#because!! if they rejected the opportunity given to them!! they most likely would have never met!!!

[triple-starsss]

for context this is set after they leave Ivo!!

[joelsgoldrush]

“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[valtsv]

i would love to hear more of your thoughts on michael shelley!!! 🌀🚪✨

you're in luck because i've sat on thoughts about him for years and i finally feel like i can articulate them. because michael shelley is such a well written case of tragic horror in the horror tragedy podcast. and, despite my criticisms of season 5, it really did do an excellent job in concluding his character arc with the gertrude backstory episode. in a podcast where a common in-universe theme is that knowledge, and the pursuit of knowledge, is dangerous, michael is a subversion in that his ignorance of the horrors of the world he lived in not only didn't save him, but was intentionally engineered to make him vulnerable to exploitation and harm (which, on a broader scope, emphasises the futility of the world of the magnus archives - regardless of whether you participate in or turn a blind eye to the systems at play, involved or uninvolved, you are not safe).

furthermore, i really appreciate the subversion of traditional tropes of the sacrifice as a typically female figure taken advantage of by a male father, brother, or lover, whose tragic and horrible death is used to motivate him (whether to greatness or self-destruction), with michael being a son sacrificed by his mother (or grandmother) figure, who never actually loved him and whose 'frail' and 'nurturing' qualities were weaponised incompetence used to gaslight and manipulate him - and who continues to operate successfully (at least in terms of what can be said to be 'success' in a world like the magnus archives) without being haunted by any apparent doubt about the decision she made, or any hesitation to use others in similar ways, following this betrayal. which makes the fact that he's sewn into the fabric of a being that represents lies in their most insidious form, used as a weapon to devour people and destroy their lives, all the more abhorrent in hindsight - he is forced to not only relive his trauma in an endless loop (or spiral, if you will), but to become the mechanism which enables it. michael is taken to the edge of something evil (at least from a human perspective), and pushed over the threshold with no hope of recourse. there's almost a reverse orphic quality to it - he descends into terrifying other world, one which exists side-by-side with but fundamentally seperate from his own, against his will, and looking back will only cause him pain as he's assaulted by memories of a life he will never be able to reach.

i think a lot of people forget to look past the surface with michael, despite there being an entire episode dedicated to doing so. which is understandable, he's a very outwardly expressive character - but this is intentional obfuscation to hide an incredibly damaged victim whose hatred of this part of himself is integral to his entire reason for being, and which the rejection of causes him to be unmade, incapable of existing as this contradictory nightmare any longer. it's a mercy killing, and yet it is violent and painful, because michael cannot and should not exist, and excising that graft used to muzzle the distortion is as agonising as latching it into place was in the first place. when michael-the-distortion says about michael shelley "he was born. he was pointless. and he should have died." there is an implicit longing there, a rage at the way he was used, his decisions made for him and used to imprison something else instead of ever being allowed to exercise any measure of free will. because michael shelley probably would have died for the archivist, given the opportunity, but he never got the choice.

[directdogman]

A large Milt post.

The funny thing about writing characters is that you often forget how little of them you've shown off. Milt's pretty detached from the plot (not even being explicitly mentioned in-game) so I guess it's fair to say that the audience doesn't really 'know' him well.

Given how much detail the audience knows about Crown's life during the war and immediately after it, it'd be interesting to mention a little bit about Milt's war history, especially since Crown's time during the war is pretty important to understanding a part of his character - why he was so dead-set on changing the world. Ironically, Milt's experiences were very different in a lot of ways, but wound up bringing him to the same place. This information would be obscure, but likely known to anyone who'd want to study him in DT's universe, so I guess there's no harm in mentioning some of it:

Milt was born into a more affluent family than Crown's and didn't face the same kind of nail-biting poverty that Crown did as a child. He was a Corporal (Acting Sgt) by the end of the war and had a distinguished record as a war hero. He was very well respected by those in his platoon, having a reputation for honesty, kindness and always following through on his word, no matter the circumstances. However, was also known to be someone you didn't wanna push around or back into a corner, as he was fiercely intelligent and very determined - not the sort of person you'd want to wrong.

He was a part of the DDay landings during the European campaign, an event he remembers as a terrifying and chaotic loss of life. Milt later rejected claims of his valor during the landing in the years following the war. After the fall of Berlin in mid 1945, Milt rejected the opportunity to remain in Europe as an occupying force (which was available to him because of his reputation/rank) in order to join the Pacific Theater. This was partially out of a sense of survivor's guilt (personally knowing many soldiers from his town who'd died in the campaign) and partly because he feared returning to relative peace and being alone with his thoughts again.

Milt's time in the Pacific Theater isn't nearly as well known due to how unwilling he was to talk about it to anyone, though he once opened up to Marla about it. Milt witnessed the destruction of Hiroshima from a distance, an event that's forever etched into his mind.

When Milt returned to the States, with a military scholarship, he decided to focus his efforts into trying to make the world a better place and began studying science. His dream was to develop a new form of irrigation that could terraform large swathes of land into farmland so the whole world could be fed. Due to his intelligence and determination in seeking his goal, he wound up taking to his work well. He took a keen interest in the new concept of the structure of DNA in particular, which was discovered in the early 1950's, believing that genetic modification could be used to create new forms of plant life that could feed vast amounts of people. Milt never ceased contact with his contacts from University, nor lost his love for science and the pursuit of a better world through the advancement of technology/science. But, most of all, he never abandoned his dream of making the world a better place, one where the horrors he'd witnessed as a younger man (such as mass human death, starvation and mass-chaos) could never happen again.

Shortly after graduating, he attended a political rally in Madison, Wisconsin and met a passionate public speaker/local business owner who'd change the course of his life forever. The rest is history.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Saw you had requests! And this may be a trigger warning but it’s a fix I’ve thought about for months.

Eddie, bestie female reader. You are newer to Hawkins and go to a party with Eddie robin and Steve. Not big into drugs or drinking to stick with punch.

While Eddie is off making some money you’re not paying attention to your cup. And someone slips in something.

Soon you start to feel weird… and scared. Someone finds Eddie who is by your side in a second. Friends freak out your crying and scared possible culprit is found and Eddie wants to kick his ass but he is taking care of you. And then from there where ever you think it could lead? Ed’s taking you home but staying and helping you through your high/trip so sweet doesn’t even need to be secretly in love or it could be but nothing happens because… well after a scary thing like that… no thanks.

Idk it’s been stuck in my head and again don’t write if you’re not comfortable.

Im not going to anon because I’m afraid I may miss if you do write. But again if not that’s totally okay!

Hey, thanks so much for your request!

Word count: 1,723

CW: reader gets roofied, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

Eddie x bestie!fem!reader

You looked around Steve’s house which was filled a bunch of people you didn’t know. You hadn’t really liked parties, but Eddie had begged you to go and you found yourself unable to say no to him. He was just so cool and pretty that you wanted to do whatever he asked when he flashed you those doe brown eyes.

You were still new to town and in no position to pass up friends so that meant hanging around people you didn’t like just so full your social circles. People like Brad were who you despised the most. He had been trying to sleep with you for months only to be met by rejection. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, approaching you every chance he got and that night hadn’t been an exception.

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning over the back of the couch. Eddie was always quick to jump to your defense, but of course he was nowhere to be found, taking an opportunity to sell, it being a huge party and all.

You ignored him, looking down at the red plastic cup in your hand. Eddie had given you some punch that had just been a bunch of different types of alcohol mixed with some juice. You didn’t drink much so it was perfect, the juice completely covering up the bitter alcohol taste that you weren’t a fan of.

You thought that not speaking to Brad would help him get the hint, but that only made him speak again. He took your silence as playing hard to get and goddamn was he determined to get you.

To Brad, you were just another body to use. He loved that you were innocent, having never slept with anyone. He just wanted to add yet another notch to his bedpost, wanting your name to be on the list of virgins he had fucked.

You had felt bad for the girls who had been desperate enough to sleep with Brad and you definitely weren’t going to be one of them. He was gross and you had eyes for only one man. That man being nowhere to be found when you needed him.

You hadn’t been paying attention and Brad had slipped something into your drink, quickly moving away before anyone could catch him. If you wouldn’t say yes, he was going to take matters into his own hands.

But Robin had caught him and hurried over to you to stop you from drinking the now contaminated juice. You had already taken a sip before she was able to get to you. She watched in horror as you swallowed the liquid and quickly took the cup from you. She pulled you in the kitchen to keep an eye on you and poured the juice down the sink.

