#and i was specifically trying to avoid that

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

I can confirm this is such a thing

now that I'm an adult the best advice my moms boyfriend ever gave me was

"make something to look forward to every day, every week, every month, every year" one thing for each thing little things and big things my big year happy thing will be getting to be with my boyfriend for new years and experiencing my very first romance stuff with him : ) its so exciting and cool! My monthly stuff tends to be a fun project Im loving like writing a book, (like right now ) or making games, or otherwise having a BIG large scale project i'm working on , this sometimes goes on for months but its a HUGE source of happiness for me, this can also be visiting af riend or loved one or going to a fair of some sort!

my weekly big happy is usually going out for dinner or to a cool store or making dinner with my mom or otherwise doing something cool like that! Or doing a smaller scale craft, like I made a little top hat bag out of eva foam!

Finally my small scale things are usually small art projects, video games, watching LONG FORM content like an anime or a movie or things like that.

I think a lot of peoples issue when it comes to technology addiction also partially come from trying to feed a brain thats incredibly bored that just doesnt have something fun and stimulating going on, It offers a level of happiness thats so minor that most people wouldn't consider watching a youtube video a special treat, unless its something really specific.

(example: charlie the unicorn vs say, a tiktok compiltion, you're not going to remember that tiktok compilation years later, BUT almost everyone who's my age remembers charlie the unicorn, I'd consider the amazing digital circus this too, and asdf movies, those are all "long form content" in a way)

it's weird how that works and I love my tech so im not saying technology bad lol, just that like,I'm feeling so much better mentally now that I'm specifically searching for things Im looking for, avoiding short form content where I can, and making mindful choices about what i watch. I'd 100% consider watching an indie animated show mindful watching, I mean whoa just look at the artistic magnificence that is lackadaisy!? I'll never stop replaying that opening sequence in the first episode!

let's face it, it's NOT fun to scroll through tumblr all day finding 50 posts that really suck and one or two that are somewhat entertaining, and algorythms specifically are designed on most websites to keep you JUST bored enough and entertained enough that you keep going and keep going as long as possible and never are quite happy. Make at least one special thing for yourselves, it makes a HUGE difference, and remember to actively chose to have fun and do silly things sometimes, you're your own zookeeper, after all!

what they dont tell you about adulthood is that it’s startlingly easy to go long periods of time without having any fun at all not even a little bit. btw this causes ur brain to try to kill you with knives and hammers.

[litomilo]

I LOST THE REQUEST LOL but ty babyyy

btw it might take me a while to post the other requests cuz i just i have a terrible allergy in MY EYES, it's really itchy, so i'm avoiding being on my cell phone or any type of screen, sorry

billie eilish x fem!reader 🧷

billie is on tour for a few months, unfortunately you couldn't be with her at all the shows that happened until then, but you took this week to accompany her and to be honest, what a week. you could feel how stressful and overwhelming it was being for your girlfriend, and it made you feel upset.

very specifically today a not very pleasant situation happened on stage, billie was sitting on the floor performing 'what was i made for?' and someone just threw a necklace right on her face. later that night you notice that she was more she was more sensitive and irritable and almost immediately you knew what was happening.

"love?" you called out for her as you got out the bathroom and you came across her lying in bed under the covers, probably using her cell phone. the only response you get from her was a grumpy hum "what's up, huh?" you asked climbing on the bed and kneeling by your side "you good?".

billie sighed taking the blanket off her head and putting her cellphone aside, looking at you instead of the screen "just i'm a little stressed" she said clearly upset "wahha talk?" you asked stroking her hair. she remained silent for a while just feeling your soft touch, but then she started "y'know, the whole tour is stressful, even tho i try to make it something fun and enjoyable for me 'cause... that's my job and i want to work with something i like" she vented while you just stood there in silence listening to her and trying to comfort her with your touch "and i also don't know why, but the fan throwing the necklace right on my face tonight made me sensitive".

you tilted your head understanding the situation "well, that's sucks, i know... but hear me out, as stupid as it was, i'm sure whoever threw the necklace at you didn't mean to hurt you" you whispered kissing her forehead "i know, but it annoyed me" she muttered "i bet it did, i'm so sorry... can i do something to make you feel better?"

billie thought for a few seconds and then pulled you into her arms "maybe you could stay right here in my arms the whole night, huh?" you giggled at her speech and nodded against her chest, laying your head there "sounds nice, baby" she holds you tightly as you answer and kiss your hair "love you so much" you whisper "and i love you more".

[decentwritings]

Chapter 4

Summary: At twenty-six, you never expected your life to look like this: a veteran, a college dropout, now running drugs to cover your late father’s debts. The military took you away for a brief moment, but now you're back in your hometown, keeping family at a distance to keep them safe. Your simple plan to clear the debt, one job at a time, unravels the moment Mabel steps into your life.

previous part <--> next part

The diner gives off the same energy you get from the beach—warm, familiar, and buzzing with the chatter of regulars and clinking dishes. You feel a sense of relief wash over you as the door closes behind you, the chaos of the outside world fading for a moment. The smell of your uncle's cooking greets you like an old friend, grounding you.

Rudy waves you over from behind the counter, his grin wide and welcoming. "If it isn't my favorite niece! And Mabel! Come sit!"

You smile at Rudy's loud enthusiasm, but your mind still lingers on the distant pops you heard before. Mabel tugs on your sleeve, guiding you to a booth by the window. She's already chatting away, but you glance outside for a split second, keeping a watchful eye on the street.

"Hey," she says, her tone soft but insistent, pulling your attention back to her. "You with me?"

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just... keeping an eye out."

Jodie comes over with some water, smiling at how close you two are. You can already tell she has a few things to say just by the look on her face.

"I see you finally got her to let her guard down," Jodie says as she sets some utensils on the napkins she sets out. You purse your lips into a thin line, exhausted by this conversation already. "She's like her mother in that way."

You sit back, rubbing your temples when you hear Mabel chuckle.

She senses your discomfort so she shrugs. "I get the whole having your guard up," she bumps your shoulder with her gently. "But I showed her it's okay to relax around me."

You wish that were true, but right now, you're more on guard than ever—just not towards her. Your eyes keep scanning the diner, examining every person, every potential threat. You hate it. You hate not being able to fully relax around her, not showing her the side of you that she deserves—the dorky, carefree version that you know is buried somewhere under all the layers of vigilance.

Jodie hums, happily and almost dreamily. You raise a brow at her and she gets the hint. She raises her hands up in mock surrender then excuses herself. She tells you Rudy is whipping up a special specifically for you two, leaving you two alone.

Mabel pulls a journal out of her bag, something you've seen her do twice since you've met her. The first time at the beach after you avoided her for a couple days and now. The journal looks worn out, crinkled at the edges and you wonder if the journal was in the bag that fell in the water.

Mabel glances at you, noticing your gaze lingering on the worn-out journal. She flashes a small, almost sheepish smile as she flips it open. "You curious?"

You shrug, but you can't help the slight raise of your eyebrows. "I mean, yeah..." you admit, shrugging again. "I suck at writing. I was always envious of people who were able to transfer their thoughts onto paper easily. And handwriting wise–I mean, I have chicken scratch for handwriting," you tell her, scoffing at yourself.

She chuckles softly, thumbing through the pages before stopping at a blank one. "It's nothing deep. Just a place for me to jot down thoughts, random ideas—sometimes things I want to say but can't."

You nod, trying to imagine her sitting down to write after the beach or in moments when you're not around. "It looks like it's been through a lot."

She glances at the worn edges, smiling. "It has. It was in my bag when it fell in the water. Got lucky though, most of it survived." Her fingers trace the cover as if she's remembering something.

You're tempted to ask more, but instead, you lean back and offer her a genuine smile. "It suits you. Mysterious, a little beat up, but still standing strong."

Mabel laughs, shaking her head as she looks down at the journal. "I'll take that as a compliment." She pauses, then adds, "Maybe one day I'll let you read some of it... if you're lucky."

Your smile widens, and a warm feeling stirs in your chest as you realize just how much Mabel trusts you. She's offering you a glimpse into her inner world, a place where her most personal thoughts and ideas live.

Then it hits you; the trust she has shown you. Yet you haven't shown her not even half of the trust she's shown you.

"You know I trust you, right?" you say, voice suddenly quiet, glancing at her. Mabel raises an eyebrow, her expression curious but kind. "I trust you, really, I do." You're not sure if you're trying to convince her or yourself.

"Of course. Why wouldn't you?"

You shrug, forcing a smile. "I just hate that I can't turn it off sometimes." Her head tilts, confused by your words. "I feel like...like I'm not here. I want to be present, really be here with you."

Mabel tilts her head, her eyes searching yours. "You are here with me," she says softly, her hand finding yours under the table. "Even if you're keeping an eye out, I know you're still with me."

Her words bring you a sense of calm you weren't expecting, a reminder that even if you're cautious, she sees through the armor.

You feel relief wash over you, her words sinking in. They say the transition to civilian life is difficult and you wanted to prove that wrong but you find yourself proving it right more times than not. To know that Mabel has some sort of understanding about it settles your nerves a little. You can protect her, be on guard, while not having to worry you're making her feel unwanted.

It's hard to let go of the instinct to always be on alert, but with Mabel, it feels like there's a part of you that can start to relax. She's patient with you, understanding in ways you didn't expect, and that makes you want to give her more of yourself—more of the version you want to be around her.

"Thank you," you say, your voice low but filled with sincerity. "I promise you, I'm trying. I want to be here. With you."

Her hand squeezes yours, twice and you glance down at your intertwined fingers. You nod in understanding, no words shared anymore, and allow her to write in her journal.

Just as the moment settles between you, Rudy appears from the kitchen with plates in hand, breaking the tension. He gives a knowing look as he places your food on the table. "Special order for two."

You both dig in, with Rudy taking a seat to join you. He starts to talk and takes advantage of times you have your mouth full to tell Mabel embarrassing stories. You can only glare, defending yourself after you've swallowed what's in your mouth.

In the end, you both have a great time. You enjoy hearing Mabel's laugh, seeing her smile and feeling the lightness of the moment. It's a simple thing, sharing a meal and listening to stories, but it feels like a step forward—a step towards the peace you've been chasing.

As the meal winds down, Rudy excuses himself, leaving you and Mabel alone once more. She's still smiling, her fingers tracing the rim of her water glass absentmindedly, and you take a moment to just watch her. You realize that in this moment, surrounded by the sounds of the diner, with her laughter still echoing in your ears, you feel more present than you've felt in a long time.

You lean back in your chair, feeling something shift inside of you, a sense of gratitude for her patience and the ease she brings to your life. For the first time in a while, you let yourself just be—right here, with her, and nowhere else.

\\\\\\

Days pass, and you and Mabel are practically inseparable. She joins you at your nephew's field day, laughing as she cheers him on louder than anyone else. You watch her out of the corner of your eye, her enthusiasm infectious, making you smile more than usual. She fits into your world so seamlessly, like she was always meant to be here. She cheers you and Devin on in the three-legged race and cheers him up when you guys wind up in third place.

Then comes the last day of school. The two of you stand outside the building, waiting for your nephew. When the bell rings, he runs straight to Mabel, throwing his arms around her in excitement before even greeting you. You roll your eyes, pretending to be jealous, but deep down, you're glad they've bonded so easily. He hops into her car and practically begs her to go fast; because she's infamous for her driving.

Mabel laughs, ruffling your nephew's hair as she buckles him in. "I'm not getting in trouble with your aunt today," she teases, glancing at you with a playful smirk.

You cross your arms, shaking your head. Your nephew looks at you, arms crossing in a way that reminded you of your sister.

You look between them. "I'm not liking this duo...I feel outranked." You frown, earning a laugh from Mabel.

Devin pouts, slumping in his seat. "You're no fun," he mutters, but it's clear he's just teasing. He can't help but grin when Mabel cranks up the music, and soon enough, he's singing along, his earlier disappointment forgotten.

As you drive back home, you find yourself watching them interact in the rearview mirror, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

When you pull into your sister's driveway, Devin hops out of the car and races inside, yelling something about showing Mabel his latest toy car. He claims it can go as fast as Mabel's car. You chuckle, shaking your head at his excitement, but then your heart skips a beat when you notice a familiar car parked in front of the house.

Your mom.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath, suddenly remembering she had planned to stop by today.

Mabel glances over, noticing your tension. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just... forgot my mom was coming over," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. "She doesn't know you're here."

Before you can say anything else, your mom steps out of her car, already waving as she approaches. There's no backing out now.

"Faro!" she calls, then her eyes immediately land on Mabel. Curiosity flickers in her expression, but she smiles warmly. "And who's this?"

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling like a teenager caught sneaking someone into the house. "Mom, this is Mabel."

Your mom's smile widens, and she looks between the two of you knowingly. "Mabel." She says it like she's testing the name. Mabel nods, smiling at your mother shyly. "Well, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." She raises an eyebrow at you as she says this, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

It's a lie. You've never mentioned Mabel to anyone except your aunt and uncle. They only know because they've butt into your personal life.

Mabel, to her credit, handles the situation smoothly, shaking your mom's hand with a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you too. Faro, here, has told me some great stories," she laughs, glancing at you.

You sigh quietly, hearing Mabel use your nickname making you... feel different. You've never minded the nickname, but Mabel had always called you by your name until now. You like hearing her say it. Now, you only think of the nickname as something you once were—a version of yourself from before everything changed, before you met Mabel, before life started feeling more complicated. It doesn't bother you, but it belongs to that past self, one that doesn't quite fit anymore.

You want to be that person again.

Mabel's use of the nickname stirs something inside you that's hard to explain, even to yourself. Mabel notices the subtle shift in your expression. Her brow furrows, like she's tempted to ask, but instead, she offers you a small, reassuring smile—one you're starting to understand more and more.

Your mom gives you that look—you know the one—the one that says she'll be grilling you about this later, but for now, she's on her best behavior. "Well, had I known you were coming, I would have brought more stuff to cook," She waves toward the bag of groceries she brought, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

You clear your throat, realizing you hadn't planned to stay for dinner. You only meant to hang with Devin until your sister got home.

"Umm, ma," you start but she cuts you off, like she knows what you have to say.

"Nope," she shakes her head and grins. "I'll go in and get set up after I check on that little monster," she laughs, leaving no room for you to argue.

Mabel attempts to follow your mother but you grab her hand gently, halting her movements. She looks back at you, curiosity filling her eyes. Your mother, with that extra mother sense, glances back at you both.

"There a problem?" She raises a brow.

