#but there is nothing like the feeling of being immersed in GOOD writing

[harmonicaorange]

the ember quartet is now one of my favourite series of all time i’ve probably cried 3 times reading the final book and i cried twice in the third book. i haven’t done this in so long 😭 it’s books like this that remind me why i love reading

[himbosandhardwear]

Steve is rifling through Eddie's collection of magazines, while he's waiting on Eddie and Wayne to get done fixing the dryer(Wayne's fixing, Eddie's getting in the way it sounds like), when he realizes how insane the assortment is; Heavy Metal, Car and Driver, Rolling Stone, National Geographic, OMNI, MAD, even a copy of Good Housekeeping. It's all so Eddie though, to have so many varying interests. He's a little jealous, if he's being honest with himself.

"You have a lot of stuff," he comments when Eddie comes back, closing the copy of Rolling Stone.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, let me just..." He starts kicking a pile of clothes under the bed.

Steve huffs a laugh. "No, I meant you have a lot of interests." He waves the magazine. "Hobbies and stuff."

Eddie nods, continues to shove piles of stuff under the bed anyway. "I guess, yeah. I tend to jump from thing to thing though. Last night it was painting miniatures, tonight it could be writing a song. I don't really get a say in which one. Oh, nice, I've been looking for this," he says, holding up a random T-shirt.

He watches Eddie get distracted by the new discovery and leave the rest of the pile where it's at, smiling to himself as Eddie goes on a tangent about merch vendors at concerts being the real enemy of the people.

"How do you know what you like?" Steve inadvertently blurts out during a gap in Eddie's tale.

He turns toward Steve. "What do you mean?"

What does he mean? "I guess... It's just, I like cars and sports and girls. That's, like, kind of it. And since I started being friends with Henderson and Robin and you I've figured out that's, like, the most basic shit a guy could be into. Level One Dude Interests. So, I guess I just want to know how you find other things? And how will I know if I'm interested?"

"Hmm." He frowns softly. "I've never had to think about it before. I kinda just...fall into things. I like it or I don't."

"Okay, but what's it feel like?"

Eddie puts the shirt down, forgotten again in a moment, and sits. "What does it feel like when you think about cars and sports and girls?"

Steve really thinks about it. Nothing is as consuming as when he was younger, but he does remember a vague sense of excitement, a feeling of connection with the people he surrounded himself with, who shared his interests. But he hasn't felt that in a while. Maybe he wasn't as into those things as he thought, was only into the connection.

"You're having very deep thoughts over there," Eddie points out with a grin.

"Shut up." He grins back. "I think maybe I don't actually know what it feels like to like something because I like it, not just because everyone else likes it. You know what I mean?"

"Well, yes but no." He waves both hands to indicate his person and also the chaos of the room around them.

"See? This is why I'm asking you. If anyone can help me figure out what I like it's you."

Eddie slaps both hands together and rubs. "A project! Excellent idea!"

Wasn't his idea but sure.

"First we have to get you exposure to new things. Movies, TV, music, culture. Then we'll rate how you feel about each demographic. Your music taste is already improving so that's good. Movies, I'm thinking 12 Angry Men to start. Food? Authentic Mexican. We're gonna get you excited about shit!" He seems excited enough for the both of them, which is great. "Excitement is key! You want enthusiasm, yearning even. Your interests should consume your every waking thought. When I'm consuming a new hobby, I'm focused like a shark, I'm obsessed. I go to bed thinking about it and wake up thinking about it. Excited to get back to whatever it is. I wanna talk about it, share it with other people. Complete and total immersion. You wanna marry that interest. You know what I mean?"

Steve blinks at him, stunned into silence. Eddie's just described how Steve feels about him...

Oh.

Oh.

[surplekit]

・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱ Love Languages・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

Included: Isagi, Barou, Nagi, Kunigami, Reo

Synopsis: Different ways the blue lock boys show their love for you ☆｡･:*:

Pairing: male character x gn!reader

a/n: honestly this is all fluff to cleanse my mind of the smut i've been writing. Also I really dislike Isagi’s part but he’s my favoriteeeee 😔 idk why my writing is so poor

Isagi - words of affirmation

Isagi is your biggest hypeman. He constantly praises you, complementing every single one of your features. More than often, you catch him staring at you like he’s analyzing your face. It would be creepy if his intentions weren’t so pure.

“Your eyes are so beautiful Y/N”

Every once in a while, he likes to pack you a lunch. Along with the sandwiches and animal shaped fruits he packs you, there’s always special notes.

“You’re amazing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

There was one time he was in a rush, and he forgot to write you a little message. Of course, you noticed and were disappointed, as you looked forward to his sentimental messages each time. He acknowledged this, never failing to write you a paragraph.

His favorite phrase consists of three words - I, love, and you. Everyday he makes sure he says it to you at least once, and you can tell that it’s always genuine and from the heart.

Barou - acts of service

Barou doesn’t say “I love you” often, but he definitely shows it. He loves to do everything for you, and will get upset if he sees you doing any task.

“What’re you doing? Sit here, I’ll do it.”

It’s not that he thinks you can’t do it, he knows you’re very capable. But he believes that he should be the one to do everything around the house, so you can relax. “As a good boyfriend should.” he always insists.

He’s a great cook, and loves to make you all different types of foods. What’s more, is that he’s attentive. He takes note of the foods and deserts you like the most, so he can make them more often. And he does the dishes. He hates to see you washing anything, so he does after part as well.

Nagi - quality time

Ever since you guys began dating, you’ve been attached at the hip. Everywhere you are, he is. He loves spending time with you, even if he’s just napping next to you while you’re immersed in your favorite book. He trails behind you, even if you’re just walking to the bathroom or the kitchen.

One time he was was napping, and you wanted to go get some takeout. The second he felt the weight of the mattress shift, he woke up.

“Where’re we going? He spoke in a sleepy voice, set on following you to wherever you we’re planning to go.

You guys don’t even need to be doing anything specific, he simply enjoys being in your presence, it makes him feel safe and comfortable.

Kunigami - physical touch

This boy always has to have his hands on you. Not even sexually, he just always has to be touching you in some way. You always find his arm wrapped around your waist, and his fingers intertwined with yours, especially in public. Kunigami has no shame. He will show that he is yours, holding hands and following behind you like a puppy.

Kunigami likes to snake his hand up your shirt and feel your chest. Again, nothing sexual, he just loves feeling as close to you as possible.

“Ye’r so warm..”

His favorite hobby is cuddling. He will cuddle you whenever, wherever like a giant teddy bear. In bed, on the couch, on the floor I promise it does not matter. As long as he has you lying on his chest, he will cuddle you whenever he can.

Reo - gift giving

Reo’s mindset is that he has money, so he might as well spend it on you. Every week you end up with a new piece of jewelry and a bouquet of flowers. You insist that he doesn’t have to buy you so many gifts all the time, and it makes people think you’re only with him for his money, which you’re not.

“Don’t worry about what others are saying, I know you love me. Besides, I can spend my money on whatever I choose.”