She then grabbed onto Steve who just so happened to also be in the kitchen and turned him around to face her, panic in her eyes.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He could see the look on her face and started to worry. Robin was known to freak out on a regular basis, but this was different. He could feel it. Something was wrong.

“Y/n was roofied.” He felt his knees go weak at her words and looked at you for any signs of sickness, but you seemed fine. It was only a matter of time before the symptoms took over.

“I’m gonna go get Eddie. Take her to your room,” she told him, looking around the house for the curly head of hair.

Robin was quick to run from the kitchen, pushing through all of the partygoers to find the metal head. She didn’t have much time and it didn’t help that Steve’s house was packed and there was no trace of Eddie anywhere.

Steve took you to his room so you could have some quiet. You already felt dizzy, having trouble walking, feeling like the place was spinning. Everything was distorted and didn’t look right.

You continued you to try to walk but fell to the floor, the drugs in your system quickly taking over. You fell face first in the foyer and people were quick to part like the Red Sea as you laid there in the middle of them.

Everyone just stared at you while Steve was picked. He looked down at your face to see that your nose was red from where it hit the floor. He carried you up the stairs and to his room, hoping that Eddie was going to be there soon. You were fading fast and you looked so scared, it was terrifying to him. He didn’t know you as well as Eddie, but you were his friend and he hated seeing you like that. So scared and helpless.

Steve opened the door and closed it behind him with his foot before carefully laying you on his bed. His heart was racing and he was wondering where the fuck Eddie was. It didn’t take long to get to his room no matter when in the house you were coming from.

Steve sat you up against his headboard, making sure you didn’t fall asleep. He laid next to you awkwardly, not taking his eyes off of you.

“I need Eddie,” you slurred. Steve wanted Eddie too. He was the only one who always knew what you needed. Steve was going to try his best, but he was terrified for you. He couldn’t imagine going through something so scary.

“Eddie’s coming sweetheart. He’ll be here in a second.” Steve wasn’t sure how sure his statement was true, but he was going to believe it anyway.

The door burst open and Eddie and Robin rushed into the room. She sat on the bed next to Steve while Eddie made a beeline for you. He took you into his arms and the two of you slowly lowered yourselves to the floor. You cried into his chest and he let you, knowing how scared you were. You needed to let it out and he was going to let you talk about it if you wanted to.

Robin and Steve made themselves scarce, wanting to give to two of you some space. Eddie pulled you onto the bed and you cuddled up into his side, feeling nothing but dizzy. Everything was doubled and you had to close your eyes so it would go away, but it didn’t. It only got worse when you closed your eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry, sweetheart. I should have been there with you.” Eddie was going to blame himself for the rest of his life. Sure, if he had been with you, you wouldn’t have been drugged, but it wasn’t his fault. It was just horrible incident and the only person to blame was Brad.

“Eddie, it’s okay,” you slurred. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve been paying more attention.” He was getting angry that you were blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault at all. You should have been able to have a drink without worrying whether there were drugs in it or not.

“No,” he said a bit too harshly, sitting up he so could look you in the eyes. “None of this is your fault, y/n. It’s Brad’s.”

“Exactly,” you opened your eyes. “So you shouldn’t be blaming yourself. You should be allowed to leave me for a few minutes without worrying about me.”

“I always worry about you. You’re my best friend. That’s my job. And I didn’t do my job for one night and something horrifying happened to you, y/n. You were assaulted.” That word made it sound so much worse. You knew that was what happened to you, but didn’t really have time to think about it until Eddie had said it.

Just because Brad hadn’t done anything to you physically didn’t mean that you weren’t a victim. Eddie wanted you to know the severity of what had happened and wanted to you to know that you had every right to feel scared.

You fell silent after that, the words heavy between the two of you. Your heart rate quickened as everything set it. You didn’t want to believe it, very much in denial of the severity of the situation. In your mind, if you didn’t acknowledge it, it wasn’t actually happening.

You slowly drifted to sleep and Eddie kept an eye on you to make sure you were okay. He felt sick seeing you like that. You hadn’t been acting like yourself and even after your discussion, he was still blaming himself for what had happened to you. He’d get over it eventually, but for now, he was going to let himself drown in his guilt.

You woke up the next morning from the sun shining through the window. You felt so much better, but you were still a little groggy. You sat up and panicked when Eddie wasn’t by your side but let out a sigh of relief when you saw him sitting at Steve’s desk. He had some toilet paper in his nose and a bag of frozen peas was sitting onto top of one of his hands, his other hand of top of the bag.

He smiled when he looked at you and you returned it, his smile always infections. You eyed the peas once more and wondered what had happened while you were asleep. It seemed like Eddie was always up to trouble.

“What did you do this time?”

“I punched Brad.” He said the words so proudly and for once, you didn’t feel like scolding him. If anyone deserved to have the shit punched out of them, it was him. He deserved a lot more, but you were going to take what you could get as far as his ass kickings went.

“Steve helped. We went to his house this morning and taught him a lesson about dragging women before calling the cops. They arrested him an hour later so he’s definitely not to be bothering you anymore.”

You didn’t think anyone had done something so nice for you. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie would have done anything for you. He would have even left Brad alone if you asked.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You walked over to him and planted yourself in his lap. He wasn’t caught off guard at first, but arm quickly wrapped around your waist while you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he nodded. “But I wanted to. And that was the least that fucking dick deserved.” It was true, and even though you would probably never to get over what had happened to you, knowing that Brad was behind bars made you feel a whole lot better.

[brbgottagetkfc]

My think piece (lol, I am looking into it 🔍):

Like...I sorta get the dynamic. Because it seems like despite being friends all of them are pretty lonely themselves. Y/N is sort of like a shard that kind of breaks the normalcy for them, so they kind of reject her in that sense. It easier to cling to coldness when its all you've known, warmth seems too scary. Maybe Satoru sees that and thinks he needs to hold them up in a way (not disrupt their normalcy), so enages in the way they like: the shots at Y/N, playing that game to act like Y/N doesn't mean much. Nice got them killed as you mentioned, being treated like weapons from a time when they needed to be nurtured. So maybe Y/N reminds them how hardened they have become, so they cling to the status quo of their loneliness in the friendship. Its like seeing how much more happy Satoru is but needing the reasurance that ‘You're still like us, she'll never get you because she hasn't been treated as disposable like we have, we have the same experiences you are better off with us, we only had each other, so it has to be the same'

Its not Y/N's respponsibility to heal them, but being open to her as a friend would do wonders for them. I just don't get Utahime posting that, it was mean. All of them were very mean. Utahime's reasoning seems like the same thing, she doesn't love Satoru but its that thing about familarity. Y/N's the other one, shining light on the ice in her friend group, the message may not be ‘He still likes me and wants me more' but may be more so ‘We're all fine, you didn't change him, or take him away from us, he's still our friend, with the same blood on his hands, the same fate as us as weapons, its okay, we'll all stick together'

But it would be nice to see it all addressed, because that video was like the final blow, she saw them post it, saw him laugh at the digs, the little jope she had shattered. Its necessary to hash out that instance. Love and friendship does help with wound and scars, both for Satoru and his little group.

Even the most simplest smaus show a lot things. You did an amazing job. Eager for part 3 (I hope you do it, give like a proper ending, I would hope a happy one, it would take him time given the extent to which it hurt).

OMG thank you so much, anon, for taking the time and dropping such an insightful ask, makes me ooey gooey inside knowing some of y'all liked my Smaus enough to put so much thought into it

As for your take of the post, it's almost exactly what I was going for, but I didn't want to make the post longer than it is right now, so I couldn't write all that in.

I think the friendgroup treats reader so horribly is because they never saw her as a permanent fixture to the group in first place, and they're assholes in general, all of them, including Satoru. Satoru doesn't stand up for reader when his friends mock her because (a) he's not sure how to display the "boyfriend" version of him in front of the friendgroup and (b) he tries to convince himself, and reader that they're mocking her as an extension of mocking him, which they actually do, the group is also very mean to each other in general

As for the reason utahime and shoko bully reader is because they think Satoru's gone soft (weak)

Ever since she came into their lives, and that makes them mad enough to extra hard on reader. They don't find it to be wrong, and they enjoy the reactions reader has to their bullying, as well as putting Satoru in that position, because they think Satoru is being a wimp if he wants to protect reader's feelings.

It's not just the girls that are mean to reader. Suguru and Nanami aren't particularly nice to her either, but they're also not invested enough to target her at every given opportunity. They're toxic to each other & horrible. All of them.

