#Or maybe he didn't and this got him to finally see it

[dilf-docs]

From This Time, Unchained

jackson!joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: joel doesn't know why, of all the people in jackson, you've chosen him.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), BIG age gap (20s/60s) (does it look like igaf), smut, begging kink, praise kink, oral (f. receiving), breast play, dacryphilia, hurt/comfort, soft!joel, insecure!joel, fluff bc my dying man deserves it💔 #joelmillerapologistclub

word count: 8,554 words

side note: joel miller widow club where u at??? i wish i could write a fix-it fic but my heart is too heavy even after a week lol and my ass too people pleaser-ish to write allat. (i haven't seen last night's ep yet bc this weekend has been ass!!) so, instead, have this piece because peepaw deserves love and a good fuck with his glasses on! (shout out to my joel miller playlist, u saved me girl) (also girl why did i battle with this like for four days lmaoooo not me posting it 9 seconds before midnight)

Joel Miller is a busy man.

All of Jackson seems to need him. Be it his neighbours, with a broken faucet or be the council, for his skills in construction, or even Maria and Tommy, when they wanted some time alone and he got to be the fun uncle for a couple of hours. Even Ellie, who didn't need him, as she liked to remind him, yet he still found himself in her garage, where she moved despite his reluctance, dusting off shelves or the forgotten guitar in a corner, all to feel useful for the one who he cared for the most.

That spot was debatable, thought. There was his brother, his niece, maybe Maria, Ellie, recently Dina and well, you.

You. Sweet you. Town's favorite girl. A complete dream. The girl next door embodied. Looks that aim to kill. It killed him. So damn perfect he can't help but wonder why, of all Jackson, you'd choose brooding old Joel Miller.

The one you'd give your smiles to, because even if you shared it to the world, your reserved your best for him only. His patrol partner, the beauty of the snowed-in landscape barely rivaling your own. Who you'd give your hours, always appearing when he needed you most, eyes open wide with that shine of theirs it was impossible to resist, not to trust. He had been a faithless man for too long, wandering in the dark. Eyes closed. Then came Ellie, and it was gone, coming back the days when Sarah was his babygirl. But it returned when she pushed him away, but you had stepped in, not as a replacement but as an oath. Something to hold on.

To believe.

In anything. In you. In the us, silent but strong. Watchful, like the stars shinning above in the sky, twinkling as the sound of your laugh when you and him would watch them, sitting on his roof. He let this things happen, let his guard down and allowed himself to be childish and soft, even if his joints ached when he got up and he could fall. But you were there, and falling... It didn't sound bad.

(He knew you'd be there to catch him, anyway. Even if you weren't that strong and he wasn't exactly... well, featherweight)

Right now, he's working. Not for Jackson, but or you. Furrowed brow and shoulders slumped over his table at the workshop, concentrated, his glasses perched on his nose. He hates them, another reminder of the time passed by, yet there's no option. At least not if he wants to give you the very best.

Ah, yes. His latest project. A little wood carving. Doesn't have a shape yet, like your relationship. He chuckles to himself, feeling silly. What where labels anymore in this world, anyway? Still, he can't fanthom the nature of it. It sounded more like a perverted old man's fantasy, if he's being honest, the glances thrown his way from townsfolk a little cruel reminder. You're no good, you'd jokingly sing that one song and, despite the judgment, he'd smile. For you, anything.

Like the figurine. Joel finally sees it take shape. And then there's a knock in the door. Sharp. Same as yesterday, and as the year before ever since he's had you like this.

"Come in" he says, not looking up as you enter.

He's too focused, voice sounding gruff for the long hours of silence since he sat down with an idea in mind; pounding heart, trembling hands.

"Hey, Joel"

He takes his glasses off, placing them on the table, before standing up to greet you. He crosses the short distance and wraps his arms around you in a tender hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He smells like wood and sweat. His musk lingers, so does his tight embrace. As if you'd dissappear if he didn't.

"Missed ya', sweet girl" he mumbles, voice muffled.

You giggle a bit. "I was gone for an hour. Are you getting clingy on me, Miller?"

You loved to tease him. Bad habit of yours. He lets out a low chuckle that rumbles on his chest and against your skin. He pulls back from the hug, yet his arms now drop to your waist, because he's addicted to keeping you close.

"Too damn long" he protests, carrying his southern accent within.

"I love when that Texan drawl slips in" you sigh, poking his cheek. He leans into your touch, like a touch-starved puppy. You then look at him, pouting your lips with a small frown. "Hey, and your glasses?"

"Huh?" he looks at the pair, sitting on the table. Forgotten. "Over'ere. For?"

You shrug. Joel shoots you a suspicious look. "Darlin', why you so interested in my glasses?"

You avert his gaze. The floor is more interesting now.

"Honey... Look at me. S'okay if you don't wanna-"

"I like how you look when you wear them" you finally blurt out, too fast and too quiet.

He's taken back by that. Eyes wide, probably written all over his face. Yet you refuse to look at him. He tips your chin up, so you can meet his gaze. It's soft, making your legs wobbly.

"Is that so?" he asks, teasingly. He still can't believe you actually like them. "You like when old men wear them glasses, baby?"

"Hhm, yeah" you hum. "More if it's you"

His heart skips a beat at your response. Fuck. He's gone soft, too soft. He feels his face heat up, chuckling in an attempt to cover it. Then, runs a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the base of his neck, a tell-tale sign he's feeling awkward. Flustered, even.

"You gon' give me a heart attack, honey. 'M too old for ya' to say things like that"

"Aw, old man can't take a compliment?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. Then, you stand up on your tiptoes to whisper on his ear. "You're cute when you blush"

Joel's sure his face has gone redder, breath hitching as well. Still, he manages to put his arms around your waist, holding you close.

"You're real bad" he grumbles, though there's no bite on his tone. He hides his face again in the crook of your neck. "And I'm not blushing"

You giggle, patting his head lightly as your fingers trace his now long hair. If it didn't drive you wild...

"Then stop hiding"

Joel relaxes under your touch. "You're trouble. I'm serious 'bout the heart attack"

"No" you exaggerate, rocking him slightly. "Don't die"

He looks up at you, smirking as he groans with fake annoyance.

"If you keep that up, I might do"

"Then who will I bore with my failed recipes and gossip?"

"Thankfully, not me"

You groan. "Oh, shut up you old man"

You're always calling him that. Not that he minds, he knows you're not doing it with malice, but sometimes it annoys him. For example, today.

"Well, you chose 'tis old man so don't go complainin', honey"

You huff. "Unfortunately, I love this old man with his old-man ways. Like your woodcarving"

After saying so, you take a small peek over his figure, still drapped over your chest and neck, to the table behind. "Speaking of, can I see what you're doing?"

He looks back, where he's left the figurine unnattended after your arrival. Lets go of you, taking a step back so you get a better look.

"Sure, darlin'. Go'head"

Joel thinks he's good at hiding the nervousness in his voice as you approach the table. He crosses and uncrosses his arms, anxiously.

"Your glasses" almost in a reflex, passing them to him before seeing what's on the table. "Can you wear them, Joel? Pretty please"

He takes the glasses from your hands, fingers brushing. It may be that or your request that make his heart jump. You can see some hesitation on him before he puts them on. Looking down at you, smirking, Joel smiles.

"There ya' go, sweet girl. Happy now?" he asks, a hint of huskiness in his voice.

"So much better" you tap them lightly, "and so is your vision"

Joel let's out a small chuckle, grinning like a fool. Honestly, he loves the attention.

(He's never going to admit it out loud, though)

"You do know how'da flatter an old man, huh"

You smirk, moving to the table again. "Oh, I love flattering him. Now, show me what you're working on"

There's a block of wood on the center. Cut sharp. Perfectly. He's been obssesive with it, maybe. There's a sketch, and the figurine only has been carved at the bottom, where a tail begins to take shape.

"I know am not an artist, but I tried"

You remain silent, making him a little nervous.

"S'a deer" he explains, gruffly, looking into your eyes for a reaction.

"A deer? Like, Bambi?" you ask in awe, softly tracing the wood. Your words get stuck, like honey. Sweet but sticky. "Joel..."

His heart swells a bit at your tone, expression soft as he recognizes admiration in your tone.

"Yeah, like damn Bambi" he murmurs, hands itchy. First, he shoves them on his pockets, just to take them out and place them on his hips instead, his jacket now open, the silhoutte of his tummy under his shirt showing, the flannel stretched on the middle. He watches you closel as you face him again.

"Is it- Is it for me?" you ask in that voice that, goddamn it, makes Joel want to give you the whole world if he could.

He slowly nods, a sheepish expression on his face.

"Yeah" he admits, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "S' for ya"

Then looks away, feeling vulnerable for some reason. But your lips quiver, and before he can register, you throw yourself at him, hands around his neck, body practically swinging. He stumbles a bit, yet manages to catch you alright.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you gush, peppering his cheek with kisses. "I know it's not even done but, wow. Thank you, Joel!" an adorable squeal leaves your mouth, and as soon as that is out, your lips find his to leave a sweet kiss on his mouth. When you calm down, your voice goes soft. "It's... No one had ever done something like this for me"

He's clearly taken by surprise by your affection outburst, his heart swelling at your reaction and giddyness. He's also a bit overwhelmed, kissed cheeks now a pretty flushed pink. There's something so warm and fond on his eyes as he looks down on you, cupping your cheek after your final kiss.

"S'nothin', sweet girl. You're welcome"

"You're so special, Joel. Did you know that?" you whisper, leaning into his touch while closing your eyes.

Good. He's probably a mess right now, his heart clenching on his chest, a mix of emotions washing over him. God, he hates getting compliments, but yours always stirred things he long ago thought dead.

"Special, huh?" he grumbles while sporting a half-smile. "I reckon that's you"

You smirk. "We can both be special, then. There's always room for two"

He runs his thumb over your cheek, chuckling a bit. "Deal. But you're a bit more"

"Oh, you want to compete?" you tease.

He smirks at the challenge, pulling you closer with a tight arm around your waist.

"Damn right I do. Y'know I like winnin'. 'Sides, 'm more than willin' to play if it means ya' get competitive 's well. You're cute when you challenge me, baby"

You feign hurt. "I'm always cute, how dare you"

"Oh, forgive me" he chuckles. "At this age I tend to forget"

"Don't worry. I'll beat your ass so bad, you won't forget it"

He archs an eyebrow, amused. "Now you abuse the elder? Bad girl"

Your face flushes and core pulses.

"I can be a bit of a brat if I want to" you tease, fingers roaming over his warm chest. "Will you punish me for that?"

Joel's eyes darken on an instant. There's a shadow of desire coating his brown when a low rumble escapes his throat. The air feels charged with a new found tension suddenly.

"Careful, sweet girl. You ain't know what you playin'"

He closes the gap between you, his body pressing against yours. His hands move from your waist to grip your hips, holding you against him.

"You're quite mouthy tonight, aren't 'cha?" he growls, his voice carrying a rough edge.

"Just to get what I want. Besides, your little project tug at my hearstrings" you quip. "And something else"

"Oh, yeah? You gon' tell me what's that?"

You smirk. "What do you think it is?"

He hums. "I'd rather hear you say it"

"That's not fair" you pout your lips.

He chuckles, "Nothin' ever is fair, I reckon. But you're a troublesome little thing, ain't ya'?"

You send him a little flirtatious wink.

"I am looking for some trouble tonight"

He's not amused by your words. You're a greedy insatiable little thing sometimes. So far, Joel's been able to deflect all of your attempts. The farthest you'd ever made it was when you straddled his lap on the old couch of his workshop, and even then, he limited his reactions to grunts and seeing you come. God. It had been tortuous waiting for you to go so he could piston his aching cock to the memory of your little sounds.

"Ain't that interesting?"

"Oh, but it is" you're quick to counter, "and I take you and your little friend are into it"

His breath hitches, eyes and cheeks burning alike with intensity. The heat travels down his spine, straight to his throbbing dick, the reason he's been caught red-handed.

"You surely are looking for trouble" his voice reduced to a rough gasp.

Joel's struggling to maintain the control he so prided himself in, you not making it any easier with your teasing. "Y'a temptress, doll. Know that?"

"Is my magic working?" you ask, batting your eyelashes.

He's resolve is quickly crumbling, self-control tossed to the bin in the corner. Joel loves as much as he hates your big innocent yet teasing eyes. No wonder he was carving you out a deer.

"Damnit, sweet girl. Y'know it's. You gettin' me all worked up in'ere"

"Take me upstairs, then. I'm sure we can find a solution"

He can feel the heat radiating off of you, eyes darkening at the invitation.

"Doll, you're playing with fire here" he warns, despite the obvious effect your words are having on him.

"It's fine. I don't mind the burn"

He knows he's done, Joel's growl an indicator of his control snapping completely.

"Damn it" he mutters before his lips crash against yours. It's heated. Desperate. His hands grip your hips, holding you tighlty against him while he devours your mouth like a starved man, as if you didn't kiss just this morning, before going on your patrol.

You moan into the kiss, Joel swallowing your sounds as if they were his own. Fuck. His mind goes fuzzy when you grab his face with both of your hands, deepening the kiss. He thinks he's backed you against a wall, by the small Thud sound. He's lost: on the way your lips move, on the way they taste, in the sounds they make.

You pull out first. Joel thinks you belong in a museum: with your lips, swollen and parted. It's too your dilatated eyes and chest, rising and falling. He can't resist and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingers tenderly brushing your soft skin.

"Aren't you the prettiest man in Jackson?" you blurt out, adoring.

He's not used to being praised like this. Not even by you, even after months of doing so. Always feels like the first time. And then, he feels stupid: for blushing too much, heart skipping too many beats, chest clenching too hard. Like a damn highschooler. Joel's as embarrassed as content that you make him feel all sort of ways.

"Easy, sugar" he mutters, voice gruff. "You gon' give 'tis old man an ego"

"No need to blame me when you can look at yourself in the mirror" you're quick to reply. "I believe that's enough reason to give you some ego"

He's smirking at your response. Yeah, he definitely loves when you stroke his ego. Especially as of late, where he feels... rather, old.

"Oh. Oh" you begin to tease through giggles, playfully hitting his chest. He huffs, catching where this is going. "Do you like it when I call you pretty?"

Joel's cheeks flush a little at your question, his stoic nature faltering a bit at your teasing.

"Maybe" he mumbles, eyes avoiding yours. "But don't let it get to your head, doll"

"Too late" you murmur, wrapping once more your hands on his neck. "You're pretty, Joel. Especially when you flush"

Pretty isn't exactly a word he'd used to describe himself. But when you call him pretty, out of that sweet mouth of yours, his name along as well? You can call him however the fuck you want.

He can feel his body reek out vulnerability, and he hates himself a bit for getting weaker. He tried, really did, but his walls had been down for a while. His defenses had crumbled. He was pathetic, lonely, and sad. Yet here you were, looking at him with your big adoring eyes like he was the only thing that mattered. Joel lets your words sink for a moment, letting out a small sigh, not being able to deny it feels good. Maybe it does matter.

"You're too damn sweet, sugar. Y'know that?" he mutters, finger tracing lightly your hip.

You smile, sickenly saccharine. "I'm aware. Trust me, I have a cute grumpy boyfriend to remind me so"

His expression softens even more at your easy loving. He's so fucking putty in your hands, Tommy would laugh in his face.

"Y'got me wrapped 'round your damn finger, sweet girl" Joel whispers in his usual gruff voice, but it's laced with affection.

You raise a finger, moving it in front of his face like one would with a bone and a dog.

"You mean this?"

Joel watches your finger with amused eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. It scares and excites him how easy it's to fall under your spell. With soft movements, he reaches and captures your hand, bringing it to his mouth. He then presses a gentle kiss to your finger, eyes never leaving yours.

"Yeah, doll. This one" his voice is husky, "All of 'em. Y' got me good"

You gulp under the intensity of his gaze. "Don't do that..."

He smirks at your reaction, finally feeling like he has some leverage. He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as he holds you even closer, your chest pressing against his. You even feel the soft curve of his stomach over your own.

"Don't do what?" he asks, playing coy. "We're not backin' down now, are we, sugar?"

At your lack of answer, cheeks bright, he huffs, hand moving to gently cup your chin. Joel's brown eyes lock with yours when he speaks again.

"So, what now? Or did y' just come by to check up on your ol' man?"

"No. That's not what I want"

His smirk grows as the dark shade on his eyes. He's not dumb, of course he knows what you want. Just wants to hear you say it.

"What'da ya' want, then?"

You pout your lips, whining.

"Joel... Just give me what I want"

He leans in a bit closer, voice gruff and filled with desire. His thumb strokes your chin softly.

"Depends" he grumbles. "You gon' ask nicely?"

"On my very best behavior" you raise your hand, "I swear it"

He smirks, letting go of your face. "Good girl"

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against his ear. His heart skips a beat, a small shiver running down his spine at your lips ghosting his skin.

"I am" you kiss his earlobe. "For you. Just you" you leave a little bite on it. A low rumble escapes his throat. You lick the red little spot to soothe it. "Your best girl"

"My only girl" he's quick to reply. You're up in the air in a minute, his hands supporting you as he carries you, your legs dangling at his sides. It amazed you how strong he continued to be, despite his age. Strong men make good times, you suppose.

You giggle a bit. "Oh, Joel. I'm so lucky"

His heart races at your words. All this banter fills him with a warm fondness, making him feel young again.

"I reckon that's me, doll"

Your noses brush after his comment, in silence. You close your eyes, as so does he. You break the aphony first.

"Joel"

"Yes?"

"I want you to have me"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest swelling with a mixture of emotion. No one has ever spoken to him with such tenderness, even with what your request implies. It's overwhelming.

"Ya' want me?" he asks gruffly, his voice hoarse with desire and emotion.

Fuck. It's happening. What he avoided so badly, but right now? His mind has gone blank, and when it starts working again, it's filled with lewd images of sweet you. Jesus. If he had doubts he was going to hell before, now he's certain. At least, he got heaven on Earth with you.

"Y' sure 'bout that, sugar?" he asks gruffly, his voice husky. "You're so damn young, deserve someone better"

You nod, slowly, caressing his cheek, your voice just barely above a whisper.

"I've never been more sure"

He takes a small moment to gather himself, his eyes never leaving yours. He's suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable, and it scares him as much as it excites him.

"I mean, would've I done all this if I didn't?"

Joel lets out a small laugh. "You little devious minx. I'll give ya' that"

"Give me what?" you tease.

His lips crash into yours as your hands find his face, holding as you deepen the kiss. His fingers dig in your thighs, making you moan and a spark of electricity run through his spine. He lets out a low moan in response to yours, pulling away from your lips momentarily, his eyes darkening with want. Joel looks at you for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

He lets out a low rumble, his voice gruff and rough.

"Yeah" he mutters. "Keep talkin' like that, and you'll get more than a kiss"

"So, I'll keep talking then"

"Y' little brat" he grumbles, voice dripping with frustration. "If ya' don't stop, I'm gonna..."

Joel trails off, his eyes dark with promises left unspoken.

"Say it" you challenge. "Or are you backing down?"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of self control, despite loving your teasing and how it's driving him wild. He lets out a small laugh, his mind swirling with desire and frustration.

"Y' gon' pay for that later, darlin'" he threatens gruffly, his eyes locked on yours.

"How about now?"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your question, the idea sending a surge of desire through him. He can feel his self-control slipping away, your words pushing him closer to the edge.

He lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his hand tightening around your chin. His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of desire and anticipation in them.

"Sure you wanna know, doll?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

"All of it" too eager. He can't help but smile, resolve unraveling. "Don't spare any details"

"And you gon' be a good girl?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

"Didn't I promise so?"

Those simple words are all it takes for Joel's resolve to finally crumble. Fuck what other people think. Fuck his own fears. He can't resist you any longer, the desire within him reaching boiling point.

"Shit, doll" he rasps, voice rough. "With words like that I'm just gon' give y'anythin' you want"

"Please, Joel" you utter his name in a little whimper.

"Please what?"

Loves to see you beg. Has imagined you squirming, like you did when his fingers would drift too close to your aching cunt. Straddling feels so stupid now, when he could've have sweet you like this a long ago.

"Fuck me"

The sound of your whimper goes straight to Joel's throbbing dick. He's completely undone, powerless against your desires.

"That's right, good girl" he rasps, his voice gruff and rough. You let a little whimper at the praise. "I'll give y'anythin' you want, angel"

He carries you upstairs while you giggle at his huffs, teasing him when his knees creak like the old wooden stairs. Still, he insists on carrying you when you offer to walk, maybe trying to prove his strength to you or something. When his face turns a deep shade of red, you can't tell if it's out of shame or effort.

"Taking me to your bed? I've never seen your bedroom" you muse out loud, once he reaches the final stair.

Despite the intensity of the moment, a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"There's always a first" he rasps.

Your nose brushes against his cheek. "Can't wait"

The door opens when Joel kicks it lightly. It's very him, you think, as soon as it comes on view. There's a guitar in the corner, you notice too.

"It's very you" you say out loud now. He drops you on the bed, making you giggle. "It's simple and cozy"

He's still trying to calm his racing heart, but it's difficult when he's hovering over you, so close to your body, he can feel the heat of it. Can even smell your arousal in the air.

"'M not sure simple's a nice thing t' say 'bout someone"

For a moment, the room goes quiet. He hesitates to continue.

"There's just... somethin' I need to discuss with ya' before we get carried 'way"

Your doe eyes look up to him. "Yes?"

Joel takes a deep breath.

"I've... It's been a while, y'know, since... I'm just used to bein' alone. In that sense. And I... I haven't been with someone in a long time"

His voice trails off, a vulnerability settling in his expression.

"Joel..." you whisper, sitting as he backs up a bit.

"'M not good with people" he admits gruffly. "I tend to scare 'em off"

You extend your hand to softly trace over his stubble. Joel leans into your touch, his expression softening, your presence providing a sense of comfort. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

"You're not scaring me. I'm here"

His mouth tastes like sand when he swallows.

"Yeah, but I-"

"Yes?"

He pauses for a moment, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

"'M not exactly young anymore, sugar"

"And what's bad about not being young?" you look at him, voice soft. "Are you afraid your knees will crack when you go down on me or what?"

He lets out a clipped laugh. The tension in the room lightens a little, and he's grateful for your attempt to lighten the mood.