You clear your throat awkwardly. "You need more ingredients, she needs more ingredients," you say to Mabel, and she laughs at your flustering mess of a speech. "We're gonna go get some more ingredients for you. We'll be–"

"Ahh," your mother wiggles a finger at you, shutting your idea down. "You can go. Mabel, come with me, I want to show you how to make the most popular Peruvian dish," your mom finishes, already pulling Mabel toward the house with a wink thrown in your direction.

You blink, left standing there as Mabel gives you a playful, helpless shrug before following your mom inside. You know exactly what's happening here—your mom is trying to get to know Mabel in her own way, and by the looks of it, Mabel's more than willing to humor her.

As you stand there, it hits you how quickly things have escalated. If the kiss is the start of a relationship, then technically, you and Mabel have only been together for a week. And she's meeting your mom already?

Mabel meeting your mom wasn't on the agenda today, or even for the next month and half she's here. But here they are now, bonding over dinner prep. You feel a strange mix of pride and nervousness. Part of you wants to storm in there and interrupt, but another part knows this is good. Maybe it's time to let your worlds mesh a little more, even if it feels like it's happening too fast.

You rub the back of your neck, chuckling to yourself as you glance toward the door. You can already hear your mom's laughter inside, and Mabel's responding with something you can't quite make out.

It's strange, hearing those two get along so naturally, but it also fills you with warmth. With Erin, it took your mother some time to even acknowledge her as your girlfriend. Your sister claimed she was being protective of her baby but you knew it was because your mom didn't think Erin was a good fit for you. She had been polite, sure, but it was clear your mom kept her distance. Things felt different with Mabel already. Your mom's openness, her immediate warmth toward Mabel, caught you off guard, and maybe that's why it feels like it's happening so fast.

Maybe, just maybe, you've found something real with Mabel, something that fits into your life in ways you hadn't expected.

A couple minutes pass and Mabel sneaks out of your sister's house for a second. You assume she managed to convince your mom to let her go but she tosses you her keys, and you catch it with your jaw dropped.

"Drive safe," she calls out then returns back into the house. You blow out a huff, shaking your head at her actions. Seconds later, her head pops out again and your hopes are up again. "Your mom said to buy limes–okay, bye!"

You stand there, keys in hand, still processing what just happened. Mabel's playful energy and the ease with which she's won over your mom leaves you stunned. You can't help but laugh, a mix of disbelief and affection bubbling up inside you.

Shaking your head, you hop into Mabel's car and start the engine. As you drive toward the store, your mind races, replaying the day's events. It's like everything is happening faster than you ever planned. But, at the same time, it doesn't feel wrong. It feels... right.

There's a comfort with Mabel that you can't quite put into words. Like all the pieces are finally falling into place.

When you arrive at the store and park, your thoughts are filled with Mabel, as they have been since you first met her. In the corner of your eye, you spot a familiar black van with some faded lettering on it. A chill runs down your spine, but you quickly shake it off, dismissing it as a coincidence. You don't want anything to ruin the warmth you feel today, so you rush to grab the items on your list, your mind focused on getting back to Mabel and your mom. You head inside, scanning the aisles with a distracted smile. Everything feels light, but a flicker of unease brushes against your subconscious.

You dart through the produce section, tossing a few limes into your basket, and then head toward the checkout. As you wait in line, your thoughts drift back to Mabel, imagining her laughter and the way her eyes light up when she's excited.

"Glad I caught you in person."

You furrow your brows and turn to see Nick standing there, appearing out of nowhere. You hadn't even noticed him before—lost in your thoughts, you hadn't scouted the store before going about your shopping.

"Nick," you say, forcing a smile. "Doing some shopping?"

Nick chuckles, but it sounds humorless. "Sure," he replies, clicking his tongue as he gestures toward the line that's moved up. You take a step forward, and he isn't far behind. "I got tired of your one-worded messages. And you've managed to dodge my calls pretty well. I got patience, but... to a limit." He grits out the last part, the tension in his voice rising.

You grip the basket's handle tightly, searching for more self-control, trying to ignore the unease twisting in your stomach.

"There's a tradeoff going on tonight at the usual place," he continues, lingering close behind you as the line shifts again. "One of the guys from the docks can't make it, and the other... well, he's a shitty liar, so he's out of commission until his hand heals."

You whip your head back, your heart racing as you try to hide your worry. You hope to God it's Charlie's hand that's broken and not Costa's. Not that Charlie deserves it but Costa is the least deserving of the two.

"Be there at eleven, or if rumors are true..." he lowers his voice, stepping closer to you, his breath brushing against your ear, "Mabel's face will be covered in bruises again."

A chill runs down your spine at his threat, and you take a shaky breath, forcing your expression to remain neutral. How does he know her name?

His lips quirk into a smirk. "Yeah," he drags out, almost giddily. "Mabel isn't a stranger to this world. She knows how things work. As do you. You know how things work in our world. You owe me, and I expect you to fulfill your end of the deal."

Your jaw clenches. You don't care how well Mabel may know of this world. She isn't part of this and you're not going to let them force her back in it.

"I'll be there," you say, narrowing your eyes as you fully turn to face him. "But if you go anywhere near her, I swear–"

"Swear what?" Nick interrupts, leaning in with a condescending grin. His eyes trace your face and his smiles widens. "You're cute when you're mad. But you have no leverage. Pay your idiot of a father's debt by doing what we ask, and if you do it right; no one gets hurt. Cool?"

A mix of anger and dread bubbles inside you. He nods, taking your lack of response as an answer of agreement. You turn back around and move up the line, noticing you're up next to checkout.

"Be happy it's just your girlfriend," Nick says still right behind you. "Had Mabel not showed up, it would've been your mom, sister or that little rugrat of a nephew–man, that kid is adorable." He laughs gently.

Your experience with the military is unknown to him. You're unsure if threats would be less if he knew. What you do know for sure is if he knew you were military, he would use that as an advantage. Oliver is military and they clearly use him to their advantage, so you can only imagine how Nick would spin your past to manipulate you further. The thought sends a cold wave of anger through you. You tighten your grip on the basket, fighting the urge to turn around and confront him again.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't test my patience if I were you," you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Nick chuckles softly, as if he finds your bravado amusing.

You step up to the cashier, scanning your items quickly and trying to focus on the mundane task at hand instead of the threat looming over you.

"I'll see you at eleven," he pats your back, harsher than any man should push any average person. Lucky for you, you're not average. He earns stares with his actions but he doesn't pay any mind to it. "Don't be late." He winks, taking an apple you had on the conveyor belt.

Your heart races as you finish checking out, your mind racing with possibilities. You can't let Mabel or your family become collateral damage in Nick's twisted games.

As you leave the store, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. You need a plan. Knowing your mother, she plans on talking Mabel's ear off until the late hours of the night. You hope you can get out by ten, have Mabel home by ten-thirty and be at the place by eleven.

You hop into Mabel's car, your heart still racing from the encounter with Nick. The thought of that apple in his hand irks you—an innocent gesture that feels loaded with intimidation. You shake your head, trying to focus on the road ahead.

As you drive back home, you mentally rehearse your plan. Your mother can talk for hours, but if you time it right, you can slip out before Mabel gets too comfortable. You glance at the clock on the dashboard—only a few minutes have passed since you left the store, but it feels like an eternity.

When you arrive home, you find your mother in the kitchen, excitedly chatting with Mabel about the dish they're preparing. The aroma of spices fills the air, mixing with the sound of laughter, and for a moment, the warmth of the moment makes you forget about Nick.

"You got the limes?" Your mother breaks you out of your stupor. Mabel's eyes are on you and you can tell she sees something is off about you. Either you're easy to read or she's just caught on to how you try to pretend everything is okay when it really isn't. You realize you left the groceries in the car so you excuse yourself to get them.

You're grabbing the stuff from the backseat when you see Mabel join you outside. She walks over to you, quiet and tentative, treading carefully as to not trigger your fight instinct.

Mabel stands in front of you, her eyes scanning your face for answers. She's always had this ability to see through the walls you put up, and today is no different. You can tell she's waiting for you to say something, but you're not sure where to start. You close the car door, trying to mask the tension you're feeling, but it's no use.

"What's going on?" she asks softly, taking a step closer. "You've been off since you got back."

You exhale, looking down at the bags in your hand as if they'll give you an excuse to avoid the conversation. But Mabel isn't going to let it go, not this time. Her voice is gentle but firm, and you know she won't let you keep avoiding the truth.

But you don't want her in this. Not after what Nick said. The less she knows, the better it is for her.

"Just saw an old friend," you lie with a shrug, forcing a smile.

Mabel narrows her eyes, clearly not convinced. She knows you too well to fall for a half-hearted answer like that. You have to be easy to read; which is shameful. You were trained to hide any sort of emotion. But it's like Mabel sees right past that. Her lips press into a thin line as she studies your face, searching for the truth you're holding back.

"An old friend?" she repeats, her voice calm but with an edge of skepticism. "And that's why you've been acting weird ever since you came home?"

You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure, but it's difficult under her gaze. She steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Weird? I just forgot the bags in the car," you shoot back, furrowing your brows.

Mabel nods, still not convinced. "Who was this friend?"

You still, fumbling with the bags in your hands. "Umm," you fumble with a lie. "A guy from an old job," your words comes out like a question, which doesn't help you.

"Old job?" Mabel arches a brow, stepping closer. "What old job?"

Your heart skips a beat as the lie begins to unravel. You can't tell her about Nick or the threat he made. Not when she's already too close to the fire. You avert your gaze, trying to focus on anything but her piercing eyes.

"Just a guy from a side job I did before," you mutter, shifting the bags in your hands to avoid her scrutiny. "Nothing important."

Mabel's expression hardens. She knows you're deflecting, and her patience is running thin. "Why do I feel like you're not telling me everything? You're acting like there's more to it than that."

You clench your jaw, frustration boiling inside. She's right—there's so much more, but you can't risk dragging her into this. Not with Nick's threat still hanging over your head. "Mabel, just drop it, okay? It was an old friend; he's a dick, and I don't like the guy."

Mabel's eyes narrow, clearly not satisfied with your answer. Her frustration is starting to show, but she takes a deep breath, trying to keep calm. "A guy you don't like, from a job you barely remember. And that's why you're acting so weird? That doesn't add up."

You're better off starting a fight than telling her the truth. Nick called her your girlfriend, and technically, she isn't.

"Why are you bombarding me with questions? It's not like you're my girlfriend," you scoff, walking past her, not missing the stunned expression on her face.

Mabel's face hardens, the hurt flashing in her eyes before she quickly masks it. She's not one to let emotions show easily, but you can tell your words stung.

"Right," she says, her voice cold. You turn to look at her, guilt troubling your stomach at the hurt expression on her face. "I'm not your girlfriend. So I guess I don't have the right to care about you, or to ask questions when you're clearly upset."

You pause, guilt creeping in as you realize what you just said, but before you can respond, Mabel steps back, distancing herself from you.

"Give me my keys."

Her words hang in the air, and you feel the weight of them pressing down on your chest. You didn't mean to hurt her, just shut her down, but now you've made things worse.

"Wait, Mabel, I'm sorry–"

"Look, I get being guarded, but have I not shown you that I'm here for you?" Mabel interrupts, her voice steady but tinged with frustration.

She's better at controlling her emotions than you are. Maybe you should have stayed in college. Maybe you have been more emotionally mature if you had.

She's staring at you, her arms crossed tightly, waiting for an explanation you're not sure you can give. "I've been patient, giving you space, but this—this is different."

You run a hand through your hair, the guilt and frustration mixing with the growing pressure of Nick's threats. "It's not like that," you say, your voice quieter now. "I just... I'm trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Mabel repeats, her tone incredulous. "By pushing me away and lying to me? How does that protect me?"

You don't have a good answer. Not one that will fix the way she's looking at you right now, as if you're slipping further away from her.

"I don't want you involved in something you don't deserve to be a part of," you admit, voice low.

Mabel's eyes soften, but only slightly. "I can take care of myself. You don't have to shut me out. But I'm not going to stick around if this is how you're going to deal with things."

Her words sting more than you expected. You've been trying to keep her safe, trying to keep her at a distance from all of this, but in doing so, you're pushing her away—maybe for good.

"Now," she ignores the pained look in your eyes, "my keys." She holds her hand out.

You ignore a voice in the back of your head shouting at you to stop, to not give her her keys. To not let her walk away. But you're an idiot, who gives her her keys.

"Tell your mom I'm sorry," she snatches keys from your hand then walks to the driver's side. She pauses and looks at you.

The silence between you stretches painfully as Mabel pauses by the driver's side, her hand resting on the door handle. You can feel the weight of the moment, the finality in her movement, and it gnaws at you.

"You're not going to say anything?" she asks, her voice quieter now, almost fragile. She looks at you, waiting, hoping maybe you'll give her a reason to stay.

But you don't know what to say. Everything you've been holding back, all the fear, the threats, it's locked inside, and you can't bring yourself to drag her into that mess. You are your father's daughter. He never said anything either.

Then be different, you hear your grandfather's voice in the back of your head.

"I—" you start, but the words die in your throat. You see the disappointment flicker across her face as she turns away.

"Take care of yourself," she says, the sadness in her voice unmistakable before she climbs into her car.

You watch as she drives away, the tail lights fading into the distance, leaving you standing there in the cold emptiness of your driveway, feeling like you've just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Seven days. It's fitting, considering it's your favorite number.

You had seven perfect days with Mabel. It was bound to end someday. Whether with her leaving at the end of the summer or by your stupidity. How your father managed to keep your mother is beyond you. Your father was worse than you.

How did he do it?

You don't bother to even think of it, returning back into your sister's home with your head down. Your mother asks for Mabel and you come up with a better lie to her than you did Mabel. She makes you swear to invite Mabel over again, to treat her well because she loves her.

And you hate yourself for already disobeying your mother. You hate yourself even more because you do, too.

Three weeks since you met her. Seven days since you kissed her. And already, you love her.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Nights In

Mat Barzal x model!fem!reader

A visceral in doses blurb

Warnings: just mentions pregnancy

Takes place: Dec 2024

“Kylie,” Mat offers, referring to the list of names you’re trying to narrow down.

“Mmm nah,” you mumble as you add icing to a tiny candy cane.

For a moment you forget about the conversation, too busy on deciding whether or not your little house should have glitter as snow.

Mat seems eager to know what your suggestions are. He snaps you out of your own little bubble by caressing your skin, stroking a secret flame or two.

“Sawyer,” you try, tilting your head as you think of your baby having that name. Names are hard because they’re stuck with them forever, unless they choose to change it.

“No way,” Mat says, but you already knew about his distaste for the name.

“It’s not a bad name, you know,” you tease, playfully elbowing his chest.

“It’s really bad, babe,” he claims, tightening his arms around your waist.