Satoru had 2 years to resolve his issues, to establish boundaries within his friends' group and treat reader with the dignity she deserved, but he failed to prioritise his relationship, and chose to be passive and evasive to avoid confrontation of any sort, even at the expense of his partner.

It's not readers responsibility to try to fix a man who doesn't truly want to change. Even if he does alter his priorities to appease reader, it won't be right, because he'd be doing that to hold onto the sanctuary reader provides him with, and not because he finds his current behaviour problematic.

With all that being said, I don't think a reconciliation is on the table for these two :(

[yoredoesmore]

HOSHINA MOON HEADCANON! Highschool AU edition

a/n: fan fiction at the end ^^ i did not plan for this to become so sad this was supposed to be a “shy boyfriend hoshina headcanon” post, chat how did we lose the plot so badly 😭 i don’t choose the angst, the angst chooses me 😔

summary: "the moon needs the sun to shine” / “the sun is alone but still shines.”

genre: romance/angst [wc: 1,3k]

enjoy!

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who first took notice of you when you decided to become the Student Council President for the last year of highschool

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who thought that because he is the (good looking) Vice President, he could easily have you fall for him (he was wrong)

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – who found himself captivated by your kind and sharp-witted personality

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who once saw you get hit on by some jerks and came to your rescue, only to end up frozen in place as he watched you calmly clock them with your words.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who fell in love with you right then and there

“Oh, Vice President. I didn't see you there, is everything alright?” You asked, approaching Hoshina with a friendly smile on your face. Only seconds ago those lips were releasing the most brutal, malicious curses at the two students and now they were kindly greeting him.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who came to you whenever he needed help with some documents or other tasks, even though he was more than capable to work on them on his own, simply to see you more since you were in separate classes

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who admired you for always giving 100% and helping out wherever possible. Yet at the same time it felt like you were miles away from him and never depended on his support.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who made sure to pass by your classroom every opportunity given. He had to go to the bathroom? Instead of using the one closer to his class, he would walk all the way past yours in hopes that he'd randomly meet you in the hallway.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who felt like the moon, admiring the sun

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who, despite having the fattest crush on you, keeps his distance when talking or walking together, since he feels like there is a wall separating your worlds.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who praises you when you do a great job, wanting you to know that none of your efforts are going unnoticed.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – who talks to Mina about his concerns, worries and all the cute interactions you two share

WINGLADY MINA˚⊹ – Who pretends to have an important appointment in the evening and asks you to take care of the leftover paper work by yourself (she had promised to help you a couple days ago). You agree, unable to deny the sweet smile of your friend, and get ready to stay behind alone. But upon entering the small office you see Hoshina waiting for you.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who sits in silence, working on the papers in front of him while trying not to lose his mind. The two of you are sitting right next to each other, working on some details for the summer festival.

MOON HOSHINA˚⊹ – Who wants to confess his love for you so badly but is scared that you will reject him. As you finish up, he quietly packs his bag, ready to go home, when he notices you still being seated.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was laced in a mild layer of concern. Your gaze remained focused on the desk for a little longer, your mind lost in thoughts, before you looked back up at him.

“I’m sorry..I was just thinking about something..” The subtle sound of paper moving and pencils clicking filled the silent room. Something in your presence had changed, Hoshina could feel it, but he wasn't sure what it was. Your movements were slow and delayed, as if they were trying to prevent something..but what?

Even the expression on your face hung low, missing all its colors or enthusiasm.

Did something happen?

Whenever you came to submit your work you would meet the Vice President with a shining smile which displayed your pride. But now none of that joy remained.

At first Hoshina believed it was because of the late hours that were pulling on both your strength but then a thought ripped through his head. As you stood up from your seat you were suddenly met with the male standing right in front of you, his sudden appearance suddenly startling you.

“Is everything al–”

“You really are something, Y/n.” Hoshina said, a smile sitting on his face. His eyes were filled with amaze and admiration, a deep passion directed solely ar you. The way his eyes shone, like the reflection of stars on the calm sea, it made your heart beat uncontrollably.

“I..where is this coming from??” This was the first time Hoshina has experienced you in such a flustered state. Normally it was you who would have this effect on him.

“Let me walk you home.” Was all he said before turning on his heels and opening the door for you, waiting for your stunned body to defrost.

The walk home was calm and warm, yet borderline awkward. Neither of you said anything as you strolled through the dimly lit streets. You had long collected yourself from the shock, yet the surprised feeling still lingered on your heart.

“You really are something, Y/n.”

Those words had come out of nowhere? Hoshina was not the type to say something so sincere out of the blue and that did not sound like a “good job” praise either.

And that look on his face..

Have you ever gazed upon such dreamy eyes? Painted by such soothing colors? It was a view out of a dream.

You were so lost in thoughts that you hadn't even noticed that Hoshina stopped moving a while ago. As you came back to it, there had already been a noticeable distance created between the two of you. Your eyes locked with his, causing the tension from before to reappear.

“Hoshina..?”

“Yer shine is so bright..sometimes I have to take a step back to admire it all.” He spoke softly, not moving from his place.

“Will you allow me to admire you from up close, Y/n?”

Admire you from..up close?

“I'm sorry, please forget what I said..”

Hoshina shut you off before you could say anything, walking right past you as if nothing happened. He always did that, keeping his distance, only allowing you to get close when he felt like it.

An uneasy sensation spread through your chest as you watched him distance himself further and further away from you.

“You keep distancing yourself further and further away from me..” Your hands reached out for his, preventing him from taking another step. Hoshina's eyes widened upon seeing the distraught look on your face, his heart sinking into his gut.

“What is the use of me shining so bright when there is no one to absorb the light?”

An unexplainable tension lingered around your bodies, slowly suffocating you. There were so many things on your mind, thoughts, wishes, worries– an entire collection of emotions– and the same reflected in Hoshina's eyes.

The wind gently pulled on your skin, messing up a few strands of your hair.

You suddenly felt his gentle hands on your cheeks, caressing your face in careful motions.

All came to a temporary still stand as Hoshina looked you deep into the eyes, before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. The sensation felt oddly comforting. You melted in his arms and allowed your heart to rest safely in his embrace. Upon pulling away, you noticed the soft smile that tugged on his lips from before.

“You are my sun. Your light will always reach me, no matter what.”

a/n: ik highschoolers don't talk like that but this is just some silly writing practice (want to improve my skill) and i wanted to go for a different plot setting this time!

for those who don't get it, hoshina feels like he isn't putting enough work into his role as vice president and y/n admits that she's only working so hard because of Hoshina's praise and she wants his recognition

[french-unknown]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin 𝐂/𝐖: hurt/comfort 𝐖/𝐂: 950 +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 2 |

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘

You're insecure because, unlike him who's passionate about his dream of becoming the King of Pirates, you don't have a big dream to fulfill.

You joined the crew because you wanted to leave a family in which you were unhappy and where your destiny was already mapped out until your death. Once you found a new family thanks to the Straw Hat crew, you decided to set sail on their ship to stay with them. You were happy with your daily routine as well as the adventures you were having, and that was enough for you. During the trip, you took the opportunity to start a book on life at sea as well as on the lifestyles of the inhabitants of the islands you had visited. However, it was more of a hobby than a real passion or a dream. So when you see Luffy giving all he got for his dream, you're afraid he'll think you're less interesting for not having a goal you care about so much.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

Zoro is a calm and silent man, especially since your reunion on the Sabaody Archipelago, so you're sometimes afraid that he'll get tired of your bubbly and very talkative personality. You were worried that he would wake up one day from one of his many naps and leave you because you required too much attention and time.

You have always been an outgoing person who liked to chat with people and be aware of the latest gossip. It had always been an advantage when you were alone in a new place or in new social groups. Yet when you were with Zoro, you sometimes found yourself wishing you could shut up. Indeed, where you spent hours telling the swordsman whatever goes through your mind under his attentive - though rather neutral - gaze, you found yourself regretting having talked so much afterward. You wondered if you had annoyed him and if he wouldn't prefer a less noisy person.

| he comforts you about your insecurity |

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

After spending so much time with her on your adventures, if there's one thing you've learned about her, it's that she's very popular. She is beautiful, intelligent and you have no doubt that if she left you, she would have no trouble finding someone new given the list of suitors.