"Oh, very funny, sweetheart." he grumbles, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "And no, 's not that. I can eat ya' just fine" Joel spits, making you laugh at his cocky demeanor. But then he goes quiet again. "It's just... 'M not as young and good lookin' as I used to be" he finally blurts out.

Why is he even saying this things out loud. He didn't care before. He thought about himself better before. Yeah, before. What is it about the now that he cares, worse, admits out loud his insecurities?

Your expression morphs into one of sympathy. God, he hates it. Looks away from your warmth and pity. No, not pity. Compassion, like Joel was some sort of wounded old dog.

"Joel" you close the distance, tracing his face tenderly, drawing little heart shapes over his stubble. "That's not true. You're as handsome as back in the day, baby. I didn't meet you then, I know that, and this may be biased, but I'll choose the old you always, my pretty boy"

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his expression softening even more. He's not used to such tender affection, and it's overwhelming.

He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes never leaving yours. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and it touches him more than he can express. Words were never his thing, anyway.

"Y/n" he mutters gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. He even used your name. "You're too good fo' me"

"I just... I think it's because I love you"

He's taken back, almost falling in top of you, yet quickly regaining his posture. Still, his heart jumps into his throat, dangerously close to falling out from his mouth at your sudden confession.

It's been almost a year of being his and him being yours, yet those three words hadn't even been close to being said. Joel never thought he'd get to hear them again from the lips of a lover. Yet here you were, so damn young and sweet, letting them roll off your tongue in a soft echo of your loving. Safe. Like a home. You were his home.

He looks at you, his expression a mixture of surprise and vulnerability.

"Y'... Y' love me?" his voice rasping a bit as he questions you.

"It's okay if you don't say it back" you laugh quietly, probably to make him feel better. Always thinking about the others, you pure thing.

He looks you in the eye, his hand still cupping your cheek. There's a warm tenderness in his expression, despite his gruff tone.

"No. Don't think that" he goes quiet for a moment, as if the weight of your declaration was sinking him. He lets out a shaky breath, as if unsure if the world around him was real, his eyes locked on yours. "I... love you too"

Your eyes widen, a smile appearing instantly on your face as it lights up. His heart swells immediately at the sight of your happiness, and all he wishes for is to see it everyday. When he wakes up, to be first, and when he goes to sleep, your face the last thing to see. To be there, even as he closes his eyes and dozes off to sleep. Your giddy giggles are so fucking contagious, a rebellious smile creeps up his lips.

"You do?"

His chest tightens, vulnerable. Filled with an affection never known before.

"Yeah, sweet girl" he mutters gruffly. "I do. I love you"

Your smile is probably the most beautiful thing in the world, pleased and vicious like a cat's.

"Now, if you love me so dearly as you say, please" your lips part in a shaky breath, "have me"

So damn impatient. He may have spoiled you too much.

"Ya' want me t' have ya', honey?" he asks gruffly, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide down your thighs, tainting untouched skin.

You squirm, nodding eagerly. "Please. I want you so bad it hurts"

His voice, so soft and low, may have passed as a grunt. But you saw. Heard. Noticed. Like the way his face frowned, eyebrows furrowed as if you just told him you were sick. As if he wanted to be the cure to the disease he gave you.

"Tell me where it hurts"

Demanding in a tender way. Almost benevolent. Not even hurting you, but wanted to take every pain of yours away. You didn't deserve not even a scratch of this angry dirty world ruining your soft heart.

You point to the middle of your legs, parting them slowly open. His eyes turn glassy as he tugs your jeans down, and the first sight he gets, is your underwear, damp with your sticky arousal. He gulps, eyes darkening with desire.

"Please. There" you whimper.

"I've got eyes" Joel lets out a small, gruff chuckle. "You're impatient, know that?"

He cups your chin, eyes locked on yours. His breath is shallow, voice raspy and low.

"Don't worry. Lemme help"

He places himself in between your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties.

"Gon' show ya' what'a man with experience has to offer, al'ight? Now, spread y'r legs open for me" he commands softly. "Lemme see that beautiful, needy cunt"

He pulls your panties down, his throat dry when he peels the drenched fabric down your legs, revealing glistening folds. He can see how swollen and puffy they were. The sight makes his mouth water and his cock pulse with desire.

Joel lowers his head, knees and bed creaking, inhaling the sweet intoxicating smell of your arousal, his facial hear ghosting over your trembling skin until it tickles. Your nervous giggling get stuck in your throat when Joel buries his face between your thighs, tongue delving into your slick folds to lap up the sweet nectar that dripped from your cunt. He groans at the taste, as if savoring the best meal to exist on Earth.

"So sweet" he growls, voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. His mouth latches onto your clit, suckling the throbbing needy bud as his tongue flicks over it. "Too damn sweet"

It still hurts. It's across your face.

"Gon' help with 'tis. Just wait" he thrusts two fingers knuckle-deep into your cunt, pumping them in and out, curling them to stroke a spot that reduces you to a quiet muffled mess. "S' right, sugar" he praises. "Wanna see you come f' y'r old man"

The feeling of having you here, so needy and responsive, is doing things to him. Joel's lost on the way you beg, his name out of your parted lips in a secretive manner, as if reinforcing the nature of your desires and needs. How this moment was only yours, a whole new world past his door, creeping up the sweaty sheets, making way to his lonley heart, poisoned by the infectious warmth of your own.

He could feel your thighs trembling around his head, cute cries and whimpers serving as a motivation to bring you to the edge. Joel devours you, sucking like a starved man, flicking and lashing at your gushing cunt mercilessly with his tongue. It's experience, he made damn sure you knew about that. He also pumps his fingers faster, plunging deeper into your clutching heat.

"Come on, doll" he urges, voice a low rumble against your sex, "wanna feel 'tis tight little pussy spasm 'round ma' fingers"

"Joel!" you moan out loud, hands clawing into his arms for support.

He can feel your body tensing, your tight walls fluttering around the digits plunging in and out of you. Joel knew you were close, so he sucks your clit with fervent intensity as he curled his fingers just right, stroking that special spot that made your toes curl.

"That's it, y/n" he growls, eyes flashing up to meet yours, dark and intense with lust. "Drench me, y' sweet thing"

With a keening cry, you feel your body burst. Your back archs as your body quakes and shudders, your orgasm washing over you. Joel feels your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers, hot liquid gushing out to coat his hand and drip down his wrist.

Joel's a gentleman, languidly licking and suckling as you ride out of your high. Once your breathing slows, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to clean off your essence. He meets your gaze, eyes hooded with the same hunger as your own.

"Like I said" he praises softly, making your spent cunt throb. "You're too damn sweet, sugar"

You giggle. "You're insane"

He leans in, planting a soft fluttering kiss to your quivering lips.

"Just f' ya'"

There's only one thing left to do. You know. He knows. You both know. But the way he takes in your pause, as if you're going to discover the most powerful secret, makes you believe there is so much more. His expression turns curious at your deliberate choice of aphony.

"Tell me what ya' want now. I could give ya' the world if 's what ya' want"

You avoid his gaze, playing with the collar of his flannel.

"I need you"

He lets out a clipped chuckle. "That I know, dirty one"

You roll your eyes, playfully.

"We're both aware. But it's not that, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Can I see you, please?"

His eyes meet your expectant ones. His voice is gruff but soft, his desire for you mixing with a hint of vulnerability.

"Y' wanna see me?"

You nod as he gulps harshly, mouth tasting like sand.

"Can I take off your clothes?"

Joel's heart skips a beat again at your request, a mix of desire and vulnerability warring within him. It's too revealing and intimate, but God knows he just wants to give you all you want.

There's a hint of huskiness to his vulnerable voice. Unsure.

"Yeah" a beat. "You can"

You start unbuttoning slowly, licking your lips with eager trembling hands and pupils blown wide. Like a child on Christmas, knowing they're opening what they asked for. What they wanted. What they wrote at the top of their list. Your slow, deliberate unbuttoning has him practically holding his breath.

"Joel..." you bite your lip, removing his final button. Finally. "You're...."

Joel's heart stammers at the sight of your eyes on him, your obvious desire heightening his own. Yet, he avoids your stare as you reveal his bare chest, pose faltering a bit as if his strength succumbs to your hungry stare. He gulps under the intensity gaze, feeling so fucking vulnerable. It shakes him to his core, foreign to all this fuzzy things that make him sick.

He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, his voice gruff and raw.

"Yeah…?"

"Perfect" you whisper out loud, his whole world crumbling down.

Joel's heart skips a beat at your words, his chest tightening with a mix of vulnerability and affection. Despite it, he feels self-conscious.

"Perfect…?" he teases, a hint of a dumb smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah" you hum. "So pretty"

A word that doesn't fit in Joel's world. Feels off-putting. He has never been called such, but once it falls past your lips, coated in adoration, it feels as if it's the only truth ever. His heart skips another beat, body responding to your words.

You can tell he can't believe you're saying those words about him by the hint of disbelief in his eyes.

"Joel"

He lets out a gruff huff in response.

"Look at me"

"Pretty" Joel repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't you believe me?"

Joel's heart skips another beat, the vulnerability growing stronger. He's still not used to hearing compliments about his body by you, by anyone at all. It's making his head spin a little.

He can't quite meet your eyes as he responds.

"Take it easy on me, sweet girl. I ain't exactly in m' prime"

"Joel. Look at me" your voice a little firmer this time.

Joel takes a moment, his heart racing. He can't resist your plea, even if he hates feeling vulnerable. Slowly, he meets your eyes.

His voice is almost quiet. "I'm lookin'"

"Good. Do you want me to know what I'm looking at?" you extend your hand to reach his face, brushing a strand of hair that's fallen to his forehead. "Your greys" then, you tug his bottom lip down, "your lips", you circle the wrinkles around his eyes, "your warm eyes" and afterwards, your fingers dwindle on his nose, "just... all of your face: scars, spots and wrinkles. It leaves me breathless"

Joel's heart races as you speak, your words sinking in. He feels seen, in a way he's rarely felt before. Its messing with his mind.

"You describin' what you seein'?" his voice hoarse with emotion. It sounds far away, as if it didn't belong to him.

His lips part as your hand moves down, grazing his neck and his chest before landing on his belly. The sincerity in your eyes is making him feel even more vulnerable, and Joel can feel himself crumbling under your intense stare and firm hands.

"No, I'm describing what I love"

He looks at you, eyes filled with vulnerability and uncertainty.

"Y/n"

It was like being peeled, layer by layer. He hated how he was built now. Rough. Too sharp around edges. Soft on ones he wished he wasn't.

"All of you"

He chuckles, but it's a defeated dying sound. Almost bitter.

"That's impossible, honey"

"What's impossible is not to love all of you"

He gulps, throat raw but unable to say anything.

"Please. Let me love you"

As if he hadn't already hand you his soul. Swallowed all of your words with a feverish desperation, placed them inside a space that had gone cold with time, now feeling like a warm home where he finally belonged.

"My sweet girl..."

You feel Joel pressing you up against the mattress, his bigger body pinning you in place with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hands are everywhere, roaming over your naked curves with a fevered intensity, a low growl of frustration escaping his lips when you break the kiss to take some air.

"You can do with me anything you want"

Joel's breath stops. With a trembling but sure hand, he reaches out, his calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive flesh until your nipples strain against the cloth of your bra. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as you feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against your stomach.

Joel leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers. 

"Anythin'?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire as you nod, desperate. 

But then, he's laughing, as if pleased with your eagerness. Amused.

"That much? Oh, baby, you that desperate for 'tis ol' man? That bad you want me?"

You whine, at loss for words, the throb too painful to think straight. Joel laughs again, but it's devoid of malice.

"No, don't just nod. I wanna hear you say it, y/n. Wanna hear ya' beg fo' me like the desperate sweet little thin' y'are"

You've never been one for begging, but something about the way he's looking at you, the raw, unbridled hunger in his eyes, makes you want to give him everything he wants and more.

"Please, Joel" you breathe, voice reduced to a needy tremor, "I need you so bad, Joel, please. I need you inside me. I want you filling me, claiming me, in every way possible"

"My sweet girl" he coos, followed by a flurry of heated kisses and desperate groping. You barely have a chance to catch your breath before he's pressing you up with more insistence, his body pinning you in place with a hunger that leaves you desperately aching for more. "S'pretty"

Joel's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of you, drinking in every inch of your glistening skin. He smirks at the desperation written all over your face, something wicked and tender circling inside his brown eyes.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers huskily. "Ts' it, doll. Keep on beggin'. Lemme hear how much y' need ma' cock 'nside 'tis tight little cunt"

You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily as you feel his fingers slide down to brush against your sensitive clit, a wave of arousal coursing through you.

"Please, please, please, Joel" you whimper, your voice high and needy as you grind yourself shamelessly against his hand. "I'm so wet for you. Please, I'm begging you, make me yours"

He growls. "S'eager, huh? Who would've thought ya' were such'a dirty girl for 'tis ol' dick? Just had ya' bein' all lovey dovey a second ago and now y'are beggin' fo' me to ruin 'tis pretty pussy, baby?"

He quickly sheds what's left of his clothes, revealing to your wide eyes the thick, hard length of his cock, springing free and bobbing heavily against his soft belly. Alright, you had some thoughts about dating a much older man, even if Joel seemed the type of guy to be doted, given his energy. You're glad to be proven wrong in the very best way.

"Fuck, Joel" you breathe, licking your lips as you imagine the taste of him on your tongue. "You're so big"

His cheeks color a pretty pink, sweat beads adorning his forehead. The heat of his body envelopes you like a furnace.

"Now I truly believe ya' like what ya' seein'" he chuckles, "such'a greedy little thing" a beat. "S' fucken hungry for ma' cock. Don't worry, baby. 'M gon' give it to you, nice and slow, until you're screamin' fo' me to let you come"

Joel settles between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, effectively swallowing your needy whimpers.

"M' gon' take real good care of what's mine" in that southern drawl that drives you crazy. Hungry. Poisoned with a ravenous desire to possess every inch he can reach of your body. For everyone to see. Know. For all the prying stares. Judgeful. To appreciate in secret under the watchful gaze of the weak sunrays that filter through the courtains of his bedroom.

He then leans to take one of your nipples on his mouth, suckling and teasing the rosy peak, lapping the sensitive bud with his tongue, his hand kneading and squeezing the soft flesh of your breast. You arch into his touch, a symphony of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as he works your body.

At the same time, Joel begins to slowly, teasingly push forward, the thick head of his cock parting your slick folds and sinking inch by tortuous inch into your tight heat.

"Joel!" you gasp, your nails sinking down on the soft expanse of his broad back as you take in his girth, walls clenching and fluttering around his size.

Joel's breaths come in harsh pants against your skin as he fights the urge to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust.

"Y'are so fucken tight" he grits out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't wanna hurt you, my little fawn. But ya' feel s' good, sweet girl. S' perfect 'round ma' cock."

You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, using the leverage to rock your hips up against his, taking him a little deeper with each desperate roll. He's impressed by your hunger, your desire fueling further his consuming own.

"Joel" you mewl, voice breaking with need, "I can take it, please, I promise. I just need all of you, Joel. Please, fuck me hard and deep until I can't think of anything but the feeling of your cock inside of me"

With a feral growl, Joel surrenders to your plea, slamming his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt inside you. A scream that sounds like his name tears from your throat at the sudden, intense sensation of all of him devouring your from inside, your body convulsing with the force of his thrust.

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful strokes that shake the bed frame and echo through the room. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with the sounds coming out of your mouths.

"Please, please. I wanna come, please"

Tears well in your eyes at the insistence that rocks your body. Joel's eyes widen, perhaps in surprise, this new and strange, yet, his cock twitching makes this all the more intriguing. Arousing even.

"S' you cryin' over my cock?"

You deny it, but the salty trails have started to pool down your cheeks, your prettu fluttering eyelashes damp. Joel gulps, feeling blood rushing to his cock again.

"Don't worry, little fawn" doesn't know why but his tongue runs across your tear-smeared face, the taste of your damp skin, musk and sweat strong, make his mind go numb. "I think ya' look pretty when ya' cry"

Joel feels your velvet walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock, signaling your coming climax. He doubles his efforts, slamming into you with a wild, primal intensity that steals your breath away.

"That's it, sweet girl" Joel growls, voice ragged with lust as he feels your body tensing beneath him. "Come for me, y/n. I wanna feel you comin' undone on ma' cock, screamin' ma' name as I fill you up nice"

You're a sight to savor in, like basking the first rays of sunlight on the morning. Like his bitter coffee on his favorite mug. But you're sweet on the inside and the outside, he thinks as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing merciless circles over the sensitive nub. Joel is lost on you, he's aware, as he leans down to capture your lips in a consuming kiss. He just wants to have all of you, day and night, body and soul, in and out, because just a taste, and he's gone down the deep saccharine trails of your neck and quivering heart.

Your back arches as the pleasure becomes too intense to bear, your body convulsing uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you. You scream his name, you think, lost in a sea of desperate pleas and incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips.

Joel hilts himself deep inside you as your walls spasm and milk his cock, your release triggering his own, followed by a grunt akin to surrender, perhaps. To you, now fully his. This is the end, he thinks. Now, he's truly yours. God help her, the townsfolk say when you tell them Joel's your man, but when a hoarse shout of your name comes out of his mouth, pulses hot and hard as he grinds against you, you think this is all you need.

Fuck it.

This is what it feels like.

Joel collapses onto you, his bigger softer body blanketing you as he struggles to catch his breath.

"My sweet girl" he coos, peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands roaming over your curves with a gentle, reverent touch. You can feel his heart pounding against your own, when he whispers, voice low and sated. "Mine"

You can't help but laugh in awe. "Yes, Joel. Yours"

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes searching yours with a tenderness that makes your heart skip a beat. A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on the delicate line of your jaw.

"I know I said I was scared, before. That I've tried to push you 'way. God, y'are stubborn, know that? 'M just glad you ain't a quitter"

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss that makes your heart leap. It tastes bitter like grains and whiskey, but sweet with love and devotion. It's not only a spark between your lips, another of many, but a promise, burning with the same intensity the old coffee pot heats his coffee in the morning.

"Y'are my everything, y/n" your name pronounced like never before. Now ever since.

A heart. A home.

"So are you, Joel" his name in a fervent whisper. Born to be said like a prayer.

And for the first time in so long, Joel Miller feels the same thing he felt when he held Ellie close. I've got you, babygirl.

Hope.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @pedgito / dts: @joelscowgirl ⋆˚✿˖°

[navybrat817]

Just to See You Smile

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your emotions get the better of you at work, and someone just wants you to smile again.

Word Count: Over 1.1k

Warnings: Crying, bit of low self-esteem, fluff, sweetness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not in a great headspace at work (and won't be for the rest of the week), so I wrote this small thing. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It wasn't professional to cry at work. Letting your emotions get the better of you was something to do off the clock. You could usually grin and bear it on the bad days but today was more difficult than usual and you could explain why. Everything just felt heavy, like the weight of the world was pushing you into the ground until it buried you. Until you couldn't breathe. And you didn't make it to the bathroom in time before the tears came. 

At least no one saw you. 

Grabbing a tissue to wipe your face after a few minutes, you studied yourself in the mirror. While you didn't have a full breakdown, it would've been obvious to anyone looking at you that you cried thanks to your puffy eyes. Maybe if you kept your head down and buried yourself in your work for a bit no one would notice. It wasn't like anyone noticed you anyway. No one really talked to you outside of needing help with an issue. 

A reliable teammate, and nothing more. 

With a deep breath, you walked out of the bathroom and told yourself not to cry again until you got home. But you were so busy keeping your head down that you ran straight into a wall. Well, not a wall, but you did hit something solid. Firm. Warm. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” The soft baritone sent tingles down your spine. So did the gentle grip on your arms. “Are you okay?” 

Lifting your gaze, you gasped and stared into a pair of startling blue eyes. Your cheeks warmed under the intense focus. Jesus, you walked right into Bucky Barnes. Crying in the bathroom was bad enough, you had to crash right into a super soldier who smelled like heaven and looked like a god?

“I think so,” you answered, your eyes wide when he stepped back to assess you. For a moment, you pretended he was looking at you and holding you as if you mattered. “Really, I’m fine. It was my fault for running into you, so I’m sorry.”

Your heart nearly ceased to beat when he gave you a small smile. Did he realize how it lit up the blue of his eyes? He didn't smile much when he roamed the halls, but he spared a smile for you. “You’re more than welcome to bump into me.” 

“I… Really?” you asked, your cheeks hot all over again. Bucky knew your name, had repeated it back to you when he introduced himself to you, but he kept to himself when he wasn't on missions. Surely, he didn't want you bumping into him. He was just teasing, being nice. 

But what if he wasn't just being nice?

So many thoughts raced through your mind when his thumbs grazed your skin. “Yeah, really.” 

“Oh.” You giggled, a small sound, and it was nice to think that he was flirting with you.

That feeling didn't last long when his eyes filled with concern. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked, sweeping his gaze along your face. Had he figured out that you wept not too long ago? “You can tell me if you aren't.”

Your heart turned over at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn't asking just to ask, and it meant more than he knew that he wanted to know. But when you opened your mouth, ready to tell him that it was a rough day, you shut it just as quickly. He didn't need to hear about that. He had more important things to deal with than someone forgettable like you. 

After all, he was a hero and you were… well, you. 

“I just…” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Just what?”

You realized you were holding your breath with him so close and finally exhaled. “I just need to get back to work, Sergeant Barnes. That’s all.” You tried to smile at him, but he could likely see the strain behind it. Though you considered yourself invisible to many, he was too observant not to notice.

He stepped further away and let his hands fall to his sides. While he didn't look convinced by your answer, he respectfully didn't push it. “Call me Bucky,” he whispered.

“Bucky,” you whispered, tasting his name on your tongue.

“And I’m around if you ever want to talk. I don't mind,” he offered, gently brushing past you and making you shiver all over again. 

“Thanks,” you managed to say, turning to gaze after him. You may have checked him out, too, because you couldn't help yourself. Not when he wore those tactical pants so well. “Really, Bucky. Thank you. It means a lot,” you called after him. 

He didn't have to ask how you were doing or offer you anything, but he did. 

He stopped to give you another smile over his shoulder. “You're welcome,” he said. Your knees nearly gave out, but you smiled back before he walked around the corner. 

