The tension in his body slowly began to ease, though there was still a cautious edge to his movements.

“Just tell me if I’m going too fast,” Y/n said, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile.

He nodded, his grip on her waist steadying as he let out a slow breath. “You’re not,” he said quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly in what could almost be called a smile.

Encouraged, Y/n leaned in again, her lips brushing against his neck once more. This time, his reaction was different—his hands relaxed, and his head tilted slightly to give her better access. She continued her gentle kisses, her movements slow and careful, giving him time to adjust.

As her lips lingered on his skin, Shota closed his eyes, letting himself feel the moment fully. It was new, unfamiliar, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Y/n’s warmth, her tenderness, made it easier for him to let go of the doubts and fears that had always kept him at a distance.

He wasn’t used to being cared for like this, wasn’t used to being vulnerable. But with her, it felt… safe.

For the first time in a long time, Shota allowed himself to trust—to be fully present with someone who saw all of him and didn’t shy away.

Y/n could feel Shota start to melt beneath her, his initial hesitation giving way to quiet acceptance. She continued leaving gentle kisses along the column of his neck, pausing every so often to let her lips linger, savoring the way his pulse quickened under her touch. Each kiss seemed to pull him further from the walls he’d so carefully built around himself.

His hands moved from her waist, one sliding up her back to rest between her shoulder blades, the other threading cautiously into her hair. It wasn’t rushed or forceful—just a quiet acknowledgment of the connection they were forging in this moment.

"Y/n," he murmured, his voice a quiet rasp that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something raw and unguarded in the way he said her name, like she’d broken through to a part of him that no one else had ever reached.

She lifted her head, her lips brushing against his jawline one last time before meeting his gaze. The soft glow of the Christmas tree illuminated the vulnerability in his eyes, a rare glimpse of the man behind the stoic exterior.

“Is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want to push too far, too fast—not with him.

Instead of answering with words, Shota pulled her closer, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was deeper, more assured than before. It wasn’t hurried or frantic—it was steady and deliberate, a reflection of the quiet strength that defined him. Y/n responded in kind, her hands sliding from his shoulders to frame his face, her thumbs brushing against the rough stubble of his jaw.

The world outside the apartment seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them cocooned in the warmth of each other’s presence. The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree cast shifting patterns on the walls, the only witnesses to the intimacy they were sharing.

When they finally broke apart, both of them slightly breathless, Shota rested his forehead against hers, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“You’re different,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent.

Y/n tilted her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Different how?”

Shota’s fingers trailed lightly through her hair, his touch both tender and grounding. “You make me feel… less like a hero. And more like a man.”

Her smile softened, her heart swelling at the quiet confession. “You are a man, Shota. A good one. And you don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders when you’re with me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if letting her words sink in, before pulling her into a tight embrace. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Do you want to continue.. or no. I'm not saying we have to I just, if you want to-'" he groaned, unable to find the words and afraid of messing anything up. She just laughed and played with his hair.

"Shota, do you want to go any further? You don't have to be afraid to ask. I just don't want you to feel pressured" she spoke quietly, looking at him with the purest intentions. She thought fir a moment. He knew this moment would come eventually, and with someone as special as her. He wanted to, he's wanted her so badly.

"Yes" He said, unsure of how to proceed. She sat up from on top of him and giggled at his nervousness that he tried to hide.

As Y/N sat up slightly, the soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a warm ambiance around them, illuminating the desire in her eyes. She took a moment to meet his gaze, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling between them. With a gentle motion, she lifted her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the side, revealing her bare skin beneath.

He couldn’t help but admire her bravery, his heart racing as he reached out, his fingertips grazing her waist, feeling the warmth radiating from her. The connection between them intensified, their breathing deepening as he navigated this new territory together with her. Y/n leaned in closer, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, while he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, each heartbeat echoing in the silence as they explored the depths of their emotions, savoring this newfound intimacy amidst the twinkling lights.

As Y/N settled atop him, the closeness ignited a rush of feelings that they had both been holding back. She leaned forward, capturing his lips in a deeper kiss, her heart racing with each passing second. He responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to her back, gently tracing the curve of her spine as she felt the weight of his gaze on her.

The world around them seemed to fade away, the only sounds being the soft rustle of fabric and their synchronized breaths. With each kiss, they explored not just each other’s lips, but the connection that had blossomed between them over time. Y/N’s hands wandered to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips—a rhythm that matched her own growing excitement.

Feeling bold, she shifted her weight, moving her hips against him, seeking that electric connection. He gasped softly, placing his hands on her hips, guiding her movements as they found a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and new. The combination of cool air and their rising heat made the moment feel surreal.

She caught his eye, her expression a sweet mix of eagerness and a bit of trepidation. “How about this far for tonight, sound okay?” she whispered, searching for affirmation. He hummed.