You've never been an extremely rich or extremely important person with rock-solid self-confidence so you didn't really see what made Nami choose you over all the people at her feet. It was a stroke of luck. She is also not very expressive about the reasons for her choice because she never clearly expressed what she liked about you. The dynamic of your relationship is mostly a teasing game on her part to which you gladly answer as long as she continues. But it sometimes makes you wonder when she'll let you down to find a better partner.

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏

With Usopp, what scares you the most is your fear of rejection because since he's also someone who is insecure, you are afraid that you will both leave the relationship if something goes wrong because of your insecurities on both sides.

Usopp is a fearful person, and while he's willing to overcome some of his fears for his friends, his inferiority complex has caused him to quit the Strawhat Pirates once. On your side, you are also terrified of being rejected in general, so you often prefer to stay in your comfort zone. The fact that you have that in common means that you often understand each other and it is also what brought you closer to each other in the first place. However, you can't help but tell yourself that, if there is the slightest problem, he will prefer to abandon your relationship because of the fear of not being enough. And you might not be strong enough to get him back either.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

The man is a womanizer who, unfortunately, can't help but rave about every woman who crosses his path. It's stronger than him, he becomes unrecognizable in the presence of a woman.

So even though you know he loves you dearly, you can't help but feel insecure about women. Maybe if, in your own way, you were as beautiful as Nami or as smart as Robin, he wouldn't leave your side to court them. Yet, even though you realize that's not the right way to think about it and that he mostly admires them for their gender qualities as a "gentleman", you still feel that empty feeling when you see him going to swoon over every woman he sees. Each time, the only thought that crosses your mind is that, if you were attractive enough, he wouldn't let you down for strangers.

𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

Robin is very intelligent: she reads a lot, she can decrypts the poneglyphs, she is interested in many fields etc... However, you are very far from being the most intelligent person in Grand Line and you often wonder if you don't make her bored.

You love to listen to her speak about what she reads and you could drink her words for hours when she talks to you about subjects that fascinate her like archeology or the mysteries of history. You are captivated every time she says something to you, even if you don't always understand everything she tells you. You also follow her with great happiness each time she asks you to accompany her to discover the city - and its bookstore - as soon as you arrive on a new island. Sadly, the fact that you're not as smart as her often makes you ask yourself if she's bored with you or just missing out on being able to argue with someone rather than just relate.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

[haggishlyhagging]

“Florence Nightingale was subjected to a ‘ladylike’ upbringing of enforced idleness with the most constructive activities allowed being those of company and visits, (Strachey says she was not even permitted to read to herself, but was read to, a practice which Nightingale describes as ‘like lying on one's back and having liquid poured down one's throat’ (ibid., p. 19).) It was against the uselessness and the despair of such an existence that Nightingale revolted and engaged in a continual battle with her parents. Her mother, who insisted on Nightingale's vacuousness in order that she might be marriageable, relented slightly as Nightingale grew older, rejected proposals, and passed the acceptable marriageable age. It was this relaxation of control, as well as Nightingale's determination, which led to her being able to break out from her suffocating existence and to pursue what she perceived as her vocation. But before she was able to make her move, she had to endure for more than thirty years the repressive regime of a leisured and unmarried woman, 'shut up tight within the conventions which forbade independent action to a woman' (ibid.). It was from this experience that she wrote about and analysed the position of women.

Florence Nightingale recognised that men insisted that women should be happy, and that women therefore were required to assert that they were happy — no matter what the circumstances of their lives — for men took it as a personal offence if the women whom they 'supported' declared themselves unhappy, with the result that women who wished to continue to be supported continued to state that they were happy even when they were most miserable. (This is a point taken up by Jessie Bernard in The Future of Marriage (1972), though, of course, she does not suggest that this is a fairly old idea and one put forward by Florence Nightingale.)

That it is obligatory for a woman to be happy, to present a contented and cheerful disposition to her master in order that he can feel satisfied with the arrangement and secure in the knowledge of his own psychological (as well as financial) indispensability, is a lesson that mothers unwaveringly teach their daughters, argues Nightingale. The only way such a lesson can be taught successfully is by the systematic denial and removal of passion from women. If emotion were allowed to reside in women, says Nightingale, women could not bear their lives, so women go round teaching ‘their daughters that "women have no passions." In the conventional society, which men have made for women, and women have accepted, they must have none, they must act the farce of hypocrisy, the lie that they are without passion — and therefore what else can they say to their daughters, without giving the lie to themselves?’ (Strachey, 1928, p. 396).

And the daughters, taught to deny the existence of any passion, to deny the existence of any will or force in themselves to cultivate a smiling, serene veneer, which reinforces men's images of themselves, try to find amusement, fulfilment, meaning, in the most 'escapist' activities. This is why women read novels, states Nightingale, for in a novel, the heroine has generally no family ties (almost invariably no mother), or, if she has, these do not interfere with her entire independence (ibid., p. 397); and the reader can dream. Women thus ‘wish their lives away’ because their daily existence denies them purpose, meaning, commitment, aspirations and action. They simply exist to cater for the psychological and physical needs of men and are permitted no life of their own. 'Passion, intellect, moral activity — these three have never been satisfied in a woman', says Nightingale. ‘To say more on this subiect would be to enter into the whole history of society, of the present state of civilisation' (ibid., p. 398), for women are given neither time, opportunity nor sanction to develop their own resources for themselves. (Mary Beard, 1946, had a great deal more to say on this subject.)

'Women are never supposed to have any occupation of sufficient importance not to be interrupted, except "suckling their fools", she continues, and women themselves have accepted this, have written books to support it, and have trained themselves so as to consider whatever they do as not of such value to the world or to others, but that they can throw it up at the first "claim of social life". They have accustomed themselves to consider intellectual occupation as a merely selfish amusement, which it is their "duty" to give up for every trifler more selfish than themselves (Strachey, 1928, p. 401).

So she continues, explaining why it is in a sense, women do not exist as individuals, why it is that women cannot pursue any intellectual activity, systematically, why it is that women's time is not considered valuable, and why it is that they do not have any. 'Women never have half an hour in all their lives (excepting before or after anyone is up in the house) that they can call their own, without fear of offending or of hurting someone' (ibid., p. 402), for they must always be available. And 'for a married woman in society, it is even worse. A married woman was heard to wish that she could break a limb that she might have a little time to herself. Many take advantage of the fear of “infection” to do the same' (ibid.).

Florence Nightingale gives every indication that she understands why the two sexes are required to behave in the manner that they do, and why it is that women's loss is men's gain. If it was this aspect of the woman question that she had in mind when she stated that she didn't expect much from the vote, her assessment was completely justified and her conventional portrayal as anti-feminist is then cast in a very different light. The changes that she sought (and which to some extent she managed to procure for herself — as did Harriet Martineau) were so radical that there was little likelihood that the vote would have been of much assistance in bringing them about.”

-Dale Spender, Women of Ideas and What Men Have Done to Them

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello,

Is there any way you could translate Samatoki's newest solo, Rinka/Blue Flame? I've been looking for a translation everywhere, but cannot seem to find one.

Best regards and thank you very much.

Oh my God I am desperate slug-san, please please pleaaasee tell me you know where to find a translation of Samatoki's Rinka/Blue Flame!! OTL I was so surprised a translator wasn't already linked in the wiki which is where I usually look first & then I couldn't find anything by searching on twitter or google or tumblr and I just really wanna know what his song is about!! T°T I can't believe I found a translation of Honobono's song but not of Samatoki's song?? I must be doing sth wrong.. Help :')

Hey slug-san! A follow-up of the Rinka/Blue Flame message. I've searched some more, and I think there's actually no translation of it so far anywhere.. T~T Would you be willing to translate it? A standard/literal translation with a lil clean-up like you did with Akuma no Hana would be totally alright!! Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to engage with Hypmic in a way the official creators haven't made possible yet! :D <3

Sure. Under a cut for length.

I'm running at a speed faster than grief, going so fast I leave even the smallest bad feelings behind me. I spit on my dead-end future, spit in the dirty puddles. Now I'm clinging to the guardrail, tears tracing scribbled lines down my cheeks. I bet it looks pretty comical. C'mon, laugh at me, why don't you? Let's start somewhere around the unhappy ending. Why not? Works for me. The clear, blue sky waits for sunset; but to hell with that. I don't need that crap! Let's do whatever we damn well please, here in this vacant city. Just the thought of them makes me light up a cigarette. Look, I don't wanna tell people we gotta fight each other to get what we want. I just think we have to, because there's things out there that're worth keeping safe. There's a stray dog baying at the rain streaking down the glass, and that SOB won't shut up. Hey, fuck your umbrella. Who needs that kinda crap? Throw it away and let the rain drench you too. The beat's entrenched in my soul, a stupid requiem for this unfair world we live in, lying on its sickbed. C'mon, get in there and pay your respects to it. You don't have the time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You know lashing out's the answer, right? You'll be okay. And I'm not gonna tell you you're running from your responsibilities. So c'mon. Quit your sniveling and come ride with me. The brakes don't work; those emotions never get any slower. And we're burning ourselves out, but don't let that stop you from coming along with me for the ride. Ride with me through thick and thin. Ride with me all the way to the grave.