“What a man…” you whispered, fanning yourself and briefly forgetting that you were at work and that you had a job to do. 

As you straightened up and headed back to your desk, you spotted something that wasn't there before- a candy bar. Your favorite candy bar in fact. Intrigue filled you when you saw the note beside it, but you didn't recognize the handwriting. 

“Something sweet to put your sweet smile back on your face.”

You warmly smiled and hugged the candy bar and note to your chest. All this time you thought you were invisible, but someone cared and paid attention enough to leave a treat for you. The small gesture made a world of difference in your day, like Bucky offering you kindness. You selfishly wanted him to be the one who left the candy bar, too. 

A girl could dream. 

What you didn't realize was that Bucky was right around the corner, his heart racing and smiling to himself as you enjoyed your treat. You tried to blend in with your surroundings, but you stuck out to him in the most wonderful way. You had from the start. 

What you also didn't know was that he spotted your tears when you left your desk minutes ago, nor did you know that he rushed to get your favorite candy bar from the vending machine nearby while you were gone. He wasn't sure what upset you, but the sight of your tears broke his heart. He wished he would've had time to get flowers, but he hoped the small pick me up helped you feel a bit better. 

And maybe tomorrow if luck was on his side he could talk to you, treat you to lunch, and keep that sweet smile on your face. 

Look, I love the idea of Bucky leaving all sorts of treats and trinkets for you because he's awesome like that. Also, please be kind to yourself. You lovelies deserve good things. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

How would Bruce be affected after the kidnapped fic ?

So many people liked this fic, I have to do a follow-up post! But here's the post if you all want to see it again. Kidnapped fic

Reader is avoiding the bats at every chance they get. Like, you're not even 6 ft apart; isn't that enough? You need them far away from you. They're the reason you got kidnapped in the first place. You weren't a child of Bruce Wayne; if you weren't associated with him, this could have never happened. Not only that, you start to blame yourself. Like a lot, you think maybe if you were strong like Damian, you could have fought them off. Maybe if you didn't rely on them for almost everything, then you would have been safe. You're spending every waking moment and every hour with your mom. She's holding you tight, saying everything is going to be okay. She sleeps with you in your bedroom and never leaves your side. It's crazy how you feel so much safer with her than you'll ever feel with the bats. But since you're at a distance from them and won't even speak to them, their yandere tendencies are literally skyrocketing. Bruce is using the Batcomputer to find the goons that kidnapped you and ruin their entire lives. Dick is literally outside of your room asking—no, begging—for you to let him in. He leaves little notes at your door, trying his hardest for you to talk to him. At one point, he's going to bust down that door just to try and comfort you. Jason knows what it's like to be abandoned and forgotten. He did call you a spoiled brat, but he never really meant it. He's your big brother. Please let your big brother help you when you need him the most; he can relate to how you're feeling right now. He swears just let him protect you; he wants to be the one to save you, whether you like it or not. Tim is watching your every move. You finally feel confident enough to go out alone by yourself, but he's two steps behind you, staring. He had a nightmare that you were taken away again. He opens your door and watches you sleep for hours, just to make sure that you're still there. Duke is trying to help you gain confidence by going outside and being out at night, but every time he tries to hold your hand or keep you close, you pull away instantly. It breaks his heart to know that he has to keep you at arm's length because that's the only way you guys can connect. But don't worry; he'll be the night light in the city of darkness just for you. You and Damian have a tough relationship; really tough. But he just doesn't find it fair that you're confiding in Alfred or your mother or everybody else except him. When he tries to get close to you, you flinch away. He's not going to hurt you; he swears he's not. He may be the grandson of the demon head, but he's nothing like Ra's, and he's trying to prove that to you and to himself. It doesn't matter; he's chaperoning you no matter where you go, forcing you to hold his hand or stay close. As Robin, it's his job to keep people safe, especially the people he cares about, even if they don't know that he cares about them.

[leonalovesalot]

Freaky on camera I

Brother’sBestFriend!ArtDonaldson x Camgirl!Reader

18+ MinorsDNI

wc: 2.5k

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

Being a student athlete while maintaining a high enough GPA to keep a full-ride scholarship was no easy feat. Art had spread himself too thin and had barely gotten a taste of that college life he had been so excited for. Between practice, tournaments, exams, and assignments, Art sometimes didn't have time to eat dinner, let alone party. And the one time he did force himself to go to a frat party on a Friday night, he began yawning and felt his eyes getting heavy by ten pm. He called it quits, left without saying goodbye to his friends, and just came back to his dorm to pass out.

He was exhausted and was counting down the days until the summer. A few weeks off school was exactly what he needed. He just had to get through the final stretch of exams and he'd be done. He was already dreaming of driving back home and seeing his parents. Eating a home-cooked meal and sleeping in a room that wasn't the size of a shoebox. He'd hang out with and finally catch up with Patrick after months- just thinking about it was making him smile.

Art had a pretty simple routine. After class, he'd have practice, then he'd come back to his dorm, shower, and study until the words on the page started blurring and floating around. He'd then call it a night, and get in bed with his phone in one hand and a sock in the other. What? He needed a way to relieve stress and it's not like he'd gotten a girlfriend during his time at college. A girlfriend who'd be eager to suck him off whenever he needed. A girlfriend who'd be ready to please him anytime. No, he hadn't found anyone and so his hand would have to suffice.

Lately, though, the usual videos didn't do it for him. Watching two people go at it wasn't personal enough for him- it got him hard but he was still craving something else. He was embarrassed to admit, but he wanted to feel seen, noticed - he wanted interaction.

Tonight, like any other night, he was ready with his earbuds in and phone in his hand. He looked up the usual site he visited and typed in his usual search. He clicks on a video that looks appealing and starts to bring his hand down under his boxers waiting for the page to load. The page loads but he's met with a pop-up ad instead. In large, pink letters it read "Want company? The hottest girls are only a click away. No bullshit!" Art groans, annoyed, and is about to click the small 'x' on the corner but something makes him pause.

Isn't this what he wanted? Interaction? Not to be alone?

It looked like a cam-girl website which intrigued him. Why hadn't he ever tried this before? He knew it wasn't free, but he was curious. Maybe just for tonight he could check it out? See if there's anything worth his time (and money). He pulls his hand out of his boxers and sits up in his twin bed. He goes ahead and clicks on the ad which then directs him to a new page.

A bunch of thumbnails of women, some naked, with a big red 'LIVE' in the corner. Woah, this was the real deal. He scrolls down for a moment, familiarizing himself with the site until it asks him to sign up and subscribe 'for all your fantasies in one place'. There was a week-long free trial, and after a few minutes of heavy debating, he decided to sign up.

Username: _________

Art pauses and thinks for a few seconds. He couldn’t use his actual name but maybe he could rearrange the letters?

He types in slowly: GoldenSon

He makes up a quick password and mindlessly agrees to the terms and conditions. The account was ready.

He repeats to himself he was only doing this to feed his curiosity. He'd definitely cancel after the free trial ended.

When the paywall finally went away, he continued scrolling. The amount of people watching some of these videos was blowing his mind. One woman had 12.6k viewers. So, almost thirteen thousand people were watching one woman pleasure herself. Art thought it was kind of laughable but realized he was here to do the same. He scrolled down further and the numbers of viewers began to decrease.

Coming upon people with a few hundred viewers was a lot less intimidating. He thought that maybe this is what he was looking for. His eyes raked over the whole webpage before him and suddenly widened at the sight of a specific thumbnail. His eyes squinted and he zoomed in to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Art gasps, his breath catching in his throat. He turns his phone off, and hurls it toward the foot of the bed. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his face was burning up.

That couldn’t be right?

That… no.

No.

He sat on his bed with his face buried in his hands.

He thought he saw you. Patrick’s sister. On a fucking cam-girl site.

He shakes his head. No no. He was definitely mistaking you for someone else. No way.

He catches his breath and lifts his head from his hands. His eyes dart to his laptop on the desk across the room. There’s no harm in making sure right? He’d be doing this to keep his mind at peace.

He swallows and pushes the covers away. He knew his plans for the night were cancelled as he made his way over to his study corner.

Art sits down, opens his laptop and types in the website's name. He pauses to take a deep breath. Okay. Here we go.

He scrolls down slowly, eyeing every thumbnail.

He didn’t know what he wanted. If it really was you, what would he do with that information? Would he tell Patrick? Should he?

Even if it wasn’t you, he still finds the whole situation a little weird. Why was he picturing you, of all people, on this site? And at this time of the night?

Art had known you your whole life. At least that’s how it seemed. He didn’t know you that well because you were always just ‘Patrick’s sister’ to him. He could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d had with you, one-on-one. But he still, loosely, knew what you were up to and the type of person you were. A nice girl who kept to herself and had a tight-knit group of friends. Not much else to it.

He finally scrolls down far enough and comes across the videos with a few hundred views. He took a deep breath and carefully ran his eyes over each row.

His eyes stopped at one thumbnail. And he felt like his heart was going to follow suit.

It was you.

Holy fuck it was you.

It was larger on his laptop screen so he clearly recognized your face, your hair, your eyes, and your lips. He reads the alias you've created for yourself - 'YourRoxy'. He then hovers his cursor over the small box and debates clicking.

His curiosity was fist fighting his self-restraint.

Curiosity won.

Art closes his eyes tight and clicks on the thumbnail.

“Ooh! A new viewer. Hey, welcome.” Your voice sounded different than it usually did. You were putting on a persona, clearly. One with a low and sensual voice that spread goosebumps all over his body.

Art opens his eyes, and stares at you properly now. You took up his whole screen. His eyes began to look everywhere, but at you. It felt wrong.

The chat at the side of the screen was filled with men, and women it seemed, sharing their dirtiest thoughts and questions. There were currently a hundred and four people watching you. Some sent money along with their comments and those were the ones you were enthusiastically responding to.

Art takes in a shaky breath.

His eyes finally wander back to you. He’d never seen you in such little clothing. A skimpy, white tank top that barely covered your breasts. God, what were you doing? How was this real?

Your eyes narrowed at a comment and you read it to yourself under your breath, “are you single?”

Art’s ears perk up.

You giggle softly, “I am, yeah. I have yet to meet a man who can handle me.” You smirk at the camera and tilt your head.

Art hadn’t even blinked since he started watching you. You knew what you were doing. How did he not notice how fucking sexy you were when he’d come over before? He shakes his head. No, that’s wrong. Why would he think that way? That would jeopardize his friendship with Patrick.

“Yeah? You could handle me Dan96?” You smile sweetly, “I’d like to know how. Tell me.”

Oh my god. How could you say these things? And why couldn’t Art just turn away?

Dan96 had sent you $50 for that one question. You made fifty bucks in, literally, one second.

Art shakily brings his hand up to the keyboard and types in the question: how does this work?

He sends it in and notices that you hadn’t responded.

No, you were too busy flirting with Dan96.

You bite your lip and smile, “you’d choke me while fucking me? I like that. A little choking never hurt anyone”

Art’s eyes widened. He’d never heard you say such explicit things. What’s more shocking though was that he was starting to get hard. He groans- this was so wrong!

He swallows and decides to send in his question again, but this time attaching five bucks to it.

GoldenSon: how does this usually work?

He chews on his lip while he waits. You stop mid- sentence while talking to Dan96 and look at the new comment.

“How does this usually work?” You chuckle gently and Art feels himself grow slightly embarrassed.

“I’m guessing you’re new uhm.. GoldenSon. Aw, what a cute name.” Art covers his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was getting more aroused by the second. It really had been a while since he talked to a girl. A pretty one too. God, you were pretty. How had he not noticed?

“This can work however you’d like. I’m here to chat.. we can talk about your day. My day- anything really. Or if you’d like me to do something .. like take off my clothes,” Art’s breath hitched. “Mm you want me to touch myself? You want me to talk you through it? I’m here for anything. I’m here for you. All I want is to make you feel good.” You lick your lips.

Art was drooling onto his keyboard. There was a tent in his boxers now that was getting uncomfortable to ignore.

Fuck, he wanted to touch himself so bad. He wanted you to touch him.

Oh, god. This was a mistake.

He should’ve just gone to bed. Why did he click on the ad? Why did he make an account? Why did he scroll so far down? Why did you have to be so alluring? Why was he typing into the chat again?

Why was he asking you to help him get off?

GoldenSon: Talk me through it

Art trembled as he moved his hands over the keyboard.

He watches your expression morph into one full of intrigue.

"Alright, baby. Are you hard for me?" You tilt your head and lean a little closer to the camera, accentuating your tits.

Art gulps and brings his right hand down to his throbbing cock. There was a wet spot forming on his boxers already. This was going to be quick.

GoldenSon: So hard

You read his comment and smile immediately. Art mentally pats himself on the back like he was desperate for your approval.

The disturbing fact that you were his best friend's sister was still rattling around in his mind but was silenced by the overwhelming arousal he was feeling.

"I like the sound of that. I wanna get you off. I wish I was there with you, GoldenSon," You brought your hand up to rest your chin on. It was all strategic because your pinky finger was resting on your bottom lip which was then parted and your pinky was in between your teeth.

Art stared like a deer in headlights at your pretty lips, and your pretty mouth.

Did you mean it? He shivered. Did you mean what you said about wanting to be there with him? Have you ever thought of him in a sexual way? Or was he just Patrick's friend to you?

A moan interrupts his thoughts as he looks down and realizes he had his hand wrapped around his girthy cock and was moving it up and down.

He brings his free hand to type into the chat again.

GoldenSon: wish ypu wer here too

Normally he'd be annoyed about the typos but his focus was fully on his pleasure and your face.

"If I was there, I'd be ready for you- on my knees. Ready to make you feel good. You must be a hard working man. You deserve someone to make you feel good. Oh, I wanna taste you so bad." You let out a small whine and brought your hand to your breast and squeezed it.

Art's eyes widened and he couldn't believe the sight in front of him. This was like a million layers of fucked up.

You were Patrick's sister.

He was Patrick's friend. Best friend.

You had no idea that he was the one speaking to you like this.

You had no idea he was jerking off to your fucking tits when he'd barely spare you a glance on most days.

Art tightened his grip, applying more pressure, and continued the motion as he stared closely at your breasts.

GoldenSon: im cloxer

You smile at his typo, which probably indicated to you that he was more focused on something else.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. Oh, I wish I could taste it. I'd lick it all off you- every last drop. Clean you up with my tongue. You want that don't you?" You pulled your tank top down and one of your tits sprung out, which you cupped and played with.

Art watches in shock. He then shuts his eyes tight and feels himself reach his climax with the image of your tits on his mind. He feels hot release drip down his palms and he groans as he milks himself. He pants and catches his breath, still in a daze.

GoldenSon: Thank you, Roxy

"Of course, baby." You blow a kiss at the screen, "I'm here Tuesday's and Friday's after ten pm," You cover yourself up with your tank top again. "Will I see you again?" You were staring into the camera with your twinkling eyes.

You had him in a trance. Patrick's sister had him in a trance.

GoldenSon: Yes

[GoldenSon has gifted you $20]

.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._.._

If I told you I wrote half of this while in line at the bank would you believe me?

Thank you for reading, as always!!

[mcrdvcks]

heyy i have a request for logan and reader where they get in an argument which results in either reader gives him the silent treatment or they both do and just ignore each other until logan does something about it!!

how you get the girl

summary: After an argument with Logan, you both stop talking to each other. word count: 7.6k+ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader notes: this somehow became much longer than i thought it would, lol. also, i wrote in emma frost, but i based her characterization off of her in marvel rivals (so what if it's a videogame? she's hot asf-) also, i wrote something similar a while back with old man logan! check it out here: things i wish you said warnings/tags: angst, angst, angst (like... so much), happy ending, asshole!logan, bamf!reader, don't settle for less than you deserve y'all, silent treatment

You sighed as you stepped through the mansion doors, exhaustion settling heavy in your shoulders. Your day had been long—endlessly long—and teaching mutant teenagers about control and responsibility had felt particularly draining today.

You glanced around, hoping for Logan. Seeing him always eased the tightness in your chest after a bad day. But as your eyes scanned the foyer, there was no sign of him.

“Hey, Ororo,” you greeted softly as you saw her passing by. “Seen Logan?”

Ororo paused, offering you a gentle smile. “I believe he’s outside. He seemed a bit… restless today.”

You nodded, feeling unease curl slightly in your stomach. “Thanks.”

Outside, you found him sitting on the steps of the mansion’s back porch, cigar in hand, expression dark and contemplative as he stared into the distance.

“Hey,” you called gently, stepping up beside him.

He barely glanced at you. “Hey.”

His voice was flat, the usual warmth gone. You frowned, hesitating only a second before sitting next to him. “Rough day?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, taking a slow drag and releasing the smoke into the chilly air.

You studied his profile carefully. Logan was closed off more often than not, but this felt different—like he’d already decided to shut you out.

“Logan,” you prompted softly. “Talk to me.”

He sighed, frustration evident in the way his jaw tightened. “Nothing to talk about. Leave it.”

“Clearly, there’s something. You don’t have to pretend—”

“I said leave it,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he’d intended.

You recoiled slightly, hurt flickering across your face. “I’m just trying to help—”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Logan said abruptly, his eyes finally flicking to yours, harsh and defensive. “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard, Y/N.”

Anger twisted tightly in your chest, clashing against your exhaustion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he growled, flicking his cigar onto the grass. “You’re always pushin’, always tryin’ to fix somethin’ you got no damn business fixin’. Maybe you’d be better off not carin’ so damn much.”

“You think I enjoy pushing you?” You stood abruptly, disbelief turning quickly into hurt. “Logan, all I’ve ever done is care about you.”

“Yeah, and look how well that's goin', sweetheart,” he shot back bitterly, rising to his feet. “Maybe you'd save yourself some trouble if you didn't count on me so damn much.”

Your heart sank, pain sharp and immediate. You swallowed, feeling your throat tighten painfully. “So that's it, huh? Caring about you is the problem?”

He didn’t respond, jaw clenched, gaze hard and distant.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Fine. Message received, loud and clear.”

Turning quickly, you walked back toward the mansion without another word, refusing to let him see the tears already threatening to spill. Logan remained rooted to the spot, fists clenched at his sides, the angry words he'd hurled at you already burning bitterly in his throat.

He watched you leave, regret creeping in even as he stubbornly refused to call you back.

And just like that, silence fell between you both—thick, heavy, and painfully loud.

---

You always had a hard time sleeping. Before dating Logan you would just pop some sleeping pills—a little more than the recommended dose—and hope for the best. But when you started dating, and sharing a bed, you found it a little easier to fall asleep.

The warmth of being held, him rubbing your back, murmuring sweet nothings. But tonight, you popped those sleeping pills and curled up in bed long before Logan got there.

You were awake, eyes closed, breaths slow and careful when you heard the bedroom door open softly. Logan’s footsteps were quiet, almost hesitant as he paused at the edge of the bed, lingering for a long moment. You could feel his gaze heavy on your back, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat down carefully on his side.

Neither of you spoke, and the tension filled every silent second. You focused intently on keeping your breathing steady, even as your chest felt unbearably tight.

"Y/N?" Logan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative. A careful prod in the silence.

You didn’t answer, pretending instead that sleep had already claimed you.

Logan exhaled softly—frustration, regret, maybe both. He shifted beside you, and for a brief moment you thought he’d reach out, rest his hand on your shoulder, try to make things right. But instead, he settled down, turning his back to yours, the heavy sigh that slipped from him enough proof that he was just as stubborn as you.

Sleep came eventually, but it was restless and filled with vague, half-formed dreams that left you tired when morning came. Logan’s side of the bed was empty and cold, no lingering warmth to suggest he’d stayed beside you long.

The silence persisted.

You dressed quickly and quietly, making your way down to breakfast where the usual bustle of the X-Mansion filled the room with chatter. Logan was already there, hunched over his coffee and glaring down at the newspaper like it had personally offended him. You pointedly avoided looking at him as you poured yourself coffee and quietly moved toward an empty seat by Jean and Scott.

"Morning, Y/N," Jean greeted softly, her eyes flicking to Logan briefly before landing back on you. Her expression shifted subtly, perceptive as always. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," you answered shortly, sipping your coffee and focusing on the table.

Across the room, Logan shifted slightly in his chair, clearly listening.

Jean glanced at Scott, who wisely decided to stay out of it, turning back to his breakfast without comment. Jean lowered her voice, leaning closer. "If you need to talk—"

"I said it's fine," you snapped, sharper than you intended. You sighed immediately after, guilt tugging at your chest as you glanced at her apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well."

Jean squeezed your arm gently. "Understood."

You didn’t look over, but you felt Logan’s eyes on you from across the room, heavy and intent. Ignoring him took effort—every fiber of your being wanted to turn, snap something sarcastic, or glare at him—but instead, you deliberately kept your attention on your coffee and Jean's quiet, sympathetic presence beside you.

It went similarly during dinner. You sat in your regular spot, except you were the first one at the table. No Jean across from you, no Ororo on your left, and certainly no Logan to your right.

You felt a presence sit down next to you, but you kept your eyes down on your plate, not looking over.

"I take it this seat isn't usually vacant?" a smooth voice drawled softly beside you.

You stiffened immediately at the sound of Emma Frost's unmistakably confident tone, the way she seemed to relish the tension. Slowly, you forced yourself to glance over, keeping your expression carefully neutral.

"Usually isn't," you replied evenly, offering nothing more.

Emma tilted her head slightly, regarding you with a cool, appraising gaze. "Trouble in paradise?"

You exhaled slowly through your nose, irritation flaring sharply beneath your forced calm. "Is there something I can do for you, Emma?"

She smiled faintly, picking up her glass and sipping elegantly before placing it down again with an almost deliberate precision. "Not particularly. But seeing as how Logan's sulking on the other side of the room like a wounded puppy, I figured I'd make use of the empty seat. You know how much I enjoy shaking things up."

You frowned, unable to resist the quick glance over your shoulder. Logan sat by himself at the far end of the table, a plate barely touched in front of him. His jaw was tight, eyes glaring daggers into Emma's back. When your eyes met his briefly, he quickly looked away, annoyance clear in every stiff movement.

"You picked the wrong day, Emma," you said shortly, picking at your food with renewed agitation. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, darling, that's precisely why I picked today," Emma replied smoothly, completely unfazed by your sharpness. "It's hardly ever interesting around here when things are peaceful."

"You could just leave," you pointed out flatly. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about boredom."