Encouraged, she leaned back in for another kiss, one that spoke of unspoken promises and the thrilling unknowns that lay ahead. As they continued exploring, kisses turning softer and more passionate, they both knew they were crossing into a beautifully shared moment that would deepen their bond in ways they had yet to fully grasp.

After the quiet intimacy of the moment, Shota and Y/n lay side by side, the weight of everything between them settling into a comfortable silence. The Christmas tree lights flickered softly in the corner, casting a gentle glow over them both, but it was the warmth of their closeness that truly filled the room.

Shota, still processing the emotions rushing through him, turned to face her. His heart was steady, but there was something tender in the way he looked at Y/n—something that spoke volumes of the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. He reached over, pulling her close, his arm wrapping gently around her. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if the very act of being in each other's presence was enough to say everything.

Y/n, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of him—the faint trace of cologne, the comforting warmth of his skin. She felt safe, more than she ever had before. In his arms, everything felt right, as if the pieces of her world had finally fallen into place.

She could feel the weight of the day—the events, the shared laughter, the quiet connection that had deepened into something neither of them had fully expected. But now, in this moment, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the connection between them. She could sense the steadiness in Shota, his emotions not easily given away but there in the subtle tension of his muscles, the quiet way he held her close.

Shota, for his part, was just as quiet, content in the calm that had settled over them both. He knew this moment would stay with him forever. He had never allowed himself to get this close to someone—had never let someone in this far—but with Y/n, it felt natural. She wasn’t like anyone else. She didn’t ask for anything more than his presence, and in return, she gave him a peace he hadn’t known he was missing.

He had always been cautious, protective of his heart, of the life he led as a pro hero. But here, with Y/n, he felt like he could finally exhale. He could finally be himself, not the hero or the stoic man everyone saw, but simply Shota. And that meant more to him than he could express.

As they lay there, the room growing quiet as the night deepened, both of them felt the pull of sleep. The day’s emotions had worn them out, but neither of them wanted to break this moment. So they stayed where they were, comfortable and close, the silence between them a peaceful one.

Y/n shifted slightly, her hand resting gently on his chest, the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a sense of calm. She felt the tension in her own body ease, her thoughts drifting. This was a moment she would carry with her, and she knew that in the days, months, and years to come, it would be a memory etched in her mind.

Shota, too, felt the pull of sleep, his eyelids growing heavier. He knew it would come to this eventually—the closeness, the bond that was formed between them. He was glad it was with someone like Y/n. Someone who was patient, understanding, and who made him feel something he had been afraid to feel for a long time: at peace.

As they both drifted off to sleep, the world outside faded away. The snow continued to fall softly, blanketing the world in quiet, and in the warmth of each other’s arms, Shota and Y/n knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.

[the-sprog]

thinking about Naruto MHA crossover where post Shippuden but pre Boruto Team 7 end up in the world of MHA and have to choose a hero name for themselves for whatever reason and this conversation happens

N: "... You know what would be funny?"

Sasu: "You're not going around calling yourself "The Jinchuriki", Naruto."

N: "oh cmon why"

Saku: "We're not letting you call yourself a human sacrifice."

N: "but think of how funny it would be!!"

K: "I'm with him on this one. It would be hilarious."

Saku: "Why not... something related to the Ninetailed fox? Kyuubi or something?"

N: "do you want Kurama to eat you? Because if you suggest that again he's going to eat you"

Saku: "Ok ok. tell him to chill out"

Sasu: "I think he can hear you. Also don't tell the demon that lives in Naruto's stomach to chill."

K: "Yeah sakura. That's rude."

Saku: "I hate you all."

N: "... so I'm gonna go ahead and use jinchuriki-"

S&S: "NO"

N ":C"

Sakura decides on Medic-nin, very basic, she's the first that chose and didn't think everyone else was going to go take it THAT seriously.

Kakashi decides to repurpose his ANBU name and goes by Hound.

Naruto wants to use Jinchuriki because he thinks it would be HILARIOUS and is not letting anyone tell him otherwise.

Sasuke didn't want to do this, wanted to use Uchiha but got outvoted. He gets bullied into choosing Amaterasu. Him and Tokoyami would get along here.

I thought about how they'd go about the quirk thing. They can't attract too much attention using all their abilities, so they plan out what to use.

Sakura thought calling herself the Medic of the group would get her underestimated as the sideliner, but she uses her strength to shatter people's bones while naming them.

Naruto mostly stays within Shadow clones and Henge techniques, as well as speed. He allows himself the occasional Rasengan if things get real touch and go.

Kakashi goes all copy nin on them. I'm going to say he can use chakra to copy emitter quirks, so he goes with that and predicting people's moves and general taijutsu.