A few final notes:

Sunset is a metaphor for melancholy. When Samatoki rejects that in the third verse, he's rejecting sitting through his feelings of loss. He uses this image again later in the line I wrote as "sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The gender and plurality of the "them" Samatoki thinks about isn't specified. While it's most likely referring to his family, the verse immediately afterward sounds like a direct reference to Ichirou and Samatoki battling to save their siblings in the TDD breakup.

"We're burning ourselves out" could also be written like "We're burning ourselves down to ash" which connects with the cigarette image.

Given the prevalence of stray dogs in hardboiled/yakuza fiction and their recurrence as an image in Samatoki's other raps, the stray dog should be understood to be Samatoki himself.

[degreedummy]

Bridgerton Astrology- Part 1: ELOISE

To preface these posts, I am generally only going to be talking about charts I believe would fit these characters. These are based on nothing by my opinion, the type of person I see them being, and the ways I see that behavior reflect in other people~

Cancer Ascendant-

Maybe a difficult argument to make given her resistance to showing her feelings to people, but I think we have to look toward the way people perceive her, which is a deeply intelligent person who seems to make everything harder for themselves. In her rejection of being led by anything but logic, most of her decisions are based solely in emotion, out of concern for the people around her. Had she never been named a suspect or trashed by Whistledown, I don't believe she would've had any issue with the secret, the explanation Penelope gives about feeling like she has no other voice would have been enough-- and if I remember right, she says as much in the show. Rather than showing a bright, passionate and openly caring individual, we see someone who doesn't need credit for the hits they take in other peoples' name. For example, while still friends, Cressida never comes to understand how much Eloise is protecting her, knowing for a fact that she's lying and still taking her insults. Even in having every reason to turn on her, on Penelope, even in holding a key that could bring the entire ton tumbling down, her love for the people around her held her back.

(5H) Scorpio Sun-

In my eyes, her Scorpio Sun is very often her most prevalent placement, seen just in the way that... when she had a secret in her hand, a fireball ready to throw, not even resentment and anger could lead her to turn on someone she loved. A secret keeper that can't stand secrets being held by anyone else, people don't understand the direction she moves in because they don't understand the realizations she's having about herself. In keeping so much from people, she controls the way people view her, but it also in losing control that people start to see her true feelings. The biggest signal of her Sun is the way people understand her to be someone who wants to be alone, when we know the truth is that she holds back waiting for someone who will always stay.

(8H) Aquarius Moon-

I feel like all placements can be expressed in wildly different ways, but the most obvious one to me is the way Eloise does not value sharing a life with anyone. For all the scary examples people make of the 8H, this is where we find deep commitments, emotional bonds, shared possessions, and all these things contribute to what we know as love and intimacy-- something Eloise can't be begged to concern herself with. Another way I feel this Moon expresses itself is the way she gives up all hope for Theo. In true Aquarius Moon nature, she stumbled into an opportunity, pressed it as hard as she could, and then decided love would never work for her after that one chance of it fell apart. I feel like it's true to Saturn to identify her Moon by the things she avoids, but I think an Aquarius 8H really speaks to the way she's so righteous in her need to achieve things on her own. When we talk about the Moon being in the 8H, I think this is why she always receives the grace of her family, they leave her untouched because they understand feeding her brain is what makes her happy. This leads into another way I think her Aquarius 8H Moon is expressed: the way that her family tries to push her without pressure. While it would be unacceptable for anyone else to run away the way she does, people make a conscious effort to show her they understand the feeling of being overwhelmed. For as strong and harsh as this Big 3 can seem to the outside world, I think that's the point. Because only the people who know her know how to handle the spikes of an urchin.

(4H) Libra Mercury-

I think having a Libra Mercury would be the balancing point in her chart, showing the way she constantly feels pressure to make a decision that falls in the middle of 'right for absolutely everybody'. I think this Cardinal Mercury would also show... the viewers own expectation of her finally blowing up on people, which just never happens. I think the intensity of her personality leads people to believe that she will push back against anything she doesn't like, but that means they push even harder when she chooses silence. In the 4H, I think we see the influence in her chart the leads her to advocate for other people, specifically women [Mercury square Cancer Ascendant]. When it comes to her own needs, she rides the fence, but when she sees anyone else being wronged, she knows exactly what they need to do. Maybe the perfect example of her Mercury taking a stand is when she refused to talk to Colin for Penelope. Knowing that [Libra] Eloise is the perfect bridge between the two, Penelope hoped that she could defuse the argument, but Eloise know that P needed do deal with it on her own. In the end, she will make the decision that's best for her loved ones, even if that means forcing them toward a decision they don't agree with.

(6H) Sagittarius Venus-

In the 6H, I think her Venus would more accurately portray her love for literature, exploring new ideas, and even asking to leave with Francesca to London. While I believe other placements reflect her defensiveness, her readiness to argue, I think this Venus shows the way she's distracted by social norms, too concerned with the things she loves to even entertain conversations about anything else. This is a Venus that sends themselves flying over cliffs, especially if they're in the passenger seat of someone else's car trying to convince them to drive faster, and I think... we can even see that in her friendship with Cressida. It wasn't just Cressida's mother who reminded her she's all alone in the world, it wasn't just a desire to avoid marriage that led Cressida to take responsibility for Lady Whistledown, it was [Sagittarius Venus] Eloise who talked to her about all the things women are and should be able to be. It was Eloise who repeatedly confronted her, reminding her that [Sagittarius] she can be so much more than what the rest of the ton wants her to be. In the 6H, I think this speaks to her consistency, the way she holds everyone and herself to creating better routines, thought patterns. [Libra Mercury sextile Sagittarius Venus], I think this Venus could also show the reason she doesn't take arguments too far. If people yell at her, spray mean words toward her, she tries to take a step back and accept that behavior as an example of who that person is. In her head, she does not need to try to argue with anyone who actively chooses to live the way they do. I think her Venus, in all, speaks to how accepting she really is, and how her true personality really does directly contrast the reputation she's given. Think back, the only reason a rumor about being a 'political spy' worked is because people she never talked to believed it. With no other experience of her or her personality, people had to judge her based on how she reserves herself from everyone, and that made it easy alienate her. When her Sagittarius Venus focuses too much in one direction, the neglect in other areas immediately whips back into her face.

(11H) Taurus Mars-

Easily deceptive in its influence, I think a Taurus Mars speaks strongly to her lack of reaction to near any change. For example, when Penelope and Colin truly got married, Benedict made jokes about her being off in a corner, eating and crying about it. For as much of a reason as she had to be emotional, the fact that she made it visible [11H Mars] to the public at all brought attention to her. I think this can even be represented through the way the show itself portrays her emotions, many of her reactions to change being very still shots of her face. I think having a Taurus Mars would speak to how slow she is to act in general. The love and respect people have for her develops expectations that she should be a brute force, someone to be feared that could cause havoc at any moment, but using that strength is the absolute last option she wants to choose. It's never about what she can and can't do, it's about what she wants, and a lot of the time, she doesn't want to hurt anyone. So much of her strength is held back by the idea that she could hurt someone else the way that she's been hurt. Just to make another example, we saw this in her argument with Colin, about why she didn't tell him about Penelope. Given enough time, she developed a fear of breaking his heart. Not ruining the family, embarrassing herself or anyone else, she was never concerned about the ways it affected her, she held back for so long because she was afraid of what it would do to Colin's heart.

[mylifestiles]

I think what I hate most about the Teen Wolf movie is that there were at least three instances where Scoot was parenting Eli and basically stealing formative moments from Derek in an attempt to endear the audience to an Eli and Scoot relationship and prime us to accept Scoot adopting Eli….

Crime #1: growling in Eli’s face to get him to transform??? What dude? How does that even work when Eli faints at the sight of a transformation? And if it’s that easy then Eli should have transformed anytime Derek flashed his eyes. It’s so messed up because Derek would have LOVED to be there for his first transformation, even just partial, but it was ripped from him bc Scoot wanted to be Mr. Alpha badass.