Emma laughed softly, the sound like expensive silk—cold and smooth and utterly unbothered. "And miss moments like this? Please. Watching Logan stew is just icing on the cake."

You didn't answer, instead focusing pointedly on your food. Despite your best efforts to ignore her, Emma seemed thoroughly content to remain, sipping her drink and occasionally casting you sidelong glances.

Finally, you broke the silence, irritation fraying your voice. "Did you need something specific, Emma?"

"Actually, yes." She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm genuinely curious—how long are you going to keep up this little silent-treatment game? You two are rather notorious for being nauseatingly affectionate."

"None of your business," you muttered stiffly.

"Oh, come now, Y/N." Emma's lips curved slowly, eyes glittering with something sharp and dangerous. "Everyone in this mansion can feel the tension rolling off both of you. Honestly, you're both exhausting."

You pushed your plate away abruptly, your appetite utterly gone. "Emma, whatever game you're playing, go play it somewhere else. I've had a long day."

She arched a delicate brow, unfazed. "Believe it or not, I'm doing you a favor."

"How exactly is this a favor?"

She glanced pointedly across the room, eyes briefly landing on Logan before returning to you, perfectly composed. "He's stubborn and prideful. If you expect him to break first, you may be waiting quite some time."

You refused to look over, despite the overwhelming urge. "Again, none of your business."

Emma shrugged lightly, leaning back in Logan's chair, legs crossed elegantly beneath the table. "Suit yourself. But in my experience—and believe me, I've dealt with men like Logan—these standoffs rarely end with dignity intact."

You narrowed your eyes, finally turning your head fully to face her, your tone sharp. "And just what are you suggesting, exactly? That I go apologize when he's the one who—"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Emma interrupted calmly, her eyes cool but surprisingly sincere. "I simply dislike the tedious atmosphere your stubbornness creates. Handle it or don't, I honestly don't care. But this silence is exhausting for everyone."

She stood gracefully, smoothing her clothes as she cast a last amused glance toward Logan, whose expression was now practically murderous. Emma smiled faintly, clearly pleased by the reaction she'd provoked. "Good luck, Y/N. For your sake, I hope this resolves sooner rather than later."

You watched her go, jaw clenched tightly, a swirl of anger and embarrassment twisting uneasily in your gut. Before you could even consider Emma's words further, footsteps approached again. You glanced up sharply, expecting Emma to have returned to further antagonize you.

Instead, it was Ororo. Her gentle expression was cautious but kind, a stark contrast to Emma's calculating smirk.

"Do I even want to ask what that was about?" Ororo asked softly, taking the seat Emma had just vacated.

You sighed, rubbing a tired hand over your face. "Emma being Emma."

Ororo hummed softly, eyes drifting briefly across the room. "Logan looks particularly irritable tonight."

"Yeah," you said shortly, biting the inside of your cheek as you stabbed at your food half-heartedly. "He's made it very clear he wants space."

Ororo studied you quietly for a moment, thoughtful. "Perhaps it's less about wanting space and more about needing it."

You looked at her sharply, frustration bubbling up. "What does that even mean?"

Ororo's eyes were sympathetic but firm. "You know Logan better than most. He isn't good at asking for help or accepting comfort. It's easier for him to push people away."

"And I'm supposed to just accept that?" you asked, the anger in your voice giving way slightly to hurt. "He said things, Ororo—things he can't just take back."

"No," she agreed softly, "but he can apologize. If given the chance."

You shook your head slightly, swallowing down a lump of emotion you didn't want to deal with. "I don't think he plans to."

Ororo reached over, squeezing your arm gently. "Just because he's stubborn doesn't mean he isn't sorry. Give him some time."

You nodded stiffly, blinking quickly to chase away the prickling tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Maybe. I just... I don't know."

She smiled gently, leaning in and speaking softly enough for only you to hear. "He misses you. Anyone can see that."

You didn't answer immediately, the ache in your chest twisting tighter at her words. Your eyes betrayed you, drifting across the dining hall despite yourself, and finding Logan's gaze already locked onto yours. For a long moment, neither of you looked away, stubbornness and hurt caught between you, tangled and raw.

Eventually, Logan broke first, his jaw working tightly as he pushed away from the table roughly, leaving the dining room without another glance your way. You swallowed down the tight lump in your throat, staring blankly at the empty doorway he'd disappeared through.

Ororo sighed softly, understanding in her eyes. "He'll come around, Y/N. Logan always does."

You managed a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head slowly. "I wouldn't be so sure this time."

She squeezed your hand softly, sympathy in her voice. "I am."

You didn't answer, your mind stuck replaying the fight, Logan’s harsh words still echoing painfully in your chest. And as much as you wished it didn't bother you, Emma's smug voice kept slipping back in too—reminding you that waiting him out could be a long, miserable ordeal.

So you resolved to do just that—to wait. Logan was stubborn, but you could be stubborn too. If he wanted silence, you’d give him all the silence he could handle.

It was Logan's move now.

---

Sometimes the mall was relaxing. You could walk around, buy new candles, find a few nice shirts, and even get a pretzel and a coffee.

Today, it felt like an escape—somewhere to be without Logan’s heavy presence lingering in every corner of the mansion. It was the third day of your stalemate. No conversations, no hellos, no goodnights, nothing. Just tense silence and carefully avoided eye contact.

So you wandered slowly, idly browsing a display of candles labeled with names like "Lavender Fields," "Cozy Cottage," and "Stormy Nights." You lifted one of them to your nose, inhaling deeply before setting it back down with a sigh.

"That good, huh?"

You turned, startled, to see Jean standing behind you, a small smile on her face.

"Oh. Hey, Jean," you said, setting the candle down gently. "Didn't see you there."

"Clearly," Jean teased softly. She glanced around the shop. "Retail therapy?"

"More like avoidance therapy," you admitted dryly.

Jean hummed knowingly, falling into step beside you as you moved toward another shelf. "Still not speaking to Logan?"

You sighed, reaching for another candle absently. "He started it."

She chuckled softly, glancing over the label on the candle you'd picked up. "I'm sure he did. But are you going to let him end it, too?"

You groaned lightly. "Please, I had this conversation twice already. Once with Ororo, once with Emma—of all people—and I really don't need another lecture."

Jean laughed quietly, picking up her own candle. "Fair enough. No lectures, just friendly observation."

You shot her a wary look. "Which is?"

She smiled gently. "Logan doesn't know how to fix it."

"Logan hasn't even tried," you said stiffly, placing the candle back down with unnecessary force. "He made it pretty clear I'm the problem."

Jean shook her head slowly. "That's not true, and you know it. He's hurting too. He's just too stubborn to admit it."

"Stubborn is an understatement," you muttered, wandering toward the clothing racks. Jean followed easily, letting the silence sit between you for a moment.

She fingered through some shirts, pausing to look at you seriously. "Would it really kill you to reach out first?"

You glanced at her sharply. "Why do I have to be the one?"

"Because you're the emotionally mature one," Jean teased gently. "And because Logan is—"

"Emotionally constipated?" you supplied flatly.

Jean laughed brightly, nodding. "Yes, exactly."

You smiled slightly despite yourself, turning back to the shirts. "If I do it, then it becomes a pattern. It’ll only ever be me running to him for a mistake he made. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who has no self-worth.”

Jean exhaled softly, setting the shirt she’d been looking at back on the rack. "I get that, Y/N. But I don’t think Logan sees it that way. He’s… complicated."

You snorted lightly, shaking your head. "That’s the understatement of the century."

Jean nudged you playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Okay, more than complicated. He's stubborn, prideful, emotionally closed-off—"

"Are you trying to help or convince me to leave him?" you interrupted dryly, earning a small laugh from Jean.

"Listen," Jean said softly, turning serious again. "You and Logan are good together. He’s better when he’s with you—softer, happier. And you’re more grounded, more confident. The two of you… you balance each other out."

You chewed your lip thoughtfully, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe. But I don’t know how many times I can do this. How many times I can put my heart out there, only for him to stomp all over it when he's having a bad day."

Jean was quiet a moment, her voice gentle when she finally spoke. "That's valid, Y/N. Completely valid. But ask yourself honestly—is it really worth this much misery just to prove a point?"

You stayed silent, unable to answer right away. You didn’t want to lose your pride, your self-respect—but you missed Logan terribly. The stubborn silence that filled every space between you was becoming unbearable.

Jean sighed, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Just… think about it. Okay?"

"Yeah," you murmured softly, giving her a small nod. "I'll think about it."

---

Returning to the mansion was like stepping back into the cold tension you'd managed to briefly escape. You half-expected to see Logan brooding somewhere, cigar smoke trailing behind him like a dark cloud—but he wasn't in the common room, wasn't lingering around the halls, wasn't out back.

Instead, you found Scott, grading papers at the kitchen island, glasses sliding low on his nose. He looked up when he heard you come in, giving you an awkward, sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted softly. "You doing okay?"

"Fine," you replied automatically, grabbing a glass to fill with water.

Scott raised an eyebrow, putting down his pen. "You don’t have to pretend. Logan’s been a moody nightmare, so I can’t imagine things are fine."

You chuckled humorlessly. "You don’t have to deal with it. I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me at all costs."

Scott shrugged, leaning back on his stool. "Maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t know how to approach you after… you know."

You turned, leaning your hip against the counter as you faced him. "What did he say to you?"

Scott hesitated, clearly uncomfortable being in the middle. "He didn’t say much. Just snapped at pretty much everyone who asked him about it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, unfortunately, I do," you sighed tiredly, sipping your water slowly.

"He’s miserable though," Scott added quietly. "Whatever happened… it’s eating him up."

You shook your head slowly. "Then he should be the one doing something about it."

Scott gave you a faint, sympathetic smile. "I'm not arguing with you there."

You pushed away from the counter, moving towards the hall. "Thanks for caring, Scott. But I'm tired of everyone making excuses for him."

"Hey, I'm not," Scott called after you softly. "Just stating facts."

You waved a dismissive hand, offering him a tired smile as you left the kitchen.

---

The next morning, you were in the kitchen making tea for your thermos when Logan walked in. Despite every part of you wanting to just rush out, you didn’t. You stayed calm and continued making your tea, adding a little bit of milk and sugar.

Logan came next to you, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee from the pot. “You doin’ okay?” He asked.

You let out a quiet breath, “yeah, fine.”

Taking Jean’s advice, you stayed, waiting—hoping—that Logan would say something, anything else. But nothing came. He stood there, silent, sipping his coffee.

You let the silence stretch on, hoping against hope he’d speak first, that he’d find something, anything to say.

But Logan remained quiet, his gaze firmly fixed on the countertop, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. Finally, the realization settled heavy in your chest—he wasn't going to say anything.

He wasn't going to apologize.

You sighed quietly, feeling something crack inside your chest as disappointment seeped through your veins. Without another word, you closed your thermos, deliberately not looking at him as you turned to leave the kitchen.

"Y/N," Logan called suddenly, his voice rough, hesitant, stopping you mid-step.

You paused at the threshold of the kitchen, not turning to face him. Instead, you stared straight ahead, waiting.

Logan hesitated again, and you could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. "Nevermind," he finally muttered.

You clenched your jaw tightly, disappointment turning quickly into quiet, simmering anger. "Right," you said softly, barely louder than a whisper. "That's what I thought."

Then you walked out, leaving him standing there, the silence heavy in your wake.

The rest of your day passed in a numb blur of classes and grading assignments, Logan's stubbornness gnawing at the edges of your thoughts, distracting you in ways you wished it wouldn't. You'd hoped—maybe foolishly—that he'd at least have tried to talk to you again by dinner.

But he didn't.

In fact, when dinner came around, Logan was nowhere in sight. His absence, though annoying, felt intentional. Like he was deliberately trying to avoid even the slightest possibility of confrontation.

You sat quietly at your usual spot, ignoring the sympathetic looks Jean shot your way, ignoring Emma's knowing smirk from across the room. You kept your head down and finished dinner quickly, the silence between you and Logan stretching unbearably through the meal.

Later, as you curled up alone in bed, your mind was restless. You glanced at the clock—nearly midnight—and Logan still hadn't come upstairs. His avoidance was clear, and it hurt more than you'd care to admit. Sleep felt impossible, your heart and mind racing despite the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

When the bedroom door finally opened an hour later, your heart skipped a beat, eyes shut tight as you pretended to sleep.

Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering silently for what felt like forever. Finally, he moved into the room, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.

You kept your breathing steady, your back to him, waiting anxiously to see if he'd finally break. If he'd finally say what you desperately wanted—needed—to hear.

Instead, after several tense, silent moments, Logan stood up again, footsteps soft and cautious as he left the room. The door clicked quietly shut behind him, leaving you alone once more, the ache in your chest growing sharper by the minute.

The next day dragged, each class feeling longer and more draining than the last. You tried your best to act unaffected, smiling tightly at the students and nodding absently at your colleagues. But beneath the carefully maintained facade, your mind kept returning to Logan, replaying every cold, tense moment since your fight.

"You look exhausted," Ororo observed gently later that afternoon, finding you alone in your classroom, leaning heavily against your desk.

You sighed, rubbing your temples tiredly. "Understatement of the century."

"Still not resolved?" she asked softly, stepping further into the room.

You shook your head. "He's not speaking, I'm not speaking. It's just... silence."

Ororo sat beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Maybe someone has to be brave enough to break it."

You laughed quietly, without humor. "Why does that someone always have to be me?"

"Because you have patience," Ororo said gently. "Because you love him enough to push through the stubbornness."

"And he doesn't?" you challenged bitterly.

Ororo gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, understanding shining in her eyes. "Logan loves you deeply. He just... struggles. You know that."

You sighed deeply, exhaustion creeping into your bones. "I know. I just... don't know if I can keep doing this. I don't know how many more times I can be the one who bends."

She smiled softly, her voice kind. "I understand, Y/N. I just don't think either of you want to lose each other. You need to decide if being right is worth more than being happy."

Ororo's words lingered heavily with you throughout the evening, your thoughts swirling restlessly as you climbed into bed again—alone, once more. Logan hadn't returned, and you wondered bitterly where he'd chosen to spend the night instead.

You lay awake, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, tension knotting your stomach until sleep finally, mercifully, claimed you.

When morning came, you felt groggy and unrested, each movement heavy with fatigue. You went through your morning routine numbly, showering and dressing without enthusiasm. Eventually, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, dreading another quiet standoff.

Instead, you found Logan already there, leaning against the counter, staring into his mug as steam rose softly around his face. You paused in the doorway, debating whether you should just turn around and walk out again.

But Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze firmly.

"Morning," he greeted quietly, voice rough and cautious.

"Morning," you returned carefully, stepping further into the kitchen and deliberately looking away as you moved to fill your thermos.

For a long, tense moment, Logan said nothing else, merely watching you with that unreadable expression that frustrated you endlessly.

"Y/N," he finally started, voice uncertain, hesitant.

You turned slowly, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. "Yeah?"

He paused, visibly struggling, eyes dropping to his coffee again. "About... about the other night—"

"What about it, Logan?" you interrupted, heart thudding painfully in your chest.

He clenched his jaw briefly, frustration flickering in his gaze. "I didn't mean it the way it came out."

You scoffed softly, shaking your head as disappointment settled bitterly in your throat. "That's your apology? 'I didn't mean it'?"

Logan sighed, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Dammit, Y/N, I'm tryin' here."

"Are you?" you challenged sharply, voice low and fierce. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing everything you possibly can to avoid actually apologizing."

He stared at you, jaw tight, irritation radiating off him in waves. "Maybe I ain't good at sayin' I'm sorry."

"No kidding," you muttered bitterly, turning away again, angrily twisting the lid onto your thermos.

Silence settled thickly around you both, tension coiled and ready to snap at any moment.

"You know what, Logan?" you finally said quietly, voice shaking slightly. "I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking for you to say you're sorry and for you to mean it.”

He stood there, mug clenched tightly in his fist, jaw set and eyes stormy. He opened his mouth briefly, then shut it again sharply, frustration clear on his face.

"I’m not askin' you to pretend it didn’t happen," Logan muttered roughly, voice tense. "I messed up. Ain’t denyin' it."

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain steady despite your shaking hands. "Then say it. Tell me you're sorry."

He glared at the countertop, stubborn pride still holding his words back. "It ain’t as simple as that."

"Actually, Logan, it really is," you snapped quietly, hurt and anger intertwining. "It's two words. Two simple words."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, voice low and defensive, "I told ya I'm not good at this."

"Logan," you began sharply, your patience fraying quickly, "it's not about you being 'good' at it. It's about you acknowledging you hurt me."

He ran a hand through his hair roughly, frustration evident in every line of his posture. "You think I don't know I hurt you? You think I ain't been kickin' myself every damn minute since?"

You shook your head slowly, feeling exhausted down to your bones. "I don't know, Logan. You've barely looked at me, you don't speak to me, and when you finally do—it's this. Defensive and angry and completely closed off."

"I'm tryin' to tell you—"

"No," you interrupted sharply, voice shaking with emotion, "you're trying to get out of apologizing. You’re trying to get me to move past it without ever having to actually deal with it."

He slammed his mug down hard enough to make you jump, coffee sloshing onto the counter. "Dammit, Y/N! What do you want from me? Blood?"

"I want an apology, Logan," you snapped, voice breaking slightly, eyes stinging with angry, frustrated tears. "That's it. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you regret what you said."

His jaw clenched tightly, eyes blazing. "Yeah, well maybe words don't come easy for me. Maybe you ain't figured that out yet."

You turned fully to face him, swallowing past the tight lump in your throat. "Oh, I figured it out a long time ago. I just hoped—maybe stupidly—that I was worth the effort."

His expression faltered briefly, a flicker of guilt and uncertainty crossing his features. "You are, dammit," he ground out roughly, frustration clear. "I ain't sayin' you're not worth it—"

"Then prove it," you challenged fiercely, stepping closer, your eyes locked onto his. "Stop telling me all the reasons you can't and start giving me a reason to believe you actually care."

He stared back, stubborn silence heavy between you both. You waited, chest aching, heart pounding—but Logan said nothing.

"Right," you finally whispered, disappointment bitter on your tongue. "I get it."

Turning away abruptly, you grabbed your thermos from the counter and left the kitchen without another word. You refused to look back, refused to see whatever expression might have flickered across Logan’s face, refused to let yourself feel hope or guilt or anything except the quiet, simmering hurt that had taken root deep inside your chest.

The rest of your day passed in miserable quiet. Teaching felt exhausting, conversations draining. You avoided common areas, avoided the dining hall, avoided anywhere Logan might be. Every interaction felt superficial and forced, every smile brittle.

When night finally fell, you stayed in your classroom far later than necessary, grading papers until your eyes blurred and your head ached. Eventually, though, you couldn't put it off any longer. Slowly, reluctantly, you headed back toward your shared room, heart heavy with dread.

Logan was already there, standing by the window, staring out into the dark grounds. He glanced your way when you walked in, eyes guarded, jaw tight.

"You're back late," he muttered, tone carefully neutral.

"Needed to finish grading," you replied stiffly, moving around him to grab pajamas from the dresser.

Logan hesitated, shifting slightly, tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "You eat yet?"

"Not hungry," you said flatly, refusing to look at him.

He sighed quietly, frustration evident. "Y/N—"

"I'm tired, Logan," you interrupted shortly, your voice quiet but firm. "I really don't want to do this right now."

He turned sharply, glaring your way. "Don't wanna do what, exactly?"

"This," you said bitterly, finally meeting his gaze head-on. "The tense small-talk. The pretending we're fine when we're obviously not. If you're not ready to apologize, fine. But don't expect me to act like everything's normal."

Logan’s eyes darkened, irritation flashing clearly. "So what, then? We just stay quiet forever? Act like strangers?"

"Until you figure out how to apologize?" you challenged quietly, frustration and exhaustion clear. "Maybe we should."

Logan's jaw twitched, eyes narrowing, fists clenched at his sides. "You really wanna play it that way?"

"No," you whispered tiredly, turning away to hide the sudden tears blurring your vision. "I don't want this at all."

He said nothing else, and neither did you. Instead, you grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom, changing slowly, your heart heavy and aching. When you finally emerged, Logan had already climbed into bed, his back facing your side of the mattress.

You hesitated briefly, exhaustion warring with stubbornness. Eventually, your tiredness won out, and you climbed into bed beside him, careful to keep distance between your bodies. The mattress felt miles wide, the silence deafening.

You lay awake, staring at the wall, frustration and hurt twisting tightly in your chest. Beside you, Logan's breathing was heavy and uneven, clearly awake, clearly as restless as you were.

Neither of you spoke.

The next morning was no better. You dressed in tense silence, moved around each other stiffly, carefully avoiding any sort of interaction.

At breakfast, you sat alone, barely eating, gaze locked firmly onto your plate. Logan sat across the room, sipping coffee and glaring at nothing. Jean, Scott, and Ororo glanced between you both warily, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy tension filling the room.

Emma sat down by you, her nails clinking against her mug.

“You’re not gonna tell me to apologize to him, are you? Because I’ve already heard that, and I’m not doing it.”

Emma’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched upward, an amused smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh, darling, trust me. I'm the last person who'd encourage you to do that.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by her quick and confident reply. “Really?”

“Please,” Emma scoffed lightly, elegantly stirring sugar into her tea. “Logan may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but that’s his problem, not yours. Frankly, I’m impressed you've put up with his nonsense this long.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help a small, humorless laugh. “At least someone’s on my side.”

Emma shrugged gracefully, sipping her tea calmly. “You’ve gotten far too comfortable letting Logan off the hook simply because he finds genuine emotional expression inconvenient. You're right to hold your ground. He's an adult, Y/N. It's long past time he acted like one.”

You sighed deeply, stabbing your fork into your untouched breakfast. “It's exhausting. Everyone else keeps making excuses for him. 'Oh, it's just Logan.' 'He doesn't mean it.' 'He's trying.' At what point do those excuses stop being enough?”

Emma watched you thoughtfully, her voice softening just a fraction. “They stopped being enough the moment you had to start justifying basic decency and accountability.”

You looked up, surprise flickering briefly through your eyes. Emma wasn’t exactly known for her empathy, yet here she was—making more sense than anyone else had so far.

“So, you agree? I'm not asking for too much?”