Whenever you two go out, he swipes his card like crazy, buying anything that you seem even the littlest bit interested in. Now you guys are walking out of the mall, him carrying 7 bags of whatever with a satisfied smile on his face.

Reo always treats you out to breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the most expensive places. And he buys you little trinkets from wherever he travels so you always have something to remind you of him.

“You are the best so you deserve the best.”

[lovesickhughes]

hi! congrats on 500, i love your writing so much :))

could i request sweetheart letter with luke hughes + "you're safe with me. you always are."

thank you!!

a/n: thank you so much for requesting lovey! i hope you like it! (not edited!)

warning: slight mentions of harassment of an unwanted ex 😒

It was almost in an instance that you grew uneasy, unfamiliar with the environment, the crowd, the overwhelmingly loud music, voices trying to reach over the speakers, and bodies closely pushed together.

You knew what you had agreed to when Luke had asked you to join him alongside his brother, Jack, to their team's charity event, but the aftermath of impulsively joining a few of their teammates at a bar in downtown Newark was not expected. You had agreed, knowing regardless that you'd tag along, but as soon as you had entered the bustling bar, your senses were heightened and you felt uneasy.

You stayed close to Luke, trailing behind his large frame to avoid being swept away into the crowd, and he made sure to keep you at a close distance, his fingers reaching back to wrap around your wrist, pulling you along as the teammates made their way to the bartender.

They had ordered a round of drinks for the group, and Luke carefully turned to hand you your drink, his hand grasping over the top of the cup to ensure nothing could slip in or out.

You smiled up to Luke, thanking him before taking a sip through the straw and letting the liquid consume your system.

The group then maneuvered through the tight crowd to find a place to stand and sit, not moving far from before and over to a table where the group collectively gathered. You stood next to Luke, leaning in closer to his frame to gain a sense of security, and allowed yourself to focus on the conversations between players and their wives and girlfriends, and you found yourself distracted from the chaos of the crowd and chiming in every so often.

You were entranced by a conversation being shared by two of the wives of the players when you felt Luke's hand reach the small of your back, pulling your attention to him as he leaned down so his mouth was beside your ear.

"I'm gonna run to the washroom, and maybe grab us another round, hey? Sound good?" He said, quiet yet loud enough for only you to hear and you sent him a warm smile, nodding as you reached your hand to caress his bicep.

"Don't be long." You replied, placing a quick kiss to his cheek before you watched him fade into the crowd. You turned back to the previous conversation, immersing yourself with the others to kill time in between Luke's departure and venture to the washroom.

You were laughing over the bickering between two players when you felt a hand being placed on the side of your bicep, grasping your attention, yet when you go to turn to see who it is, you're surprised to see that you're face-to-face with your ex-boyfriend, rather than Luke.

Your breath gets caught in your throat and your mouth immediately runs dry. Eyes widened, and pulse hammering through your skin, you blink harshly to comprehend the sight before you, but your ex's voice pulls you out from your trance.

"Y/n! Crazy seeing you here! You look amazing." He smiled obnoxiously, and it's as if the entire atmosphere had shifted, what once felt like a laid-back, somewhat chaotic scene had now grown tense and it felt as if all eyes were landed on you, waiting for your response.

You nervously chuckle, eyes darting to the sides in search of Luke, feeling uneasy and unsettled by the man standing before you.

"Oh, hey," you exasperated, hands growing warm as heat flooded your body and you felt your stomach sink further as he stepped closer to you, placing his arm on the one side of your frame. "Yeah, crazy seeing you here, um..." you trailed off, eyes filled with worry as you realize you had lost sight of Luke within the crowd, and suddenly you felt small, as if the walls were caving in. Your breath was staggered and your chest felt tight.

"Care to go dance? I haven't seen you in so long, I wanna catch up; see what's new with you." Your ex pressed, leaning into closer to your frame and you felt yourself leaning further away from his own body, your back digging into the edge of the table. Your throat felt thick, mouth dry and your lips fell apart attempting to form words.

You sigh, shaking your head, "ah, that's okay. I'm actually waiting for someone... he should be here soon." You protested, voice quiet and head turning to all different locations in the bar to find Luke's familiar face.

Your ex clicked his tongue, "ah, c'mon. Just five minutes? I just wanna see how you're doing." He pressed further, leaning in closer so that his face was barely leaving space between yours. You gulped, feeling the lump in your throat grow tighter, mind racing and heart booming out of your chest. Your stomach had dropped and you were trying to find the best way to escape the situation.

You shook your head again, tears welling in your eyes, feeling all hope slipping away from your grasp, "I'm good."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes in disgust, "Seriously? Not just a quick dance? One song? We can reminisce over old times—" He continued, his hand now reaching to your hip, making you flinch. But, before he could continue, you felt the familiar presence, hearing the same, familiar, comforting voice and it was as if your anxiety vanished. All the worry escaped.

"She said she was good, so I'd take the hint buddy." Luke said defiantly, voice deep and loud over the music blaring through the speakers.

"And who are you?" Your ex questioned skeptically, head tilting as the two men interrogated one another.

Luke's arm had wrapped around your torso, hand resting on your hip and pulled you closer to his frame, securing you and reassuring that he was more than just physically there. You felt his thumb rub up and down against your hip as he continued to deter the unwanted guest, while you tried to maintain steady breaths.

"Doesn't matter, man. She's clearly not interested, so take a hike." Luke said in a more serious manner, tilting his head down and flashing a look to your ex, immediately making his eyes flash with fear and his throat to bob. He nodded shyly, giving Luke a curt nod before speeding out of the area, and you were about to explain to Luke, only to be interrupted by a rush of emotions from the event.

Tears fell uncontrollably, and it felt as if your mind had left your body, watching from a bird's eye view, seeing Luke take you into his arms and embrace your body. He whispered sweet nothings into your ears as his hands caressed up and down your back to soothe you. And when he asked if you wanted fresh air, you eagerly nodded, following. quickly behind Luke's tall frame.

When you exit and feel the brisk air hit your skin, and the quiet of the night fill the space, you wiped your wet cheeks, looking up at Luke, searching his eyes for reassurance.

"Are you okay? What did he say? Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?" Luke questioned anxiously, his hands fumbling with one another as he investigated your face.

His hands then came to your cheeks, holding your face within his large fingers, caressing the soft skin and looking with so much concern and adoration, you felt your heart melt.

You nodded, sniffling your tears, "mhm, I'm okay. It's fine—" you started, but were cut off.

"It's not fine, who does that guy thinks he is?" Luke protested, growing more concerned and his hands finding your waist, grasping your frame beneath his fingers.

"Luke," you pressed, your own hand finding his bicep to ground his mind from spiralling. "It's fine, I'm okay. I was just scared because you were gone, and I needed you. But I promise, baby, it's okay." You reassure, your eyes never leaving his own.

He nodded, his head lowering to rest his forehead against your own, "okay, as long as you're okay. You're safe with me now. Always are." He mumbled against your skin as he planted delicate kisses against your forehead.

[study-diaries]

How To Self Study

This is coming from a girl who spent her fresher and sophomore year studying at home and yes, I got good grades. So, here are some tips that I followed for studying by myself without depending on any teachers.