You’re perched on his lap on the couch, making a gingerbread house while The Holiday plays on the tv.

“What about Nolan?” A smirk grows on your mouth as Mat interrupts the silence. You were wondering when he’d throw out the name. It’s his favorite. You adore it, too, but you like to tease him about it.

“Nope,” you say in finality, continuing piecing together your little house.

“Babe,” he groans, sitting up so his chest is flush against your back.

“Nolan is a good name. Nolan Rhodes. It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips pressed to the skin of your bare shoulder. His large hand rubs at the slight swelling of your stomach. It makes your heart race and heat rush to the surface, painting your cheeks maroon.

You remain silent, but it’s because of the wide smile stretching your lips. You get all gooey and warm inside whenever he mentions the baby growing inside of you. Not to mention every ounce of pride you feel knowing that he’s happy about the pregnancy.

“I’ll think about it,” you hum as a shiver works its way through your body. His lips continue to roam about your shoulders and the crook of your neck.

Mat lets out a small sigh and reaches for some of the candy that’s strictly for decorating purposes.

“Mat,” you start to groan, but it fades into a giggle when your boyfriend tickles your sides.

“What?” He acts as if he didn’t do anything after you specifically told him not to eat the candy.

“If you finish all my candy, you’re just going to have to go to the store and buy some more,” you state, avoiding his eyes before he can charm you into forgetting all about the candy.

“You know I’ll do anything you ask,” he points out.

“Stop eating my candy,” you sigh as Mat pulls down the strap of your poor excuse of a sports bra.

You maneuver yourself so you’re facing him, wanting to hold his jaw as you connect your mouths.

“And keep holding me, I’m really cold,” you add before tucking yourself into him. Your body sinks into the warmth his bare chest has to offer. His arms wrap around you like vine wraps around a tree. Eventually his hand gravitates to your stomach, and you like to think it also comforts baby barzal.

Times like these, you’re extra appreciative for the time alone. The moments that are for just Mat and yourself; ones where you can each press a hand to where the promise of life continues to bloom. The ones when you can cuddle up together, under a blanket as cold air whips around outside the confines of your home.

“I love you, baby,” you whisper against his cheek, plopping a dollop of icing on his nose with a cackle.

“I love you,” he says back with the happiest smile you’ve ever seen.

a/n: This one doesn’t feel quite as christmasy, but it’s still cute! Enjoy🫶

[marigoos]

And I'm gonna tell you more - you can ditch Word for work and school too.

Unless you have very specific needs that require only the latest features of the most expensive software on the market, you probably only need functionalities that were released ages ago.

I've spent years with professors begging us to only use Word for assignments - they often couldn't open the files and grade them. I never even installed it on my PC. Got a bachelor's and half a master's, using only Apache OpenOffice (note: best to stick to LibreOffice nowadays, last time I checked Apache released updates so rarely it became and actual vulnerability) without a complaint. They literally cannot tell. There's just one thing you need to be mindful of, and it's the file format you choose - in my experience, .doc better than .docx, avoid .odt. Sometimes the software will also offer more of the same format according to the version of Word it's the most compatible with: I always used a very old one - like '98 - because I'm 99% sure the compatibility issues my professors had were due to them being old and not tech-savvy enough to, you know, update their stuff. In general, older more basic format = compatible with the most softwares

If you're still worried, you can try temporarily installing an old, free version of Word (iirc the 2012 release should be free now?) and see if your file opens correctly and doesn't mess up your layout. Or ask a friend/coworker with the latest version to check it for you. If something goes wrong, change format and try again. If it works, you don't have to repeat this step every time. If nothing works, you still won't have spent a cent and can go back to Word if you're really desperate. It's worth a try!

Microsoft Office, like many companies in recent months, has slyly turned on an “opt-out” feature that scrapes your Word and Excel documents to train its internal AI systems. This setting is turned on by default, and you have to manually uncheck a box in order to opt out.

If you are a writer who uses MS Word to write any proprietary content (blog posts, novels, or any work you intend to protect with copyright and/or sell), you’re going to want to turn this feature off immediately.How to Turn off Word’s AI Access To Your Content

I won’t beat around the bush. Microsoft Office doesn’t make it easy to opt out of this new AI privacy agreement, as the feature is hidden through a series of popup menus in your settings:On a Windows computer, follow these steps to turn off “Connected Experiences”:

File > Options > Trust Center > Trust Center Settings > Privacy Options > Privacy Settings > Optional Connected Experiences > Uncheck box: “Turn on optional connected experiences”

[opalobsidian-wolf]

Indirect Sonic 3 spoilers so keep that in mind but

I have determined the funniest thing that could happen in the fourth movie is if Jim Carrey does come back and Stone and robotnik are the main bads (a sort of awkward and new equalier partnership) with the b plot being everyone forced to watch as Stone and robotnik dance around what was said at the end of Sonic 3.

Specifically I want robotnik trying to talk about it and Stone trying to put it off.

Stone is terrified that if they talk about it robotnik will take it back whereas robotnik is suddenly dealing with the realization that someone has loved him for years and followed him into this madness and that he loves them too and when the perfect moment arrived he called them his friend. He feels embarrassed and wants a second chance at confessing to better get across what he meant (he doesnt need to Stone understood but still) but Stone keeps avoiding the issue.

So cue jokes about Sonic finding them a couples counselor or Tails saying they just need to talk things out in a safe area or Knuckles suggesting just tying the goat Milker down so he can't run away. Just team Sonic trying to save the world and also this relationship because damn they need help.

[corinescorner]

How to be a System Ally

This can be a post for both non-systems and systems! We all should be educated on how to be an ally for the community! It's aimed towards non-systems, though.

Educate yourselves. Before engaging, you should learn about systems and plurality. Different types of systems exist, and come in many, many different ways. Terms llike headmates, switching, co-consciousness, etc. should be learned before interacting!

Read about experiences: Follow blogs, watch videos, or read posts from systems who share their journeys.

Avoid assumptions: Not every system is the same, and their internal experiences and why they even exist can widely vary.

Use correct language! Ask about pronouns, names, or terms that the system may use. They can vary between each system, or even each alter.

Respect system-specific terms: If a system describes themselves as a way that's unfamiliar, instead of calling them fake or lying, take time to understand what it means. Ask questions, do research.

Don't assume every system view their system or plurality as a negative or a problem. Some systems see it as apart of their identity, regardless of how they formed.

Respect boundaries and autonomy. Like anyone else, systems have boundaries, and it's extremely important to respect them. Some systems are more open than others, but don't assume that every system should talk about their inner world.

If you're not sure who's fronting, ask before assuming! Some systems may let you know, but others may prefer to keep it private. Respect both.

Never, ever pressure a system to switch for another alter to interact with. Or in general. Switching isn't a performance, and asking is very invasive.

If a system requests to be treated as individuals between alters, respect that. Don't treat them as a singular identity unless they prefer it. Ask questions.

Validate their experiences. Systems face a ton of invalidation, both from the outside work and even in their own community. As an ally, you should validate every experience.

Believe them. If a system tells you about their experiences being a system, believe them. Don't question their legitimacy or dismiss their reality.

Acknowledge the diversity in systemhood. Whether a system formed due to trauma or not, their experiences are valid as a plural or system. Don't engage in debates that question the validity of "real" systems.

Support how they view their system. Some view it as a disorder, while some view it as their identity. Support how they see themselves without your own judgement.

Many systems, particularly the ones formed from trauma, can be sensitive to certain topics. Ask about what topics they would like to avoid, and respect it. Avoid triggering language; slurs, stereotypes, or graphic descriptions of trauma can be harmful.

Avoid intrusive questions. Questions about how often they switch or what their trauma history is are often invasive. If they want to share, they will.

Amplify system voices. Share content, posts, or messages from systems who are advocating!

Correct misinformation. Gently guide a person to the correct information. Remember, misinformation generally comes from lack of education, so pointing them to the right direction can help.

Offer support, not pity. Systems don't inherently need rescue or pity. Don't be the "hero" of systems. Listen without judgement, listen without trying to "fix" things. Celebrate their strengths instead of focusing on their weaknesses.

Support a system automony. Systems are allowed to make nonconventional choices for their system. Whether it's delaying recovery, purposely splitting, creating alters, etc. They are allowed to make these choices.

Continue to educate yourself. Plurality is a diverse and growing field of discussion. Keep up with new conversations and research.

I hope this is able to help people who are newer to the system community or what to help advocate for their system friends!

[nlvrr]

Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone freaks out cause that's freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific 😅

THE RETURN | jude bellingham

summary: anon ask !! ^^

warnings: bullying

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n: this was so fun to make it — i hope you like it! i loved seeing jude’s gentle, yet assertive, protectiveness over reader come out.

it had been over a decade since she left her small hometown, a place that had always felt too confining. school had been a maze of awkward silences, cruel jokes, and a lingering sense of being invisible. back then, she was the quiet girl in the back of the class—trying her hardest to avoid attention and desperately wanting to fit in but never quite succeeding. those memories had faded slowly as she built a new life in the city: a promising career in f1 engineering, accomplishments that filled her with pride, and—most unexpectedly—her relationship with jude bellingham, a relationship that had made her feel seen for the first time.

she hadn’t planned on attending her high school reunion, but somehow, as time passed, she felt ready to confront her past. and she wasn’t facing it alone—jude, her supportive, gentle boyfriend, had insisted on coming with her. he knew how much the reunion meant to her.

as they neared the venue, her chest tightened. “you sure you’re okay?” jude asked quietly, his brown eyes locked on hers with such deep concern, a flicker of empathy in his gaze.

she smiled faintly, though her heart fluttered in her chest. “yeah, just… nervous, i guess. it’s a bit overwhelming, coming back here.” the memories were almost too much—yet she knew jude would be there to catch her if she fell. his warmth and confidence always soothed the anxieties she hadn’t quite let go of.

jude’s hand found hers, gently giving it a squeeze. “you’ve got this. and hey, you’re not that same girl anymore. you’ve got a life you’ve built. you’ve got me. so, whatever happens in there—we got this.” his smile was warm, steady.

she nodded, her heart calming a little under the strength of his reassuring presence. “thank you,” she whispered, feeling the gentleness of his support course through her.

when they entered the venue, the familiar buzz of voices was louder than she expected. the gymnasium—the place where she had always lingered by the edges of the crowd—had been transformed for the reunion, but it still carried the same sense of nostalgia and unease. the noise didn’t stop when they entered. no, it quickly escalated into murmurs, quickly followed by gasps and hushed conversation as her old classmates processed the sight of them.

“wait… is that jude bellingham?” she heard someone say under their breath, the tone an odd mix of surprise and disbelief. it wasn’t like jude wasn’t famous, but she couldn’t quite suppress the sudden feeling of being under a spotlight, her past self suddenly being evaluated against this new version she had built.

“wait a minute, is that—” another voice piped up, a bit louder. “she’s with him? no way. this is crazy.”

suddenly, everything about the reunion felt too much, like she was back in high school for all the wrong reasons—under scrutiny, exposed to the gossipy whispers. but when she turned to jude, she found him completely unfazed, his face calm and reassuring. his hand gently curled around hers again, his fingers entwining with hers as he led her through the crowd.

“let’s take it easy. we’re here to have fun,” he murmured softly, as if to remind her there was no reason to worry, that the stares and whispers didn’t matter. still, the tightness in her chest didn’t fully ease as they made their way deeper into the hall. and then, of course, it happened.

nate. of course it was him.

she had seen him from a distance—a face that would forever be linked to the teasing and mockery from her younger years. the smugness in his smile, the way he walked with that brash, confident air, brought it all flooding back. she couldn’t help but bristle as he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes landing on her with that unmistakable sneer she knew so well.

“well, well, if it isn’t the quiet girl who thought no one would notice her,” nate said, leaning forward with his arms crossed. his voice was louder than before, punctuated with that mocking laugh that still grated on her after all these years.

she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze evenly, but her heart was pounding. she wanted to respond—really respond—but the memories of her high school self threatened to stifle her words.

“you’ve done well for yourself, huh?” nate continued, his eyes trailing over jude briefly before resting on her again, the smirk not leaving his lips. “didn’t expect you to end up with a guy like him. seems… out of place, don’t you think?” he laughed again, as if she’d just become the punchline of an old joke.

for a split second, her gut twisted in frustration and vulnerability. she had worked so hard to move past everything nate represented, but sometimes it was easy to feel like that quiet, unsure girl again—especially with him standing there, grinning like she wasn’t good enough.

but just before she could respond, jude moved, the energy shifting as he closed the distance between them. with effortless ease, he stepped forward, positioning himself just behind her. she felt the comforting heat of his body pressing against her back, and in that moment, a sudden wave of relief washed over her. his calm presence enveloped her like a blanket, his very proximity pushing away the anxiety.

jude’s hands found her waist gently, but firmly, resting there as he spoke in a soft, steady voice that carried a quiet but undeniable power.

“i think you need to remember something,” jude said evenly, not raising his voice, but letting his words hang in the air. his tone was firm, protective. “you have no right to talk to her like that. she’s amazing. and you don’t get to undermine her. not on my watch.”

the crowd around them seemed to grow still. he didn’t shout, didn’t make a scene—he didn’t need to. there was something almost effortless in the way jude claimed his position beside her. he wasn’t just her boyfriend, trying to defend her for the sake of it—he was a man who genuinely believed in her and made sure everyone around them knew it.

nate stood there, caught off guard, the confrontation falling to the ground between them. the smugness on his face faltered, and for a brief moment, the arrogance of his words evaporated. he shifted his weight, his shoulders tightening, before letting out a forced laugh.

“yeah, okay, man. whatever,” nate mumbled, avoiding jude’s unflinching gaze. with one final glance in her direction—less sure now—he turned on his heel, weaving through the crowd without another word.

as soon as he disappeared into the room, jude gently pulled her closer, his hands still resting on her hips as if grounding her in the moment. she turned, her eyes searching his for a trace of something—anything—but all she found was tenderness.

“are you alright?” jude asked, his voice low, full of concern, as he looked down at her. his brown eyes were warm, sincere.

she didn’t answer right away, her throat too tight with emotion. but after a deep, shaky breath, she nodded, pressing her face against his chest. “yeah. i just… i forgot what that felt like, you know? having someone try to drag me back to that place.”

jude brushed a hand gently over her hair, kissing the top of her head, his voice a soothing whisper. “you don’t ever have to go back there, not while i’m here. you’re so much more than they’ll ever realize. and i’m not going anywhere.”

her breath hitched at his words, and as the sounds of the reunion picked up again in the background, she didn’t feel the weight of the past anymore. jude had held her through the sting, had quietly and protectively shown her the strength she had long hidden. together, nothing seemed impossible.

his touch on her back was warm, steady. “let’s have a good time tonight, okay?” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead.

she pulled back slightly, smiling softly as she looked up at him. “yeah,” she whispered, finding her voice again. “yeah, let’s.”

and with that, they walked forward together, facing whatever came next. this time, together.