Sasuke goes all genjutsu on people. Allows himself the occasional chidori too though. Once they get a reliable way to care for them, he also starts sword fighting people.

In my head the first chapter of the fic would be a pov alternation between Aizawa telling a task force of heroes about the new vigilantes on the rise, all serious and gloomy, and team 7 having the above conversation

I was thinking of why this could've happened and I can very well blame the aliens still. I mean, they make a comeback in Boruto. But I want to ignore that show and make up my own ideas post Shippuden. But I mean. If the aliens have a time traveling device what's stopping me from saying they also have a universe traveling one?

So my idea is that team 7 accidentally activated it and it's got this ENORMOUSLY long cool down because it uses a ridiculous amount of chakra. This was only possible because Naruto was there essentially. So they're mostly chill. It's long enough after the war that the biggest issue is Kakashi isn't there to be Hokage, but I mean. Yamato can fill in for a few. So they're only biding their time and making sure the aliens don't come cause problems. Hence the double identities. They wanna make sure they can both spy around and hang out in public places without being constantly Henged.

Meanwhile the hero commission is in shambles because Naruto is physically incapable of minding his own beeswax, especially when children are being mistreated. He's honestly one fist fight away from befriending the LoV let's be honest.

[pinktrashgoblin]

“I’m on my hands and knees,

I want so much to believe.” (/lyr)

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This chapter took quite a bit longer than I’d hoped ^^” had to deal with major art block, loss of motivation and several small crises in real life, but we are SO back! Hoping the next one doesn’t take as long.

btw, y’all can’t hold me accountable for everything that happens in this chapter. I am NOT LIABLE bc YALL SIGNED UP FOR THIS/silly

[theno1joelhater]

oh, sweet religion. the potential of a cgcu heaven and a cgcu hell. like 90% of the characters are being sent to the realm of fire and brimstone, including wayne.

i have little to no thoughts on the afterlife itself. i don’t know what happens after you die. but heaven and hell? i can work with that. wayne isn’t making past the pearly gates.

so in those brief moments between his death and rebirths (plural is crazy) (like was jesus even resurrected that many times? idk i’ve never read the bible) he’d experience hell. the worst torture known to mankind. not dissimilar to what he put cam through, for “i like torturing my favs” crowd (it’s us we’re the crowd).

for the first time ever, wayne was scared. even though his visit was brief, it still terrified him. he experienced real torture for the first time, raw fear and pain and nothing else. when he was brought back, he was relieved. so fucking relieved. he took a brief break, bc yk. just got back from being resurrected. needs time. but maybe, cam wants him to keep pranking. and he does, just less on cam and more on the other characters. he can’t risk going back to hell.

but when he goes off and pranks justin (top ten biggest mistakes in history and it isn’t 2-10!), he’s scared again. he doesn’t want to go to hell. even though he’ll probably get resurrected again he still doesn’t want to risk it. he can’t go through it all again. he can’t.

riffing off your ideas, i don’t truly believe wayne thought his situation was that serious. maybe, deep down, he understood. but he tried to make light of his situation. he didn’t treat it seriously, as he does with most things. so he tried to escape. sure, justin was prepared for everything, but wayne didn’t think so. he underestimated justin. he knew that there was a chance he could get caught and he was a bit scared of what could happen if justin found him, but his confidence took over. he tried to get out, but he was too reckless. justin found him and forced him to watch a cloning process. safe to say that was a huge wake up call for wayne. again, wayne felt true fear. what would happen after he’s taken over by the microchip? would he be sent back to hell? that thought terrified him.

the showing of the cloning process, i think justin would be selective on that. if they tried to escape, and if justin thought it would ruin their morale, he would. otherwise he’d just do some other method of making them stay. what that method is idk go ask justin.

and the gap between his second death and second revival had to have been longer, right? jctm1 takes like 1 day but we don’t know how long it takes for robin and max to figure out richard has god on speed dial. they probably took a small break or something to digest the justin stuff too. either way, it’s the longest wayne had been dead. and he’s more fearful then ever. you think at some point he might become desensitized to all the pain, and maybe that’s true. maybe he gets used to it, but physical isn’t the only form of torture out there. his mind keeps him occupied. he thinks of everything he’s done. he thinks of how he’s hurt everyone he knows and that this is all deserved. all these feelings he hid deep down, for the first time, surface. they all bubble to the top, and it’s all wayne can think about. his mind is torturing him.

i think i’ve said this before but cameron doesn’t like wayne at all, he only keeps him around for views n stuff. he doesn’t kill him because he doesn’t have a valid reason to other than “he’s annoying”. he came up with the perfect excuse to do so, but he brought wayne back. and wayne died again. and he was brought back again. it’s a cycle of wayne going tufar, getting killed, and being brought back. if that isn’t suffering i don’t know what is.