So, let's get into it!

Gather and organise material

This is important, why? What are you going to study if you have absolutely no idea what your syllabus and study material is? By materials I mean:

Textbooks (If you have any)

Practice papers

Previous year papers

Extra reading materials/ Reference books

If you don't have any textbooks. Go through the topics that you have and gather resources from different sources.

Tip: Have at least 1 extra reading material for every subject/paper. It helps you understand some topics that are explained in a complex manner in textbooks which is almost all the time.

Don't depend on your teacher

Teachers are good. Seriously. But their attention will always be shifty. They have a lot of students to teach, from many other classes so if you depend only on your teachers for clarifying your doubts or being at the back of you to study then newsflash, its going to be hard. Rather, be your own teacher. Don't go "I'll ask this to her/him tomorrow after class" because that will be your answer every time you have even a small question which can easily be solved by a simple search. You're saving your time and theirs.

Tip: If you're someone like me who gets distracted when you take up your phone even for a second then write down all your questions in a paper and search them later after your study session.

Make notes

I usually say this because notes help you understand topics. There are many methods of taking notes. I usually don't follow any structure for note taking, I just read and write keywords under the topic name, linking a few things here and there.

Tip: Notes need not be aesthetic. Seriously. You can be as messy as you can.

Watch videos related to concepts

This helps and I know most already do this.

Tip: When you finish watching a topic, close the video and write down what you understood and then play the video again, fill in the gaps that you missed and watch it again.

Study in chunks

I always believe that whatever you do, you should do in chunks. Instead of doing one chapter, divide it. Into small bits. I'll tell you, you'll see the difference. I don't usually recommend Pomodoro since it doesn't work for me. I don't keep a time limit or a set number of breaks. I finish a chunk and if I am tired, I take a break otherwise i continue.

Tip: Self quiz yourself after each chunk and then take a break. Then after you finish the chunks for the whole chapter with the self quizzing then self quiz yourself randomly for every chunk. Here's an additional tip. Take 20 second breaks.

Period of deep work

This is not a new concept, i didn't realize i did this at first. Basically, when you start your work. You do nothing but work. Like nothing else. No phones. No snacking. No unwanted thoughts. Just nothing but what you have to do. That is to study.

Tip: It is difficult to implement this right away especially if you have a habit of it getting distracted easily so i just suggest => Start smaller. One topic with full concentration. It would usually take you 20 - 30 mins to get immersed in the work. 40 mins if it's something you don't like but once you get the momentum? An unbelievable achievement really. And then, change your environment.

Quality > Quantity && Consistency> Cramming

One hour of productive studying is better than nine hours of useless studying. I feel like it's better to study 20 mins everyday rather than the whole night before an exam. It just causes stress.

Tip: Start early. Your teacher is on chapter 5? And you still don't get chapter 1, it's fine. Start learning. Seriously, it's okay to be behind. You just have to stick. Do it everyday and you'll see results that is better than those who are just keeping up with the teacher.

Deadlines Are Mandatory

Have deadlines. There are a number of ways to do this. I'm a person who is really lazy and a weird soul who would never complete their to-do list for the day if they write it down. It would always be left unfinished. So i just keep a mental time limit and the thing i have to get done.

Tip: Overestimate your deadline. Like, let's say i have to complete around 15 lessons that week. I keep my deadline to around 25-30 and i eventually complete 15. It's about adapting to what works for you. Just change according to what works for you.

Practice questions / Previous Year Papers

I can never emphasize this enough. The best way to prepare for any exam is just do practice questions or previous year questions. You will learn a lot of things. The topics that are important or repeated. The topics that are never asked.

Tip: Grade yourself on each paper. Circle the questions in your textbook while you are studying and practicing. Then when you have to actually study then you can actually revise the topics a bit more thoroughly. If you want to know more, click here.

It's okay to be behind in class

During my first term in senior year, the whole class was around 5 chapters ahead for every test and exam while me? If they were on chapter 12, i was in chapter 4 or 5 but i understood the concepts and took my sweet time with each chapter. Because the more time you take for a chapter, the better it stays in your memory.

Tip: Here is where active recall comes handy. When you revise one chapter, take a 2 day break and study another subject and then go back to the chapter and answer the practice questions. If you're able to do them, great! If not, revise more and then look at it after 3-4 days. Repeat until you have no mistakes in your answers. This helps in long term retaining.

Make It Interesting

How do you study boring subjects? You adapt. Mind maps don't work for me. Neither does flash cards. So, i found something that did. Storytelling. Take your most boring subject, turn it into a story. Make it bearable.

Tip: Tie it somethings that you like. For example, business studies was the most boring one for me so obviously, every topic was a story for me. HR Theories and Processes? ==> An office romance story. Management Principles? ==> A fantasy story where a group goes on a quest. Make It interesting. Make it gripping. And let me tell you, this actually works because our minds grasp stories better than just normal theory jargon.

Difficult Topics Are Only Difficult Because You Think They Are

This was something that i learnt the harder way. Everything looked difficult at the beginning. Everything. But the most difficult paper was maths. Because i had no teacher. Literally. I was learning from YouTube, searching different sites for tips and tricks. I thought it was too difficult and then i was like "i have to do it anyway no matter how much i brood" so i started from scratch like 3 months before my exams.

Tip: A mind set change is everything. If you think it is easy. The topic will be more bearable. If you think it's tough, it's going to be more tough. If you want some more tips for complex topics, click here.

Hope this helps !!! :)

[ddejavvu]

hiccup casual dominance haddock gently chastising reader who cannot stop biting the skin around their fingers……. (i love ur blog and ur writing btw<3)

the way he grabs astrid's arms and shakes her in the second movie. mhm mhm.

--

It's something mindless, the gnawing of your teeth at the sharp edge of your finger. You have a habit of biting the skin around your nails, and this one seems to have regrown from the last time you'd severed it. It's something you'd felt with the pad of your thumb and raised to your mouth without thinking, but Hiccup notices it like it's a lit neon sign.

"Hey!" He snaps, still bent over his workbench but no longer focused on the patches of leather he's sewing together. He says nothing more, and your hand lowers unconsciously from your mouth when you raise your head to look at him. You're semi-alarmed: there's really no good reason to be yelling in a forge, it usually means something is on fire. But Grump is very much asleep in the corner, and the flames have gone out.

"What?" You ask, truly stumped. You're not trying to be obtuse, your arm halfway raised to your mouth simply doesn't register.

Hiccup raises one eyebrow- you wonder whether he's gotten his sass from Stoick or Valka, because he's got buckets of it, and he flicks his eyes pointedly downwards towards your hand, then back up at your face, unimpressed.

You mirror his gaze, realizing that your eyes fall upon the mangled skin around your ring finger's nail.

"Oh. Shit," You mumble, shame heating your cheeks. You always feel like such a baby when someone points out your bad habit, but you know Hiccup isn't trying to tease you, so you jam your hand into your lap, smearing away saliva on your pants.