[arkadijxpancakes]

There are a couple of angles you can take:

1) Remember that "No" is a full sentence. You can just decline, without elaborating further. As she is your friend, you might want to cushion it a little bit, but you don't have to give any reasoning for not wanting to watch that show. You could try to offer some alternative, too. (Example: "Hey friend, I know you are interested in that new HP series everyone is talking about. Personally, It's just not for me. Therefore, I won't watch it. How about we watch/play/read [other thing] instead?")

If she keeps pushing after that, just redirect her to your "No". If she refuses to accept your boundary, it might be time to reevaluate (parts of) that friendship.

The other angles kind of depend on who your friend is, what she does and doesn't know about Rowling and on what she values. If you want to discuss this with her, try to make it personal. If she is passionate about something (trans rights, workers rights, etc.) focus on that. Avoid arguments she isn't interested in/doesn't care about. You can mix and match as needed, but try to stick to one or two main arguments. (That way, it's easier to keep the discussion on track. It's easy to get sidetracked or derailed, if there are too many arguments floating around. It could also cause her to get overwhelmed - and someone who is overwhelmed is unlikely to listen.)

But lets look at the different angles:

2) Focus on Rowling and her bigotry. She has (and, in a lot of cases, still does):

spread misinformation about transness and trans people. She constantly tries to stir up moral panics about trans women in public bathrooms, prisons and sports.

refused to accept the results of scientific research. She is just as anti-science as many climate change deniers.

used ableist and infantilizing language against autistic people. (This usually boils down to the idea that autistic people do not understand how the world works and should not be allowed to make divisions about themselves and their own bodies.)

supported involuntary conversion therapy. (She also named one of her pseudonyms after Robert Galbraith Heath, a pioneer of conversion therapy. When called out on this, she refused knowing about Robert Galbraith Heath. Apparently, she just really likes the names Robert and Galbraith and had to mash them together without doing a quick google search. She did not change the pseudonym and is still publishing books under that name.)

used her wealth and reputation to influence British politics and lobby against trans rights. (For example, the right to self-ID and the right to trans inclusive healthcare.)

caused and participated in multiple harassment campaigns against women of color, by claiming they were men. One of her targets is Imane Khelif, a female boxer who participated in the Olympic Games 2024. Rowling targeted her, after she won a match against an Italian boxer. She also targeted Lin Yu-ting, another boxer.

She is on record for denying crimes committed by the Nazis. In particular, she called the fact that trans people were targeted by the Nazis as a "fever dream". When called out on this, she doubled down and tried to hide behind semantics. She also allowed literal Neo Nazis to support her on this. Note: When people talk about this, they often use the term "Holocaust Denial" - which it totally is. However, I would refrain from using that term, because it could allow your friend to derail the discussion by focussing on semantics instead of on what Rowling did. Many transphobes and Rowling apologists love to claim that it isn't Holocaust denial, because the Holocaust was about the genocide against Jews and trans people aren't Jews. They will also claim, that it isn't Holocaust denial, because she isn't denying that the Holocaust happened. You really don't want to get swamped with that bullshit, so don't say "Rowling has committed Holocaust denial." Instead, try to be specific. (Example: Rowling called the idea, that trans people were persecuted by the Nazis during the Third Reich, a "fewer dream". This includes her denying the fact that the Nazis raided the Insitut für Sexualwissenschaft and burned its library. (At that time, the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft was the leading research institution for gay, transgender and intersex topics.)

3) Focus on the bigotry in the books. The books just don't have aged well. If the series sticks to the books, there will be a lot of questionable stuff in there. This includes in no particular order:

The houself-plotline that Rowling introduces in Goblet of Fire depicts an enslaved fantasy species that loves working for their masters and sees payment as an insult. They also react with mental health issues and alcoholism, when freed. When Hermione starts to advocate for them, her activism is treated as a joke. Her contemporaries laugh at her, the house elves resent her and the lesson she learns from all of this is "They like it that way!"

There is no fucking progress. At the end of the books, the house elves are still enslaved, Hermione has stopped her activism and “All was well.”

The way, female characters are portrayed in the books, is pretty misogynistic. Firstly, there is just a lack of important female characters in general. (Most characters, especially when it comes to important characters, are male.) Secondly, the female characters that do exist, tend to fall into iffy tropes. Hermione and Ginny fall into the “not like other girls” trope. Adult female characters are often reduced to their roles as wives and mothers. Female characters, who perform femininity wrong, get criticized and condemned by the narrative. (This includes feminine characters who are too feminine, characters who are too masculine and characters who refuse to be good little wives and mothers. Examples are Fleur Delacour, Lavender Brown, Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange.)

There is a lot of colonialist thinking in the books. You can see this in how characters from other countries get stereotyped a lot. It’s also reflected in the way non-wizards are treated.

The teaching methods that are depicted in the books are just awful. Most teachers we see, simply shouldn’t be put into a classroom full of kids. And it’s not just Snape, either. (At least, his teaching “skills” get criticized in the books.) McGonagall plays favorites, while pretending to be fair, Dumbledore regularly endangers the kids in his care (and it’s not just Harry either) and let’s not even try to talk about Hagrid.

There is a lot of fatphobia in the books. It’s mostly reserved for characters who are bad or evil. (Just look at how Dudley is treated, for example.)

There is a lot of ableism in the books.

There is a lot of black-and-white-thinking in the books. Stuff the good guys do, is usually depicted as good, Stuff the bad guys do, is usually depicted as bad and evil. Even if they do the same thing. (Snape or the Slytherins bully Neville? How could they! Outright evil, all of them! Harry or other good Gryffindor characters bully Neville? Oh, that’s just a little bit of fun and comic relief. No big deal.)

In addition the black-and-white-thinking, there is also a lot of mean-spiritedness in the books. On a fundamental level, most characters are pretty mean. And it’s not just the bad/evil characters, either. At times, Harry, Ron and Hermione are pretty mean to other characters and each other. As are good characters like McGonagall and Molly Weasley, and lovely old Hagrid is even worse. Then there are all the bullies on the Gryffindor-side of the good-vs-evil divide. (Mostly the Marauders, but also Fred and George.)

4) Focus on the series itself. It’s very likely, that this series will be nothing but a cash grab. You can point at Fantastic Beasts. It might have started with a pretty solid film, but after that the quality of the films fell down a steep cliff. The films got canceled after film 3. It is very likely that the TV series will suffer the same fate. Because it’s not about revisiting the books and making a high-quality series about them. There are already movie adaptations of the books and they are good enough and new enough. There is no need for another adaptation. So no, it’s not about making a good adaptation. Warner is simply trying to milk their cash cow.

If you are a marauders fan/ you support or are in the queer community then do Not watch the upcoming Harry Potter show! Do not support it! Do not interact with posts in support of it! We do not need anymore content from jkr! Buy the books second hand! Don’t buy official merch! Stop giving your money to her! Stop being transphobic!

Edit: I have a reply in the reblogs to those mentioning to pirate the show

[the-fabled-void]

Here's some Chara Dreemurr headcanons:

They have Gifted Kid Burnout. You can see this

on their completionist mindset: the highest

numbers, the fullest glass of water...the highest

grades?

They struggle showing negative emotions so they smile when they have them, like when they accidentally poisoned Asgore, or as a narrator, when they said this:

They also show the ability to change their behavior by learning:

Also, since every character I fixate on so far has shown traits of autism, they might have had it too. Or something similar. (Moral OCD would be interesting, but with a sort of opposite twist. Immortal OCD I'M AWARE THAT'S NOT A REAL THING. Probably not, just a thought. Would make an interesting AU; In all their actions, they choose the most 'evil' possibility)

On the surface, they were blamed for a lot of bad shit. I imagine they are or were clumsy, and got in trouble for things out of their control. So, they began to try seeing themselves as inheritly evil, to demonize themselves and to cope. I can see them thinking "Well of course I did this bad thing, I'm a demon after all" to excuse their actions, or to avoid guilt.

They probably have some kind of religious trauma, probably from christianity. (idk enough Christianity lore to go into a lot of specifics) Under the cut, I proceed to go into the limited specifics I do know, feel free to correct me.

With Christianity having themes of sin and redemption, and the way the narration, and other game parts emphasize such themes:

Then, they read a prophecy about an angel saving everyone, and... They couldn't help but hope, maybe, for once, they could be an angel too? Maybe they could redeem themselves? And so they try. They even do so by trying to atone for their sin of poisoning Asgore, by taking the same poison.

We can expand this, too. Maybe they want to atone for not just their own sins, but humanity's.

(And yet, interestingly enough, they don't see a soulless pacifist as redemption. Maybe bc they think you're like them - irredeemable)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

howl, i wanna ask your opinion on a particular aspect of killer that i'm not sure about: is stage 1 capable of doing violence or heinous acts all by himself? like, i know it's the stage closest to sans, the most vulnerable, most trustworthy, and most affected by emotions, but can he be dangerous in any way? since i want to have a situation where killer is strongly affected by emotions and commit some questionable acts. but idk if that would be stage 1 or stage 2 going to stage 3...

thank you in advance :]

I think every Stage probably has capacity for violence, it’s just that their motivations behind it is different—-and in Stage 1, much more likely to be triggered into higher Stages, as when he’s like that: Killer tends to avoid and hide from violence and conflict, often making himself small.

He’d probably try to resist going into higher Stages, but the act of doing so would cause significantly more internal conflict and distress, which would lead him into dissociating.

For Stage 1, i highly doubt he’d take any action to protect himself—and given how he gave no external reaction to how Nightmare harmed his cat right in front of him, it seems as if he’s prone to learned helplessness if he’s learned that fighting back against this specific person or situation is something he can’t win. In which he’d probably just be triggered into Stage 2 to be able to handle it.

In the Swap vs Killer comic, we don’t see how it ended, but Killer was switching into Stage 1 by the end—driven by the sight of seeing Papyrus and Chara in the same place right after being reminded of the Resets I’d presume—seems he’s the type to cry during violence.

In the Stage 4 comic, even when Killer was triggered into Stage 1 thanks to a flashback, he kept insisting he doesn’t want to hurt the other Papyrus. I’m not sure if he was seeing his Papyrus, due to the flashback, or if he was aware that this Papyrus was a different one. Probably wouldn’t have mattered—as it triggered him into Stage 4 and he killed him anyway.

I’d say it’d take a lot for Killer to be provoked into physical violence into Stage 1 and is likely a very last resort—as he’s more prone to running and hiding (from Papyri at least) or switching into other Stages to endure it (Stage 2) or fight back (higher stages) when violence is directed at him, likely to believe he deserves it anyway. Dissociating and shutdowns.

Any violence Killer does in Stage 1 is highly unlikely to be done with malice or intention or deliberate. If anything I’d say he avoids situations that could trigger him into higher Stages (especially Stages 3 and 4) because he fears hurting and killing more people—which he also views as inevitable. He values others safety a lot more than his own—even if he fears and avoids anyone who has hurt him in higher Stages as well.

There may even be a situation where, if running and hiding isn’t an option and he feels cornered, he lashes out first in an attempt to prevent being triggered into Stage 4–because he knows that then the other person isn’t going to survive, Stage 4 will kill them.

He may think something like “if I hurt them or scare them away, I can escape and they’ll survive. No added numbers to my count.” A deeply conflicted act.

If these people intend to kill him, he won’t allow them to do that—not because he doesn’t think he deserves it or because he doesn’t want to die, but because he doesn’t want them to die. With every moment that escape isn’t possible, the chance of triggering higher Stages rises.

Another way may be flashbacks—renacting a memory—or even hallucinations, Chara’s voice and visage threatening him with another Reset or Bad Ending or Consequence if he doesn’t do it. So things like emotional breakdowns, trauma flashbacks, panic, a sense of unable to differentiate past vs present and reality vs unreality, a guilt ridden attempt to protect someone.

His violence is likely to be sloppy, confused, frantic, deeply regretful —as opposed to the calculation and deliberation of Stage 2 or the instinctive, survival, self protective, fear and paranoid driven rage of Stage 3. If his SOUL can’t seem to decide if it needs to be in Stage 1 or Stage 2, it might just hurdle him right into Stage 3– who will attack everyone, even the ones he may have been wanting to protect or allies.

The aftermath is likely to be not good for Killer. As in yet another spiraling breakdown where he tries to punish or kill himself, emotionally shuts down and dissociates completely, or is triggered into Stage 2 to numb out the guilt and emotions and dissociate himself from it all.

At its worse, he may even completely forget what he did in Stage 1 or feel it wasn’t real—“that me could never do that. Too weak.” (Not supposed to do that.)

If that’s the case, probably best not to tell him about it or ask him about it if he doesn’t seem to be able to handle it. Might just provoke Stage 2 into violence to avoid confronting things. Especially if he thinks someone knows things about him that he himself doesn’t know—and may use that against him.

[loving-daisy]

You Had Me At Hello | Severus Snape x Reader

Young Severus Snape never knew what love was. That was until he met her, his Valentine.

YHMAH Masterlist • loving-daisy masterlist

—————————————

Chapter 3: To Resist Those Eyes

Word count: 1,972

“Potions are going to be a lot harder this year than last year, my dear students.” Professor Slughorn, Hogwarts’ current potions master stood in front of the room, informing the whole class. 

“And I really would like to avoid any accidents or any other unpleasant circumstances to arise.” He continued. “That is why starting from today, you’ll be grouped into two and this partnership will last until the end of the year.” 

The room erupted into quiet murmurs, some happy with the fact that in case they’d get in trouble, their partner gets in trouble with them. Or maybe, they were happy with the thought of partnering themselves with someone smart and freeload their way into potions class. Some groaned, including Severus who was not really fond of the idea. 

On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad at all. That is, if the professor chooses who's going to be partnered up with who. Because if that was the case, Severus wouldn’t have a problem finding anybody to partner up with. Not that he cared, though. In case that the total number of the people taking this class was odd, he’d be happy to work alone. He was better off alone anyways. 

“Fortunately for everybody, you get to pick your own partner.” Severus let out another quiet groan at the statement. “So quickly, children. Pick your partner and table!” The professor urged, eyes observing the class as students diverged and converged. 

After a lot of thinking in a short period of time, Severus decided to just stay in the table he currently is using. There’s no point in finding anybody. Someone will come, eventually. You just got to wait for it. 