She leaned back slightly, lips curving into a knowing smile. “You’re barely asking for the bare minimum, darling. Logan may find this terribly challenging, but that's his burden. Not yours. If he can't manage a simple apology when he's clearly in the wrong, he's got no business being in a relationship.”

The bluntness of her words stung, but there was something comforting in her honesty.

“Harsh,” you murmured softly, your gaze drifting across the dining hall toward Logan, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to glance your way every few moments.

“But true,” Emma insisted firmly. “You've spent enough time apologizing for both of you. If he wants you back, he can bloody well put in some effort. And if not—well, perhaps he's doing you a favor.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the thought, but you nodded slowly, considering her words. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

She placed a delicate hand over yours, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I know it hurts, Y/N. But remember, you’re worth far more than constantly bending to accommodate his pride.”

A soft sigh slipped from your lips, exhaustion and resignation heavy in the sound. “It would just be easier if he’d meet me halfway. Hell, I'd even settle for a quarter of the way at this point.”

Emma squeezed your hand lightly, an uncharacteristically supportive gesture. “Don’t lower your expectations just to make it easy for him. Logan’s been coddled for too long. If he genuinely cares, he’ll figure it out.”

You glanced up sharply, meeting her cool, unyielding gaze. “And if he doesn't?”

“Then at least you'll know exactly where you stand,” Emma said calmly, sipping her tea once more. “Uncertainty, darling, is far worse than a painful truth.”

You looked down at your plate again, pushing your food around absently. “I just—I've never been good at giving up.”

Emma laughed softly, leaning back in her seat. “Then don’t. You're not giving up—you're giving him an opportunity. The choice is his. Stop trying to make it easier.”

The dining hall doors opened, breaking the tense moment as a group of students bustled in, chatting loudly. Emma rose elegantly, gathering her empty cup.

“I have to go terrify my next class into submission,” she said lightly, flashing you a smirk. “But think about what I said.”

You nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she teased dryly, her eyes flicking briefly toward Logan's brooding figure across the room. “Save it for when he finally manages to scrape together a coherent apology.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the hall gracefully, leaving you alone again. You sighed softly, considering her words carefully. Emma's perspective was harsh, blunt—but undeniably fair. It was refreshing, even comforting, compared to the gentle yet endlessly patient suggestions from Jean and Ororo.

---

That night, the cycle continued. You would be in bed, wide awake, when Logan walked in and finally stayed, getting into bed, facing away from you.

Except this time, you couldn’t take it any longer. Couldn’t take the fact that you had to try and fall asleep like a wooden plank, or the fact that you missed curling up to Logan.

Perhaps, above all, it was the fact that you felt like you were trapped in bed, a place you were supposed to relax.

You slowly sat up, legs dangling off the side of the bed as you grabbed your two pillows and moved to your desk to grab your throw blanket.

Behind you, you felt the mattress shift. Logan stirred slightly, but you refused to glance over your shoulder. Silently, you picked up your phone and charger, determined to move somewhere else—anywhere else—that felt less suffocating.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan’s voice was gruff, thick with sleep, but you could hear the alertness beneath.

You paused for a moment, gathering your resolve before speaking. “Going to sleep somewhere else.”

Logan sat up, the rustle of blankets loud in the quiet room. “It’s past midnight. Where the hell else are you gonna sleep?”

“The couch,” you answered flatly, still not looking at him as you bundled your things together. “Or maybe my classroom. It doesn’t really matter.”

He exhaled heavily, frustration evident in the rough sound. “Y/N, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you snapped bitterly, finally turning to face him. “We’re already practically strangers. Might as well make it official.”

Logan clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with what to say. He ran a rough hand through his hair, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim moonlight. “You don’t gotta do that. Just come back to bed.”

“Why?” you challenged, anger simmering beneath the quiet hurt in your voice. “So we can lay here in angry silence? Pretend this isn’t happening? I’m exhausted, Logan. I’m tired of pretending.”

“You think I ain’t tired too?” Logan growled softly, frustration deepening in his voice. “You think this is easy for me?”

You sighed heavily, gripping your pillow tighter. “No, Logan, I don’t think it’s easy. But I also don’t think it’s fair that I’m always the one trying to make things right. I shouldn’t have to beg you for an apology. I deserve better than that.”

He swallowed visibly, his eyes narrowing slightly in the shadows, jaw working. “I know.”

Those two simple words caught you off guard, your anger faltering momentarily. You stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“You know?” you repeated carefully, guardedly.

“Yeah,” he muttered roughly, dropping his gaze. “I know. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me.”

Your heart twisted painfully at the defeat in his voice. “Logan—”

He shook his head sharply, cutting you off. “Don’t try and argue that. It’s the truth. I ain’t good at this. I ain’t good at talkin’ things through, I ain’t good at apologizin’ when I screw up. And I know I screw up—a lot. So, yeah. You do deserve better.”

Your grip loosened slightly on the pillow, uncertainty creeping in. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I ain’t makin’ decisions,” Logan said flatly, frustration flickering back into his voice. “Just statin’ facts.”

You stepped closer, setting your blanket and pillow down on the chair. “Then try, Logan. Just try. You think I don’t know you’re bad at this? I do. But I also know you’re capable of more. And if I didn’t think that, we wouldn’t still be here.”

He looked up at you sharply, his gaze intense, searching yours carefully. For a long, tense moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke.

Finally, Logan exhaled slowly, his voice gruff but softer than before. “I didn’t mean what I said that night. ‘Bout you carin’ too much.”

You nodded slightly, crossing your arms protectively. “It sure felt like you did.”

Logan’s jaw tightened briefly, frustration evident, but he didn’t look away. “I lashed out. It was a rough day. Lotta old memories comin’ back—things I thought I put behind me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked softly, your anger fading slowly, replaced by the ache of exhaustion. “You’re supposed to trust me, Logan. To lean on me. Instead, you pushed me away.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper when he spoke. “I got scared.”

Your chest tightened, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. Logan wasn’t someone who admitted fear lightly—if ever. You moved even closer, your tone gentle now. “Scared of what?”

“Losin’ you,” he admitted quietly, the words tumbling out with obvious difficulty. “Eventually, you’ll realize you can do better than some stubborn, broken-down asshole like me. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath caught slightly, heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whispered softly, “do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t want to be?”

He shrugged slightly, not meeting your eyes. “Sometimes, I dunno.”

Slowly, you moved back to sit beside him on the bed, careful to keep a cautious distance, but close enough to show you weren’t running. “Well, you should know by now. I’m here because I want to be. But you have to let me in, Logan. You have to give me something to work with. I can’t be the only one putting in the effort.”

Logan’s hand twitched slightly, hesitantly reaching out until it brushed yours, fingers tentative. “I know. I ain’t makin’ excuses, just… tellin’ you the truth. I’m not good at apologies. Never have been.”

You watched him for a long moment, the careful honesty in his eyes slowly chipping away at your anger. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a perfect apology,” you said gently. “Maybe it just needs to be real.”

He nodded slightly, throat working as he forced the words out. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For what I said, for pushin’ you away, for makin’ you feel like I didn’t care. I do. More than you know.”

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders relaxing a little as the words sank in. “That’s all I needed, Logan. Just that.”

He sighed softly, relief evident in the slump of his shoulders. His fingers tightened around yours, more confident now. “So, you stayin’?”

You hesitated, looking down at your entwined fingers, the comfort and warmth of his touch grounding you in a way you’d desperately missed. “Only if you promise we’re done with the silent treatment. I can’t keep living like that. If we fight, we talk it out. Even if it’s hard.”

He gave a low, rough chuckle, a faint smile flickering briefly across his face. “Deal. Even if I’m terrible at it.”

“I’ll take terrible over nothing,” you murmured, smiling softly despite yourself. “At least it’s a start.”

Slowly, Logan reached out, carefully wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him. You sighed, relaxing into his familiar warmth, exhaustion and relief mingling together until you felt tears stinging your eyes.

“I really am sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing gently against your temple. “I ain’t ever meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whispered back quietly, your voice soft but firm. “But you did. And that means you have to make it right.”

“I will,” he promised quietly, his voice rough with sincerity. “Whatever it takes.”

You nodded against his chest, allowing yourself to finally relax fully into his embrace. It wouldn’t fix everything—not immediately, at least—but it was a start. And right now, that was enough.

For the first time in days, the silence that fell between you was comfortable. The tension was still there, buried beneath careful apologies and cautious promises, but finally, you felt hope beginning to thread its way back into your heart.

And tonight, as you allowed Logan to hold you close again, you knew with quiet certainty that no matter how frustrating he could be, no matter how stubborn and closed-off he seemed, he was worth the effort.

And finally, finally, you were sure—without a shadow of a doubt—that Logan believed you were worth the effort too.

[sleepiestoken]

i've just pulled out some interesting quotes from the metal hammer article for myself and anyone else interested. anything bolded for emphasis by me.

-

George Lever [Sleep Token producer 2016-2021]: The starting point was removing this idea of the music you listen to being related to the person making it. By being anonymous, the listener is forced to relate to what they're actually hearing.

-

James Monteith [Tesseract guitarist/publicist at Hold Tight PR]: I was approached by Tom Quigley, who was a scene regular and ran a few blogs at the time. He said he was working with this new band, would we maybe be interested in doing their press? We ended up talking for an hour, and he rolled out the whole concept, the imagery and everything about it... other than the music.

George: The lore/narrative was pretty loose still, but it definitely existed.

James: There was nothing specific as such, more this idea of creating an occult vibe and feeling, led by this prophet-like character who leads a religion.

-

George: A lot of the first EP was actually us trying stuff out. We recorded the drums on a whim at Monnow Valley Studio in Wales. I introduced him to one of my friends, who actually still drums in them now.

-

James: We always got requests [for interviews], but the band said from the start they were anonymous and wouldn't do them. It helped create more curiosity because nobody could get access to them.

Matt Benton [Metal Hammer writer]: You can't do an introductory piece without an interview. We managed to get an agreement for an email interview with Metal Hammer. Even then, the band knew they didn't want a voice.

Matt: It's one of only a few interviews they've ever done. It's something I'm glad exists, because it's like getting the Word Of God.

-

George: I had freedom to offer interpretations of what I was hearing. It was a very fortunate combination of personalities and ideals. There was never any, 'We're going to take over the world' -type chat. It was more, 'Do we like this? Let's do more of that.'

-

Nathan Barley Phillips [co-founder of Basick Records]: Trying to keep some sense of anonymity was a real mission. Particularly getting them to and from the stage [at Great Escape festival 2018] without anyone seeing who they were.

-

George: We did Sundowning in three months - we went from demo to final master being released in just 12 weeks. We didn't have days off; we'd do seven in the morning until seven, eight or even nine at night every day for three months. We were in each other's pockets; we'd go to the gym together, swim, do the sauna... All this stuff to recover from being sat down all the time. There was a lot of time to spend holistically being friends making this record. We didn't know how to make this thing, but we had a confidence that we'd get there in the end. That's my favourite three-month period of my life.

-

George: We started making [TPWBYT] and the first day was when lockdowns began. Tomb... was tough for all of us emotionally. There were lifestyle pressures as a result of the lockdown that made it not very conducive to making art that is supposed to be welcoming. A lot of those songs are, in one way or another, about love, love being lost or remorse, they are compassionate tales that are designed to bring the listener towards the artist. It's hard to do that when it feels like the world is going to end.

-

Matt: I've got friends in merchandising and they say Sleep Token shift more merch than any other UK heavy band - more than even Iron Maiden.

-

Nathan: Bands like Ghost and Sleep Token aren't successful because they wear masks. They're successful because they write great music. Masks don't mean anything if the music isn't any good.

Matt: I'll be interested to see, when the first official TV movie of the band gets made, the difference between the reality of what happened and the story that gets told. In a way, the myth becomes reality.

[dramagodesss]

fourteen : climbing through windows

playin' the players

a/n: HE'S BAAAAACCKKKK i know i know I'M SORRY— this is gonna be more of a text kinda chapter but i think we all need it 😔❤️‍🩹

it had been days— too many, for your own taste. it was unfair. the way he was punishing himself, ignoring everyone, isolated from everything and everyone.

but what you hated the most was the way it made you feel. it's not that you wanted to see him, its that you needed to. it pissed you off because of the bet, and because all that you were feeling— it reallly was all a lie.

but it was late afternoon when you made your move.

you tried to move fast before your rational thoughts could pull you away.

'it's all a fucking bet, you idiot!'

and maybe, it was just that. but, at this point, it didn't matter anymore. at least not so much. just for a while. just until you made sure he was okay.

the frat house is quiet, the kind of silence that settles like dust after something breaks. you’re climbing the side fire escape in leggings and a hoodie, one hand gripping a greasy paper bag, the other braced against the freezing railing. inside the bag: two breakfast burritos, a chocolate chip muffin, a bottle of gatorade, and a small tupperware of pasta you made yourself.

because you know he hasn’t been eating. you know.

your fingers find the window ledge, and you hiss through your teeth. the damn thing better still be unlocked.

it is. barely.

you crack it open and hoist yourself up—

—and immediately slip.

“shit—!” your foot catches the edge of the desk and you tumble straight into the room, smacking your hip against the wooden surface as everything in the bag goes thud-thud-crash onto the floor.

pens scatter. the chair topples. a spoon clinks loudly somewhere in the dark.

“what the—?!” rafe’s voice, low and hoarse and wrecked, cuts through the silence.

you groan from the carpet. “good evening to you too.”

there’s rustling. a light flicks on.

he’s on the bed—hoodie on, hair messy, skin pale under the dull yellow lamp. the room looks like it hasn’t been touched in days: blackout curtains drawn, water bottles and protein bar wrappers piled near his nightstand, half a jersey crumpled on the floor like it’s been there since the game.

he blinks at you. once. twice.

“did you just fall through my window?”

you push yourself up on your elbows, scowling. “i brought you food, you ungrateful little rat.”

his eyes flick to the floor, where the bag of offerings lies half-spilled but intact. he doesn’t say anything.

you brush off your knees and look at him properly—he’s got that hollow look again, like everything’s pressing in too close. dark circles. clenched jaw. the kind of stillness that doesn’t look like peace, just… surrender.

“rafe.” your voice is softer now.

nothing.

so you cross the room and sit on the edge of his bed, close enough to touch, but not touching.

“you don’t get to shut down like this,” you murmur. “you don’t get to starve and rot in your man cave over one game.”

his voice is barely audible. “it wasn’t just a game.”

“i know.” you pick up the muffin and press it into his hand. “eat. then feel sorry for yourself. but not the other way around.”

he stares at the muffin like it personally offended him.

you reach for the gatorade and unscrew the cap for him.

“you’re such a pain in the ass,” he mutters finally, taking a slow bite. “you could’ve just texted.”

you raise a brow. “and let you ignore me? again? no thanks. i commit to the bit.”

he swallows, eyes trained on your lap.

“…you really climbed in through the window?”

“and fell. dramatically. i should get an oscar.”

that earns you a small, begrudging smirk.

and when his shoulder brushes yours—just barely—you let it stay there. you stay in the quiet. stay in the mess. and for the first time in days, he lets you.

you take a look at him. his hoodie is draped over his frame like armor. his eyes are tired, rimmed red, lashes low. the half-eaten muffin sits untouched in his hand, the coffee steaming faintly between his knees.

you watch him.

not just look—watch. the slump in his shoulders. the way his jaw tics when he swallows. the silence in him, like he’s trying not to take up too much space.

your voice cuts through it. soft. sure.

“rafe.”

he glances up.

you step closer, fingers clutching the bag of takeout a little tighter. your brows furrow without meaning to.

“you scared me.”

his mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a beat. then—

“…sorry.”

quiet. raw. his eyes drop again, staring at the floor like it might swallow him whole.

“i just… i didn’t want anyone to see me like this,” he adds, voice tight. “felt like if i saw anyone i’d—break something. maybe myself.”

you exhale, shaky. “you should’ve let someone see you. i would’ve come earlier.”

he looks at you then. really looks. something flickers behind his eyes—guilt, maybe. or something that runs even deeper.

and that’s when you move.

slowly, like a tide creeping in—you cross the room and drop the takeout bag on his desk, then sink to your knees in front of him, between his legs.

your hands reach up, fingers brushing the edges of his hoodie, and then slide around his back as you lean forward.

you hug him.

arms wrapping around his torso, head resting gently against his chest.

he freezes.

completely.

for a second you wonder if he’ll pull back—if this is too much, if you’re pushing too hard—but then his hands rise and curl around your shoulders, burying into the fabric of your sweatshirt. he holds you like he’s forgotten how.

like you’re real and warm and here, and maybe that’s more than he thinks he deserves.

“you’re allowed to mess up,” you murmur, voice muffled. “but you don’t get to disappear. not from me.”

he lets out a sound—part breath, part laugh, part ache—and tucks his chin over your head, arms tightening around you like the world’s trying to pry you out of them.

he doesn’t know you know. about the bet. about the challenge he made you into.

and you hold him anyway. just a little longer.

because revenge can wait. but right now?

this is yours. and he’s letting you in.

you stay there for a while. wrapped around him like an anchor, steadying his breath with your own. eventually, he shifts—pulls back slightly, eyes flicking over your face like he’s checking to see if this is real.

you give him a small smile, brushing your thumb over the crease between his brows.

then you wrinkle your nose.

“…when was the last time you showered?”

rafe blinks. “…rude.”

you arch a brow. “not denying it, though.”

he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “couple days. i guess.”

you point toward the bathroom like a fed-up sitcom mom. “go.”

he hesitates—just for a second—but you level him with a look and he sighs again, dragging himself to his feet. before he disappears into his bathroom, he glances over his shoulder.

“don’t go through my stuff.”

you smile sweetly. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

the second the door shuts and the water starts running, you look around the room like a mission's been assigned.

depression den? not on your watch.

you move on autopilot—straightening the blankets, collecting the mess of takeout containers, laundry, crumpled socks. you empty the trash, crack open a window, light one of the half-burned candles on his shelf. vanilla tobacco.

you even find a rogue pair of boxers under his desk chair and launch them across the room with a disgusted hiss.

twenty minutes later, when the bathroom door creaks open and rafe walks back in—hair wet, towel low on his hips, steam trailing after him—you nearly knock over the now-clean nightstand.

he doesn’t notice.

(you hope.)

he’s digging through a drawer for sweatpants, water dripping down his chest like a fucking cologne commercial. his back is still a little red from the hot water, muscles shifting as he moves.

you look everywhere else.

the ceiling. the window. the existential void.

“you cleaned,” he says, almost surprised.

you shrug from the bed, where you're very casually folding a hoodie like it owes you money. “someone had to. your socks were starting to unionize.”

he huffs a laugh, pulling on a shirt and finally pants. “thanks.”

you toss the hoodie aside, daring to glance up now that he’s decent. “you’re welcome.”

there’s a beat. quiet, but not awkward.

he scratches the back of his neck. “uh… you wanna stay? watch something or whatever?”

you smile. “like a pity movie date?”

“more like a very exclusive, limited-seating premiere of whatever’s not depressing,” he says. “i might even let you pick.”

you fake-gasp. “me? the remote? cameron, are you feeling okay?”

he rolls his eyes, flopping onto the bed beside you with a faint grin. “i’m recovering.”

and yeah, he still looks tired. but at least now—he’s not alone.

you're curled into the far side of rafe’s bed, blanket draped over both your legs, the soft blue glow of the screen lighting the room in shadows.

something vaguely action-y is playing. you’re not really watching.

not because it’s boring—just because rafe’s here. sitting close. his arm brushing yours every now and then, like it’s on purpose. like he needs to keep checking you're real.

you feel him shift beside you. glance over just in time to catch the way his jaw moves as he says—barely above a whisper— “thank you.”

you blink. “what?”

his gaze is still on the screen. but his voice is a little louder this time. a little steadier. “thank you. for coming over. for climbing through my damn window. for bringing me food. and for not… acting weird about all this.”

your heart squeezes.

“you’re welcome,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with yours. “but next time maybe unlock the door like a normal person.”

he huffs a laugh. turns toward you, then, slowly. his eyes meet yours—dark, warm, careful.

and then he kisses you.

no warning. no rush.

just a soft press of lips, like a secret passed between two hearts that already knew.

you inhale sharply against him, but your hands move without hesitation—curling into the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring him closer. he kisses you again, deeper this time, and you melt into it. his hand slips up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your face.

you pull back eventually, breathless.

his forehead rests against yours. his voice low.

“i missed this.”

you tilt your head, teasing. “what? kissing me?”

he laughs—quiet, soft. it rumbles through his chest. “you,” he says. “i missed you. and kissing you too, yeah.”

your chest aches with something dangerous and sweet.

so you kiss him again. not because you’re trying to prove anything—just because you can. or because you’re not ready to let go of.

rafe’s hands are steady on your waist, but there’s a twitch in his fingers, like he’s holding back something hungrier.

he pulls back just barely, eyes flickering over your face. “you’re dangerous, y’know that?” he mutters.

you raise a brow, breath still shallow. “me?”

he nods, his voice all gravel and softness. “climb through my window, boss me around, clean my whole damn room like you own it—then look at me like that.”

“like what?”

he smirks a little, leaning in again. “like you’d kiss me no matter how fucked up i am.”

you don’t answer—just tug him in by the front of his hoodie and kiss him again, slower this time. and he lets you. like he’s starving. like your mouth’s the only thing that’s tasted like home in weeks.

his hand slips under the blanket, settling over your bare knee. he doesn’t move it—just keeps it there. warm. grounding. you sigh into him, finally letting your hand rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat under your palm.

you speak against his lips, barely a whisper. “i didn’t come here to fix you.”

“i know.” his eyes are heavy-lidded now, his voice rough. “but it still feels like you did.”

you’re quiet for a second. then: “rafe…”

he leans back just a little, eyes searching yours. something in his gaze is raw. unspoken. but he doesn’t say it. instead, he brushes a thumb across your cheek, and the moment sharpens into something softer again.