"You're gonna make yourself bleed." Hiccup's voice is gentle but pointed, "Again."

You neglect to tell him that the one time he'd witnessed your teeth grind too far into the meat of your finger- enough to draw blood, hadn't been the first nor the last time you'd bled. It's not the norm, but it's not the outlier either. You merely bite your tongue, waiting for further reprimands, or for gracious silence.

He's a kind man, so he grants you the latter. But as soon as the embarrassment clears from your head, you forget all about the incident, and you become immersed in the pages of your book once more.

Off-kilter stomping, one-part boot and one-part metal peg, is all the warning you get before your hands are snatched away from you, one pulled from your lap and the other from your mouth.

You're already rushing out a, 'Sorry, sorry, sorry!' but he won't let your hand go when you tug at it. He holds it firmly in his own, his brow set in a stern frown. He looks like his father's namesake, and you foresee him being a very intimidating chief one day- if perhaps he can pile on some meat to his bones.

"Stop biting your fingers." He says, shaking your arms gently with each word, "I have eagle eyes. You forget, I have to watch Toothless constantly to make sure he doesn't steal my leg right out from under me."

Toothless's great head raises from where it had been sleepily resting on the wood floor, and he presents his disdain for Hiccup's terrible accusations in the form of a testy huff.

"I notice everything." Hiccup promises, his eyes boring into yours, "You're never gonna be able to sneak it past me."

"I'm not trying to sneak it past you!" You swear, shame once again licking at the inside of your chest. You try not to whine, but your voice takes on a hint of hopelessness, "I'm- it just happens, I don't know! I don't think about doing it, and I don't do it on purpose, it just happens! It's like breathing! How am I supposed to stop doing it when I don't even do it on purpose?"

"I will help you stop." Hiccup decides, the frown on his features softening as your desperation bleeds through, "It's okay, I'll- we'll figure something out. Like gloves!" He brightens, "Leather gloves, I can make them, that way they'll stop you from biting at your actual finger. And then it'll force you to think about it, and slowly you'll stop doing it altogether. Or something that tastes bad on your fingers. I could ask Astrid to make some of her yaknog- that stuff's thick enough to be a paste. I can spread it on your fingertips and then you'll be deterred by just the smell. Or- or a restraint! I could chain some cuffs to the bench," Hiccup gestures at the slab of wood you're sitting on, "And you can have just enough give to read your book, but not to reach for your face."

"Hold on," You stop him, knowing his mind is filling with glorious, terrible ideas, "You want to handcuff me and chain me to the bench?"

Hiccup's face shifts, clarity dawning on his bright features and dimming them, "Okay, that one- you're right, that's not my best idea."

"I don't want yaknog on my hands either," You grimace, "Can we just- try the gloves?"

"Yeah. The gloves." Hiccup nods, squeezing your hands with finality, but only releasing one- the one you'd spared. He keeps the freshly-bitten fingers in his own hand, peering worriedly at the skin to spot any blood. When he finds none, he drags your hand to his mouth, kissing gently over the side of your finger before finally letting you have it back.

"I'll start on your gloves right away," He goes back to his workbench, sliding his previous project to the side, "Snotlout is just gonna have to wait for his new saddle. As long as Hookfang doesn't burn through the one he's got, he'll be fine for a few more days. But you need those gloves now." Hiccup stares pointedly at you from across the room, "For now, please try not to bite your fingers. Or I'll sick Toothless on you."

Big green eyes stare at you with interest from across the room, but the dragon won't pounce without Hiccup's command. You'd rather like to keep breathing clean air and not fish breath, so you tuck your hands beneath your thighs on the bench, electing to only remove one to turn a page of your book.

"Perfect," Hiccup grins, a hint of pride in his smile as he grabs for a fresh panel of leather, "I'll have your gloves done in no time."

[anundyingfidelity]

HAPPY MISTAKE — Logan Howlett

Summary: Not ever, through all the years of your life, you found someone like Logan. Since he arrived at the school, something brought you together like a magnet. Sadly, not everything came out as you wished it would be. Time is not gentle with mutants, and you try so hard to show him your unconditional love before everything is over, but can you finally accept your feelings for each other? Or yours and Logan's tumultuous relationship through the years.

(PART ONE → PART TWO) | GEN MASTERLIST!

Pairing: Logan x mutant!female!reader.

Word count: 9.6k.

Warnings: slow burn, breaking up(?)/making up, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut and unprotected everything, language, character death, time travel, Logan hurting reader unintentionally, wounds and blood. Logan being a whore for both Jean Grey and the reader. Reader has slow aging as Logan and looks around mid 30s in my head. Anthropology teacher!reader. Reader can manipulate light (just like Starlight from The Boys). This takes place between different movies from the franchise, from X-Men 1 to DoFP, so spoilers of the movies ahead.

Notes: Long time no write. Life is horrible but somehow I managed to get this in like two months. I love Logan so fucking much now you don't have an idea. This was also written with Happy Mistake by Lady Gaga in mind. If you'd like to be tagged in the second part let me know or let me know your thoughts on this, it's very much appreciated! I suffered a lot writing it .

𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒙 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊'𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆.

—

2000

“Need any help?”

Logan stopped on his tracks from wandering around the cozy, yet strange place he woke up in. Turning on his feet, he saw your figure standing in the middle of the hallway. He said nothing, but you approached him as you had known him for a very long time.

“I assume you’re the new guy-”

“Where is she?” Logan abruptly interrupted once you stood inches away from him.

“Rogue? She’s fine. And you need to take a little rest.”

“I don’t need medical attention,” he said, looking around to search for a nearby exit. Before he walked away you took his arm in a soft grip.

He was, as much as you could tell, surprised by your boldness. You gave him no time to process his next movements once you talked again, your voice firm and welcoming in a way he had never felt before.

“Please, you need to meet Professor Xavier,” you said. “At least before you go. It’s totally fine if you wanna leave, I don’t recommend it though, but we can offer you a safe place here. We are just like you.”

Logan’s hardened expression relaxed for a moment, sensing no threat coming from you. All he saw in your eyes wasn’t pity, nor anger at him being kind of an asshole at first. It was just authority, the good kind where he also had something to say and decide about.

“Whatcha say, Logan?”

He was so immersed in his thoughts before you called his name, thinking it sounded beautiful falling off your lips. You gave him a half smile as he took in each detail of your face, as if he was memorizing every part of it.

It was the first time someone had been nice to him and it felt strangely good.

For some reason, it felt very good coming from you.

—

Logan just found out from the Professor’s mouth the mansion was a school for mutants. Gifted people, he called them. After learning another powerful mutant was behind him and Rogue, he had no other choice but accept the shelter. He didn’t like the other guys better, playing the teacher with a bunch of teenagers with special or cursed abilities. But besides Storm and Jean, you were the person who had welcomed him the most, even showing him the place and the room he would stay in.

One late night, you sat at the dining table together. Logan was silently drinking a beer outside school hours so the kids wouldn’t see him, and you, reading a bunch of papers from your students that you were missing. He realized how hard you worked, how you would praise your students, how you talked to them outside classes, being the one to actually convince Rogue to enroll in the school. Immediately, he knew you were really something, having much more in common than he thought. And you, living for so long, being both a mutant and a lady for sure had a hard life through time.