Truthfully, the quiet boy didn’t really expect anybody. But he really really didn’t expect it to be “Valentine?” he quietly mused, confused as to why the girl people branded as the Slytherin Sweetheart took a seat beside him when she could’ve picked someone else. Severus wondered why the girl didn’t partner with her own friends. The blonde twins? The boy on the quidditch team? The girl who owned a bird? Or maybe even someone else! Someone else but him. 

The girl turned to face Severus, looking at him directly, eye to eye as she softly greeted “Hello, Severus.” 

The boy didn’t know what was written behind the girl’s eyes but never in his life did he feel so drawn to somebody else’s eyes. Aside from Lily’s bright one, of course. 

“Why are you here?” He shyly asked, trying the best as he could to not make his tone seem rude and ungrateful. 

Y/N Valentine sent him a small smile, showing off her pearly whites. “Because I’m going to be your partner for potions starting today?” She carefully suggested as if it wasn't obvious as to why she was seated beside him. 

Severus’ curiosity got the best of him. He didn’t mean to ask another question but he couldn’t help it. He just had to know why she would pick him when nobody ever does. “Why me?”

The girl gave him a small shrug before turning her attention back to the potions professor, who was starting to explain the specific qualities of the potion that they were going to brew today. “Because you’re my friend and you’re the best in potions.” 

_______________

Y/N Valentine’s bold move resulted in a couple of uncertain glances and visible confusion from the girl’s friends. I mean, it really wasn’t a big deal. Valentine and Snape were housemates after all.

Also, it wasn’t like the students of the Slytherin house cared about whoever got partnered up with the girl. It’s not like Y/N Valentine was popular. Sure, she’s what they call the Slytherin Sweetheart but she’s not a Greengrass or a Black or a Lestrange. She was a pureblood but she wasn’t Slytherin royalty like them. In fact, that's the reason why she got her nickname - She was not like them. Well, aside from her last name. A lot really liked her last name. 

However, it just happens for Y/N’s friends to have the same prejudice as that one specific group of Gryffindors against Severus Snape. Most people in Slytherin thought the boy was smart and mysterious but that’s it. There really wasn’t anything special about Severus Snape. 

“What’s going on with you and Severus Snape?” The girl’s friend, the boy who happened to be one of Slytherin’s chasers in the quidditch team, interrogated her. His hands on his hips as if he was a father scolding his child. 

Valentine lifted her chin to face the tall boy, her features displaying an innocent look. “Nothing. We’re just friends.” she expressed nonchalantly. 

“Woah.” One of the blonde twins let out. “Never have I thought that Severus Snape was actually capable of having friends.” Commented the other twin. 

Y/N furrowed her brows, arms crossing against her chest. “Don’t be so mean.” She scolded. “He’s actually nice if you get to know him more.” 

_______________

The two Slytherins found themselves at their usual spot in the library. It became their ritual. Whoever would have their class finish earlier would go straight to their usual table at the far end corner. But one wouldn’t start on their homework unless the other arrives. They’d occupy themselves with a book. 

Both had homework laid in front of them but the female was distracted. Her attention was solely focused on the boy in front of her. The boy who knew what she was doing but ignored it, the boy who had his mind occupied with forming cohesive and comprehensive sentences for the essay their potions professor assigned them, occasionally dipping his quill on his ink bottle. Snape knew that Valentine was staring at him. The reason, that he doesn't know. But he chose to ignore it, deciding that the parchment in front of him was more important. But after feeling a little self conscious, he hid his face with his long hair. 

“Aren’t you bothered?” The girl asked. 

Severus didn’t exactly know what she meant but he assumed it was her staring. “I am now, since you asked a question.” He answered, his eyes not leaving his parchment. 

Y/N shook her head, chuckling at the vague answer. “No, I mean...your hair. It covers your face a lot. Doesn’t it bother you? Does it not hinder your line of sight?” 

The boy shook his head “No.”

Silence enveloped the space the two Slytherins were in. The girl continued to stare at the boy in front of her, watching his every move with curious eyes. Severus continued to ignore her, he is halfway finished with his homework after all. It’s not his problem if Y/N Valentine wasted so much time staring at him when she could have been at the same pace as him in the assignment. But the girl finally caught the boy’s attention when the sound of paper being detached was heard. 

Y/N ripped a piece of parchment on her roll, taking out her wand to transfigure the piece into a little black hair tie. 

Severus thought the tie was for herself. He noticed how the girl always had her hair tied up whenever she needed to focus. But he also noticed the usual ribbon the girl used wrapped around her hand. 

Y/N stood from her seat, making her way behind Severus, using her fingers to comb the boy’s raven hair. 

“What are you doing?” Severus asked, surprised. 

“Stay still, Sev. You’ll see.” She answered. With her left hand, Y/N gathered the boy’s hair, using the tie on her right hand to put them in place. 

She retrieved her seat, eyeing the work she did on Severus. “Isn’t that better?” She suggested, finally opening her bottled ink and grabbing a hold of her quill to start on her assignment. 

Thankfully, Severus didn’t react Y/N expected him to, Truthfully, she thought that he’d call her off, scolding her for touching his hair, and put his hair back the way it used to. But he didn’t. He only offered her a small smile. 

Valentine finally got a better look at Severus' features. The boy had a big pointed nose, high cheekbones, and a sharp jawline. He had eyes similar to a black hole; dark and has the tendency to pull you in. Y/N wanted to get lost in them and see the emotions inside. If only she didn’t feel the pull inside her mind and the shield the boy was holding. 

It seems like Severus was skilled at legilimency and occlumency. The girl was amused.

“I get it now.” The boy mumbled, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the essay he was writing.  

“What?” She asked, confused. 

“You're skilled at legilimens and occlumens. That’s why I never get to read what’s on your mind.” 

Y/N shrugged. “Just like you, Sev.” 

_______________

“Why are we here again?” Severus reluctantly asked, grabbing ahold of his black coat to tuck himself further away from the cold. 

The two Slytherins found themselves outside the castle, in Hogsmeade as thick snow fell towards them. The boy had no intention of going out at all. If it weren’t for the personal charms the Slytherin sweetheart possessed, he would have been able to say no. But he just couldn’t resist her bright eyes and curled up lips. Severus just wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason the light on her eyes turned off or the reason those lips turned into a frown. 

“Every Saturday, they bring out limited edition chocolate frogs! They have all sorts of flavors like dark chocolate, white chocolate, caramel, hazelnut, almond, and strawberry chocolate! It’s hard to get my hands on it alone so I figured that you could help me.” 

“How were you able to get it before then?” 

The girl shrugged. “Pure luck.” She boasted, taking a peek at the shop’s window to know how many frogs were displayed to calculate how she would strategize to get her hands on every flavor there is. 

Severus was amused at the girl’s antics, a small smile displayed on his features. Well, if you’d consider it a smile. His lips were kinda a little curled up anyways. 

“I don’t believe you.” He declared.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have asked if you weren’t going to believe me.” 

The two spent most of their day going through different shops around Hogsmeade. Y/N successfully got her hands on all of the sweets she was craving, all thanks to Severus secretly hexing the other students who were on their way to grab the frogs. 

Evening came, the two were now seated at the Great hall for supper. Just a few moments ago, the headmaster finished his evening speech, clapping twice to fill each houses’ table with good food. 

Owls came in after. Dropping packages and letters to the hands of the rightful receiver. 

A medium-sized box dropped in Y/N’s hand, a tag with a messily written ‘to sweet Valentine’ tied around it. Severus noticed the familiar logo of the sweet shop. 

“So that’s how.” The boy mumbled. “You get gifts from your secret admirers.” 

The girl chucked, shrugging. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.” 

“You have lots of chocolate frogs now.” Severus commented. “I hope you don’t eat all of them in one sitting. You’re gonna get cavities.” 

“Yeah, and my throat will ache!” She quipped, her lips curled into a wide grin, showcasing her pearly whites.  

“That’s why I’m gonna share it with you. Meet me at the astronomy tower later?” The girl proposed, eyes hopeful. 

Y/N Valentine was giving the same look she gave Severus earlier at breakfast when she forced him to go to Hogsmeade with her. How can Severus ever resist those eyes? 

End of Chapter 3

[manicandobsessive]

Icarian | L.H.

Chapter 1: Wildflower and Barley

"Springtime from my window. Another month has not much longer now. The sun hesitates more on each evening's darkening. Would all things god allows, remain above ground? Like grief and sweet memory, wildflower and barley." - Andrew Hozier Byrne

Prologue > Ch. 1 > Ch. 2

A/N: Thank you for the love on Nobody's Soldier! I plan on doing a taglist so comment or message to be added. Sorry this took so fucking long life was kicking my ass, I'll try to get chapters out as much as I can. I wanna make sure I give y'all some high quality stuff though. ANYWHOOOOO enjoy ch 1!! <3

Warnings: Fem!human reader, Logan has attatchment issues, Swearing, Mentions of religon, Jean Grey slander

WC: 9.5k

The only things you could hear were the light bristle of the trees and the occasional chirp of the birds. The smell of spring and promise of summer that came alongside it brought you more serenity than one could imagine. Especially when peace in your mind never meant much to you. It was seemingly impossible. But now, here, you finally felt it. 

Of course, some days could be better than others. You still felt the lingering effects of all you’d been through in the back of your head. Their words, their actions, none of that truly ever went away. But spring brought in a form of quiet you hadn’t experienced- ever, and you could at the very least appreciate that.

The light warmth of the sun blessed your skin, the breeze made some stray strands of hair fall in front of your eyes. You’d made progress, and that was enough for you. You still were able to recall the days where being alone without brain stimulation was almost dangerous, the presence of a distraction was your lifeline more times than you could count. Those times were when the thoughts became too loud, and the noise- nothing short of overwhelming. Be that as it may, Charles’ mansion had gifted you a part of yourself that you never knew existed. 

You never could express how grateful you felt, although the bastard probably already knew. Prodding around your head and all. 

The distant laughing and shouting of the kids playing their games made you flutter your eyes open. A grin tugged at your lips due to the sound, simply seeing them happy made you happy in return. It reminded you of the better times, those rare moments when everything else had faded to nothing and all you were left with was joy. 

However, the fragment of a memory wasn’t ever going to be enough to provide you with any lingering desire to return to that.

You slowly sat up, purposefully avoiding the dizziness you dreaded from lying down for a long period of time. You felt noticeably calmer than you were when you ventured outside in the first place. And as an added bonus: no feeling like the world was spinning on its axis. 

You ran a hand through your hair to lazily brush it back to its original style. Allowing it to freely cascade down your back and frame your face. You then stood up, adjusting the waistband of your jeans and tugging your shirt back to a comfortable position. Cracking your neck and back, and leisurely picking up your belongings. Those being no more than a pair of headphones, a book, and a water bottle. 

While you never really read, you enjoyed pretending to.

You casually strolled back to the mansion, a content manner about you. All you could think about was how much you loved spring and the way you had felt lighter on your feet. You couldn’t even remember why you were so furious in the first place-

Nevermind.

The second you opened the door to the back gardens. The one used specifically to enter and leave that part of the school. The weather damage and the grating sound when used was proof enough. That all went out the window.

Upon entering the school, you made eye- if you could even call it that- contact with the single soul responsible for said anger. 

In an attempt to pass by him without a word, you swerved the other direction, keeping your chin held high. Your things were clutched close to your chest. It was in his best interest he didn’t speak to you, and yet- he still did.

Leave it to Summers to not take a fucking hint. 

He said your name with an odd mix of assertive-caution. You rolled your lips and turned back to face him, finding yourself a good enough distance away that you could excuse yourself at any moment easily. 

You can handle him. It’s fine.

“We need to talk.”

Or not.

The way he- without fail, managed to irritate you with a simple phrase was honestly impressive. If not for your underlying urge to break his goddamn nose.

“Not in the mood.” You replied shortly, rolling your shoulders backwards. A half-assed effort to prevent yourself from saying more. 

“Don’t be like that.” 

The both of you were honestly surprised you hadn’t made an attempt to take his life yet. You couldn’t help the involuntary raise of your brows at his tone. It was a silent warning- to him. You’d hoped he’d gotten the message. 

“You know I just want what’s best for you-”

Shocker. He didn’t. 

Blah blah, you tuned it all out as you typically did when he began his meaningless lectures with those 9 words. You were quite simple minded, conflict-wise. If you didn’t want to speak to someone, you didn’t. If they didn’t respect your request, you didn’t care to hear what they had to say. It’s just how you worked. He could at least try to accept that. 

“Listen,” you started, cutting him off. It was better he quit, or forcefully resigned, while he was ahead.

“Last I checked, you’re not my dad. Or my older brother. Or any person that holds any type of authority over me in general. You don’t technically have a say in any fucking thing I do. That being said, if I do decide to go out on my own, it’s really none of your goddamn business. For your information, I simply asked out of basic respect for Charles. But I won’t. And I mean won’t, Scott, tolerate being talked down to because of something as basic as that. Understand?”  

He cleared his throat, his expression hinted to you that your response was the absolute last thing he expected out of this conversation. You were normally a patient person, understanding even. It seemed he’d pushed you well beyond your limits. He opened his mouth to reply, to which he was cut off, yet again.

Except this time, it wasn’t you.

“Listen Slim, she asked ya to shut up. So for everyone’s sake, will ya?” And there, out of thin air, appeared Logan. You’d learned his name was, after the- very- brief interaction you’d had with him no more than a few days ago.

~

Scott obnoxiously cleared his throat, as he does when he’s uncomfortable. Or when the room’s attention is focused anywhere that’s not him and him alone.

Both you and Logan came back to your senses, you shook your head softly. Promptly clearing your mind of any wandering thoughts. Logan mentally facepalmed at his inability to keep his mood from switching so suddenly. 

Not his fault you were fucking breathtaking. The man was practically rendered speechless. Still, he returned the scowl to his face, easy enough to do with Scott right there. He was extremely unwilling to let anyone know he was just about ready to plan your wedding in his head. That would stay locked away forever.

“Logan, what exactly do you need?” Scott questioned, his attitude even more disgusting with the new presence in the room, you’d noticed. You could metaphorically cut the tension between the two with a knife. But there you silently watched, as if it were your favorite reality show. Your arms stayed crossed in a subconscious state of defense, curious as to why this ‘Logan’ guy had to interrupt so overdramatically. 

“Where’s Chuck?” Chuck? Who the fuck is-

Oh. Charles.

 He’s one of those.

“Like I said before, what do you need?” Scott replied in a way that you could only equate to how parents speak to their children. Which seemed to irk Logan on even more than he already had been. “Ya ain’t the fuckin’ professor, Summers.” He responded with a tone that made you bite your bottom lip to hold in the laugh threatening to escape you. Despite your distaste towards the man for interfering in on your conversation, you had to admit that was kinda funny. 