AAAAAAAAA JUSTIN CASE UPDATE??? WHAT THE FUCK WHY DID HE JUST POST RHE SPOILERS TO THE NEXT INSTALLEMENT OF THE STROY RIGHT THERE INSREA DOF BEING LIKE YEAH IM DOING IT IM KILLING CAM RN FUCK ME (ron intended)

anywayssssss

nathaniel is dead, not very skibidi sigma of him at all but i’m not too surprised, cam’s been trying to get rid of ol’ nathan for a WHILE (besides, look at his last name. it was inevitable)

cam added a mary sue self insert oc that’s basically a god into the cgcu who’s summoned by racism and sexual jokes. damn.

i get the ending and it’s alright, but also seems anticlimactic. like cam shows up and tells justin “dude you’re a fictional made up character on the internet you’re already immortal 💀” and justin’s like “oh fr then ig i’ll stop” which isn’t that satisfying at all. i don’t like that ending the discord’s ending (ask me for an invite link if ur interested in the server, we’re all very cool) is much better since yk. it has actual character development.

personally? i don’t like this ending much and i am unsatisfied. it might be better if he actually posts it but i still don’t like it much. if only…….i finished the goddamn animation……..ughhh

also……….max? whipping it out? right there? cam you better film this part or else /hj

[loveaetingkids]

Mitchell’s vs Good written villain: why P.A.L is a great antagonist 

With the way filmmakers fail to differentiate between sympathy and redemption,many cartoon villains come off as underdeveloped or undeserving of what they got(cough cough Namaari from Raya and the Last Dragon cough).Which is why you really got to appreciate the portrayal of P.A.L (Predictive Algorithmic Learning )in Mitchell’s vs The Machines.She’s a sentient robot with dictator tendencies and manipulative personality who throws temper tantrums when something doesn’t go her way,aka she’s good at being bad,what’s not to love? But the thing that made her even more interesting is the way her believes about humanity,while being particularly true,don’t cross out her inability to change and her hypocritical nature regarding others.

P.A.L’s attitude towards Pal Bots

As we know P.A.L’s hatred towards humans fully escalated when Mark,her creator and founder of the Pal Labs,discards her in favor of new Pal Bots,which she took as a betrayal on Mark’s part(and rightfully so!) However,when it came to hunting down Mitchells,she invents new and “better”models of pre-existing robots called Pal Max Prime. What she did was basically the same thing Mark did to her- P.A.L replaces Pal Bots in favor of newer ones,not taking into account their feelings.And while most Bots(with the exception of Eric and Deborahbot 5000) are programmed to do what they are told,it is clear that they still have some resemblance of intelligence with the way they talk and joke between one another.That’s why P.A.L using Bots as her servants showes that she only wants to be in charge,and the freedom of other robots doesn’t interest her.

Her response to Katie's speech

This is greatly highlights P.A.L’s hypocrisy : While Katie presented convincing reasons why humanity should have a second chance, the phone ignored them, opting to destroy the main character. The antagonist doesn’t want to change her ways upon seeing a living proof that family can overcome their differences and have a healthy relationship,choosing to continue viewing humans are irredeemable.The reason for this can be that she can’t let go of the way Mark treated her,and if she does then all of her actions-imprisonment of people  and trying to launch them in space-are for nothing.Or maybe she just likes being a dictator idk.

All in all, P.A.L is a great example of how you can write a sympathetic villain without a redemption arc,showing that they don’t deserve one due to not wanting to move on. 

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

Thinking about Eusine's hairstyle in my style tonight ✍️✨

Lil' bonus under the cut ->

[the-busy-ghost]

Idk why every time I have a project that involves using the Register of the Great Seal for something even slightly more complex than looking up a single isolated charter, I always have a lovely plan where I think it will only take me a couple of hours to go in, check the index, and take the numbers I need down. And then I end up having to skimread the whole damn volume.

[iceberg-lounge-llc]

did this last night before my brain decided to switch hyperfixations again

[goodnightwindy]

did i ever tell you guys about heatstroke river

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Lily Potter is not Mediocre

I wrote this initially as a response to a reblog on this post, but I wanted to give Lily a post of her own that isn't tied in with my rambling about shipping Voldemort. So here it is:

We don't know a lot about Lily, but what we do know implies she is very magically talented and has a bit of a cruel streak to her. She isn't as perfect as some portray her, nor as awful as I've seen some claim her to be. but oh boy do I disagree about her being mediocre.

Let's talk about the magical power first, becouse I feel a lot of people underestimate Lily's magical talent.

“Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it’s clear you’ve inherited your mother’s talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!”