“What you teach again?” he suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence you shared.

“Anthropology,” you answered, giving him a short glance. “I took this at college a long time ago, and I’ve been alive long enough to know a thing or two,” you explained, putting away a paper after putting an A+ on it proudly. “It’s important to understand ourselves, humankind and mutants… It’s a diverse world and there are lots of cultures, languages and societies we don’t get to know, but it’s beautiful. I think I like to celebrate what makes us unique. I've had the chance to study some of them around the world since I had the time, y’know, and it’s truly amazing. It’s a shame we have to fight between us to make us heard when we could just be kind and empathetic to each other… Sorry, you didn’t ask but, y’know, anyway.”

You shook your head with a curve on your lips, going back to the next paper. Logan had taken the sparks in your eyes as you talked. He half smiled to himself once you buried yourself in your papers again, thinking you sounded just like Professor Xavier. No wonder why he took you in. Probably, if things were different for him, he would’ve found something that could light his face with so much passion just like you did.

“Been alive for almost two hundred years,” Logan said and you looked up to him. “We might have things about the past to share,” he drank from his beer. It was your turn to smile back at him.

“Yeah, well, I’ve lived both horrible but nice things. Couldn’t read or do math without being called a witch,” you chuckled to yourself, but hiding on the inside the awful experiences you had to endure. “Someday, we could go out and grab a coffee or something,” you said with a playful smile.

A light chuckle left your lips, but you and him knew it wasn’t just a joke.

He joined you with a warm smile that lit up his face before disappearing from his lips. “Of course. Count me in.”

—

The sun was shining bright and the weather was great that morning. Some of the students were in the yard playing, having some quality time, and others simply just left to go to the town. It was a good weekend before the next semester started, and it was better now knowing Magneto had been taken to prison after his failed attempt to use Rogue for his plans.

Sipping on your coffee, you saw the students outside. Laughing, running, having a good breakfast picnic. It felt heartwarming just taking this sight, wishing it would always be like this. Your mindful peace was interrupted when Logan entered the kitchen to have a coffee on his own. Visibly, you tensed just a little when he approached you and sat right in front of you at the dining table. The caffeine was not helping at all, you thought.

“Morning,” he greeted you, noticing something was off on you, but hoping it would pass. Maybe you already knew.

“Morning…” your voice came out as a whisper. “How you feeling?”

“Better. What about you?”

You gave a small nod. “Good, thanks for asking.”

A silence fell upon you. Not like the ones you used to share in lonely nights where you prepared your classes and Logan just sat down calmly because he couldn’t sleep. This time it was different. Words won’t come out of your mouth to ask what was really bothering you. You had grown up to like Logan and enjoy his company, but he had a lot of walls upon him, protecting himself of the world and people around him.

However, you understood why he did it. You both have been alive longer than anyone else. You saw people you love dearly dead, being killed because of your flaws. And you really connected to his idea of protecting people by leaving their side. It was better being away. That was until Professor Xavier recruited you. Here, you had a purpose and you helped young people to become the best versions of themselves. You wished Logan could do the same, stay and see he was more of what he thought of himself, but it wouldn’t happen. Right? He had things to sort out on his own.

“Are you leaving soon?”

When you asked the question, Logan knew you had heard something from the Professor. He gave you a nod.

“I need to reconnect with who I was,” he simply answered.

“Right… Wish you all the best there.”

Logan had grown to like you over the past few weeks you shared, exchanging experiences and lessons of life you had taken through the years. For a moment, he looked right into your eyes and smiled. He weirdly smiled, and you could swear he’d miss you too once he is away.

But that warm feeling soon faded away once Jean walked into the kitchen, saying good morning and beaming to the both of you. Logan followed her with his gaze, straightening himself on his seat as she served her own breakfast and an extra plate that you already knew was for Scott. She also began putting fruits and snacks inside a picnic basket while looking all happy and settled, and you knew why Logan had fallen in love with her. It was all over his face.

And you wondered how could he act and talk to you so kindly and sweet, and then look at Jean like that. It was a pain in your heart you tried to dissipate. Everyone knew Jean and Scott were a couple, and the fact that Logan had a not so secret crush on her really played on you. It made you feel like a fool and you had too many heartbreaks and hurted people, putting them in danger due to your mutation, to take initiative and start a relationship - or anything of the sort - again.

Scott made his way inside the kitchen, saying hi to both of you - mostly you. And took the tray with their plates as Jean grabbed the basket, but she let Scott leave the kitchen before.

“Have a good trip, Logan,” she said kindly. “I hope to see you around here soon.”

“Thank you, Jean.”

She smiled one last time before leaving you all alone, Logan following her with his eyes. Just for a second, you wished he could see you like that underneath his facade.

—

You had packed your stuff later that day, deciding a little air and a change for one night would do no wrong. Just as you were walking to the main door, Rogue was saying her goodbyes to Logan after giving him a small hug without really touching him. It was a cute sight how Rogue was able to step into his cold heart. She said goodbye to you as well before leaving the entrance.

“You’re going away too?” Logan asked, rather surprised as you both walked through the door, the sun hitting your skin as soon as you were out of the mansion. He knew your life was at the school.

“Just for the weekend,” you shrug it off.

Logan gave you a nod with a warm smile. “Then have a good trip and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks. I hope you find what you’ve been looking for.”

“I hope so too,” Logan answered and before he went to take Scott’s bike, he looked at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds. “We should go out and grab some coffee once I’m back.”

Your lips formed a wide smile. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, where time felt like hours and not seconds, you stood right out the door, looking at each other. You wanted him to go first, but he was waiting for you to say something. Probably to ride the bike with him, he could leave you somewhere near your destination and feel you close - just be around you for at least five more minutes. But none of that ever happened.

Instead, you studied his face, looking at his deep eyes, and then his lips - those lips you wanted to kiss so bad before, but never had the courage to do so. You didn’t think further, and if something had taken possession over you, you leaned towards him leaving a short, sweet kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Take care,” you mumbled once you pulled away.

Not waiting for his answer, you turned back, pulling your bag to your side stronger than ever and walked the path to the front gates, feeling his gaze all over you until you left the mansion.

He felt such an idiot for not kissing you properly.

—

2003

‘I know what I want, but what do you want?’

Mystique’s words echoed through his head. Logan left the tent so long ago he didn’t know what time it was anymore and the situation kept repeating again and again in his mind. The woman had shifted between Jean, Ororo, and you. The one that icked him the most being Rogue once Mystique had taken her figure in. Storm was a good colleague, Jean was a forbidden love, Rogue was like his little sister, someone he would protect as long as he could, and you… you were a different case. When Mystique was about to kiss him wearing your figure, he finally realized he started feeling things he had prohibited himself for a very long time, and he thought he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Once or twice you shared experiences about love and partners, but he could tell it hurted you the same way as him. He couldn’t burden breaking your heart, or worse, getting you hurt because of what he was. Logan knew you had the same bad luck in the past, but it didn’t stop any of you to pull towards each other like a magnet.