“‘M gonna ask ya one more time,”

And that was your queue to leave. You weren’t keen on fighting, or watching others fight. And you had a feeling staying there, blatantly eavesdropping, would result in something you didn’t want to be a part of. Especially with how big Logan was. Or with the way he was burning holes into Scott’s head and essentially growling with those last few words. 

~

You let loose a sigh of relief, thankful that someone had stepped in. Finding yourself even more grateful that someone was Logan, who from the all of 5 minutes you’d heard him speak to Scott, knew how to put him in his place. 

Most likely because Scott knew he’d end up with a broken rib, or 4. 

“I’m just explaining-”

“Buddy,” Logan clapped his hand on the man's shoulder in the most sarcastic way he could. He treated Scott like a little kid. And in many ways, he may as well have been. “I’ve been hearin’ ya talk to yourself for the last like- 2 minutes. She clearly ain’t interested.” 

To that, you snorted a small, tiny, miniscule laugh. One Logan, to your surprise, caught with a smirk. Whilst Scott was too wrapped up in his own humiliation to pay much attention to anything else. He brushed off Logan’s hand and muttered something that sounded- almost- like an apology to you, before scurrying away. Most likely to pester someone else about rules and whatnot. Seriously, how does the guy walk normally with that huge stick up his ass?

Logan folded his arms, running a hand down his face in a display of pure exhaustion before facing you. You snapped out of your daze, your eyebrows lifting to a softer, less agitated expression as you glanced up at the man.

Was he this tall when you last saw him?

You huffed a small laugh, and an appreciative smile graced your features. One Logan found more attractive than his conscious mind was willing to accept.

“Thanks,” You spoke up first, making his smirk widen just slightly. If you weren’t so observant, you wouldn’t have caught it. But you did, and it made your heart beat just a tiny bit faster. 

“‘S no problem, darlin’.” He replied, making you bite the inside of your cheek in turn. The nickname didn’t go unnoticed, and yet all you could do was stand there and nod.

Fucking talk you moron.

Your inner thoughts shouted at you to say literally anything. But, with the intimidating presence in front of you, you couldn’t utter a string of words, let alone one single response. You opted for the easiest way out:  a curt nod and walking the opposite direction of where you assumed he was headed. Avoiding this would make things easier, even if your room was on the entire other side of the building. (and you’d have to make a complete turn around once you were out of sight.)

However, his voice stopped you in your tracks. The smooth way he spoke made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at a full 90 degree angle. It was deep, rough, but gentle in a way you couldn’t put a finger on. Unique.

“Yeah?” You turned back over your shoulder at the call of your name. Your voice- by some miracle- projected the confidence you so severely lacked at that point in time. You patted yourself on the back for it, mentally. 

How did he know that? The sound of those syllables coming from his mouth sent a harsh rush of warmth directly to your cheeks.

“Right?”

You couldn’t help but cock your head sideways. Completely clueless to whatever the hell he was talking about. Maybe you were too in your own world to hear him.

Damn it.

“Sorry, what?” 

You felt idiotic, “what” being your response? The best you could give was that?

“Your name. That’s it, right?” He replied, chuckling to himself at your display of confusion. It was cute, that much he’d admit. For now. 

“Oh,” The realization hit you like a brick wall to the face. “Yeah. Yeah that’s it.”

 You scratched the back of your neck, taking a careful step towards where Logan stood, rooted in place. He carried himself with such a quiet confidence, something you’d admired right away. You had wondered what made him that way. Maybe the fact that he looked like he could throw you across the room and not break a sweat was a factor. Or maybe he was just that type of person. Or maybe it was all an act. But who were you to say?

He shot you a playful smirk and nodded in acknowledgement. You didn’t seem to notice the quick once-over he did, or maybe you just refused to come to terms with it, he thought. Surely you knew how gorgeous you were. There was no room for debate on that. He was enamoured with everything, your entire way about you, it was making him melt from the inside-out. 

You felt the need to continue the conversation, to learn more about who he is. “You’re Logan?” You inquired, knowing damn well that of course, he’s Logan. Who else would he be?

Truthfully, it was the only string of coherent words that came to mind at the time. 

“That’d be me, darlin’.”

There it was again. 

Was he doing this on purpose?

From the wry look he gave you, the teasing glint in his eyes- he most certainly had been. And, matter of fact, he was enjoying it.

He liked the way your face flushed, the way your eyes widened slightly everytime a nickname fell from his lips. He wondered if you had never been shown that type of affection, one that most would brush past. You may not have noticed, but he sure as hell did. He found himself fond of the little quirks you had. Even after speaking to you for all of 10 minutes. 

You nodded, pursing your lips to prevent the smile ready to likely invade your features regardless. You then bit your thumbnail, something you did when you were nervous, and glanced around the hall you were both in. Finding the wallpaper pattern suddenly more interesting than ever. The intruding thought of how awkward you had been took full control of your senses.

“How long’ve ya been here?” His voice broke through your thoughts- yet again. He, too, wasn’t quite ready to let go of this interaction. 

You gave him a sidelong glance, a minor twitch of your lips signaled to Logan that you were just as intrigued as he was. Which then gave him all the confirmation he needed to take a calculated step towards you. Now at a much more comfortable distance, he could see the features of your face even closer. And fuck were you making it hard to keep it cool.

You shrugged slightly, your body didn’t move much, if at all. He was slowly coming closer, inch by inch. And somehow, you were completely okay with it. You welcomed it.

 You turned your body to face him, fully. He was clad in nothing but a grey tank top that highlighted his muscles almost too perfectly, paired with a well worn pair of jeans, and a belt that had a large and slightly rusted buckle. He looked rugged, but effortlessly striking nonetheless. 

Quit it. 

Your brain needed to shut down those thoughts as fast as they started. 

He, however, noticed the once-over you gave him. The way you took in his appearance- it made him bashful, almost. The inconsolable undertone of nervous-excitement that jolted through his body at the exchange was far from casual. He still, however, returned the gesture- a risky one at that. Though you didn’t seem to pick up on it. Once again.

It would frustrate him if he didn’t find this little game entertaining. But regardless, he undoubtedly found you wearing a simple pair of high-waisted and slightly baggy jeans with a basic white t-shirt all the more attractive. 

“I think it’s coming up on five years now. That I’ve been here.” 

He nodded, raising a brow at the response, visibly confused. 

“What’s that look for?” You laughed, mirroring his expression more teasingly. You were quickly opening up to him. Small bits of your personality shining through the facade you hid behind. How he managed to do that? The answer was beyond your comprehension.

“Nothin’, doll. Jus’ seems like I woulda remembered ya.” His voice alluded to something more. Almost as if he were studying you. Trying to see through you- it felt. Or being suggestive, in a way. Was he flirting?

“When did you get here then? I’ve never seen you before.” You took another step forward, hesitantly.  His eyes still scanned your exterior as if he was racking his brain to find any memory of you. 

“‘Bout 7 or 8 years ago, seems like I’ve been missin’ ya though.” 

You nodded, biting your cheek again. Unknowing of how to respond to something like that. You’d never seen or heard of him much prior to the interaction days ago. And you guaranteed you would have at some point. “Yeah, seems like.” You replied softly, now looking him over in the same manner.

Absolutely not a chance in hell you could’ve forgotten someone like him. 

His demeanor changed just slightly. His face went from one of intrigue, to confusion, and finally, realization. Your heart began to race, you wondered if it was something you’d done. Already fucking up something that hadn’t even started, sounds like you. 

“Sorry, doll. Prof’s callin’ for me.” He cut through your overthinking in a split second. You allowed a smile, one of relief, to cross your face. He found the sight endearing, noting the way you relaxed at his reassurance. He’d keep that in mind for later.

 You hummed in understanding and stepped around him, “I’ll see ya around?” He asked, turning over his shoulder to look at you again, a ghost of a smile in return to yours. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you Logan.” You turned back around, walking with purpose to your room. The way you said his name- ever so sweetly- was sure to be on constant replay in his head for the remainder of the day.

 Probably the rest of the week, if he was being honest with himself. 

~

Logan didn’t bother to knock on Charles’ door. The man knew The Wolverine was on his way, he was bound to be prepared for the chaos that would ensue. He briskly slammed the door behind him with a deafening thud. Crossing the room in a few strides to finally stand in front of the professor’s desk. The moment he’d come all this way to fucking Westchester, New York for. 

“No need for the dramatics, Logan-”

“Save it.” He cut past the small talk rather fast. He never had the time for that shit, and now less than ever. His arms folded in front of his chest defiantly with a distinguished scowl. His anger was more present, the venom in his tone was palpable. 

“Why am I here?” He tapped his foot on the hardwood flooring, awaiting a response that was more than likely to piss him off more than he already had been. Charles still kept his composure, his unwavering patience working doubletime against Logan’s obvious agitation. 

“I’m afraid you already know the answer to that, my boy.” Charles simply responded. 

This fucker always had to talk in riddles. 

He thought that mainly for himself but he was convinced Charles heard it as well. Simply based on the amused sparkle the old man had in his eyes.  Even more to his irritation. He knew the professor found it entertaining. His inner dialogue would 100 percent get him locked away with anyone else, but the professor? He reveled in it. Some of his funniest memories were simply prodding around Logan’s mind. Logan knew this to be true, even through his denial of it.

“I don’t. ‘M not settlin’ down ‘ere. Quit askin’.” Logan huffed, not only at the idea but also the knowing look in Charles’ eyes. Always carrying himself like he’s more educated on something Logan didn’t quite understand yet. Which isn’t entirely untrue. He did carry one of the strongest minds in the world.

“What?” Logan regretted the word- immediately, he knew this man would have some smart reply. Some profound revelation that would have the power to turn his world upside down if he let it. Most times he couldn’t help it, it’s just who Charles was. And who he was: a telepathic genius with a blunt way of speaking. The two factors did little to counteract the other. Logan could appreciate these qualities in the man, he respected him for it. Most didn’t have the guts to tell Logan what they really thought about him. But Charles, he never so much as hesitated. However, when it was something Logan didn’t want to hear? Well, that very well was a foolproof plan to end in disaster.

“I believe you may have some reason to, after all.” The professor sat back in his chair, a lax smile still ever-present on his face. The sight making Logan feel small in his own body. Which was ironic for a man of his size. Logan rolled his eyes, scoffing in the process. No way Chuck was trying this. 

“If you’re implyin’ what I think-”

“I’m simply speaking the truth, Logan. You have no need to worry, your secret’s safe with me.” 

Was he really kidding with him? 

That had to be a fucking joke.

“‘M stayin’ until ya have another mission f’me, that’s it.” His words were short. He was beyond done with this conversation. The man was trying to get him to admit what? He wanted to be here? Logan knew better than that. Settling down would never be for him, it could never be for a man like him. He'd come back here for an assignment, take it, and leave. And the cycle would repeat until he decided it didn’t. That’s how things worked for him. On his terms, no one else’s. He wasn’t ready for all that. The emotional aspect of things, sacrificing his pride. For the sake of having a place to call home? 

He’d rather be shot 47 times. 

“You’re quite stubborn, you know,” 

And he did, boy did he ever. That was the one thing he didn’t completely resent about himself, his ability to stand strong. But now, there he stood, waiting for the words that were inevitably about to leave the professor’s mouth. Good or bad, he was positive their small amount of time together would end there for the day.

“You and her have very much in common.”

Yeah, he was done. 

He mumbled something to the effect of  “‘M not fuckin’ dealin’ with this.” and exited the office less than quietly. The man had no right, especially peeking around in his head like that. And even if he claimed not to, there’s no chance in hell he would have brought that up with no rhyme or reason. Logan hoped to hell his thoughts about you were that loud, so loud the professor couldn’t help but call attention to them. But he knew, oh he knew that you were lingering longer than welcome in his head. And he also knew he wasn’t opposed to letting you stay there.

~ 

He grumbled to himself all the way to his room, only stopping for a second when he ran into Jean in the hall. For some odd reason, he always stopped to talk to her. Probably the need to impress her, the all but obvious crush he once had festering for the woman in front of him keeping him cemented to the ground whether he wanted to or not. 

“Woah, there big guy.” She naturally took hold of both his broad shoulders and looked up at him with those eyes he’d found himself thinking of a little more than he should’ve in the past. She knew about this infatuation, and without a doubt, every time he came back it made waves in her’s and Scott’s relationship. Logan always noticed. Always.

Her teasing smile made his muscles contract just slightly more than they had been previously. He ran a hand through his hair and took a respectful step backwards. He muttered nothing more than a straightforward: “Jean.” To which she smiled at and crossed her arms in front of her, her tongue ran over her soft pink lips. He knew she did all of this on purpose, only wanting to get a rise out of him. It seemed like an urge she had. At least from what Logan observed. Like she needed to feel that power over him. She’d rejected him time and time again. Making it known she was only for Scott, yet he found himself back where he started once he’d returned. Every. Single. Time. 

Which- may or may not be part of the reason he started coming around less and less in the last few years. 

“What brings you back this time, huh?” She stepped towards him, cocking a brow out of curiosity. He’d hoped. “Chuck. Last mission ‘s done.” His tone was clipped, uninterested. Despite his former need to please her, the constant nagging to chase- he felt nothing. Much to his relief, and slight confusion.  Jean, alternatively, wasn’t having any of it. He could tell by the sudden shift to her expression. He saw the way her eyebrows dropped and her posture slumped by just a little. Logan, well, he couldn’t have cared less. He was already pissed, the added pressure of her emotions was about as unappealing as they could be to him at the moment. 

He tried- and failed, to take a swift step around her form. A shot at leaving her standing in the hall and heading to the confines of his room without so much as another word. All he wanted was somewhere he could close his eyes and take a fucking breath. 

Seems like she had other plans. 

“Are you upset with me?” Her voice was fake, oh so calculated. So unlike the version of her he’d gotten to know all those years ago. She’d changed so drastically since he had given up on the idea of them. Since he decided the hope of being more than friends was practically useless. He was nothing but a game to her, he knew that. He just took a long time to come to terms with it. But after the last time he’d come back, it sealed the deal. He was over it before anything had even started. For the better, of course. One of the rare occasions when he’d chosen the logical answer: his own sanity.

He turned his head slightly, not bothering to even make basic eye contact with her, and he responded assertively. “‘Ain’t doin’ this, Jean. We’re friends, keep it that way.”

And with that, he left her in the hall. He ignored the glaringly obvious strain of  guilt gnawing at his gut for being so cold to the woman he once was convinced he had loved. A story for another day.

 But he still couldn’t find it in himself to give enough of a shit to turn around. 