And no, I don’t think Derek guiding Eli through his first beta shift makes it better because Derek should have had the opportunity to guide him from his very first shift and help him maintain that shift so he could do it at will.

And don’t try to tell me it was necessary because super strong and fast alpha wolves should be able to carry fifteen year old scrawny boys.

And super strong and fast alpha werewolves should be able to outrun their half dead ex girlfriend without breaking a sweat.

And don’t get me started on Derek being injured. Actually I will get started!

when you consider Derek was originally hurt bc Scoot didn’t just go after Allison with his fast werewolf speed or sniff her out with his super werewolf nose tells you all you need to know about Scoot and his connection to his werewolf. he won’t be a great wolf teacher BECAUSE HE DOESNT KNOW SHIT. And I am blaming him (for the reasons above) for Derek being injured in the first place, so Scott set the whole stealing Eli’s first transformation from Derek thing into motion.

Crime #2: Derek is basically begging Eli to practice with him, but Scoot is the one who gets to play with Eli?? No way. That’s stupid. I reject it

Crime #3: DEREK DIDNT GET TO WATCH ELI PLAY OR MAKE THE WINNING SHOT??? After he convinced coach to give him some time on the field?? Blasphemous.

ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING he was only prevented from doing so bc of some stupid shit that didn’t even really involve him?? Like none of that shit was his business???

It’s like Jeff is trying to make Derek seem like a bad parent who doesn’t know how to help his own son and Scoot is a natural born parenting genius. He posits all these moments of good parenting but gifts them to Scoot instead of Derek. Derek is trying and trying and instead of having even one scene where Derek and Eli aren’t being standoffish and frustrated, Jeffery attempts to give us some easy as pie, natural, buddy-buddy relationship with Scoot and Eli.

we were given crumbs for Derek and Eli’s relationship and it’s sick, really.

And I will never forgive Scoot for being tongue deep with Allison THE MOMENT Derek is BURNED TO DEATH (a crime punishable by life in prison)and RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIS GRIEVING SON (have some class! You’re thirty or whatever!)

There are so many more crimes in this movie but I’m trying not to remember the movie at all, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[doumadono]

Emergency request!

Hello, I hope you're having a good day! Could I bother you to write Izuku x model!popular!reader who is really insecure and unsure about what to do in her life despite her status in life? As a child, I always had a people pleaser trait and because of this I followed everything my parents wanted me to do.. now I don't know what I want to do with myself. I've joined numerous activities but I'm mostly known for modelling for events or for school activities, which made me popular among students and other crowds. I constantly need to put on a smile at all times or I'd be in a rumour again, I need to be kind and innocent at all times or I'll be called arrogant and prideful. I seriously don't know what to do anymore, and I can't come to anybody even family because they have high expectations of me and they would be more upset than I if I were ever to cry to them about the pressure. There was a one time that I cried to my mother about how I felt so pressured about everything but she just told me that I should be grateful for the opportunities she had given me, and I really am. I never even wanted to be in the spotlight, but I couldn't reject the offer because everyone would be so disappointed. I also have a big sister!! She's the sweetest girl in the entire world and she does everything better than me effortlessly, I deeply admire her for that. She supports me in everything wholly but I never told her anything because she'd be so disappointed, atleast that's what I think anyway. It just hurts me even further that so many people are expecting and looking at me everyday, I feel like I'm not grateful for the things I have received but I really am. I constantly feel pressure and do things that I am not even interested in for the sake of others, and I have forgotten my own interests because I have been doing this for so long. I can't come to anybody because of the risk, maybe I will eventually, I hope. I don't know why but I also have damaging self-esteem, people compliment me too much saying that I'm so pretty and so smart and so skinny and I really am so thankful but it just makes me wonder if they ever saw the true me. Would they still call me all those good things?? I really don't know. Thank you for listening to me ramble I kept this for so long HAHAHA I'm sorry😥😥!! Back to the main topic, I always wanted to be comforted by such a sweet person like Izuku and take the burden off my shoulders even if it's just for a little while. Thank you for reading all this!! I really wonder what it would feel like to be held by a person who sees me as me.

Beyond expectations - Izuku x popular model!reader

A/N: I'm truly touched by your openness and vulnerability in sharing your feelings. It's not easy to carry the weight of such high expectations and the need to please others. Remember, you are more than the roles and labels placed upon you. It's okay to explore your own interests and seek support when you need it. Your true self is undoubtedly remarkable, and those who appreciate you for who you are will continue to see the genuine you, beyond the spotlight 🌟

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Izuku Midoriya was always known for his kindness and compassion. It was a part of his nature, a core aspect of who he was. And when he met you, the very popular model who was struggling with insecurities and the weight of her status, he couldn't help but feel a strong desire to comfort and support you.

The two of you had crossed paths at a charity event, where Izuku had been invited as a special guest. The moment he saw you, he was struck not by your fame and beauty, but by the vulnerability he saw in your eyes. You were surrounded by admirers and photographers, but the uncertainty in your smile told a different story.

After the event, when most of the guests had left, you found yourself alone in a quiet corner, staring out of the window. Izuku approached you with a gentle smile. "Hi, I'm Izuku Midoriya. I couldn't help but notice you looked like you could use someone to talk to."

You turned to him, surprised by his sincerity. "I'm Y/N," you replied, offering a hesitant smile. "Thank you.. Sometimes it's hard to be myself in a room full of people who see me as an object, not as a person."

Izuku nodded understandingly. "I can imagine that's tough. But I want to get to know the real you, not the persona. What's been bothering you?"

As you started to open up about your insecurities and your struggles to find your true path in life, Izuku listened intently, his caring emerald eyes never leaving yours. He was a fantastic listener, and his genuine concern for your well-being put you at ease.

"Izuku, I just wish I could find someone who sees me as me, not as the 'popular model.' I want to feel valued for who I am," you admitted, your voice quivering.

Izuku placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "You're not defined by your status. I see the real you, and I think you're incredible. Your insecurities don't make you any less amazing. In fact, they make you even more relatable."

In the days that followed, Izuku and you spent more time together, and he continued to be a pillar of support in your life. With him by your side, you began to find the courage to pursue your true passions and aspirations, knowing that you were cherished not for your status, but for your genuine self. Izuku, with his sweet and caring personality, had become the source of comfort you had longed for, and together, you walked the path to a brighter future.

As weeks turned into months, your connection with Izuku deepened, and the two of you shared many more moments of sweetness and warmth, seeing each other frequently.

One evening, as you sat together on a park bench, the sun setting in a blaze of oranges and pinks, you couldn't help but smile at the serenity of the moment.

Izuku glanced at you, his eyes reflecting the same warmth as the setting sun. "You know, Y/N, I've come to treasure our time together. You've inspired me in so many ways, and you've shown me the strength it takes to be true to oneself!"

Your heart swelled with affection, and you took his hand in yours. "And you, Izuku, have shown me the power of kindness and unwavering support. You've made me feel like I can conquer anything."

He chuckled softly, "We're a team, then, helping each other grow and discover our true selves."

The evening breeze rustled the leaves, creating a gentle, soothing melody. It was a perfect backdrop for the words you wanted to share. "Izuku, I love the way you make me feel—safe, cherished, and loved for who I am. I wonder what it would be like to be held by you, to experience that warmth and care every day."

Izuku's cheeks turned a light shade of pink, but his eyes sparkled with affection. "I've been wondering the same thing, Y/N."

With that unspoken understanding, you leaned in, and he met you halfway. Your lips touched in a sweet, tender kiss, sealing the unspoken promise to be there for each other, to cherish each other for who you truly were.

In that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you both knew that you had found something special. And as you held each other close, the world seemed a little brighter, and your futures felt a little less daunting, all thanks to the sweet and caring presence of Izuku.

[starsreminisce]

What section or quote in the book made you think that Eris and Mor are not mates?

Mor’s story in ACOWAR sheds more light on why a relationship between a human and a fae ultimately doesn’t work than it explores the dynamics of a rejected mate. Cassian had pondered what it would be like to pursue a human Nesta in his BC, Lucien was advised to count himself lucky that Elain became fae, and Rhys used the mating bond to revive a human Feyre and turn her into a fae.

Mor's own story with her human queen exemplifies the challenges inherent in such relationships, thus casting doubt on the feasibility of Vassien.

However, she doesn't delve into the emotional toll of rejecting her mate, even in her own POV, which feels like a missed opportunity given her struggles with identity and the fact that even her mate wasn't her preferred gender.