‘Living for so long does things to you, Logan. I feel we become more aware of what we are.’

Those words you said to him one time remained in his head like a warning, and he took it personally.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against a hard tree trunk some feet away from the tents where the rest of the X-Men rested. He tried to find some peace alone for a few moments when the sounds of steps approaching alerted his senses. Claws out and ready to attack, he spun around the trunk only to stop in a second.

There you were, a bright light emanating from your hand to illuminate your path in the darkness of the woods.

“Logan?”

Quickly, he withdrew his claws and his body relaxed visibly. “Sorry,” he apologized, leaning against the tree one more time.

“Are you okay?” you asked, but you already knew the answer. The exhausted sigh he let out told you everything you needed. You let the soft glow of light floating between you and him, to illuminate both of you under the branches. “You wanna talk?”

He slowly shook his head, mumbling ‘no’. He became startled in the light floating like a firefly, letting his own issues wash away with your sole company. Ironically, everything that was troubling him was you. Softly, you caressed his arm, taking him out of his own thoughts. Your touch didn’t help his poor mind either.

Looking worried about the next mission in Lake Alkali, you feared for him and your team. And your lack of sleep was showing it. But just like Logan, the growing feelings were troubling your head. You had seen him talking with Jean earlier when you landed in the forest - talking too close to your liking once he pulled her for a kiss. But what could you do? Logan was still after Jean even when she had already declined him countless of times, and it didn’t really hurt you. It just felt strange inside. Why would he do that while still being nice to you, quitting being a dick when he wanted because he knew you’d snap back at him. And to be honest, Logan looked as if he liked that about you. But he won’t admit it out loud, and of course, you wouldn’t ask. Men were so damn complicated.

“Well, I only expect things to not get worse…” you finally said in a soft whisper since he wasn’t talking and you stopped your head going further on the matter. And you knew he wouldn’t talk soon either. “And you’re brave for seeking your past.”

Logan locked his eyes with your own, under the soft light. Your tired gaze, your figure, your aura pulling him like he found a treasure in an abandoned cave… He felt so bad for falling for someone like you, who was nothing compared to the crap he was. And then, for the first time in years, he decided to follow his instinct with you.

He leaned towards your figure, his rough hand cupping your cheek gently before pulling you in for a kiss. With a soft sigh you corresponded, your arms around his neck as it turned deeper and harsher. Logan lifted you easily from the ground, your legs tangling around his waist until you felt your back against a rough surface, trapped between the trunk and his body. Soft moans and grunts mingled, your chest pressing against his own, his hips grinding against your crotch. It was obvious you wanted this. Logan desired you so painfully after that day you kissed him goodbye at the mansion, he needed your body and soul. But you had to have answers before giving into the heat of the moment.

Pulling away, you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his own as you tried to catch your breath. Logan tried to taste you once again, but you placed two of your fingers on his swollen lips.

“Why’d you kiss her?”

He remained silent, brows furrowed and eyes blown in lust. You didn’t make any effort to pull him away. He still had you between his legs, asking a simple question he had no response for.

“We’re adults here, Logan. Just wanna know why before we go further.”

Logan started to remember. He vividly heard Jean and Mystique voicing out and asking the right question.

‘Girls flirt with the bad guy. They take the good guy home.’

‘What do you want?’

“Do you really want me?” he asked in return.

You lifted an eyebrow at his sudden question. “And do you?”

He leaned again for a kiss on your lips, and thankfully for him, you didn’t stop it. But he quickly pulled away and inhaled your sweet scent from the skin on your neck, leaving a path of soft pecks, until he nipped the shell of your ear softly. You shivered under his touch.

“I’d love to have you,” he whispered, softly caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Come to my tent,” you mumbled. “Sleep with me. But like, seriously, sleep with me ‘cause I’m tired,” you chuckled, hoping to not kill the mood.

Logan smiled for a bit and nodded, pecking your lips one more time before helping you get on your feet on the muddy ground, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

“As long as I have you by my side it’s alright with me.”

—

Jean’s death was hard to swallow.

For weeks, students and teachers mourned her, and you felt sorry for Scott for losing his soulmate. Logan was not in the best shape either. He didn’t attend her funeral, he never had the guts to stand by her grave either, until now. You stopped right behind him and noticed him sighing, under the afternoon sunset. He was tense because of everything, but when you took his hand out of the pocket of his jacket, he held onto you. Your fingers intertwined together, feeling his life depending solely on you, like a rock he needed to support his whole weight.

The day was about to end, the sun slowly hiding, giving a beautiful painting of orange and purple in the sky. You thought it would soon become an intense thunderstorm due to Ororo’s mourn - something you had gotten used to the last few days.

“She saved us,” Logan barely mumbled, looking intensely at the grave.

You nodded, even if he could not see you. “Can’t blame her, I’d have done the same.”

Those words cause him to look back at you, wishing it’d be a lie. But inside, Logan knew you really had the guts to sacrifice yourself for others. It was something he remembered both of you talking about some time ago. And you would give everything in your hands to save the ones you love.

Quietly, Logan gave a last glance at Jean’s grave, and guided you inside the mansion. Classes barely started again due to the circumstances and a few kids could be seen around the halls. You accompanied him to the doors of his room, noticing you had been holding hands the whole time. Probably no one really cared, they were too busy trying to go through the grief of losing a loved one. Slowly, you broke the gesture, taking your hand away and Logan immediately missed the heat and comfort of your hand.

“Do you need anything?” you asked in a low voice.

Looking at you, Logan reminisced how you kissed in the woods, the need and lust for each other that couldn’t be. He did sleep in your tent that night, in the comfort of your arms, feeling the warmth of your skin. It was, probably, the first time he had a good, peaceful night of sleep in years. No one had brought that up, but he knew something was there. And he needed to act on it before it was too late.

So he brought up his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before planting a kiss on your lips, not caring he was standing in the middle of the hallway where anyone could see what was going on. You leaned against his touch, deepening the kiss until you couldn’t catch a breath. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead into yours, taking in the beauty of your bright eyes and swollen lips. Everything wandering his mind, making a path right into his cold heart was right in front of him.

“You.”

—

Knocking Professor Xavier's door, you walked inside as soon as his voice announced to come in. You caught your breath seeing Logan by his desk. He just gave you a quick, accomplice glimpse and left the room, closing the door behind. The exchange of glances wasn’t unnoticed by Charles.

“Here’s the report on my subject for this last semester, Professor,” you announced, leaving the folder on the wooden desk.

“Thank you. How’s Logan doing?” he asked all of a sudden, checking the door the man had crossed just seconds ago.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe he is comfortable helping the kids?” the old man asked again. He was seeing right through you, and you kind of hated every time he used to do that to you. Nothing could be hidden from Xavier; definitely you couldn’t hide a single thing for the man who took you in decades ago.

“Why would I know that?”

He shrugged it off. “Well, you seem very close lately.”