~

You knew that it wasn’t a good idea. The minute you stepped foot outside the threshold of your room you wanted to abort the mission and go back inside. The warmth of your bed called to you like a siren. It was appealing, for once. The longing to stay home clawing at the inner workings of your mind. Yet, your own stubbornness had stopped you.

Typical.

Dressed in leggings and a black sweatshirt- a pathetic attempt at being stealthy, you made your way downstairs. You didn’t so much as take a breath, to your knowledge, when you made your descent. Managing to shock yourself with your unusual lack of clumsiness. Which was near impossible for you to achieve on a good day. The creak of the stairs, if any, was unnoticeable. Though your anxiety still got the better of you as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation of something- or rather someone, finding you. For some reason, you still continued forward. At this rate it was to rub the fact that you’d left successfully into Scott’s stupid face and nothing more.

Your keys were stuffed in your bra in hopes that it would muffle the sound of them jingling before you had pulled them out to get into your car. In retrospect, a ridiculous idea. No one would be awake at that hour. 

Slowly but surely your sock-covered feet made contact with the mansion’s main floor. You allowed yourself to breathe a light sigh of relief. You’d made it one step farther. Although, your escapade was far from over. 

Logan, ever the insomniac, heard you the instant you opened your bedroom door. His razor-sharp senses picked up on the smallest of sounds. Though involuntary, it did come in handy at times such as these. His head snapped from where he was idly watching the movie in front of him. Some bullshit about ‘little women’. Nothing he actually needed to think about, just a way of sidetracking his brain, whose thoughts were ever-present and frustrated him to no end.Because why would he even attempt to sleep after a day like today? 

He slowly sat up from his otherwise comfortable position on the couch. Leaning closer, towards the sound of muffled shuffling and the distress of the old stairs. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as he watched you make your way downstairs from the floor of which your room remained. He nearly chuckled at the sight of you looking like an amateur robber in action, completely oblivious to his intense stare. 

He’d stop you, but he was enjoying this far more than that movie. 

As you “silently” shuffled to the garage door, he figured it was time to step in. He respected you being an independent woman and all, but for your own safety he was fairly certain he should at least know where you were headed. He couldn’t have Scott on his ass knowing full well he let you just up and leave like that. 

He gradually stood up, his stride not so much as taking you by any form of surprise when he saw you laugh to yourself in the seemingly safe space of the driver’s side of your car. He found it charming, even if he was five seconds away from scaring the lights out of you. 

“Where ya headed?” 

You shrieked, jumping back so far that you collided with the headrest. Hard enough for you to consider having a concussion. The asshole just watched and laughed. With your eyes tightly shut, you rubbed the back of your neck in a half assed effort to either soothe the oncoming headache or uncross your eyes. You weren’t quite sure which one it was.

“Christ..” You muttered, the expression more to yourself but Logan, of course, had heard. He found it even funnier than the original reaction he’d gotten out of you. A true, rumbling chuckle blessed your ears. 

In turn, you lightly fluttered your eyes open, glancing over at the towering man staring down at you from the outside of the car. You blinked again, just to be sure that it wasn’t some odd hallucination. Or that your brain wasn’t damaged to the point of fully dreaming.

You opened the door, stepping outside of  the car rather shamefully. You felt like a kid again, getting reprimanded by her mother. Your face was flushed full of embarrassment, and you kept your eyes to the ground. Not willing to see the look on Logan’s face at the moment. 

“Don’t let me stop ya, bub. Jus’ heard somethin’ from the livin’ room ‘s all.” 

Those words had you unable to resist lifting up your head to find a lighthearted expression on his face. He truly wasn’t mad or disappointed, like you expected him to be. And he genuinely had  found the situation amusing, which seriously relieved the tension in your body. At least from what Logan had noticed. 

You shook your head softly whilst directing your attention back towards the floor. You laughed purely in a self deprecating manner. “Was planning on sneaking out,” You muttered, coming to the realization that the phrase sounded even worse as you said it aloud. You were absolutely sure he thought you were acting like some rebellious teenager. When, in all reality, you had every right to come and go as you pleased. No questions asked. 

“Dunno why, just needed an escape.” You lifted your shoulders in a slight shrug, feigning nonchalance. You felt the need to explain yourself, despite Logan’s lack of incessant questioning. You were used to a lengthy lecture or consistent interrogation from Scott, sometimes even Jean. It built nothing in your relationships except for resentment. Ororo handled things with grace, she’d always made you feel validated. She had a way of empathizing that the other two had lacked severely. If you’d had one person to call a true friend, it was her. All three of them were around your age, yet Scott and Jean still treated you like you were nothing but a liability. Which couldn’t be further from the truth. You’d asked for your freedom. As simple as that. Nothing more than the right to be your own person. And for some odd reason it always ended worse than it began. Needless to say, you’d given up on the dream. You instead focused on what you could control. Which unfortunately led to being generally lonesome in this place. These defenses were clear as day to Logan, but he refused to push you on them. He understood the frustration of being seen as someone unworthy of trust over their own facilities. He’d been experiencing his entire life. He rather simply allowed you to speak uninterrupted, and replied with nothing more than a nod when you were done. To your surprise.

“They don’t let ya out often?” He raised the question, he’d been genuinely curious to what the situation was. Was this what you and Scott were fighting over the other day? He didn’t have any need to let you know he was eavesdropping, but he’d assumed the latter. You didn’t come off as a difficult person, he doubted there had been much that you and Scott disagreed on. Or at least fought over. His assumption had been correct. Even if the man was insufferable.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m a patient in a ward, Logan.” You laughed at his choice of words. His own lips quirked into a soft smile and he uttered a gruff ‘sorry’ in return. You casually shut the door to the car, no longer careful of not being loud, and walked back inside the mansion. Promptly, and with significantly less caution than you’d had prior. Logan found your laid-back switch in demeanor compelling. He had to bite back a grin in admiration. 

Nothing was really ever that deep to you.

You strolled back inside, Logan in tow beside you plainly. The silence between you two wasn’t awkward. It was simply a quiet that could be shared between people who have been friends for years. Who knew each other and were comfortable in that. And for someone on the outside looking in, it might’ve seemed that way.

“You’re watching Little Women?” You scoffed, a bemused laugh escaped you as you turned to Logan from the middle of the living area. He stood at the door, leaning against its frame with a deadpan expression. Trying his damndest to act serious, but when he saw the laugh you gave him, it chipped away his attitude immediately. The way you so effortlessly got under his skin was remarkable. 

He grunted and pushed off the wall, stalking towards the couch. Lazily, he rounded it to flop back down onto the space he was resting moments before you showed up. Not that he was mad about it. You followed absentmindedly, your body sprawled out in a chair adjacent to him. You leant on one of the armrests, while your legs hung off the opposite comfortably. As if it were an everyday occurance. The act was domestic, natural. That had been the thing you’d predominantly picked up on with those minor interactions with Logan, no action was forced. Not to you at least. You didn’t know it, but he had thought the exact same. 

You picked at the flaking polish on your nails whilst Logan sipped on the half empty bottle of beer he’d found in the very back of the fridge. He thanked himself silently for having left it there the last time he’d come back to the mansion. Beer had been one of the few items essential in his day-to-day life. No matter where he took residence. Addiction? No. Just a sense of consistency with something. It reminded him of a time he couldn’t necessarily put his finger on, with amnesia and all. But it felt like something he’d always done. Even with the nagging of Charles about his “No Drinking” policy. 

Logan broke the silence with an annoyed grumble of “This movie’s bull.” To which you gasped in dramatic horror. It made Logan’s head snap your direction, unsure of what the hell he’d done to set off that reaction. As he met your eyes, he was relieved to see the playful smirk on your face. Obviously playing up your surprise, but you looked offended nonetheless. 

“You don’t like Little Women?” Your eyebrows knit together. Your hand laid flat on your chest in a manner that made him snort a very brief laugh while he placed his beer back on the coffee table in front of him. He liked that you made him laugh. And it was never forced, he wasn’t the type to fake something to spare another person’s feelings. He gradually switched his attention between you and the movie, folding his arms and relaxing back into the sofa with a huff. “Jus’ ain’t gettin’ the point.”

You all but exaggerated an eye roll, which made him smirk all the wider. You scoffed, responding in the most matter-of-fact tone he’d ever heard. “The point, Logan, is to show the lives of these people. How they went from girls to women. It’s empowering. And that doesn’t even begin to explain the majority of the movie.” You explained, which had succeeded in intriguing him, though he tried not to show it. He followed, rolling his eyes in the same exaggerated way you’d done, and scoffed to himself. 

“Empowerin’ my ass. I still don’t get it.” 

You groaned in mock annoyance, but you actually enjoyed telling him these things. You loved when you could banter and your counterpart could keep up. And you loved even more that he let you talk, and he asked intelligent questions. He was a great listener. Even if you didn't necessarily realize it was because you were someone worth listening to.

It goes without saying that the majority of that night involved explaining the plot of Little Women to Logan. And him finding he did like the movie, after you’d talked him through it of course. 

Though, he may have only liked it because you looked so happy to talk about it. 

~

It was well past 4 A.M. when you and Logan had simultaneously decided it was about time to go your separate ways and attempt to sleep. You’d highly doubted that you’d get any type of beneficial rest at this point, but you were willing to at least try. 

Your more frequent yawns and half-lidded eyes were a distinct indicator to Logan that you were ready to break off and head to bed. But, on the contrary, you were hesitant to end this- thing. Whatever it was. You really enjoyed his company, and he, yours. There was no need for deep talks, no pressure on gauging the other person’s thoughts, just getting to know each other on the most basic of levels. It was refreshing. 

After he- reluctantly- admitted to liking the movie, you continued to speak about everything and nothing. The conversation ranged from music taste, to books, to debating over who the best 70’s rock band was, and even sharing the tiniest crumbs of your inside life. By tiny, it was literally nothing more than he already knew. And vice versa.

And while you both didn’t want to admit it, you felt yourselves craving to know each other on a deeper level. 

Logan, always and forever being the gentleman, insisted on escorting you to your room. The gesture was nothing but innocent. And a way to spend more time around you. It was pretty late- or really early, after all. He cared for your safety, as he did everyone’s. He tried to rationalize with himself that that was the reason he’d offered. 

Maybe part of him also wanted to know where you stayed.

Much to his disappointment, his room was on a completely different floor. Maybe he’d see if someone wants to switch with him. You guys could end up being good friends, what’s the harm? What if you’d needed something in the middle of the night? 

He would, however, keep those thoughts to himself. He was a bit obsessive, maybe a hint of possessive, but all in good conscience. He did have some animalistic tendencies after all. Who could blame him? Your presence was intoxicating. He was addicted to your laugh, your voice, your scent, just- you. 

“‘Night, sweetheart,” He placed a hand on the doorframe, a small distance from where you stood in the doorway. You smiled ever so delightfully upwards. Eyeing his towering figure in front of you. You found the man- who not even 72 hours ago you thought to be intimidating and slightly off-putting, now charming and someone you were willing to get to know. 

He returned your expression, a hint of a smile dusting over his strong features. The soft look he’d had in his eyes made your heart melt, though you made the excuse that he was just tired. It couldn’t possibly be anything else, right? 

No. 

The nickname, on the other hand, would have you giggling to yourself once he was out of earshot.

“G’night, Logan. I’ll see you around?” You asked almost casually, but the hope in your tone didn’t pass by his notice. He felt his heart clench involuntarily in his chest, like a damn lovesick fool. He nodded, attempting to play it cool. He couldn’t have you know you were the first person his heart raced at the idea of seeing again since he’d lived in that god-forsaken place. 

“Yeah, see ya ‘round.” His voice was soft, saying your name. But rough in a sense of a serene thunderstorm. The type of sound that could lull you to sleep. And you’d let it happen. 

You quietly stepped backwards into the confines of your room, smiling sleepily as he walked away. You shut the door. Sighing to yourself, and flopped face-first onto your bed. You expected tonight to go so much differently than it did, but you weren’t exactly upset at the outcome. In fact, you were more than giddy he’d caught you leaving earlier. A flutter of something you weren’t quite ready to admit yet crossed your heart and face when the memory popped back into your head. 

You attempted to sleep. Which you deemed near impossible after 5 minutes of tossing and turning. Instead, you opted for spending the remainder of the night binging some comedy show on your TV and drifting back to the thought of Logan.

Were you really that down bad already?

He, luckily, wasn’t any better off. The absolute second he left your presence and the hallway where you resided. He all but dragged his feet to his own door. He longed to go back to you. To talk to you, make you laugh. It was a strange feeling, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever known. Which, for having been alive for well over a century, was saying something. He would refuse to speak that into existence. The words would stay locked away in the depths of his soul until further notice. He didn’t want that mess of emotions, despite how drawn he was to you. He knew already that you deserved someone that would be a match for you. Someone sweeter. Someone to rely on, to fall for truly. Someone that doesn’t have as much baggage as a hotel lobby. He didn’t think he could ever be that, for anyone. No matter how hard he may have tried. And he surely couldn’t ruin you like that, you were too heavenly. Too angelic.

Nonetheless, those ideas wavered and he’d had a restful sleep for the first time in years that night. 

~

The gentle call of your name stirred you awake. You fluttered your eyes open the slightest bit.

“Hey,” 

You squinted, the sun unforgivingly shone directly into your line of vision. You rubbed your eyes, mumbling incoherently. Slowly, you sat up and took in your surroundings.

Shit.

You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch earlier in the day. 

Seeing as you didn’t sleep a wink last night, your current state made perfect sense. 

As you looked around, sleep addled as ever. You noted that you were, in fact, in the living room. Resting on the same couch Logan had been talking to you from the night prior.

Now why the fuck was he your first waking thought?

“Glad you’re back. The hell were you sleepin’ on the couch for, doll?” You snapped your head to the sound of the voice. A wave of nausea hit you as the blood rushed to your head. And lo and behold, it had to be Logan, standing behind your choice of a bed for the day with a concerned furrow of his eyebrows. His voice, however, held a hint of amusement that made you huff a laugh- even having been as exhausted as you were. 

You ran a hand through your tousled hair. Surely, you’d have to have looked disheveled. It just had to be him who found you this way. Lucky you. 

“I, uh,” You yawned, in spite of the hard nap you’d just taken. Kneading your closed eyelids with your knuckles. You scrunched your nose and blinked up at him. Caught completely off guard with the way he was looking at you. 

He found it adorable.