Secondly, Eris doesn’t display mate behavior towards Mor, especially when he saw Mor with a nail through her abdomen in AC. Witnessing your mate in such a situation would likely provoke a strong reaction, akin to Helion’s struggle to mask his anger. Eris was angrier about his role in Lucien’s exile than about what happened to Mor.

Lastly, it seems unlikely that there would be two rejected mating bonds in the story when one can serve the narrative purpose. If Elain were to look at an example of a rejected mate bond, Helion and LoA’s story would be more tragic than Eris and Mor’s. Helion and LoA demonstrate that they will always be drawn to each other and suffer because of their choices and the consequences of rejecting fate.

Since you've asked for quotes:

Rhys talking about rejected bonds

“A mating bond can be rejected,” Rhys said mildly, eyes flickering in the mirror as he drank in every inch of bare skin I had on display. “There is choice. And sometimes, yes—the bond picks poorly. Sometimes, the bond is nothing more than some … preordained guesswork at who will provide the strongest offspring. At its basest level, it’s perhaps only that. Some natural function, not an indication of true, paired souls.”

Helion when confronted on his actions regarding LoA

I clenched my teeth. “If you were her lover, why didn’t you stop it?” The wrong thing to say. Utterly wrong, by the dark fury that rippled across Helion’s face. “Beron is a High Lord, and she is his wife, mother of his brood. She chose to stay. Chose. And with the protocols and rules, Lady, you will find that most situations like the one you were in do not end well for those who interfere.”

Helion emphasized that LoA had made the choice, and they have an offspring powerful enough to break the King of Hybern's spells, hinted to have even cleaved the wall.

Eris when confronted on his actions regarding Mor and Lucien

Mor blinked—as if realizing that Rhys’s contact with Eris, his invitation here … The glance she gave me, clear and settled, told me enough. Hurt and anger still swirled, but understanding, too. “So what’s the asking price, Eris?” Mor demanded, leaning her bare arms on the dark glass. “Another little bride for you to torture?” Something flickered in Eris’s eyes. “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan,” he said with vicious calm. “Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.” A sneer at Azriel. Mor snarled, rattling the glasses. “You never gave any evidence to the contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods.” “There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris said coldly. “And I am not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.” “You hunted me down like an animal,” I cut in. “I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.” Eris’s pale face flushed. “I was given an order. And sent to do it with two of my … brothers.” “And what of the brother you hunted down alongside me? The one whose lover you helped to execute before his eyes?” Eris laid a hand flat on the table. “You know nothing about what happened that day. Nothing.” Silence. “Indulge me,” was all I said. Eris stared me down. I stared right back. “How do you think he made it to the Spring border,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there—when they did it. Ask him. I refused. It was the first and only time I have denied my father anything. He punished me. And by the time I got free … They were going to kill him, too. I made sure they didn’t. Made sure Tamlin got word—anonymously—to get the hell over to his own border.”

Eris allows the Inner Circle to believe the worst about him concerning Mor but is more emotive and forthcoming in correcting misconceptions when it comes to Lucien. While Keir may have been an influence, Eris's facial expressions are more revealing in his interactions about Lucien than with Mor.

[leoblooms]

Rachel lore stuff

Ok so I'm compiling my stuff about Rachel under the cut like how I did for Paul's parents! Mostly cause I want to have a set of how she would fit in since she's changed sm since 2021.

For context she originally started as pretty much exactly based on the character from American Psycho 2

Over time her design changed more and more as did aspects of her personality. Yeah she was more of a joke inclusion at first but like all joke things the more I included her, the more I thought about it and so.....

Timeline

So as the timeline I'm trying to set goes, Rachel was a foster kid for most of her life. At least since she was a toddler or early childhood after losing her parents. She remained in the system until aging out at the age of 18 which was when Paul's sister Jen sought to give her some assistance.

Paul, age 36 had discussions with his sister on the system over phone calls or family gatherings. It appeared like he had grown more and more interested, not only in that but dropping more hints of wanting to become a parent, so she mentioned Rachel to him. With the thought that adopting a kid that much older could be a lot easier than a small child, he agreed (much to Patrick's irritation but they still had separate living spaces so Paul didn't really care what he had to say).

To say it was a rough start would be putting it mildly, as with anyone thrusted into a new situation, Rachel had to suddenly navigate this new environment with the thought that it could all go away in an instant. She was used to rejection from families, peers etc so it was easier to switch off from engaging too much with Paul's attempts to welcome her. Paul tried with buying things and kept going that route when that didn't work. Eventually it was clear that it was just making her more uncomfortable so he tried to find things that interested her. This involved putting up with things he could barely stand like watching horror movies. He'd ask her about what she liked to read or about her life, but learned when to back off. It was the little things like that that brought her closer to Paul and conveyed that he may be safer than she thought.

Given that it was late Summer, Rachel opted to take a gap year now with college on the table. Rachel was most interested in forensics, partially because of the morbid nature of studying the dead and the nature of death itself. Paul supported this idea, seeing it as a great career opportunity as he pushed for her to decide on a study throughout the year.

Paul's family took an instant liking to her (his sister already being familiar with her and their mother welcoming her as her grandkid). By choice, she never met Patrick's family.

After a lot of prepping, she ended up going to Syracuse University to study forensic science where she met her roommate, Brenda. Brenda was brash and said everything on her mind which at first instantly turned Rachel off. She's more the type to mull over things but when someone gets that in her face it drives her crazy. They do find common ground and actually become extremely close just over the course of one semester.

It was pretty clear that she was homesick (she will not say that out loud) and frequently called Paul at night. If it weren't a nearly 4 hour distance by car she'd probably have visited more often besides the breaks. She did however, on her first week use the fact that she left behind a book to come home for the weekend. Paul was always more than happy to call and pay for the ride to and from.

Post graduation Rachel kept in touch with Brenda, they'd eventually become roommates again once they both found employment near New York City. The two found themselves in the closest thing they feel comfortable calling a relationship. Rachel was always adverse to romance and a lot of the labels and expectations that came with it. Brenda was easy going about it all and they found something that worked for them. Paul didn't totally get it and would get things wrong, Patrick didn't care to learn much about it.

As Rachel would get older she'd become more estranged from Paul, seeing him as an enabler to Patrick and finding "excuses" for staying with him. This would result in fighting and Rachel not talking to him or taking his calls for at least a month. They'd eventually reconcile but she would still have some boundaries. It would be hard for her to fully separate from Paul even as a grown adult, but it would also soon become hard to be as open and close as she once was.

Personality

Rachel's socially awkward, always has been and never totally grew out of it. She had trouble making friends due to this, being seen as off-putting to some. Once she begins to warm up to a person, she's a lot more relaxed and open about herself and interests. She's fascinated with the concept of death and the way things rot. She also loves horror movies and books, one of her only ways to relate to Patrick, and it's to a nerdy obsession. She thought briefly about the possibility of doing effects makeup.

She's still private about aspects of her personal life, only sharing bits and pieces when at her most comfortable.

Rachel has a tendency to think out loud or mumble to herself when deep in thought, sometimes making others think she's talking to them.

She also struggled with catastrophizing, especially early on after moving in with Paul. This would never show outwardly as she would shut down and withdraw rather than make an obvious show of it. Overtime she learned to control this better.

[eldritch-spouse]

Gallon slitplay? 🥺 👉👈

Needing to crouch in front of him to grab something beneath the bar. While you're there you just plant a quick kiss on it. A minute later he's melting on the bar and you're tongue-deep in him.

[It's a sticky slit, for sure. Implied fem reader.]

TW: Choking; Soft elements of body horror(?); Short description of past violence.

You should know better than to play with fire.

Gallon is good at lulling someone into a false sense of security. And given his line of work, you shouldn't really be surprised by that. After all, grass is green, the sky is blue, and barmen are dirty weasels.

Yet still, the privileges you had been afforded ever since you started "behaving" kept you high. The slime is a materialistic man, you were dressed fancy everyday if he could help it, touched to perfection, like a caricature of glamor and dignity, in furs and feathers and pearls, all the sweet things he could get you to try on. And even if this isn't really how you used to dress on a daily basis, something in you has started to enjoy it, if only because he'll spare you these long, intense looks while he works. Full of promise, full of love. You're a beam of light to Gallon, or so he's told you, and there's nothing prettier than you smiling at him atop his balcony.

Some days however, you tend to get a little too confident in your own control of the situation, which Gallon both keenly perceives and allows. After all, you're easier to manage when you think you're in on top of things, and as long as your stunts are harmless, the slime is content to humor most of them. Most.