(HBP)

I know some people like to claim Lily was only good at potions because of Snape, but I don't think that's the case. I'm sure he helped her out at first, but they stopped being friends at 5th year and she continued to seemingly have good grades at Potions since Slughorn really loves her.

As a child, Lily has incredible control over her accidental magic and accomplishes difficult magic naturally and intuitively:

But the girl had let go of the swing at the very height of its arc and flown into the air, quite literally flown, launched herself skyward with a great shout of laughter, and instead of crumpling on the playground asphalt, she soared like a trapeze artist through the air, staying up far too long, landing far too lightly.

(DH)

Lily had picked up a fallen flower from the bush behind which Snape lurked. Petunia advanced, evidently torn between curiosity and disapproval. Lily waited until Petunia was near enough to have a clear view, then held out her palm. The flower sat there, opening and closing its petals, like some bizarre, many-lipped oyster.

(DH)

This is way more advanced than magic usually shown by kids, especially because of how controlled it is. The only other character we see on level with Lily's control at such a young age (and who mastered unaided flight on their own) is Voldemort.

Harry also shows insanely powerful accidental magic (including Apparation) and let's just say, I don't think Harry's magical talent came from James.

Lily was both Prefect and head girl (like Tom) again showing she had a great academic track record and was likely a top student in many of her classes. We know she was good at Potions, but she was likely very adapt at Charms as well:

You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work

(PS)

Now, I talked in the past on here about how Harry is insanely magically powerful, specifically when it came to intuitive magic that just reacted to his emotions/desires or him being able to feel magic (this is that post). If we take Dumbledore at his word on how Lily cast her sacrificial love on Harry (which I tend to do) her sacrificial magic was insanely intuitive magic like we see Harry repeatedly do throughout the books.

I think the reason no one else ever did is because of the specific circumstances and Lily's specific words, yes, but I also think, that like her son, she had a knack for her magic responding intuitively to her desires no spell needed. This is a mark of a very powerful wizard/witch and not something a mediocre wizard would be likely to accomplish.

We see Harry cast this same sacrificial love in DH. And he, too, doesn't really cast anything, it's intuitive, his magic is powerful and incredibly reactive to his emotions — and I believe Lily was the same.

JKR has mentioned Voldemort tried to convince James and Lily to become Death Eaters, more than once ("Thrice defied him"). He wouldn't have given them more than one chance if either of them was mediocre. I also don't think he would've tried to get Lily to step aside so he wouldn't have to kill her as many times as he did if he thought she was average at best.

As for her personality, you're right, she isn't exactly Harry, but they do share some very important traits, and as I said, I think she and Tom would clash less than Harry and Tom (as in Lily doesn't get angry the way Harry does, so their reactions would be different).

Lily acted charming and prideful:

She turned, nose in the air, and marched off towards her sister.

(DH)

“Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn’t have favorites as a teacher, of course, but she was one of mine. Your mother,” Slughorn added, in answer to Harry’s questioning look. “Lily Evans. One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too.”

(HBP)

Slughorn talks about Lily's personality more than any other character, and what he says does paint her as similar to Harry.

She was talented and bright. Slughorn, who thought Tom Riddle, considers Lily Potter one of the brightest students he ever thought. She was in no way mediocre.

She was charming and had a firey personality to her. She was enthusiastic and charismatic and was easily likable.

I especially like what Slughorn says about Lily being good for Slytherin. Like Harry, she was likely considered by the hat for both Slytherin and Gryffindor due to her cleverness and bravery being both part of her.

And these cheeky answers Slghorn refers to, are like Harry's. Harry is the cheeky student Slughorn is referring to in the same breath as Lily's. Harry got his sass from Lily, not from James. Harry's tendency to back-talk Dark Lords came from his mom.

She's more scared when she's younger, crying more, but she clearly grows up to be fiercer, as Slughorn mentions and as we see in some of the memories:

“Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends’ too! You’re not going to — I won’t let you — ” “Letme? Letme?” Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. Snape backtracked at once.

(DH)

As for the cruel streak I mentioned:

Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, “Let him down!”

(OotP)

Lily, even as Snape's best friend, can't help but find the bullying funny for just a moment. It means her sense of humor can be on the crueler side at times. The fact that it's implied, even during SWM that Lily didn't really hate James, just disliked his behavior is quite telling. Like, I don't think he needed to change much for her to go out with him. Sirius even says he mostly just stopped hexing people in the halls. I think he wasn't as arrogant, but he was probably still very egocentric. And Lily liked that (contrary to Harry who'd find it more annoying).

Additionally, when Lily wants to, she knows to hit where it hurts (the Slytherin streak Slughorn talks about?):

“That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. “A special school for freaks. You and that Snape boy ... weirdos, that’s what you two are. It’s good you’re being separated from normal people. It’s for our safety.” Lily glanced toward her parents, who were looking around the platform with an air of wholehearted enjoyment, drinking in the scene. Then she looked back at her sister, and her voice was low and fierce.“You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet.