Close was not the best word to describe your relationship with Logan. Yet, you were sleeping on his bed just the night before. The trace of his kisses, the burn of his beard on your skin, his teeth biting softly your breasts, his rough hands all over your hips… Every touch he left on your body you could still feel it, and you wanted to think he was not just using you. During the past weeks, you were together. Not quite a relationship-thing was established properly, but it was the closest thing any of you could have as for now.

It was a mixture of grief, pain, and hope that had you both still standing. In the end, you understood what he felt. Being alone and alive for so long and then finding a place where people accepted you for who you were was a whole change, even if some years passed by. Though, the time Logan had been spending at the school was nothing but a blink of an eye compared to his past.

“What happened to our team is still affecting us,” you finally said. “I believe we are good friends, yes, we’ve been supporting each other. And he doesn’t know how to deal with the students yet most of the time, but I try to walk him through it.”

Xavier hummed, smiling at the corner of his lips as he eyed the folder you handed him. “I bet you both do.Thanks for bringing your report on time, as always, and I apologize if I am being intrusive. Just please be careful with the noises both of you make at night, we have kids around here.”

Shit.

You swallowed your pride right there and simply gave a nod, feeling the heat burning up your face.

“Will do, Professor.”

—

A loud gasp escaped your lips as you held for dear life on his broad shoulders, hips snapping against your own. His pace was reckless, keeping you on the edge of sin. Grunts mixed with sweet moans, skin hitting skin again and again every time you felt his cock inside you. If possible, your nails could have already left visible scars and marks on his back, scratching and bleeding off his skin as he fucked you senseless.

Logan sucked on the bare skin on your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling your walls clenching around his girth, his hands roughly grabbing the sides of your hips as you moaned his name, over and over, under the moonlight. He looked at you intensely with loving eyes when you came underneath him, eyes flashing that familiar bright light every time a powerful orgasm hit your body. The vulnerable sight of your figure shaking, eyes closing slowly and biting your lip to keep the pretty noises low, made him reach the sweetest high.

With a grunt, he leaned to attack your lips in a heated, wet kiss to moan against your mouth. Logan pulled back to press butterfly kisses on your jaw, until he reached your breasts, feeling himself soften inside your wet heat. His hips were still thrusting just enough to fill you up at a gentle rhythm. Marking you his and only his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your chest. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

You chuckled softly, fingers tangling on his disheveled hair. You just had prepared a small date night out at the shores of a beautiful lake in the woods. No one could bother you if you were alone, and since your relationship was not so secret anymore, you needed him in a place that wasn’t the school. So here you were, laying on your back, fully naked on the picnic blanket, with the Wolverine between your legs, enjoying the calmness of the water, the green grass, the crickets singing around, and the cold of the night.

“Privacy perhaps?” you whispered as his eyes locked on yours.

Softly you touched his cheek with the palm of your hand and he rolled both of you over, until you laid on top of him, legs straddling his waist and your arms on his shoulders to sit on his lap. Silence took over, his hands soothing your hips and the marks he left on your body from the intense love-making.

“I’m so happy we took a couple of days off…”

You waited for Logan to say something. Anything. You wanted to continue, to tell him how you really felt. Instead, you decided it was better leaving it like this. Logan gave you a nod, pulling you for a short kiss.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He wanted to say it out loud, but was too scared to do so.

—

2006

After a couple of long years, the school and the team had to learn how to go through the grief and pain Jean left. Logan had a hard time processing it, just like all your teammates, specially Scott, and of course the students. It didn’t stop you from moving on as time went by though, always remembering her for the great person and mind she was. Going forward and keeping fighting is what she would’ve wanted for everyone, even now that a certain cure for mutants was announced to the public.

You tried to continue your life as a professor at the school, training students, leading young people, and you invited and encouraged Logan to do so countless times. Deep inside, you wished it was you the reason why Logan decided to stay and train young mutants - for you to be the answer to his loneliness. That he knew, for once and all, that he was not alone. You got each other, and you could do something about it. Words unspoken said more than anything, at least you thought so.

It was one of those rare nights where you got some time for yourselves, walking around the city after having a nice and calm dinner. Your shoulders brushed against each other while you walked downtown, your hands hiding inside the pockets of your jacket, protecting them from the cold.

There was a lot on your mind lately, thinking about what you two really were. If there was a stronger feeling in between, or if it was solely because he enjoyed your company and that was it. Both had lived enough to know there was a feeling in the middle. It wasn’t just friends with benefits, or co-workers who sleep together three times a week. Something was blooming deep inside you, but you tried to not give it a lot of attention all those years. Still, it felt like it had to be addressed sooner or later, and this could be the time. In the end, you understood each other perfectly. How painful it was, how living longer than anyone was, how you had to leave everything and everyone behind because you were dangerous…

“Have you ever wondered how’d it feel to have a normal life?” your question came out all of the sudden.

“How come?” He looked at you from the corner of his eye.

You didn’t know if his gaze was judging you but you continued anyway.

“Like living a normal amount of years… Not having these things, genes that make us different. Or special…”

Logan suddenly stopped in his tracks and grabbed your arm softly so you could lock eyes together as he asked. “You’re not thinking of getting that damn cure, aren’t you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why’d you think that?”

“Because I never had anyone in my life, Logan,” you spat, pulling your arm away from his grip. “I’ve been alive for so long but I can’t promise myself a future. A real one. Not anything, it doesn’t matter if I live forever. Every person I loved before perished.”

Those words shook him out of the rough façade showing on his face. Your gaze told a hundred different stories when he studied your face every time. It was like mirroring himself at some point. You were the first person he ever got to know that has lived as long as he has, and maybe it was the sentimentalism, but he tried to push away those wishes of settling down. Of trying to be normal. Because he was not, and maybe, just maybe, you just didn’t accept it like he did. Probably, he was just giving up. But you weren’t, even after hundreds of years of disgrace continuously happening.

“I thought you’d get this, Logan.”

You mumbled, taking him out of his trance.

“Well, I do, in a way,” he said, but sounded more like an excuse for himself.

“Then why don’t you say it?”

“Wha-”

“Just say it,” you repeated and pointed between you and him. “What is this for you? What are we?”

Logan grabbed on your shoulders gently and leaned towards you, stealing a kiss on the sidewalk, a kiss you obliged with a bittersweet feeling for some reason, but then he whispered. “Darling, you’re everything to me now.”

Yet, you smiled and kissed him back, feeling his lips curve against your own. Well, that wasn’t so hard was it?

—

Needless to say, after the last date, your relationship with Logan had evolved to something more domestic, considering you lived together in your workplace. Affection, holding hands, quick kisses were shared now a little more freely, and you had received a couple of jokes and teases from some students and Storm. But it was fine as long as you had cleared your path with Logan, even if he didn’t act like a partner sometimes.

The certain calmness you felt one day disappeared when Logan and Ororo went to look for Scott, who often had these sad thoughts, and since Jean was his partner, it was thoroughly complicated for him to say the least. When Logan and Ororo came back to the mansion, it was not what you expected to see. Jean was alive and Scott was gone.