See, a teasing game has developed between the two of you lately. A days-long challenge in an effort to see who caves to the other faster, who begs for it, abstinence and teasing are key. You're no master of self-control, but neither is the slime. His poker face may be commendable, yet he has many tells, if you pay attention. Delight and titillation are presented via the curling of his noodle-like extremities, stress and irritation cause the monster's body to shift more regularly, darker spots morphing from side to side, dripping to and fro faster. Even that sort of pendulum above his head, which you can't decipher the purpose of beyond giving him a a silly look, it too tends to emote more than his face.

Point being, you know you get to him when you bend down, when you lean over the counter to fetch a glass for him, when you climb onto it to reach the ceiling rack and end up providing the monster a stupendous view of laced panties. The only thing you haven't tried thus far is to invite others into the game, something you've been seriously warned about before. Matter of fact, you'll never forget the sensation of his tentacle coiling over your arm hard enough to start cutting blood flow off, making the limb swell and fall asleep. You remember how hard you cried then, truly believing you were about to lose your arm for a silly stunt.

You know better now.

Thing is, you're cracking as well. With every display you make, Gallon's two steps ahead of you, all subtle insinuations and elegant rejections- Touches never more than featherlight. Patient, calculating. Either you pull another idea out or he ends up winning at this rate.

Oh, nothing can quite compare to the joy you feel when someone asks for a specific drink Gallon usually keeps behind the counter. There's always a series of commonly sought-after brands he has stock of at all times, kept at a tendril's length. All you'd have to do is reach down before he can, it's that simple. Your golden opportunity, yes.

" No no- I'll get that! "

Dashing forward quicker than the slime can move, which is not an easy feat, you start looking through the numberless bottles hidden away. Perfectionist, organized monster that Gallon is, he would be able to fetch this in a blink. But you, untrained and oblivious, feel like a donkey staring at a palace, the fancy calligraphy of each brand blending together in an ambiguous, sparkling mess. It's getting on the slime's nerves, if the way he scoots progressively closer is any indication.

" Cherry please, I have this under control- "

" Got it! " You interrupt, reaching for a dark, elegantly-shaped glass container. In a split second blur of movement, you turn, lean your head up, and plant a single kiss on a hidden slit.

Chaste but effective. Serves him right.

As if nothing transpired, you quickly rise and adjust your clothes. " Here you go, sir! " Said cheerfully towards the tiny white monster with gray gloves.

" Eh, thanks... " There's an odd look in his face, but you know he couldn't have seen what you did, the counter covered it all, plus he's so short. It's only when you turn to look at Gallon that you realize why he's got that expression, because the barman is looking at you with a blazing intensity. You can't even read that face, it's got to be some mixture of irritation and contemplation. A single bead of sweat runs down the side of your head while the pale monster takes his drink and hops off the stool, having sensed something amiss likely.

" That was a bold move. " The slime starts as soon as that little episode transpires, his knubby whiskers twitch while he idly reaches for the glass rack.

" Well someone has to keep you on your toes, right? "

It's a success, he's blushing, oh ever so slightly, but you can see it, and that's what matters. Having taken your victory and intending to savor it like a fine wine, the finest of any wines he could have hanging around in fact, you start to saunter away.

Until something coils around your neck.

" Hm? Where do you think you're going? "

" W- What? " Maybe you should have seen this coming.

" You've made a mess of my counter cabinets, you should fix it, no? "

Oh.

" W- Well I- " Maybe a witty answer would have come to you more easily if he wasn't radiating so much tension.

The tendril at your neck, not choking yet but certainly warning, slowly nudges you downward, you follow until you're couched back by the drinks, tossing your heels away because they're starting to hurt. Perhaps it was worth it, because you get to see the spot where you planted a kiss, stained with your vibrant lipstick.

Hah! Like a claim. The ones he's so eager to leave on your body. And just like that, all the confidence seeps back into your form.

" Oh dear, there's a smudge. " Lidded eyes glance up, catching his dominant attitude falter. " Let me clean my mess, pay no heed to me. "

Gripping those slippery thighs, you drag your tongue up the mark left on him, adding maybe a little more pressure than necessary, but hey- You have to take it off, don't you? Singular laps turn into messy nuzzling, the flat of your tongue claiming as much of that twitching slit as it can. It's always been extremely fascinating how his form molds naturally to you. You can't simply pet Gallon's shoulder without it seemingly clinging to you when you pull away. And yet, there's not a stain on his surroundings. He picks and chooses the consistency of his own body, yet apparently, there will always be sticky spots, like his holes, including the one you're playing with.

It's odd, you'll admit. The more you kiss and lick at him, the more his form fluctuates, strings of him stick to your lips and chin, it's almost funny. The slime's figure deforms ever so slightly, covering your fingers, swallowing them into his legs in an effort to keep you anchored to him. It might not be noticeable to others, but you can feel him shivering from time to time, the quietest of gasps flowing out while he handles new orders as best as he can.

A harsh suck against that entrance rips the first real noise out of the bartender, this lovely, surprised grunt while he bucks forward, a wet pap ringing out. Interesting. You repeat the motion, smiling as Gallon clearly bends over the counter from the sensation. " Hhn- Shit! "

It must have been minutes of you torturing the slime, just stealing saliva-soaked samples of him, before you actually reach for his insides, this shuddering moan coming from him as his entire form appears to ripple in satisfaction. You'd worry for his reputation, if not for the fact that this is already a shameless place. You've apparently teased the bartender long enough that the tentacle hidden away in that pouch is already poking around, eagerly feeling your tongue, grabbing, coiling around it as if to drag the wet muscle in further. Unfortunately, as a human, your poor tongue can only go so far.

This feels a lot like exceptionally messy French-kissing, with a peculiar taste. Gallon's flexible cock tries desperately to pull you in further so it can have more stimulus, and you respond by stroking your tongue around the ridges you can find, only ever pulling away to breathe deep and return before that appendage can get the bright idea to pop out. You're not sure who's blushing harder, the overheated slime, or your slightly air-deprived self, both locked in this mock-kiss while Gallon tries, so poorly, to pretend all is fine.

You can't help but moan when, instead of trying to pull you in, that tendril now seeks to shove your tongue back so it can get inside you instead, poking into the warmth of your mouth and steadily feeding more of itself forward.

" Fffuck, I'll cum like that Cherry. "

Well, that is the point. How else will you win?

The more he tries to slide down your throat, now using spare tendrils to keep your head in place, the more you have no choice but to choke and drool, apparently only arousing him more. You may not be able to see it, but Gallon is hardly holding up any better, having stopped working completely to slump on his own counter and attempt to hide his teary eye.

" What's the matter with you? " A new voice is heard, sounding particularly annoyed, a tenor you're familiar with. The angel. " Do you know how much harder it is to do my job when you're slacking off on-... Are you crying? "

Honestly, you're the one that's crying, even if a slime's cock is usually malleable, he's still using your throat none too gently, not even having to move his hips too much for that appendage to pound and writhe away.

Gallon muffles a whine with a weird cough. " ... No? " So convincing.

" ... Let me see your face. "

Oh, this is getting funny.

" Is there reall- Ah- No one else you can bother right now? "

There's a commotion, you're pretty sure the angel is reaching for Gallon. Some even nastier part of you takes over and you start bobbing in tandem with the slime's frantic motions, wanting to tip him over as hard and quickly as possible so that when Belo finally grabs his face, he'll get to see-

" Ohh ff- Hahh-! "

There. Making sure to rub him with your tongue, you let the barman snap his hips into your face, swallowing the first loads he has to give before pulling away, much to his audible displeasure, so the rest of it can paint you better than any makeup he gifts you.

You glance up just in time to see the slime's half-melted, blissed out face, held by the winged being who is now gawking at your stained self while you milk the rest of your monster's climax. " Hi Belo. " You chirp.

The angel's head flickers between you and the slime, who only shrugs and grins at him, before he peels his hands back, as if touching Gallon had burnt him. The bartender wobbles in place before slapping onto the back of the bar, decompressing in the wake of his orgasm while you giggle loudly at his antics.

" You're both irredeemable excuses of people, I can't believe this, honestly, on the job- "

Belo's slightly flustered grumbling while he forcibly separates two bar flies caught in a fight fades to nothing for the two of you. Gallon glares playfully at your smug self, fetching a spare towel to clean you with.

" This is far from over. "

Oh, you don't doubt that.