“stay?” he asks.

you nod.

no hesitation.

fuck.

you tuck into his side, his arm coming around your shoulders, the movie still playing in the background like white noise. and for the first time in days, he breathes easy.

and now you know.

you

are

so

so

so

fucked.

taglist : @beewritess @davinashifts333 @lanasangelsz @littlefreak-liz @drewstarkeyswife0 @lalaloopsieparty @ethanthequeefqueen @wtfisastiles @angelicameron @moth-feeet @drewstarkeyswife-7 @hiphopstar @cokewithcameron @cameronsbabydoll @chillgal135 @ayy1234567 @pogueprincesa @isinpfortvdmen @iheartrosalia @luvrclub @yesshewrites1 @sideboobrry11 @espressh0e @mysticbby2009 @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @hwaaholic @aves05 @thecolorpearl05 @dreamybabbyy @wintercrows @lesbiana2 @chillgal135 @verycherryblossomhideout @daddyrafeslittleslut @pillowprincess4him @xoxobellamy @dylsdaily @at-todds-heart @nonbeliever1

[cvnt4him]

You’ve given me bunny Izuku brain rot 🙏🙏

I was thinking maybe he starts doing rabbit courtship behaviors, which rabbits don’t have a lot of, but bucks do chase and circle does. Which would be pretty funny— Izuku trying to get Reader to run, and then when that doesn’t work he sprints away hoping she’d follow, and then when THAT doesn’t work the poor little guy tries circling and binky-ing around Reader. Meanwhile she’s just like WTF? 😭

Male rabbits don’t nest, but maybe he would as a desperate, ‘look! Look! Look how good I can be for you!! I can do this!! I would be such a good mate!!’ (he’s been pushed to his last straw, guys)

Also I have a feeling the brat would scent EVERYTHING, including reader lmao

I mean surely at some point Reader would realize Izuku has human-level intelligence, even if he has more instincts than a normal human. Maybe it would be, in teary desperation after he’s been rejected every single time, he does research on Reader’s laptop. (over human courting rituals ofc lmao)

Anyways, feel free to take whatever brainrotting you want from above as writing prompts! I’d love to see it!!

HAHSURUEUE THIS IS DELICIOUS.

mating season rolled up on izuku a lot quicker than he expected. He thought he could try to resist it at first but, his urges grew too strong. He needed to mate; to breed, and not just anyone but you.

Izuku couldn't help trying to get your attention, he figured if you realized what he was doing that what he was doing normally rooted with bunny courting methods and stuff you'd understand and help him! But that wasn't the case....at all in fact.

Truth be told you hadn't exactly learned how to take care of a hybrid. You thought it'd be as easy as taking care of a child, or maybe a cat. Something you've done before, you've babysat and even owed animals once upon a time.

You weren't exactly sure what izuku was doing but it sure was adorable....at first. He'd started getting more clingy and all in your face, staring at you , following you around and whining at you. When you'd look down at him he'd get this eager and excited look on his face, his ears standing at attention and his eyes widening.

His nose twitched faster than you recalled and his tail wagged behind him he slightly turned his head to the side, but instead of investigating you simply chuckled and patted him head. Now of course, your touch was all izuku wanted. But that was so brief and so bare, he wanted more.

Izuku whined to himself getting slightly grumpy, he wouldn't give up not just yet. You noticed he'd started following you around a whole lot more. So much so that it got annoying. He was always present and those once adorable eyes grew a little creepy with growing time.

You finally humored him and tried to figure out what he wanted. Izuku was nervous about telling you what he wanted, he was anxious and couldn't get it out to you in words with his nerves so he did his best to express it the best he could. His natural instincts, once again he was under the impression you knew what you were doing getting involved with a hybrid and keeping it.

You started to follow izuku asking him what he wanted and he was quick to run away his eyes still staring back as he zoomed across the hall sliding on his feet and soon sitting in his hands and feet to keep him steady. He tilted his head and you couldn't help but to giggle at the cuteness, be was so fast and so adorable you weren't sure what to do

“ oh, izuku, you're too cute!”

You walk away ultimately breaking izukus heart. No matter, he wouldn't give up just yet!!

His antics just grew more and more hectic, once again you didn't know too much about bunnies or even hybrids. You knew with him being half hybrid he had ears of a bunny, instincts for the most part, and even grew tons of body hair and hair period. Haircut days were the worst..

Izuku was more silent than usual but his eyes were always on you. He always had to be close to you, but never too close unless you asked him to. There was something with him,he refused to get too close unless he heard you ask or seen you motion for him to come.

He'd started circling around more, laying on top of you and more. Hed start running away from you like he was trying to get you to chase him, you understood that the more it happened and whenever you'd pretend like you would you'd see him jump high into the air, especially if you were outside.

You'd only I giggle and laugh at his antics and kiss him everywhere, silly thing. However he'd move himself from your grasp, visibly upset. You didn't quiet understand what he was doing, izuku didn't hop as much as he probably should and used to. He was formerly a wild hybrid before you kept him as your own so only God knows how high he can really jump. You only seen him hoo whenever he's extremely excited or when youre playing so whenever he jumped as high as he did you were more proud and shocked than anything.

Izuku didnt know what else to do... He felt like he was being clear with his hints why hadn't you made a move! Hes been so good and has been doing his best to get your attention but nothing worked! He was growing more desperate by the day, and desperate times calls for even more desperate measures..

You came back from work, you weren't overly tired like normal. You still had a bit of energy to maybe cook instead of eating left overs then climbing in bed with your recently mire energetic bunny. That sounded like heaven. You announced to izuku that you were home, not that he hadn't already heard the door open and shut plus the sound of your foot footsteps and shuffling.

You walk into your room to see izuku sitting on the floor and your covers were made into an odd .... shape? You couldn't exactly describe what it was but it looked like he'd put all of your covers and sheets and even pillows into a little circle in a sort almost like a birds nest. Honestly it seemed extremely comfortable, it was rather big and spacious. And boy was he adorable.

His eyes were wide and his ears were down a small frown on his face as his nose twitched fastly, you seen him sniff the air almost smelling your new scent that traced the air. He loved the smell of you, now especially that you smelled exactly like him.

He'd been rubbing up against you more, his chin all over your face and even rubbing his body all over yours the best he could at night. Sometimes his constant shuffling would upset your sleep especially because you work early when you're not working from home, so you had nothing better than to do besides push him off of be bed

Luckily for him, scenting you already worked! You hadn't noticed but with zuku growing even more desperate this was another sign of him being territorial. If this worked then that would make you involuntarily his!, even more than you already are, of course. Izuku is extremely territorial alot more than you'd think, you had to quickly instill it in his brain to NOT use your entire house as a toilet when he first moved in.

Then he was covered in hair like a damn fur ball and his eyes were always blown wide, since then hes calmed a bit and has definitely been tamed....for be most part. He would often leave whatever of his he could around to signify another way of him marking his own territory. Something slight that you wouldn't pick up on. And of course, you never did.

You cooed at izuku moving closer and rubbing his head against your lower tummy, scratching behind his ear the way he likes and emitting a low groan in return, you hear a small "miss you", leave his mouth as he rubs his head against your body.

The next day you went back to work izuku was quick to grab your laptop and do what little research he could. Of course he had no fucking clue what he should search up. Just typing in whatever he could, like "how to mate with humans" he ends up watching a 20 minute long video about sex education and honestly he feels up to speed.

He reads on google and other platforms that normally women like to be wooed while others like straight forward "rituals" izuku knew well enough you probably wouldn't like if he just pushed you down onto the bed and took what he wanted. But then again there was a part of him that got excited at the thought of it ..you finally understanding and letting him have it, finally letting him take you the way he needs.

His poor little mind fogging at the thought, his ears dropping as he stomped his feet in the bed at his own frustration. What was he to do when you didn't understand! He was too flustered and nervous to speak, for a hybrid that talks with any chance he gets unless he's upset, he has been really silent for the past weeks. There's no way you haven't noticed!

Tonight was the night. Izuku absolutely refused to let this moment slow away from him, he felt like he was going to explode everywhere. You came home a bit tired, you didn't have it in you to cook. All you wanted was to hold your furball to bed.

“ hey izuku, m’ home baby.”

He hears your grumble out with a sigh. Izuku was under your covers lying down in a burrito, he was facing the headboard as you could see the out print of his tail wagging at the sound of your voice. You giggle and crawl in bed with your work clothes still on you pull the cover back from his head to see him turn his head away from you

You heard a little sniffle leave his body and a wave of concern washed over you.

“ awh, zuku what's wrong baby?”.

You brushed his hair out of his face before you turn his face towards you to see tears welling in his eyes. He whined and seen the way you absolutely melted at the sight of him.

Izuku nuzzled his face into your neck, you could hear little hiccups leave him as struggled to whisper out to you.

“ ...want you.. s’bad..”

You pull back from him you hand still in his hair as you stroke it, he looks at you with his eyes blown wide like they used to be. You place small kisses to his freckled cheeks and see the way his saddened look is replaced with something else. His breathing changes and he moves closer to you, his eyes trailing down to your lips within and instant.

It felt like izuku began looking over you, his ear spiking up and his breath seems to still as well, his nose still twitching fastly as his shaky body moved closer to yours. His forehead moves to yours and he leans it agaisnt yours. You hum to yourself and stroke his cheek, izukus whole body shivers at the sweet touch of you.

He couldn't help himself any more, he tried to be patient and he feels like he has been for ever! Izuku smashes his lips onto yours and immediately whines into the kiss his tail wiggling as he moans climbing on top of you and rutting into your thigh. His breathing was heavy and it's like he couldn't be away from you anymore.

You were in for quite a night.

[k3n999]

Aight aight~ here are my thoughts on TS 2.0 demo. SPOILERS.

About Exile origin

There's smth I'm confused abt with MC and their curse

My thoughts on LIs in this new update <3

Yes ofc I'm gonna yap more abt Leander

Useless 1am thoughts but genuinely terrified me

(Also please excuse my ENG (^^;;; )

I alrd gave my opinions on the replacement with the Hound to the Exile before but @/slyfire gave a perfect rundown on this topic! (Read here if you're interested~) Perfectly summed up everything I thought abt it. One of the things I want to highlight from their breakdown is this:

It seems the exile can unlock this red option:

It makes sense because they have an 'uncanny intuition for detecting danger'. That made mereally anticipate what's going to happen when we finally face the Soulless soon...To my surprise, they changed the options for this scene as well and I was excited 'Fight back' is an option, and ofc I chose it, eager to see what would happen but the result wasn't so pretty💀

Nope, I didn't expect for MC to pull off some sick move to fight the soulless, but what I was hoping for to see them AT LEAST DO SOMETHING or ANYTHING to survive, after all they're 'seasoned survivalist' and 'well-versed in deciphering Soulless'. They also have been taught how to survive in the wild.

So maybe dodging some attacks and do something to distract the soulless before Mhin arrives. But instead they tried to use their curse to purify the soulless temporarily. I mean, yeah cool, would love to see that happen, but at the time, it felt like a bad idea??? and yeah it was hdakdasks

This is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for when I picked the Exile origin.. MC doing something that ties back to their background. I KNOOOWW, I know, it is still a demo, but, give us something-- a little bit that shows exile is good enough to be a replacement to the Hound. *sobs*

Also, did i miss anything abt how MC KNEW they could purify soulless? I'm aware I have a memory of a goldfish so maybe there's something that I forgor😔 Please let me know I'm actually curious (><!! I was surprised we got to see them unwrap the bandages, even attempt to try purify the soulless this soon.

And that's that.

ANYWAY *throws some glitters and sparkles*

My thoughts on LIs <3 just a basic rundown, nothing serious...kind of.

Kuras

Is it just me or does our pristine doctor seems to glow a lot more brighter in this update? Did I accidently turn the brightness up to max?? Because his beauty blinded me for sure, ESPECIALLY HIS EYES!!! I think I'm obsessed...so many pics it's so hard to choose! but something about the 2nd pic gives off softness, purity, innocence and sincerity to me uuuueeegghh and maybe I'm overthinking it bcuz it looks glowy to me🥺🥺🥺 Anw, love the lil ahem ahem...date..we had by the river (ughh the scenery was beautiful😔) I don't remember from previous demo but in this version,Kuras seems much more likely to show that he has a strong interest in the MC. I found myself more and more..dazzled by Kuras this time...I think he's gonna be my 2nd favourite I fear🥺................................ (Leander is behind me isn't he?🧍)

Vere

Well well weeellll~ looks like the fox has lost its tongue. Happy to see Vere is not just about wanting to snap our neck and eat us alive (yet). I didn’t know that we had chosen to ignore him and resist him(??) is what makes us interesting in his eyes? Not sure, but whatever made him react that way made me think of someone *side-eye Ais

[Is it kind of his type or something?...]

Mhin

Mhin is more approachable and um less snappy? than before, which I'm happy about (and can't wait for the moment when they can fully trust and feel comfortable with MC😭 I really want to see that happen so bad....) I love we got to see their nerdy side when they analyzing the soulless asjdasj That honestly caught me off guard. And how they show a little smile and get a bit bashful whenever we catch onto something they like🥺

Ais

[LOOK Y'ALL HIS OTHER HAND IS DOWN *head in hands**copium*]

*sigh* ...I love him..........*slaps face* I um, can't really hide my disappointment when we got less sprites of him. I know... because I remember every single expression and the movement he makes. Yes, I sound like a creep. Only for him tho~- *gets shot* I was hoping to at least him show his fang when he grins,-- pout OR BLUSH. But hey *sobs* we got bloody knuckles. I'm not complaining. Oh and no Princess sprite either *cries* I also hoping they also make the exterior of Ais' place. I am very curious how it look.... And this right here:

means thousands for me <3

(Do you think I'm done? Of course not. Yes I'm holding myself back from saying more because I'm gonna do a separate post just to talk about him😔)

Leander

[I want to kick him in the ass]

And at last, here we are. Of course I have to leave him for the end. The highlight of this updated demo; our lovely Mr. Chokey, Leander. What kind of sorcery and flavor did they put into this man. WHY IS HE SO MUCH DIFFERENT THAN THE OLD DEMO?!!!??? He used to be much more tolerable and I- I thought I could fix him, BUT NOW this man is nothing but glaring red in my eyes😭NINONINONINOOOO🚨🚨🚨 the alarm in my head went off when he said this:

What the actual fck do you mean by that mister💀☝️

At the time, I thought it was just Leander being the haha silly guy he is!! --and then he starts making UwU face and saying things like; 'You don't owe me anything' 'I'll help you all the time' 'You're not believe me?' 🥺👉👈 Yeah it's cute and all but all this makes me...strangely uncomfortable...UNTIL HE LOCKED THE DAMN DOOR. I couldn't help but foolishly screamed for Ais, hoping he would pick me up and comfort me😭

The whole scene in the room; gave me nothing but smth close to claustrophobia. My legs wouldn't stop shaking, I kept biting my nails (afraid to see what would happen next) The whole time I felt trapped. All his sweet words felt some kind of spells in my ears- like MC couldn't do anything but 'Yes' to every word he said... AND THAT MC IS RASVAN DAMMIT AAAAA😭

Me through my monitor screen:

"RASVAAAAANNNN GET OOOOUUTT ITS A TRRAAPPPPPP DONT LISTENN TO HIMMMM PUSH HIM AAWWAAYYYYYYY RASSSVAAANNNNN"

I was already off my seat when it get to this part, LIKE AINT NO WAY Y'ALL GONNA DO IT??? and they don't🧍somehow I feel relief.

Dear Leander fans/simps out there, please don't hate me for having this kind of reaction (I was once one of you but now.........) ajsdghasd OVERALL do I hate this big massive changes on Leander? No. Absolutely not, in fact I like it even more. It shows that Leander might potentially be the scariest one among the LIs, despite being human. And I'm very much looking forward to seeing what kind of sht he'll pull in the full release.

Before I forget- can I just say how much I love his introduction? It's so much better compared to the old demo (I have more to say to this but brain is giving up on me rn)

And now here come my silly 1am thoughts; it's abt both Ais and Leander...

Since, ofc, we don't know what exactly Leander wants from us-- what if the feelings are genuine? The way he acts, all stuff he says to us, sure, some things might raise a brow.. but- but what if he actually sincere and this is just him wants to have us in his (somewhat) twisted way. WHILE AIS THO, all the stuff that I've been saying how soft he can be is just an act???? What if he’s fooling us, only to throw us away later???? What if the devs want to trick us (<Ais fans)??? Maybe there's some kind of twisted plot twist waiting at the end???----

I told you these are just silly and stupid thoughts, but idk why I decided to deep dive into it💀 Sometimes I like to think worse things that could possibly happen. It's fun to get lost in these thoughts even part of me know it won't likely to happen. But heh WHAT IF am I right? I'm still on abt with the theory and analysis with; Leander is green but is the reddest red flag ever while Ais is red but is greenest, most foresty flag ever. I'm so into it and want more ppl to talk about it *looks at you with my sparkly eyes*

ANYWAY, I'm gonna be sound more stupider if I keep this going. I'm going sleep and dream abt aisvan 🚶.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. Hope all of you have a wonderful day and keep playing demo until the full release comes out🥰(me).

[rkiveinmarvel]

pixie dust - joaquin torres des. joaquin is your back seater; partner; friend; maybe lover? yes, lover. air force! reader notes. this is fluffy story about our pretty boy! major ca:bravenewworld spoilers! sam and bucky being older brother vibes, brief mention of injuries, just fluff, teasing, and funny moments falling for our falcon. also inaccurate bnw timeline!!

hi! this is supposed to be a crack fic but i can't help but more background; the roles i used for the characters are from top gun (yes, that's what i referenced) this is essentially you selling joaquin's suit after what happened during the brave new world --- he is so fun! (i <3 u danny ramirez)

w.c: 1.6k

Joaquin Torres, is a man with many words and has a lot of dreams. Being part of the Air Force, being a Falcon, being part of Avengers, and being useful to everyone — especially, you. Torres met you upon being part of the Air Force, he was your backseater and your second eyes. Essentially, he would show you respect, but it doubled when you introduced him to Sam Wilson. The thing is you knew Sam, hell, you knew the Avengers; therefore in Joaquin’s doctrine, you’re also an Avenger. That’s why he needs to be useful to you and to impress you.

He knew you were strict, you commanded the air with such power and control, so, he was more than thankful that you introduced him to Sam because that simply means you trusted him but nothing prepared him upon seeing you outside of air force uniform, how casual you talk and tease Sam and Bucky, nothing prepared him for it.

While a lot of cadets hoped to have a good shot with you, you were teasing Bucky like there’s no tomorrow, you’re textpals with the hawkeye, and Sam is simply not Captain America to you, to you, he’s just Sam. It surprised him—especially, the time where you laughed at his joke while Sam was discussing a mission about the flag smashers or the time where Bucky jumped out of the place to help Sam chase flag smashers causing him to crash.

“I bet your ass, Bucky would’ve been dead if it wasn’t for the serum.” You rolled your eyes in chuckle as you two saw Bucky screaming as he fell down the plane and Red Wing following him. “Loosen up, Torres. I’m not in a position to say something in order. You’re an equal, during this time, and by the way, your shoelace is untied.”

For a man with many words, he lost some that time. 

Honestly, being the Falcon is a lot harder than he expected to be, he asked Sam and he asked the internet how to fill the step the Sam’s falcon left — so, when Sam trained him, he can’t help but burn himself to be the best version; for someone, who commanded respect and build position as front seat, you were there to support your back seater. 

“Torres, take a break. No Falcon can have a flight with shit energy.” As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he likes your company—no, he likes you. His front seater, the pilot, and the Avenger* (he considers that you are one) in no defense or complaint he did take a break, as you gave him your assessment, he just stared at you and nodded absentmindedly.

He wanted to be yours and for someone who dreamt of becoming useful to everyone—his priority was you. He wanted to be seen, acknowledged by you. After two years of training to become the Falcon, he finally did—he hopes the Red Hulk issue would be the break he has and he will ask you out after him and Sam figure it out.

So, here you are now with him in Captain America’s base as you stitch the wound that Sam had gotten after his brief encounter with the sidewinder. As Sam shares his plan, Joaquin is already packing his stuff and ready to back him up. You didn't like that: not because you don’t trust the two capabilities but because you’re not gonna be able to help this time, due to the fact that you’re with Bucky’s campaign. So, when Sam got the stitches he needed, he packed as you talked to Torres.

“Hey, Torres.” He looked up at you. “Yeah?”

“You gonna back him up? You sure? Isaiah barely trained you, you sure you can han—”

“Okay, I know you said I’m barely getting used to the suit but Sam needs me, don’t worry too much, you should worry about your congressman, I saw his pictures, he looks stressed.” He yaps but he stopped when he saw the worry in your eyes. 

Here’s the thing, you know Torres likes you and you hoped that he knows that you feel the same way too, yet neither the two of you do something about it—for another, Torres saw you as his superior that he needs to prove something while you, on the other hand, don’t want to push Torres fast, wait for him to figure it out. But in moments like this, a conversation should be present some other time.

“What? You’re really that worried?” He asked softly.

“If I say yes would you still leave?” 

“...Depends.” You sighed at his response, you can’t blame him—he wants to prove Sam that he is ready, he wants to prove to you he can protect you too. That despite him being a back seater in a jet—he’s all front to you now. But all you replied: “You do know, Sam had faced this shit before and you don’t have the super serum like Walker or Bucky…”

Neither of you don’t confirm or deny the feelings you two have but moments like this, the verbal and nonverbal cues you two have—is something so bright and noticeable.

“I’ll come back. Okay?” There he said it—an assurance that he will come back, he will be okay, he will be fine; in that moment, you just nodded. “You better. It’s gonna suck if Lucas gonna replace you as my backseater.” No, it’s more like please be safe and come back, I want you back and no one else. It’s unnoticed but you both knew it. It’s more than the partners in jet, yes, it’s definitely more than that.

Bucky is taking a break upon shaking hands with people whom he will never remember their names, sooner or later—but nothing prepared him seeing you all panicked as you told him the situation that Sam and Torres faced. He knows something is up with you and Torres so, he knew he had to check on Sam too.

“Hey, we’re gonna check on them.” He simply offered a little comfort as you two entered the car. You just nodded as you recalled the news and information you received about what happened. “You can stay. Don’t worry about the campaign. I’ll call if I need something.”

“Buck, you barely call Sam.”

“....No, trust me. I’ll call if I need something.” He smiled awkwardly.

As you two enter the private room, Sam and Bucky share a hug and include you; after their little talk, you were left behind. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep your boy safe.” You had chuckled at Sam’s words. 

“Well, if you didn’t. He wouldn’t be here, Cap.” Sam smiled and nodded as you two watched Joaquin get operated on. “You’re listening too much to Bucky's PR Team.” He added, as you scoff in laughter. “It’s kinda useful.”