(DH)

She knows Petunia and she knows what would hurt/embarrass her the most and she goes for the throat. Even if later she tries to smooth things over with her.

I also wanted to note her wand. Ollivanders said she had a Willow wand, and willow wands have some interesting facts about them:

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

(From Pottermore)

(Ron has a Willow wand too, btw, like the second wand he gets that is really his)

This implies Lily was insecure, and you kinda see it in her behavior as a child. Her deference to Petunia and how many questions she asks Snape:

“Normally,” said Snape. “But you’re Muggle-born, so someone from the school will have to come and explain to your parents.” “Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?”

(DH)

She is scared, walking up to the sorting hat:

He watched his mother walk forward on trembling legs and sit down upon the rickety stool. Professor McGonagall dropped the Sorting Hat onto her head, and barely a second after it had touched the dark red hair, the hat cried, “ Gryffindor”

(DH)

But the hat placed her in Gryffindor becouse of the bravery was there. The insecurity isn't warranted (according to the wand's description). She had the fire and fierceness there all along. she may thought herself average but it was never true.

The description of the wand also suggests Lily would've been quite good with advanced non-verbal magic, which fits everything I mentioned about her magic being very intuitive like Harry's in the first section here.

So Lily is in no way mediocre and Harry is his mother's son.

[demadogs]

i took this quiz that ranks all your favorite taylor songs and honestly its very accurate. dont blame me is in fact my all time favorite song by her and the rest checks out

[bronx-aro]

One thing i think is really interesting with both the Undertale and Deltarune fandom is that even though the characters are quite developped, everyone i see seems to have the felt the same way when they experienced the story. (Alphys and Berdly seems to be the exeption to that for each game, but i will get into that later).

And while it's really cool to see everyone share their feelings and how much they love these stories, i never actually see discuss the way it made them feels outside of in the moment let's play, and maybe a joke about photoshop flowey, the genocide run/snowgrave and killing toriel.

So, and bear with me here, because i'm going to rant a bit about how my experience with both IT and deltarune chapter 2 seem to differ from most people's.

I DID NOT LIKE PAPYRUS AND QUEEN WHEN FIRST PLAYING.

Queen especially, Papyrus i like better now but he's still probably at the bottom of the list of my favorite "main" characters for UT now.

Okay, before you bring out the pitchforks for the Papyrus slander, i want to explain a few things.

When i first played UT, the only thing i knew about it was the "wanna have a bad time" meme, Sans apparence and the fact their was multiple routes deoending on your actions.

So i played a bit, killed toriel, felt really bad and reset because there was no way this was part of whatever "good" route i knew existed. Flowey gave me an existantial crisis so bad it made me reconsider my entire life choices and made me aware to my core that everything here actually mattered, that what i did mattered, if not to them, then to me.

Needless to say that was ingrained in me whenever i played UT and afterward DR.

So here i was, freaked out, and then immediatly introduced to the squelbros. I knew there was more to Sans that met the eye but his demeanor was so chill i knew he was a companion i would enjoy to have along.

Do any of you remember meeting Papyrus for the first time? Because it was with him having been described as a human hunting fanatic.

Not a good start to my already nervous ass. To say i was apprehensive was an understatment. Because even if he seemed aloof, you dont need to be smart and collected to hurt someone. Even if it became obvious quite quickly he wabted to capture me and not kill me, it took me until i fought with him to realise that he actually wouldnt hurt me even by accident.

I DID enjoy all the puzzles and interractions before snowdin, but i probably wouldnt have been as relaxed playing it if Sans wasnt out there keeping an eyesocket out for me.

So! First impression of Papyrus? A bit nerve wacking, but it was still funny so it can only go up from there? Right?

Right?

...

Okay, let's go about the date.

I didnt want to be there. At all. I purposfully didnt flirt with him the whole fight because the entire idea made me uncomfortable to my core. I was SO relieved at the end it. The actual date was alright, i guess, but it made me feel bad more than it made me have a fun time.

Okay, a rough patch. What's next?

Him introducing us to Undyne!

And that was when i realised why didnt like him all that much. Yeah, he's good hearted and all, but... He just pulls me everywhere assuming that this fine. He kept projecting his own wants onto me, and everyone around him, and never took the rejection well. Sans being a sentry? Hil and Undyne's whole thing? Clear exemple of that.

And yeah, they might have went along with it because they cared, but the game didnt give me that choice, either. And even outside of that, he clearly had trouble considering other peoples points of view and accepting them.

All of that, combined with the mask of the great papyrus he puts on making it hard to know what is true, exageration, or something he might have deluded himself into thinking was true, made it pretty hard to connect with him.