“Didn’t sleep last night, guess I did here. Is it still Tuesday?” You wondered aloud, which made Logan chuckle deeply. The sound sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Still Tuesday. What’d ya stay up for?” He spoke as moved from behind the couch and sat on the other side of it. You pulled your legs into yourself to make room for him, as you were just fully taking up the space a moment before. He would’ve been fine had you stayed in that position. Much to his surprise since he’d hated physical contact.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shrug, your vague response made his amused smirk slightly drop from his face. He leaned back with narrow eyes, giving you that familiar look. The one that made it seem like he was trying to read your mind. It made you nearly crack a smile. Was he really that concerned?

“’S real vague, darlin.” 

To which you laughed softly in response. Lowering your head back on the armrest to look at the ceiling. The relaxed smile on your face was unwavering, guess that just reflected your emotions around him.

“Well.. I wasn’t going to blame anyone,” You started, making Logan raise an eyebrow in amusement. The sight made your stomach flip. Somehow every expression he’d made only enhanced his attractiveness. 

“But, someone kept me up all night talking.” You finished, nudging his thigh playfully with your foot. You weren’t entirely sure what made you so willing to act in such a way. But he didn’t feel like a stranger, and you took that as an invitation. Logan, with his quick reflexes, caught your ankle. Making you breathe out a small gasp followed by your radiant smile. He then tightened his grip ever so slightly, noting that you didn’t attempt to pull away. 

“That so?” He taunted in return, the playful back and forth turning into something more. Something charged, unspoken. The tension between you both was clear.

“Mhm,” Was all you could reply, through the fit of laughter you were desperately trying to suppress with a tight-lipped smile. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, only to be met with an even stronger hold on your poor ankle. He was still gentle, not on any mission to hurt you. Ever. He had unbelievable strength, that much was obvious by his toned muscles that were unnoticeable. The way his large, calloused hand completely engulfed your ankle had your mind- and heart, thudding out of your chest.

He could hear it, too. It only stirred him on more.

He practically dragged you towards him, his own boisterous chuckle added to your light giggling. A symphony that was more beautiful than the pearly gates of heaven themselves. 

Whilst caught up in your play-fighting, if you could even call it that. More or less a battle you were bound to lose. You’d failed to notice the figure that was lurking in the hallway. 

Jean had heard Logan’s laugh, a very rare one at that, from down the hall. Not to mention the way your own mind was screaming with unexpressed affection. A sentiment that was sure to bubble to the surface at some point, though you forced it into your subconscious. 

Jean walked with a stride so light that even Logan with his sharp senses couldn’t pick up the faint click of her heels. She stopped abruptly when she caught a glimpse of the scene in front of her. It made her stomach churn with a sickening jealousy. So this had been why he disregarded her that easily. The reminder of her sour exchange with Logan only added fuel to the fire. She’d been dwelling on it for days. It was an unfamiliar territory, the lack of two men’s attention. The constant chase and the way she’d had him wrapped around her finger. 

Logan was so caught up in that moment with you that he couldn’t even pay attention to his surroundings. That of which included the unmistakable scent of Jean’s floral perfume. The smell was pungent, often overwhelming to the average person. Let alone someone who could find things like that from miles away. Logan ignored it all those times for the sake of being around her. It wasn’t impossible, not when he found her being there otherwise entertaining. Or comforting. He wasn’t sure. 

But now, seated next to you. So intensely captured by what you offered. He wouldn’t dare to compare you to her. He’d realized then that Jean never gave him comfort. What he felt around her was never comfortable, this was. 

Nothing had ever come so easily to him, never in his life.

Jean, opposed to whatever you two had been feeling, had used his distraction to take advantage of him. Prying around in his head for a nanosecond. He was unbelievably sensitive to that type of thing, she knew better than to try something like that. But she just wanted an idea of what was going on. Evidently unhappy with what she found, she shut the investigation down immediately. 

She masked her frustration with somewhat contentedness, purposefully interrupting the pure exchange happening between you and Logan. With a smile, that is. 

“Having fun?” She asked from behind the couch, where Logan was before moving to be closer to you. Her voice was saccharin, laced with hostility. Logan’s smile instantly dropped at the recognition of her voice. With a clear expression of agitation, he silently let go of you. At the loss of contact, you readjusted yourself, trying to regain your composure as well as possible.

The very obvious red flush on your cheeks made it difficult.

“Somethin’ ya need?” Logan questioned with no shot at patience, he knew Jean all too well. Yet, he was in no rush to jump back into her good graces. Which was unlike his former need to please her. He used to be by her side at the drop of a hat, ready to give or do anything for her to give him a fighting chance. He had realized it was a lost cause long before she’d caught on, clearly. 

“Professor wants you.” She stated, with a pointed look in her eyes as she averted her gaze to you. You stood up, collecting your bearings briskly with a bewildered look on your face. Jean simply shrugged, a half-hearted effort to seem clueless. Though Logan’s glare towards her was unforgettable.

If looks could kill. You thought.

You then excused yourself quietly, but with grace. You weren’t scared of the professor, and you sure as shit weren’t scared of Jean. Her ulterior motives meant nothing to you. You and her never had been more than acquaintances.  You were civil with her as she was with you, and that was the extent of your relationship. 

Logan’s eyes followed your figure desperately. His body deflated as you retreated from the room. Your warm nature replaced with a chill. He swore the room lost its color when you left, and he’d hoped you were as disappointed as he was for being interrupted.

He shot to his feet when he was sure you were out of earshot. His problems with Jean began long before he knew you. He was well-aware you weren’t to blame for any of this, and he was intent on making sure you found out about their history on his terms. Not through any of Jean’s petty antics. 

“Logan, wait.” She pleaded, her voice much less harsh. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with an exasperated breath. His knuckles turned white with the clench of his fists. 

“What,” He turned slowly, his strong eye contact making Jean wince. They both knew what she was doing, and Logan, most of all, knew damn well he wasn’t about to let that go. He could hold a grudge. And in this case, he had every right to.

“Y’know what, no. I don’t got any time for this.” He waved her off as he decided he wasn’t in the mood for her groveling. Without a second glance, he left her to stand alone in the living room. His frustration was evident, his anger resurfaced. Damn her for ruining the little slice of happiness he’d gotten. 

He was sick of it. Beyond through with the immaturity of her actions. Every memory came flooding back. Each thing he’d let go with an excuse. Every time he apologized for something she had been at fault for. He-

“Hey! Wait.” He sighed when he heard a breathless voice moving in his direction. Exasperated, he shifted to see who needed his attention now. 

Suddenly, the cloud above his head dissolved into the sky and the gentle gaze returned to his eyes.

God, you were gonna be the death of him.

“Professor didn’t need much, figured we weren’t done talking.” You caught up to him, slightly red in the face and still attempting to catch your breath. And he found you beautiful. Even more so, in earnest.

“If you want to hang around me, that is.” You finished, a teasing way of hiding the regret you’d felt for the rambling you’d just tortured him with. He simply looked at you, tracing every detail of your face. Committing you to memory. You had to be an angel. A sweet temptation sent there to ruin him.

 You were unable to decipher what the hell the man was thinking due to the fact that he hadn’t spoken yet. Maybe you came off as desperate, you did run back here to find him, anyways. Oh fuck, what if-

“‘Course I do, sweetheart. Nowhere I’d rather be, if ‘m bein’ honest.” 

He’d fallen into step with you easily, his reply caused your lips to break into the most shit-eating grin. You’d be embarrassed, if only he wasn’t looking at you in the way he was. Like you’d just given him the fucking moon. 

Hell, you already felt more important to him than you’d ever felt to anyone in your life.  

[cpvnksabm]

i think sometimes rtc fans (fic writers especially) who are aware they aren't disability experts will try to "play it safe" and avoid depicting anything that could end up being offensive or inaccurate, because they'd rather not handle something at all than risk handling it badly. i understand this approach, and don't get me wrong, it's a good thing to want to avoid offending people - and it's also a good thing to be aware of when you don't know enough about something to write about it.

but it's upsetting when ricky is sidelined or excluded because people don't know how to depict him. and "include ricky but avoid going into detail about his disability" isn't a perfect solution either - for shorter fics it tends to work fine, but in longer fics, it becomes noticeable when something hasn't been mentioned. ricky's disability would realistically affect his life in many ways, such that if you're depicting him realistically for an extended period it's likely it will be relevant at some point.

on top of that, sometimes the "play it safe, don't do anything that could be problematic" approach extends to people removing parts of canon* that they think may be problematic. and i'm in favour of improving/ignoring the shitty parts of canon, but this needs to be done carefully and with a good understanding of what specifically needs improving and why, because sometimes it's a fine line between "removing the shitty parts of canon" and "erasing disability representation". there are some issues where, even if canon was flawed in its depiction of something, erasing/ignoring it is actually worse.

*when i say canon i mean the 2016-2018 script. i feel we've all agreed that the ableist 2022 script changes are non-canon for obvious reasons

one example of this is ocean's canonical ableism, and how often it's just ignored by the fandom. i think sometimes people are unsure how to handle it respectfully, or feel like it shouldn't have been in the musical in the first place. and different disabled people have different opinions on how well it was handled in canon, i have mixed feelings myself, but regardless of if it was handled well or not, i don't think making her some sort of Perfect Disability Ally Who Loves Ricky in fanworks is a good solution. because as a disabled person, i don't see ocean's ableism as something trivial that can be easily removed, and when people do casually remove it, i find it to be dismissive & minimizing of a real problem. it makes me uncomfortable.

which is funny because i'm sure, at least some of the time, people go with this depiction of ocean because they don't want to risk making any disabled people uncomfortable by depicting ableism!

basically what i'm trying to say here is: when you're depicting a disabled character, you have to make a lot of choices about how to depict them. and if you're scared of accidentally handling something badly, you might try to set it up so you don't have to make a choice on how to depict it, because it just isn't relevant - because ocean was never ableist in your headcanon, or because ricky's disability never impacts him in the story you're trying to tell, or because ricky barely appears in your fanworks anyway.

but choosing not to make a choice is still a choice. when you can't decide how to handle ocean's ableism, so you just don't acknowledge it - that's a choice! when you can't decide how ricky's disability would affect him beyond what we see in canon, so you just avoid going into detail about it, that's a choice. and sometimes the choices that you see as "playing it safe" and "not offending anyone" are, in fact, making some readers uncomfortable - disability representation is very rarely something as simple as "go with the safe option that cant possibly offend anyone", and avoiding showing disability is not a good approach.

and to be clear i am absolutely not saying i think everyone should have to go into full detail on how ricky's disability (& ableism) affects him in every fic. that would create its own set of problems. i think it's important for able-bodied people to be aware that some stories about the disabled perspective are not their story to tell.

but there's a lot of middle ground between "fic entirely focused on depicting disabled experiences in detail" and "ricky's disability is barely mentioned, his backstory is edited to remove ableism references, ocean is his best friend who was never ableist"! having some exploration of ricky's disability as background info or side details can really elevate representation - some of my favourite rtc fics ever are ones where, even if ricky's disability is never plot-important, it was always handled with care and there were clearly no points where the author could have forgotten he was disabled.

i don't have an easy solution here that makes this simple. but i do have some important advice:

just because something can be depicted badly doesn't mean it's always inherently wrong to depict it. there's a big difference between, for example, "the rtc writers could have done a better job handling ocean's ableism in the musical" and "ableism should never be shown in fiction, it was wrong for them to show it on-stage and we must never show it in-fic". there is really no need to entirely avoid something just because it could be done badly.

as i said at the start, it is a good idea to be aware of when you don't know enough about something to write about it accurately. but this doesn't mean you can never write about it, it means you can learn! research is super important and super helpful, and a lot of strictly factual stuff (i.e. the effects of neuromuscular disorders) can be found on a quick google search. writing advice specifically can be harder to find, since it's more opinion-based, but i find you can find a lot of general posts on tumblr and other social media

If you've tried doing research but there's something you don't understand, or you want to depict a really specific situation that nobody has made a general post about - you can ask! my asks are open for this exact subject! another knowledgeable person in the fandom, @icepoptroll , also has asks open and has given me permission to @ them

if you ever DO accidentally come across as ableist or just misinformed... it's not the end of the world. you can receive criticism, and you can listen to that criticism. this happens to everyone because nobody is perfect. you can apologise if necessary, you can go back and edit your own work to make it more respectful if you see a need to do so! while cyberbullying & harassment in fandoms does happen sometimes, most people aren't looking to "cancel" you, and most people will be understanding when you make mistakes.

so if you tend to sideline ricky, or write around his disability, because you're not sure how to tackle it and you're afraid of getting it wrong - please reconsider. there are things you can do to better equip yourself! ricky doesn't have to be a main character, nor does disability have to be the main subject of a fic, but it shouldn't be ignored entirely.

go forth and be brave in your depictions! thanks for reading!

[beemovieerotica]

I just saw your post (one of? ) where you discuss your OCD symptoms, and they sounded... Familiar, for lack of a better word. I went into a therapist recently for anxiety and intrusive thoughts, and she wanted to evaluate me for OCD. My dad has diagnosed OCD, and I don't think that my internal experiences match his at all. I really feel like I just have stress-correlated anxiety. Do you mind talking about what your OCD experience is like, for comparison?

oh 100% my ocd ramps up a lot with stress. I have a lot going on but basically ocd can attach itself to anything in your environment and create reasons for why it is an existential threat. anything can be a trigger.

there's also a distinction where people may do none of the habitual compulsions (like physically checking things) and it's all just things revolving in their head - this is a lot of what I have. but yeah here are some more common symptoms / subtypes im familiar with that do get screened for by specialists:

intrusive thoughts like horror movie imagery throughout the day

spiraling what-if catastrophe scenarios that go on for minutes at a time where I just kind of blank out and get wrapped up in an extremely vivid and distressing daydream that feels like it's actually happening. like I will straight up start grieving for someone who is not dead.

superstitions/very specific fear-based beliefs that go beyond what would be typical for the person's religion. centered on blasphemy, moral goodness, purifying one's thoughts, punishing one's self, believing you deserve retribution/death, etc

believing that you're going to hurt/kill yourself and having obsessive suicidal thoughts. suicidal ocd is different from actual suicidality but a lot of providers don't know this or that it needs to be treated differently - it can lead to highly avoidant behavior like not wanting to use kitchen knives or being near ledges out of fear that you will do something.

questioning your memories of the past. being convinced that something horrifying and traumatic happened to you but you just can't remember it, obsessively analyzing memories to try and fill in the gaps. you can develop false memories in this process.

persistent fear of forgetting things, needing to feel like you have to remember everything all the time to avoid catastrophe

re-playing conversations word for word in your head hours or days after something happened over and over assessing everything that happened to try and figure out the precise way in which you fucked up

no amount of re-checking can reliably convince you that you haven't fucked up, or maybe you do get a moment of peace before something else takes its place

also, I heard somewhere that having 1 parent with ocd gives you a 50% chance of developing it...ough.