After two weeks of Sam solving the Red Hulk case, you sit on the sofa of Captain America’s headquarters as you scroll the news release about Sam’s success and Bucky’s candidacy, as you were about to get water—the hospital called, that he is awake. You, Isaiah, and Sam drove to the hospital, as Isaiah gave flowers, Sam gave him some pep talk then finally, you.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” You both had said at the same time, the moment you entered his room. He had this look on his face where he looks in pain yet sometimes relief while yours is mixed with disappointment and relief. You walked closer to him, as you wanted to tell him a lot of things but all of them got burned as he simply said. “I am okay.”

In that you felt yourself so small, the rank and the stripes you had suddenly slipped away from you. Here, you’re just a person—being vulnerable, he was okay and he was alive. In a brief moment, Joaquin chuckled, as you sat on the chair and held his hand: it was warm.

“Couldn’t let Lucas have my seat behind you.” He said, in that you had chuckled, he’s back—Joaquin is back, he’s okay.

“I thought I lost you.” You had whispered. Joaquin nodded as he held your hand that was on his. “I wouldn’t let that happen, not when I know Lucas is waiting to get a seat behind you, not when I haven’t bought you my favorite empanadas, and not when I haven’t made you my girl and introduce you to my mama.”

The beeping of the machine that supported his recovery remained in silence as he said those words, he shot his chance as you smiled. “Figures.” You shortly replied, as he smiled. “I like you.” You see this happening but in a different setting, like a date, but here you are, he is recovering—admitting he likes you while you can’t help but worry more.

You both chuckle as you bring his hand to your lips as you kiss it. “Well, you better recover fast, take me out on a date to those empanadas you like and maybe introduce me to your mama.” In that Joaquin nodded. “Can we use my suit to carry you to the house? Or the restaurant? I bet we’ll look badass.”

“Yeah, about that.” He glanced at you. “I sold the suit. We need it for the hospital bills.”

“What do you mean?” Of course, you didn’t. You and Sam just agreed he’s not allowed to use it for a while. “Well, you need to recover first, Joaquin.”

“Yeah, but how will we help Sa–”

He was cutted off when you kissed him so, shortly—leaving a stupid smile on his lips and blushing ears. 

“Recover first and maybe if Sam needs some help from you. We can use Pixie Dust instead.” In the stillness of the vicinity of him and you, he had smiled. Finally, something real. 

For almost half a minute he spoke again: “You didn’t actually sell my suit, right?” You laughed. “Of course, I didn’t. Falcon shall rise again.” “You sound like Sam.” “Well, he has an amazing commentary, so, why not.” You two smiled at each other as he smiled—“I’m glad to be back, mi vida.” 

wow new post, i am rushing ⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3 ₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @yesiamthatwierd, @bitchimasnake-sss, @cjand10, @reemoony, @vibraniumqueen

[frownyalfred]

Ok! Ok! Ok! I know your in dragon!Batfam land right now (which by the by is one of my fav niches so thanks for contributing to it) but!!!

One of the posts about kryptonian microbiome got me thinking about the Kon of it all. What’s his microbiome look like??? Did he have to figure out some supplements??? Did Cadmus give him some alien bacteria (maybe close but not quite right). Does him getting different gut bacteria translate to how his powers are so different from Clark’s??? We know Bruce getting Clark’s bacteria makes him more kryptonian- certainly the reverse must also apply!! How changed ARE Clark/Kon/Jon in ways they don’t even realize cause there is no one else to compare to???

And Bruce having to test Cass and maybe Tim on THEIR microbiome to see if it’s affected since they dated him. And adding “surprise alien microbiome changes” into his safe sex ed chats with his kids/ in the HR protocols for the titans/JL.

Also. Clark having to make like. Kryptonite kombucha. Kryptonite fibre supplements. What if this finally gets him to figure out his kryptonite IBS. Cause his gut biome will absolutely NOT be standard after his whole life on earth. Idk I just found that funny. Suddenly realizing he has health issues after thinking it was just a normal kryptonian thing his whole life. SURPRISE!!!! You’re lactose intolerant actually!!! But in an alien way!!!

Okay I know this was about funny microbiome sharing but what if we made this a little more angsty? I love your mention of Cadmus. What if Kon is a perfect Kryptonian/Human clone/blend, except Lex couldn't obviously synthesize the microbiome Clark brought with him from Krypton. That has probably changed a lot since landing on Earth, but still has stuff that he can't create from scratch for Kon.

So, Kon is Clark's clone with all of his powers etc like normal, except he's slowly growing weaker over time as his body reacts to an incomplete gut microbiome. He's having a hard time processing the sun eventually, and starts losing his powers. And after that, he starts being unable to process human flora too, because his body isn't set up to work that way either. So he starts wasting away, no matter how often he sits in the sun or if he's given IV nutrients, etc.

He needs Clark's help, some sort of fecal transplant etc. Or maybe Kryptonians share that kind of stuff pretty easily via touch? Maybe he just needs close contact -- hand to bare skin, hugs, etc. He's dying without close proximity to another Kryptonian because his body isn't set up right. Bonus points if Lex didn't know this and has to watch Kon fade away, realizing his perfect creation will fail without Clark being on board.

If Clark pushes away Kon like some comics have him do, Kon will probably start to die. Clark is the last Kryptonian, so he's Kon's only hope. But Clark doesn't know about this issue with Kon, and Lex might not tell him right away as he tries to fix it.

[carylmeanslove]

My thoughts on it all after a very vivid dream I had. (Thank you intuition)

(My strictly speculation, but it makes a whole hell of a LOT of sense, doesn't it?)

The truth is being hinted at. Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she did & JD looking like an assistant more than a friend in the last two days. After this week being very busy. It feels like we're ramping up to the grand finale in this whole thing.

Now let me tell you about what I think happened due in part to a vivid dream I had. I am not saying that JV & A were always a thing/dating since back in 2023. I think they were friends but do like each other very much thus the body language, behavior back then & her body language & look now.

It's evident that A wants to be famous/wants to have money more than anything but doesn't want to work hard herself & wants it handed to her. So, she saw her chance to get that with being with Luke & using him to get there. Luke is why she found a way into meeting him & wanted to be in Luke's friend group in the first place. She thought she could try to get involved with Luke only to ride his coat tails/use him to gain fame & fortune. So that's what A stayed focused on even if JV seem so great when she met him & she unexpectedly really liked him a lot, but JV isn't famous.

She didn't realize that it wasn't going to be easy, because Luke's heart belongs to someone. A didn't let that stop her trying though. I still get mad when watching the videos of the NYE 2023 party. Because he was totally wasted. He totally wasn't in his right mind that night. I can totally imagine the SoHos working on him due to his sadness over not being with Nicola due to them still being on their break & not knowing if she'd want to get back together when after reshoots it probably made him very much wanting to get back together even more. The Sohos probably using his sadness to take advantage of him. Having him drink away his sadness.

When the videos of the party leaked. A used the optics of the kiss to her advantage, but very slyly so she could remain in the Soho friend group. She probably/very likely made Luke feel bad. That she thinks he took advantage of her by kissing her while they all know he is in love with someone. When in reality it was her & the Sohos who took advantage of HIM by getting him drunk. So, Luke feeling in the wrong allowed her to remain in the group.

I have to add here that I think A was to Luke only someone in his friends group, which then after he learned of her true nature, he started calling her just a friend of a friend. If there was a situationship or any casual dating going on, wouldn't they have been standing next to each other/touching in the Sohos photobooth pictures? Remember on the WT on the Wingman question? Luke said he has friends who have tried to wingman him. But he said sorry to those friends, that he is not the one to help. It's because his heart was taken by Nic & he was hopeful that they'd get back together. It probably happened when he was depressed over Nic, that they tried to get him to maybe start seeing A, but it was a hard no. But we know they probably didn't let that stop them from taking advantage of him during NYE.

Now the tennis court cheek kiss is very telling in my opinion. He tensed up when she kissed his cheek. If they were really together, wouldn't it have been another 'on the lips' kiss? A knew she couldn't kiss him on the lips again, because he wasn't drunk anymore & he wouldn't allow it, but someone for whom he feels guilty about kissing while drunk, her kissing him on the cheek as a fake apology for thinking he was trying to take advantage of her perhaps. A taking advantage of his kind nature. That's the feeling I get anyway.

But then once him & Nicola obviously got back together, he talked to his team about the optics of the leaked videos. They probably told him not to worry about it they can use plausible deniability by putting it out there that he is publicity single. So, it muddied the water for the online fandom/GA. It can give him & Nicola some cover/privacy until they're ready to announce their relationship but also doesn't confirm something with A that was never true. A kept up her sly ways unknown or unrealized by Luke & since he felt so guilty still about kissing her while drunk, he decided to let her get some exposure for a bit. Likely here is when he even promised her the exposure.

Then when she got less & less sly (going rogue) & Nicola helped him see why A was doing it. Luke had to make sure A wasn't misunderstanding that he wasn't interested in her. But of course, she didn't like being rejected. She was losing her way, her chance at being famous, where she wanted to be. So, she worked some stuff over some people super close to Luke. She weaseled her way to the NYC premiere even though she was uninvited. After that Luke started seeing A's true motives & her true nature. Eventually his team had to step in with the NDA, because then it was desperately needed especially when there was more than just keeping his & Nicola's relationship a secret, but also a precious little one too. Luke learning A's true nature is why he was displaying more & more anger body language around A as time went on. When around the Sohos as a group it isn't as bad, because the friends are there too. But when it's A by herself he is miserable.

Someone said that A was heard saying at the NYC premiere that she wasn't given the exposure she was promised. Makes me think she was wanting him to act happy around her not just her getting to be around him. She wanted the Luke that he is when he is around Nicola. That's ridiculous of her to think he'd do. She wanted it to be truly believed they were together. She wanted to be treated like the most important person ever. Thus, her behavior at the NYC premiere. She wanted to be seen as if she was the biggest star that ever lived. (*Sarcastism activated due over this whole thing of A* Great parenting Mr. & Mrs. R!) Her illusions of grandeur & her upbringing making her that way. (Come on A, you don't have to be the same as your parents. Do better, Be better)

I think she planned the Pap moment. She wanted to trap Luke without being blamed for it. She called Backgrid or had her mother or someone else in her circle do it. She didn't look surprised AT ALL in those pictures. She wanted to make it look like they were together & that it was a hard launch, but I love that Luke ran ahead to get away from her, so fast that she almost fell. Serves her right.

He still was under the NDA. He willingly fell on the sword for Nicola & BN. He took the heat. I still smile thinking about his 'We won't let her ruin our night' moment story afterwards & Nicola's song she shared with the lyrics "I'll be waiting for you"

So then began the "HBS" trips that I'm sure were part of the NDA obligations due to him allowing A to be around still at that point. Letting the optics of it to continue until he fulfills the NDA obligations. A getting into the GQ Heroes event even though she wouldn't have normally. R & S hiring her so she could get in is so telling.

Then comes the adorable things of Luke bringing up Nicola on Fallon with a hint of his feelings for her with 'I can be Ken for her', Also, him subtly confirming the rumors in Brazil being true about the walk on the beach. Gotta love Lukey's breadcrumbs. Then what we now know is that Nicola was in NYC at same time. L/N's teams probably cleverly arranged Fallon/KS on their schedules so they could spend some more time together between busy schedules.

Then we got another obligation (perk for A I'm sure) being fulfilled by Luke with him taking A to a Milan fashion show. Poor thing, Luke was miserable. Thank God for Holly (Girl, I love you!) But then we got another possible Luke & Nicola time with Temu Luke/Dylan B (Decoy for Luke) being seen in Paris near Luke. Holly gave us a hint about it in a comment interaction with Nicola about his look. Also adore Luke already wanting to get his curls back for Nicola. Pace yourself Lukey, I know you really love making your Nic happy, but hair is going grow as fast as it can grow.

Then we got A thinking she's smart by posting insinuations every time Nicola posted something great. Trying to undermine Nicola & Luke. Also revealing her jealousy of Nicola, because Nicola is everything A can never be. We got the amazing JVN combating A's behavior with their amazing shading talent. Love you JVN! We also got crumbs from them of L/N's 'little pumpkin' coming.

Then we noticed pieces more recently that when put together with stuff in the summer it shows Luke & Nicola went to Italy the week leading to the Sorrento ordeal. That was the final straw for Luke with the Soho crap. He left the Sohos behind. He went home to Nicola, Good thing Nicola likely warned him of some stuff about the Soho's sly & manipulating behaviors as well as the obvious danger they put him in by posting in real time his location.

Luke & Nicola were finally reunited; his summer was complete. Thank you, Emily, for your story letting us know it was done. But they still couldn't do anything like announce their happiness openly yet because Luke was still under the NDA contract, it probably stated they couldn't hard launch until a certain date. He left A behind, so he didn't really complete his obligations, but he didn't care. He was still liking her posts; that's also obligations so it counted. Nicola didn't confirm but still hinted at their happiness. They then had to work out what to do with the whole Luke bashing that was happening. The JD thing was their answer. Prove people's double standards. Or at least that was part of it. There was more to it. L/N were taking turns in the spotlight. Decoy needed.

Fast forward to a couple of almost hard launches after the 1st round of the NDA was complete in October. Each one being thwarted. First by a horrible fake red haired menace's minion & the 2nd by A lying & posting another insinuation in the form of Spain pictures. I keep telling people she wasn't there with Luke. The damn floor of the balcony is a different color. The balconies do NOT match. It's A's lying ways. Just like her stolen video of a pasta making restaurant & trying to pass it as her own, to which JVN was acting very frustrated afterward (I feel ya, JVN) & Nicola liked a posted meme of a SpongeBob that showed she really wanted to say something but not being able to. (I feel ya, Nic) Then later Gelato eating in Cyprus trying to pass it off as Italy. EYE ROLL.

Finally, after things were starting to get serious about BN which I think A wasn't able to take it when she knew time was running out on BN coming soon, afraid that they would launch any day. She got the lawyers involved because she felt she wasn't given enough. Luke tried to get her to have more chance of getting the kind of exposure she wanted by trying to rehab her image in December. Even JV got involved (Girl that is who you really like. It's plain as day. do better, be better & get it!). That was when the 2nd round of obligations started, which Luke & Nicola of course would have made sure was arranged to be when they needed the privacy the most for their little one arriving. Having those closest to them help in the believability.

I believe 2nd round is now almost over so Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she was & JD looking as if he is an assistant more than a friend & I can't wait for truth to be revealed.

That is my current thoughts/belief on the timeline.

ETA: Added something I forgot in the A being in the Sohos friend group, NYC premiere, Sorrento & Lukola's August sections. Also rewording a few things & fixing typos.

[thebitsandblurbs]

Marathon

Prompt: Analyst!FemReader x Jack Abbot x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

Warning: None... Slow burn?

Author's Prompt: I literally told myself I was going to write every day, but as Finals Week goes, that didn't happen 😅. But yay, multi-pairing... well, not yet- but soon!

When the race started, he kept to your side for the first few miles. Though upbeat, it was clear that he was self-conscious of his peers. Rather than keeping his eyes forward, his focus darted from runner to runner.

As the amount of runners grew thinner with each passing minute, he soon left you in the dust which was fine.

Pacing was important- you knew this. By the first portion of the thon, it was just you, your playlist, and the sound of your breaths.

Towards the end, you noticed your friend staggering along before collapsing. He seemed disorientated. His legs struggled to carry him even a step forward. Other runners passed him with a glance and a look of pity, but did nothing.

Speeding up, you got to his side. Concern was plastered on your face as he used you as support. “Hey, man-“

“I can do it- I can do it.” He mumbled, more to himself than to you. His feet slipped against the burning concrete, arms pushing against you, threatening to throw off your balance. Shaking your head, you sighed.

He owes you for this.

“Alright, c’mon,” you murmured, slinging his arm across your shoulders and wrapping your other arm around his side. The height difference was substantial, making it somewhat of an awkward stance. Regardless, you made it work- you had to make it work. No way were you going to leave a thon uncompleted, or make this a bad experience for him.

A part of you felt that you should have gotten help, but at this point, you were locked in.

Commit. You have to commit.

Those words echoed over and over. Each step re-started the mantra.

The journey was slow, and people passed you by without so much as a second glance. The cheering of the crowd grew more intense the closer you got; but the closer you got, the heavier he felt. Honestly, if you had dropped him, he would be none the wiser.

On your second -or maybe third- adjustment, you felt his weight shift. Lighter surprisingly. Either that or you actually followed through with dropping him. But you didn’t-

Peering to your left, you could see another guy- probably the same height as your friend- had taken his other side. He gave you a nod, and together, all three of you passed through together. Frankly, he definitely took most of the weight. At this point, you felt more like an accessory than actual help.

Medics were there to take him from you as soon as you all passed that finish line.

You were exhausted enough from doing the race, but that extra burst had you beat. Hands on your hips, you bent forward as you try to catch your breath and clear the rapidly multiplying stars in your vision. The tell tale signs you were going to faint.

“You good?” The stranger asked, guiding you to a nearby chair.

“Yea, just tired.” You huffed, leaning into the back of the chair. “Thanks…”

It took a moment for you to catch your breath. By the time you opened your eyes, you find yourself peering into crystal blue eyes. He seemed somewhat concerned for your wellbeing.

Robby couldn't help but stare at you. Something about you just drew him closer. With Collins, it was a feeling that grew but with you- it was just there. He was concerned about you, there was no doubt about it.

And rightfully so, you were unnaturally pale and your breathing was still rather heavy. Drops of sweat dribbled down your face before being wiped away. Someone gave you a cool wash cloth, and God, was it appreciated.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just sit with you for a few moments.” He said as he took a chair. His hand was out for you to shake by the time his back pressed against the seat backing. “Michael, but everyone calls me ‘Robby’.”

“Y/N,” you tell him, “Robby?”

“My last name is Robinavitch. ‘Robby’ sounds a lot friendlier.”

“Teacher?”

“Close enough, but doctor.”

“Oh.”

“You?”

“Analyst.”

He won't deny it, he was a little disappointed. Some fantasy in the back of his head imagined you showing up through the ER doors, claiming that it's your first day.

It was idle chatter for a while- shallow things anyone could find on a LinkedIn or FaceBook Profile. After about 15 minutes, you saw someone approach the two of you. It looked like he was also a participant, going by the number plastered on his chest.

“Robby, I got to the finish line- Jake said he saw you go into the Medic’s tent.”

“Yea, one of the runners had some trouble staying on his feet. Y/N and I helped him cross. Jack, this is Y/N. Y/N, Jack.”

Contrary to Robby, his companion was shorter. His hair was greying, but it suited him. Overall, he seemed serious. In fact, his eyes bore into your very being. His face said nothing, but his general energy was unnerving to say the least.

You couldn’t help but shrink away from the cold stare emitting from the man before you. You did, however, offer a small wave before turning your attention back to your friend. He seemed to be doing better, considering he was doing his best to flirt with the female medic.

After your friend was well enough to get back on his feet, he insisted on taking you all out for dinner. After some insistence, you went back to you apartment to get refreshed and changed.

That social battery you had, it was awfully low today. A part of you just wanted to get back in bed, but at the same time, you wanted to see him again.

Robby- he seemed like a nice fellow.

You were a tad late having walked from your apartment, but you had just caught up with them when they were getting seated by the waitress.

It was kind of a nice dinner. You had expected it to be an awkward one given you all had just met, but Alistar kept the conversation going. The topic transitions were smooth, segueing into the next interesting topic. In a way, you kind of envied him- out of the two of you, he was the more social one.

More than once, do you catch yourself ogling at them. When one or the other turn to meet your gaze, you look away almost immediately. Every now again, you sip the glass of water by your right.

By the end of dinner, you all had gotten to know each other rather well but not enough to call each other friends.

You stayed long enough to have another drink with Alistar before heading out.

Just about a block away you encountered the two men again, but they looked rather heated. Opting to stay out of it, you tried to sneak around them, intent on avoiding any eye contact or look in their general direction. Though you caught a glimpse of Jack's eyes as you passed, and as you have done in the past, you quickly look away.

As you left them behind, a part of you hopes that you would see them again.

[newkatzkafe2023]

Okay so I'm using a link because I thought I could send images via ask but the monkey kings (D.O) with a female reader becoming parents but with this scene;

https://s04.mpqsc.org/media/2002/018/63e3bf47c300a0b3d05a7810/45661468_1080_3317_262100.jpeg

HEY I got the link to work so here you go😁

(Lmk Wukong) Awwww he thinks it's cute when you seem to try to make him feel better by saying that your newborns take after him. However Wukong can clearly see that they're mini yous all over the hospital room, not that he minds. He can never get enough of you and he's not starting to now, the cubs are all adorable and healthy. Looking like sleeping versions of you while being an baby monkey, it would cause him to have a stroke from the innocence around him. He will be an amazing baba and husband to you forever.

(MKR Wukong) His gives you a really face when you say that your cubs take after him, I mean, maybe there are grumpy faces, but other than that, it's like they are carbon copies of you. Wukong was mildly irritated that the cubs look exactly like you, and it's like his genes got their asses badly kicked by your genes. They're still beautiful, fluffy, and chubby looking calm and cute but had the same resting b*tch face he always had so in a way what you said is true.

(NR Wukong) He Tries not to squeal at how wholesome his newborns are, they are all soooooooooooooooo cute🥰🥰🥰 However the irony isn't lost on him when the cubs come out looking like you. Yet you tell him that they take after him maybe because they were so active in your tummy, and during the birth now that their's way more room now. Such adorable little things they are🤭

(HIB Wukong) He looked at you like you had two heads when you said they took after him. All Wukong had to do is look at the sleeping baby cubs all fluffy and chubby, having your fur and eye color hell even some of them have your long eyelashes and birthmarks. All Wukong did was sigh at your absentminded comment and smile as Luier and Silly girl ran in to see the new cubs.

(Netflix Wukong) Wukong would be extremely pouty when he sees finally sees the cubs. They look like you in every single way from eye color to their long pretty eyelashes, he's both outraged and in love. As if you rub salt on a open wound you tell Wukong that you think that they take after him, causing him to facepalm but smile. Yeah whatever you say peaches, whatever you say😒

(BMW Wukong) Wukong jaw dropped when he saw your cubs for the first time, all of them every single one of them looks exactly like you. Your newborns were all fluffy and squeaky but none of them look like him at all, like his genes didn't bother at all. Wukong would grumble at this especially when you told him that they took after him, Wukong just felt betrayed mostly. However at least the cubs will maybe pick up his love for mischief.