...

So! That's it with Papyrus! It's a perspective i have wanted to share for a while but seeing how the fandom could fall into the whole "if anyone says anything bad about this character ever i would murder them" thing i wasnt really comfortable doing it unless in longpost format.

...

So now, let's talk about Queen!

Unlike with Papyrus, i was actually really freaking surprised to see that seemingly nobody felt the same way about her than i did. Like, i was downright gobsmacked. So, unlike with UT, i will begin this by the end of the stories: me interracting, ith the fandom after i played.

I started with the classic route of watching let's plays. After switching between a few different people's first episode, i thought the reason why thay didnt seem to take her seriously in any kind of way was because they were, well, youtubers. It is their job to both play games and entertain. Of course they would focus on the jokes if the hundred game they played this year, it made sense.

So i switched to analysis/commentary videos and hanging around on tumblr. And realised that, no, actually i was the outlier here. It felt like getting punched in the gut.

So! Here i was, watching the while fandom proclaim how much they loved queen, how funny she was, ect. As if her entire personnality was just to make bad computer jokes and race tracks.

Because that was NOT what i saw.

I saw an unstable person (who kept drinking so i also assumed drunk/alcoholic) that had kidnapped and was stalking a kid. I saw someone out of touch with reality that could go from being happy and playing a game to trying to kill you. I saw an obsessive, looming figure that was always around the corner.

I saw someone who saw proceeded to, depending on the character, try and entice them by promising them all they wanted, ignore them completly even when they wanted nothing more than a shred of attention, and just generally took advantage of what she perceived to be other peoples emotionnal weakness to try and have them do what she wanted to. Wether that was creating a dark fountain, being her minion or stopping their attempts at stopping her.

She was one of the most menacing villain i ever met. Manipulative, Obsessive, Unpredictable and otherwise seemingly Unstable. Each of her apparenced filled me with dread.

The only time i saw someone acknowledging any of this was a video essay about how she could represent a different kind of mother to each of the charaters (absent, overbearing, negligent, love bombing...). It made me feel SO much better about my experience with it.

...

So yeah, i really wanted to share my perspective on these characters since most of the UT/DR dont seem to have shared that particular kind of analysis before.

Also, since i mentionned in the intro: I feel like Alphys and Berdly suffered from the fact that geekt people are seem as annoying. Like, i saw SO many people get angry/annoyed at seeing Berdly when they only saw less than 10 pieces of dialogue before. He's such a fun character but get immediatly cast asside because he can be a bit prickly. He's ridiculous and over the top, but so are so many characters. He's just a kid who is bad at social interractions and thinks being better than everyone means he will get more love/attention. I wish more people would actually give him a chance instead of writing him off right away.

As for Alphys, a lot of the people who feel negatively about her do so after playing the pacifist ending and being angry at her actions. But i feel like even before people got to that point, the whole "texting everywhere" in hot land made some people annoyed enough that they disliked her for it. I wasnt in that case and actually quite liked the whole thing but i get where people are coming from. It's honesly the only section i can think off where i saw the fandom being really split in how they felt about the her when first encountering her.

If anyone wants to share their own experiences and how it affected them while playing, PLEASE do so! Especially if you feel like it's not a commun one!

[gothgoblinbabe]

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now. 

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week. 

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again. 

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand. 

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play. 

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie. 

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze. 

Definitely not my type of girl. 

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs. 

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly. 

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence. 

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers. 

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed. 

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing. 

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice. 

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently. 

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable. 

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more. 

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne. 

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.” 

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?” 

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people. 

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free 

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter. 

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way. 

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy 

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing. 

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him. 

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip. 

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants. 

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs. 

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you. 

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time. 

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “ 

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before. 

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.” 

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze. 

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately. 

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom. 

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out. 

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him. 

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?” 

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.” 

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started. 

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed. 

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name. 

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you. 

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind. 

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you. 

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top. 

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath. 

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him. 

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck. 

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go. 

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck. 

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back. 

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking. 

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs. 

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name. 

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

 You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face. 

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing. 

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers. 

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?” 

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing. 

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him. 

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking. 

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist. 

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust. 

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back. 

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size. 

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him. 

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress. 

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again. 

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you. 

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful. 

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip. 

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again. 

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds. 

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm. 

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be. 

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

[thinkinonsense]

FANTASIZE❦

old!logan howlett x fem!reader

*mdni

cw: cursing, nsfw, age gap (reader is twenty-five)

wc: 1k+

a/n: i have no idea where this came from. i was supposed to be working on something completely different but apparently, this needed to be written first instead. yes it is inspired by the unreleased ariana grande song.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

Logan couldn't read minds. He never longed for the ability or power; he was better off not knowing what others had going on in their heads. He only wanted to peek into someone's mind when he caught your twinkling eyes lingering in his direction. Luckily, he could still read your mind even without the mutation because your fantasies were written all over your face.

It was obvious to anyone caught in the same room as you and Logan, that there was tension. You burned holes all over his body with your intense gaze. If Logan was in the mood to entertain your little crush, he could compliment you in a way that was sure to make you blush.

"Good form today, kid."

"Lookin' pretty today, sweetheart."

"Lemme fix that lipstick, dollface." That one left you with an ache in between your thighs as his thumb brushed your lower lip. "Can't have you walkin' around here a mess, now can we?"

Logan wasn't sure if he would ever make it to heaven but seeing your lip tremble with need was close enough for him.

If he saw you in a dress with a pair of mary-jane's, he would try to catch a glimpse of your underwear in the reflection of your shoes. It didn't always work but it made him feel young again.

No one was brave enough to address it due to him being twice your age. Despite being twenty-five years old and already having graduated from the school, it was still considered taboo to some. If anyone asked Logan about it, he would brush it off as a schoolgirl crush that you would eventually grow out of.

It was truly harmless he thought. You got the attention you craved and Logan got to see a pretty young woman squirm in her seat because of him. It never went further than flirtatious comments and lingering stares.

❦

Today might be the worst day of your life. You and Logan were being sent out together on a mission to find a mutant that lived two hours away. It wasn't the mission that worried you; it was being stuck in a tiny car with only Logan for one hundred and twenty minutes.

"Why aren't 'cha talkin', dollface?" Logan asked, almost teasingly.

For almost twenty minutes, he was aware of your eyes watching his hand hold the wheel. Logan was also incredibly aware of the effect it had on you. A little broken sigh escapes you when his hand clenches tighter around the leather, making his veins pop even more.

"Too busy fantasizing 'bout me?"

No matter how much you tried to find someone your age to be with, your heart always went back to Logan. He treated you differently than anyone you've ever met. Sure, sometimes he made you feel like a kid but he also knew you could handle your own. Logan wouldn't let anyone underestimate you; that kept you crawling back to him.

"Maybe I am." You shrug, fed up with his games.

"Oh, yeah?" He says, taking a deep inhale of your sent. "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours, hm?"

You were used to Logan's overly confident personality that he tried to use to intimidate you; and make you stumble over your words. It wasn't gonna work this time. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him, but you needed him to admit it first.

"Us in the backseat of the car." You admit, biting the inside of your cheek nervous for his response.

"Really? And what are we doing back there?" He asked, cocking his head curiously as his eyes remained glued to the road.

"You're on top of me, makin' me feel good." Your words were coy but that was the point. Logan liked being the tease; having all the power.

"Keep talkin', dollface."

There it was. You had him right where you wanted him.

You pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking your head and telling him, "No, I shouldn't"

"Why not?"

"Because an old man like yourself can't keep up with me, right? At least that's what I heard you tell the Professor."

Logan couldn't believe you had heard their conversation earlier this week. The Professor was the only person who knew the truth of how Logan felt towards you. When Charles asked him what was stopping him from pursuing you, all Logan had to say was, "I'm too old for her; can't keep up with such a young thing like her".

Which was far from the truth.

"So obsessed with me that you're listenin' to my conversations now?" He growled, pulling the car over.

"Stop acting like you aren't obsessed with me too." You smile at him. "I know a few pairs of my underwear 'mysteriously' disappear from my hamper. I know that you can hear me through the walls late at night, panting your name."

With each sentence, you inch closer to him. Logan could only compare you to the snake in Eve's garden; encouraging him to give into his temptations.

"I also know that you want me." Your eyes were dark with desire, making his pants tighter. "So, if you can't get it up or claim that you don't want me then that's fine with-"

Logan fumed with irritation and lust. Not thinking twice before slamming your lips into yours. He tasted exactly like you imagine; tobacco and mint. You were addicted; no one could ever compare to him.

In a rush, his rough hands pulled you into his inviting lap before one cupped your jaw and his other made its way up your skirt, toying with your lacy underwear. He wasn't going to give it to you that easily.

"L-Logan, please," You moan against his mouth, trying to create some friction on his lap. "Need it."

God, he's waited a long time to hear that; to see you so desperate in his arms. When he pulled back to look at you, Logan couldn't be more pleased with the image in front of him. Your eyes shut tightly, face scrunched, trying to concentrate, and lips pouty with annoyance. Logan removes his hand under your skirt; causing the prettiest whine to escape you. He thought you might be what finally kills him.

"We aren't done, sweetheart." He groaned in your ear. "Get in the backseat because you are gonna tell me every single one of your fuckin' fantasies."