(Destined one) The Destined one smiled at your newborn cubs being born, and after a few hours they were cleaned and wrapped up. The Destined one walked back in the hospital room to see how the cubs, look like carbon copies of you. They were adorable of course but it would have been nice to see at least one of his cubs, look somewhat like him. Though on a brighter note the newborns cubs were pretty quiet almost like a certain selectively mute monkey😉

(Lotmk Wukong) He's so happy-go-lucky about your new healthy cubs, finally after waiting for months they were finally here. When he saw them he had tears in his eyes because they were so beautiful and fluffy, they were also so chubby and he was so in love with them he didn't even notice how they all look 100% like you. Wukong also took your word for it when you said they took after him, he'll just love them more for that.

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[airosuiren]

𝔒𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔒𝔞𝔱𝔥

A/N: This chapter is about transformation. Not the gentle, hopeful kind. The kind born from cracked bones and clenched fists. The kind that turns grief into grit and betrayal into steel. [Y/N] isn’t chasing acceptance anymore. She’s choosing power. She’s choosing herself. And Karma? He’s been ready to follow her into the fire from day one. They aren’t heroes in capes. They’re ghosts, blades, wolves in the dark. And they don’t need anyone’s permission to change the world. This is what it looks like when the forgotten rewrite their fate.

(Many changes were made because this is a fanfic.... I needed to do these because of the plot. And as promised, 2 parts! )

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 1, 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 3, 𝔖𝔦𝔡𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

The final year of middle school crept in quietly, dragging with it a sense of inevitable change.

For [Y/N] Midoriya, each day was another performance.

She smiled in the hallways. She nodded obediently in class. She sat at the dinner table at home, invisible, silent, a ghost sitting next to a golden child.

"Izuku, you’re doing so well," Inko gushed every night, her voice warm and overflowing.

When [Y/N] brought home a perfect report card, she received a distracted "Good job, sweetie," before Inko hurried back to praising Izuku’s doodles of hero costumes.

It stung less now.

Or maybe she had just gotten better at ignoring the sting.

After all, she had Karma.

And that was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

It happened on a humid Wednesday, the kind of day where the air felt sticky and wrong.

[Y/N] and Karma were walking home when they heard it.

A sharp cry.

Around the corner, four older students had a girl from Class 3-E backed against a wall, their voices low and threatening.

[Y/N] acted without thinking.

"Stop it," she said, stepping forward.

The boys turned, sneering.

"Buzz off, Midoriya," one of them snapped. "This isn't your business."

Karma cracked his knuckles lazily.

"Wrong," he said, flashing that infuriating, dangerous grin. "It just became our business."

The fight that followed wasn’t pretty.

But it was efficient.

[Y/N] didn't use her quirk. Neither did Karma.

They didn't have to.

When it ended, the bullies were groaning on the ground, and the girl had fled in terror.

[Y/N] wiped blood from her knuckles, heart pounding, adrenaline buzzing under her skin.

Karma clapped her on the back, laughing.

"See?" he said. "Told you. Wild."

[Y/N] smiled—a real, sharp smile—and for the first time, she felt it.

Power.

Real power.

The school did not see it that way.

They called her mother.

Inko sat stiffly in the principal's office, listening as the staff explained in hushed, horrified voices about [Y/N]'s "violent tendencies."

"It’s unacceptable," one teacher said, shaking his head. "She's a danger to other students."

[Y/N] tried to explain. She tried to tell them about the girl, about the bullies, about how they hadn't even used their quirks.

But no one listened.

They had already decided.

Suspension.

Mandatory transfer to Class 3-E—the "End Class," where all the failures and troublemakers went.

[Y/N] glanced at Karma beside her, who only shrugged and smiled like it was the best news he'd heard all week.

Maybe it was.

The ride home was silent.

[Y/N] sat in the backseat, clutching her backpack like a shield.

When they got home, Inko turned on her immediately.

"How could you do this to us?" she demanded, voice shaking. "How could you embarrass your brother like this?"

[Y/N] flinched.

"I was helping someone," she said quietly.

"You should have gotten a teacher!" Inko snapped. "You're not some thug!"

The door opened, and Izuku stepped inside, backpack slung over one shoulder.

Inko immediately launched into the story, painting [Y/N] as the villain.

Izuku frowned.

"[Y/N]...you should’ve gone to a teacher," he said, voice uncertain.

[Y/N] stared at him.

"They wouldn't have done anything," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. "They never do."

She reached out, desperate for him to understand, to see her.

But he stepped back, his expression closing off.

"Violence isn't the answer," he said.

Inko nodded approvingly.

[Y/N] dropped her hand.

Something inside her cracked.

They called her a villain.

A troublemaker.

A disappointment.

And something inside [Y/N] Midoriya—something fragile and small—shattered beyond repair.

That night, she packed a small bag.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t leave a note.

She simply climbed out her window, dropped silently to the ground, and ran.

Karma was waiting.

Of course he was.

He took one look at her face, her hollow eyes, and slung his arm around her shoulders.

"Took you long enough," he said lightly.

She didn't answer.

Didn't have to.

Together, they walked into the night.

Away from the house that had never really been home.

Toward something new.

Toward freedom.

Moving in with Karma wasn’t official, at first.

His parents—absent, distracted—barely noticed.

Karma’s apartment became their headquarters. Their sanctuary.

No more pretending.

No more silence.

Karma gave her space when she needed it, jokes when she wanted them, and quiet support when she didn't know what she needed at all.

Slowly, carefully, [Y/N] began to rebuild herself.

Not the girl Inko wanted.

Not the sister Izuku needed.

Someone new.

Someone sharp.

Someone strong.

The first day she walked into Class 3-E, heads turned.

Whispers rippled through the classroom.

"That's Midoriya..."

"I heard she got into a fight..."

"Karma's friend."

[Y/N] ignored them all.

She slid into her seat beside Karma, who tossed her a lazy grin.

"Ready to cause some chaos?" he asked.

She smiled back—sharp and dangerous.

"Always."

And just like that, the girl who stayed silent was no more.

In her place stood something new.

Something wild.

Something unstoppable.

A villain, they had called her.

Maybe they were right.

But if she was a villain, she would be the one they regretted creating.

The villain who smiled.

The End Class wasn't what [Y/N] Midoriya expected.

She had heard the rumors: the rejects, the failures, the hopeless cases shoved into a crumbling building at the edge of campus to rot until graduation. Teachers who didn't care. Students who didn't try.

She had expected hostility, or maybe worse, indifference.

What she found instead was chaos.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged.

Class 3-E was a mess of personalities.

Loud, reckless, stubborn—but alive.

Nobody pretended here. Nobody wore masks.

[Y/N] liked that.

She slipped into the flow quickly, Karma at her side like always, effortlessly dragging her into the heart of the madness.

Nagisa Shiota welcomed her with a shy smile.

Kaede Kayano plopped down beside her at lunch and started babbling about favorite foods.

Even the sharp-tongued Rio Nakamura winked and said, "Any friend of Karma's is a friend of mine."

It was messy. It was noisy.

It was home.

And then there was Koro-sensei.

The infamous, unkillable teacher.

[Y/N] had expected a monster.

What she found was a giant yellow octopus with a beaming smile and a weird obsession with sweets.

It should have been ridiculous.

It should have made her laugh.

Instead, it made her wary.

Because Koro-sensei wasn't just fast.

He was smart.

And he saw through people like glass.

"Welcome to End Class, Midoriya-san!" he boomed on her first day, practically vibrating with excitement. "I look forward to seeing your growth this year!"

[Y/N] bowed politely, murmuring thanks.

Karma snickered behind her.

She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

Assassination training started immediately.

It was strange, at first.

Learning how to aim, how to move silently, how to think like a predator.

But [Y/N] adapted quickly.

She had been learning to survive her entire life.

This was just the next step.

Kasuma-sensei, their combat instructor, was a different kind of teacher.

Strict. Sharp. Honest.

He didn't coddle them. He didn't lie to them.

When [Y/N] hesitated during a knife drill, he didn't scold her.

He just said, "If you hesitate in the field, you die."

Simple. Brutal. True.

[Y/N] respected that.

She threw herself into training with a hunger she hadn't realized she possessed.

Karma matched her, step for step, grin for grin.

Together, they rose quickly through the ranks of 3-E.

Together, they became feared.

Not because they were cruel.

But because they were relentless.

Because they refused to break.

The others noticed.

Nagisa started partnering with [Y/N] during practice missions.

Kayano dragged her into prank wars against the other classes.

Even the stoic Ritsu—the AI installed in the classroom—offered her custom-tailored study programs with a cheerful, "I have calculated a 97% success rate for Midoriya-san's improvement!"

[Y/N] smiled more.

Laughed more.

Lived more.

One night, sitting on the roof of the dorm building, she turned to Karma.

"I think..." she said slowly, "I think I'm happy."

Karma tilted his head, considering.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

He bumped his shoulder against hers.

She bumped him back.

And for once, the silence between them wasn't heavy.

It was warm.

Safe.

The assassination attempts against Koro-sensei grew more elaborate.

Traps, ambushes, coordinated attacks.

Sometimes they failed spectacularly.

Sometimes they almost succeeded.

Koro-sensei always laughed, always encouraged them to try again.

But every time [Y/N] watched him dodge and deflect with impossible speed, she felt a gnawing sensation in her chest.

Because she knew.

Koro-sensei wasn't just teaching them how to kill.

He was teaching them how to live.

How to fight for themselves.

How to believe they mattered.

And when the time came, when they finally succeeded...

It would break her heart.

But she would do it.

Because she had to.

Because he deserved that much.

Because he believed in her when no one else did.

Months blurred by.

Seasons changed again.

[Y/N] grew stronger, faster, sharper.

Her control over Arcadia deepened in secret.

Late at night, when everyone else slept, she practiced on the cliffs behind the school.

Calling the wind to lift her.

Shaping water into blades.

Forging fire into chains.

She trained until her body ached, until her vision blurred.

And Karma was always there, lounging nearby, tossing pebbles into the sea, pretending not to watch her with quiet pride.

When the final exams came, they faced real enemies.

Professional assassins.

Villains.

Killers.

[Y/N] fought like a storm unleashed.

Karma fought like a wildfire.

Together, they tore through the opposition, leaving broken weapons and stunned foes in their wake.

By the time the dust settled, only three students stood above the rest.

Nagisa Shiota.

Karma Akabane.

And [Y/N] Midoriya.

They were awarded their assassination licenses in a private ceremony, away from prying eyes.

Kasuma-sensei presented them personally, his normally grim face soft with something like pride.

"You've earned this," he said simply.

[Y/N] accepted the heavy, cold badge with trembling hands.

Not because she doubted herself.

But because for the first time, she was being seen.

Truly seen.

Not as a disappointment.

Not as a burden.

As a warrior.

As a force.

As herself.

Afterward, they celebrated.

A bonfire on the cliffs.

Music crackling from cheap speakers.

Laughter echoing into the night.

Karma dragged her into a clumsy dance around the fire, both of them tripping over their own feet and laughing until they collapsed into the grass.

Under the stars, Karma pulled something from his pocket.

A ring.

Simple.

Unadorned.

But heavy with meaning.

"It's not... y'know... a proposal or anything," he said quickly, cheeks red. "It's a promise."

[Y/N] stared at him, heart hammering.

"A promise?" she echoed.

Karma nodded.

"That no matter what happens, no matter where we end up..." he said, voice rough, "we stick together."

[Y/N] swallowed hard.

Tears pricked her eyes.

She held out her hand.

Karma slid the ring onto her finger, clumsy and careful.

"Partners," he said.

"Best friends," she agreed.

But somewhere deep inside, [Y/N] knew it was more than that.

And judging by the way Karma smiled—soft, real, rare—she knew he knew it too.

The final semester raced toward them like a freight train.

The government intensified its pressure.

They had to kill Koro-sensei.

They had to.

[Y/N] hated it.

She loved him.

He was the first real teacher she’d ever had.

But she would do it.

Because he asked them to.

Because he believed they could.

And when the final moment came—when Koro-sensei knelt before them, smiling, proud—[Y/N] didn't hesitate.

She fired with the rest of the class.

And when the deed was done, when the sky cracked open with grief, she held Karma's hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.

They wept.

They laughed.

They remembered.

And when they stood again, they stood taller.

Stronger.

Unbreakable.

Graduation came with no fanfare.

No applause.

Just a quiet walk down the mountain, leaving behind the place where they had been forged.

[Y/N] glanced back only once.

At the ruins of the classroom.

At the memories carved into the wood and stone.

And then she faced forward.

Toward the future.

Toward the unknown.

Toward a world that had no idea what was coming.

Because [Y/N] Midoriya wasn't a background character anymore.

She was a force of nature.

And she was just getting started.

Training didn't stop after graduation.

If anything, it intensified.

[Y/N] Midoriya and Karma Akabane didn't get to drift into a peaceful summer of freedom. Kasuma-sensei made sure of that.

"You're not children anymore," he said, arms folded as he addressed them outside a private facility hidden deep within the mountains. "You have licenses. You have responsibility."

[Y/N] tightened her grip on the strap of her duffel bag. She understood. This wasn't school anymore. This was survival.

The facility was a maze of obstacle courses, simulated urban warfare zones, target ranges, and sparring arenas. They lived, breathed, and bled training for weeks.

Their schedule was brutal:

Dawn combat drills.

Midday quirk training.

Evening strategy simulations.

Midnight endurance tests.

Sleep was a privilege, not a guarantee.

Karma loved it.

[Y/N] thrived in it.

They pushed each other past limits they hadn't even known they had. Arcadia evolved rapidly under pressure—[Y/N] could now weave earth shields mid-sprint, summon lightning strikes with pinpoint precision, and freeze enemies in place with a snap of her fingers.

Karma’s control over his thermal fields became terrifying. He could flash-freeze a path across a lake and superheat a steel wall to glowing red in seconds. His ambushes became lethal art.

Together, they became a storm.

An unstoppable force.

"You two are monsters," Nagisa joked one evening, dropping onto the bench beside them during a rare break.

[Y/N] shrugged, sipping water.

"We had good teachers," she said simply.

Karma grinned, slinging an arm casually over her shoulders. "And better instincts."

Kasuma watched them with an inscrutable expression.

One night, after a particularly brutal sparring match that left the practice field scorched and frozen in equal parts, he called them into his office.

The room was bare, functional—a desk, two chairs, a wall covered in maps.

Kasuma didn't waste time.

"You're ready," he said.

[Y/N] straightened.

"For what?" Karma asked lazily, though his golden eyes sharpened.

Kasuma slid two folders across the desk.

"Field assignments. Real ones."

[Y/N] felt her heartbeat quicken.

This was it.

No more simulations.

No more practice.

Real targets. Real danger.

Real consequences.

Kasuma leaned forward, his voice low and serious.

"Remember your rules: Protect the innocent. Neutralize threats. Minimize collateral. And above all—trust each other."

They nodded.

Trust wasn't even a question.

They had been trusting each other with their lives for years.

Their first assignment took them to Yokohama.

A corrupt businessman with ties to underground trafficking.

The mission was simple:

Infiltrate. Gather intel. Disable.

Assassination was a last resort—only if capture was impossible.

[Y/N] and Karma planned meticulously.

Stakeouts.

Blueprint studies.

Behavioral analysis.

When the night came, they moved like shadows.

[Y/N] manipulated mist to cover their approach, while Karma destabilized security systems with sudden thermal surges.

They slipped inside the compound without a sound.

The guards never stood a chance.

In the end, they didn’t have to kill.

The target surrendered when [Y/N] cracked the marble floor beneath his feet and Karma made the air so hot he could barely breathe.

They extracted him cleanly, disappearing into the night before authorities arrived to "discover" the evidence they had carefully planted.

Mission: Success.

Kasuma debriefed them over coffee at a rundown diner.

"Textbook operation," he said, tapping the table lightly. "Efficient. Clean."

[Y/N] felt pride swell in her chest.

Karma stole her toast when she wasn't looking.

She smacked his hand away, laughing.

For a moment, it felt almost normal.

Almost.

Their next missions came faster.

A rogue quirk-user creating blackouts across Tokyo.

A gang smuggling illegal support gear.

An arms dealer with political protection.

Each assignment grew harder.

Each victory sharpened them.

The media whispered about a new pair of heroes operating in the shadows—ghosts who saved lives without ever being seen.

[Y/N] and Karma didn’t seek the spotlight.

They didn’t need it.

They had each other.

They had their purpose.

And they had their promise.

But not every mission ended cleanly.

One night, a routine surveillance turned into a firefight when a villain group ambushed them.

[Y/N] unleashed a wave of lightning, freezing the battlefield in a moment of stunned silence.

Karma followed with a blast of superheated wind, scattering their enemies like leaves.

But even as they fought, [Y/N] realized something chilling.

They weren’t scared anymore.

They weren’t hesitating.

They were efficient.

Deadly.

Professional.

She didn't know whether to be proud or terrified.

Afterward, sitting on the rooftop of an abandoned building, [Y/N] stared up at the stars.

"Are we still the good guys?" she asked quietly.

Karma leaned back on his elbows, considering.

"We’re the ones protecting people," he said finally. "Even if they don't know it."

[Y/N] nodded slowly.

It was enough.

For now.

The weeks blurred into each other.

Training.

Missions.

Recovery.

Repeat.

Kasuma pushed them harder.

The world grew darker.

Villains grew bolder.

The League of Villains rose in whispers, a storm gathering on the horizon.

And through it all, [Y/N] and Karma stood together, unyielding.

On their last night at the training facility, before they were reassigned to new posts, Kasuma called them in one final time.

"You’re not students anymore," he said.

[Y/N] straightened.

Karma grinned lazily.

"You're operatives," Kasuma continued. "And more than that—you're a team."

He handed them new badges.

Official.

Permanent.

Heroes.

But heroes built in blood and shadows, not in the gleaming spotlight of agencies.

"Stay sharp," Kasuma said, his voice rough.

"Stay alive."

They saluted him without thinking.

Kasuma smiled—small, proud, bittersweet.

And then he was gone.

[Y/N] and Karma stood outside under the endless sky, badges gleaming under the stars.

"Well," Karma said, bumping her shoulder. "Ready to save the world?"

[Y/N] smiled—sharp, fearless.

"Ready to burn it down if we have to."

Karma laughed, the sound wild and bright.

"That's my girl."

He held out his hand.

She took it.

And together, they stepped into the future.

Partners.

Best friends.

Unbreakable

A/N: They started as outcasts. As kids who flinched before they fought. Now? They don’t flinch. They end the fight. [Y/N] Midoriya isn’t the sister in the shadows anymore. She’s a storm wrapped in scars and loyalty. Karma isn’t her shield — he’s her reflection. Her flame. Her equal. They made a promise. And they meant it. Wherever this path leads next — whether into battle, ruin, or revolution — they’re walking it together. Because the world doesn’t get to define them anymore. They define themselves. And they don’t miss.

—Your author, still screaming about rooftop blood vows and shadow-born heroes🩸👣

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[kuromori4]

I know this comic was very much about Marc and Nath and I very much don't want to take that away from them, but I definitely see the parallels between Rain-Piercer & Sun-heart and Ladybug & Chat Noir.

Maybe it's obvious, but I enjoy analyzing it!

Sun-Heart clearly parallels Adrien/Chat. Blonde/golden hair, the whole 'Sunshine' aspect? AdriChat's bright and sunny disposition?

Then we have Rain-Piercer. Dark hair, more concerned about the consequences of them revealing? And the reference to all of the rain symbolism between Adrienette/LadyNoir?

Lets' break it down:

So this could be taken one of 2 ways:

1) This might be referring to the final battle with Monarch. It's showing us that this could have happened between then and now, That LB and CN discussed revealing after Monarch was defeated. Though since we know they didn't reveal, I'd say it's more likely it's a potential hint to the future--

2) Lila/New Butterfly is the "Deep Darkness" (Though it could also refer to the council stuff) And this is foreshadowing what could happen once they defeat her.

Now they realize that if they reveal, they would have to give everything up. Stop being LB and CN? Maybe even never see each other again if their only connection remains their time as heroes.

Chat is ready to reveal but Ladybug warns him the consequences of revealing their identities.

If Chat Noir reveals himself to Ladybug, then he won't be allowed to be Chat Noir any more.

I'm guessing the Great-Rain is referencing the Celestial Guardian, or maybe the order of the Guardians or something. Maybe even Ladybug herself, as she's the current Guardian. Considering her parallel's name here is Rain-Piercer and the authority in this story is 'the Great Rain' it could very well be that they mean 'Ladybug' and 'Ladybug as Guardian'.

And the sacred armor is obviously the Miraculous.

But Chat is ready to reveal. He's waited so long. He wants this. Like it says, He'd rather lose his powers than his partner, who's always been by his side.

Now we have Ladybug, convinced by Chat that she wants this too. She decides to go through with it. Renounce her burden (With a passion!)

Interestingly enough, this time it says 'powers of the Great-Sun...' which... they just said it was the Great-Rain, so I'm wondering if this is a mistake, or intentional? I'd have to really listen to the french to pick out exactly what's said. Maybe 'Great-Sun' is intentional and means something. I'll come back to this if I figure it out!

And then of course, we get the happy ending and the much-awaited reveal and kiss! So Chat Noir and Ladybug reveal, and they have their beautiful moment!

But.

This is the re-written version.

In their original draft, they both gave up their powers to be together. Nathaniel thought it was unfair that they should lose everything and not have their happy ending.

This is something fans have been discussing for ages. And there's the whole possibility of Ladybug losing her memories if she renounces her Guardianship, which has also been hinted at in this season already.

So Nathaniel changed the ending to ensure they got to keep their powers and have their happy ending.

So is Nathaniel a parallel to the writers themselves? Changing the lore to ensure that Ladybug and Chat Noir can continue their journey even after an identity reveal?

So then this leaves the question of which version we're going to get by the end? Is this their way of showing us that they can continue the show for 12 seasons AND still give us the big reveal?

I mean, how do you continue a show like this for so many seasons and keep the fandom on the line for that long with no reveal? This could be their way of introducing the idea that the story CAN continue post-reveal!

That's just my thoughts on the matter anyway! I hope you enjoyed my breakdown!