It hurted you, knowing first hand that their love wouldn’t be anymore. You met both of them when they were so young, becoming something like their mentor when they used to learn how to control their powers and how to fit in this world that loathed mutants to death. Now, the school was something else. It was a big, special place that was not the same without the brains of Jean, or the enthusiasm and leadership of Scott. Things were different, they had to change because the circumstances told so, and everyone had a difficult time adapting to it. One thing after another left you tired, with no option to run away, even if you wanted to. The complicated circumstances and the relationship you shared with Logan were no help either.

While on your way to check on Jean, who was still under observation after a couple of days, you stopped in your tracks when the heavy door of the med bay slid. Logan, looking all out of his daily self and mad, found you at the entrance, and you felt something different emanating from him.

For what you could see behind him, Jean was still asleep, and the Professor called Logan to come back with a serious voice, but he ignored the older man, instead approaching you.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Logan grasped your arm, his tone lower and deeper than usual.

You quickly pulled off his grip and hissed. “What are you talking about?”

“Jean.”

You felt silent. Of course she was anything he could think of since they found her.

“You knew he was controlling her,” Logan went on and your heart skipped a beat.

The look in your eyes told everything but lies. Logan scoffed and walked away, leaving you standing alone under Professor Xavier’s gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” you mumbled at your mentor before following Logan, trying to keep his pace until he reached his room.

The whole way you tried to keep it professional, greeting students as normally you would, but when you crossed his door it was impossible to continue with the facade.

“Logan-”

“He’s insane,” he snapped, putting his jacket on and taking his bag out.

“Everything that was done was meant to protect her,” you responded calmly as he placed a handful of clothes inside the bag.

“No, you did it because you are disgusting. I bet this is what should’ve been for me if I refused to cooperate with your circus or something.”

“You don’t know what she is capable of-”

“Yeah, well I don’t wanna hear it anymore. This is so fucked up, even for you,” he continued, bag on his hand taking long strides until you were almost touching noses. 

You scoffed, trying to laugh at the irony. “What does that even mean? Do you know how horrible it is to be controlled by the Phoenix inside her?.”

Logan rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear another poor excuse. You continued anyway, looking straight in his eyes before he could leave you hanging with your own words. Exactly like he used to do every damn time when you had an argument. Today, he wouldn’t run away that fast.

“She could kill you in a second and won’t hesitate. For her, we’re nothing. We’re not rivals, we can’t do shit. The only thing we could do was keep her alter ego somewhere hiding inside her mind, or else we wouldn’t be here arguing about something you never witnessed. Because I did and you don’t wanna see that, trust me,” you spat at him. He breathed rage at your words and you knew that it was getting on his nerves seeing the way his hands turned to fists. “And you think this version of her cares for you? Or that she loves you? Jean is gone now, Logan, fucking get over it.”

With last harsh words, you turned around and left the room, closing the door with a thud. 

Logan breathed out. He wanted to scream, hit something, run away… Anything to let it out. He was a reckless mess but how could he react and accept Charles was playing with Jean’s mind? And you fucking knew all this time and didn’t say anything? Were his feelings dirty on him right now? Probably. Shit, he took years to finally tell you the truth about his love and affection towards you. He spent months trying to find the right words just to say ‘I love you’, and still, it seemed it wasn’t enough. The forbidden love he felt for Jean never disappeared, and he felt guilty for it.

—

You walked down to the med bay after calming down for a bit. You only needed to check on Jean for a moment and see how she was doing. Years prior, you had witnessed what the Phoenix was capable of, so you didn’t really question Charles’ methods when it came to hide this dangerous side of her inside her mind. You also thought your words might have been a little harsh on Logan, but it was the truth. He didn’t know who the Phoenix was and, if his feelings for Jean resurfaced after believing her being dead, then it wasn’t on you. As much as you loved him, as much as you tried and somehow managed to move on together, he was so easily dragged to her.

The anger you felt before took over you once again, as you found the metal doors of the lab in debris. Quickly, you made your way inside the room and found Jean wasn’t there and that Logan was lying unconscious on the floor. You knelt down by his side, calling him over and over and touching his face and shaking his shoulders until he finally opened his eyes slowly, coming back to reality.

“Logan, what happened?”

“She… she killed Scott. The Phoenix,” he whispered. You could tell he was a little weak and out of breath.

“You’re lucky she just ran away,” you pointed out, helping him to sit down. His eyes were lost in the mess in the room. Tools were destroyed, test tubes broken, crystal was everywhere, and Jean left the reminder of kissing him, yet again, before she escaped. God, he felt so idiotic.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said, looking at you. “Sorry for being a jerk. It’s my fault.”

Taking his cheeks between your hands, you gave him a reassuring look. “We’re gonna find her, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’ll find her.”

“Come here, we need to alert Charles,” you said, helping him to stand up.

Inside, you knew he wouldn’t really need your help. He was strong and indestructible like the metal on his skull, but he seemed really taken back, and you decided to stay by his side, holding his hand strongly as a way to say sorry as well. It was kind of difficult to see Logan in that state of mind, confused and lost, and you wondered what had happened back there in the lab as you left him in his bedroom, ordering him to rest for a while.

“I’ll be right back,” you assured him with loving eyes.

Logan nodded, following your figure stepping out the room and disappearing in the hallway.

He let out a breath he didn’t know was holding. His mind was having a hard time and his heart felt like breaking, going in two opposite directions, and he hated himself for that. His fate was always the same: losing people he loved and cared for dearly. So seeing Jean back again was as if god or anything up there remembered he existed and brought her back just for him. Or maybe he was just being selfish because he already had you.

You were everything for him. A couple of years might be just a short glimpse for both of you, but he was able to feel peace and calm next to you, and he was sure you did as well. Because some nights, that was all you could talk about. Logan didn’t mind hearing you for hours, it reminded him he was alive. With you, but his stupid instinct had to act.

It was his fault Jean had left. The kiss, the whole act of embracing each other’s bodies for at least two minutes, and then her breakdown, begging for him to kill her… All of that was enough to bring out the beast inside her. And he felt such a jerk now for following his desires. He already had you. Wasn’t that enough?

His thoughts were interrupted once you arrived again, finding him sitting at the end of the bed exactly as you had left him there. Sensing something different on him, you sat down by his side and rubbed his hand gently.

“We might know where she’s going,” you whispered.

“I’ll go,” Logan said before you could finish.

“I’m not sure if I should ask, but are you okay? You could do some rest,” you suggested, since seeing the redhead was clearly getting some kind of reaction from him.

“No, I need to go,” he said. But Logan could read your face perfectly, and he knew you didn’t really like the idea of him leaving the mansion. You turned your eyes, scanning the room and avoiding his gaze.

You had the need to ask what exactly had happened back there with Jean, but you didn’t want to start a fight either. Feeling Logan’s hand on your shoulder, he leaned to kiss your forehead goodbye. Maybe you were the one who should stay, check the kids, the school…

“It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, voice low and deep, as if trying to convince you, but himself as well. You nodded with your arms around his neck, giving him a hug that felt like some sort of apology you weren’t able to say out loud. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

And how you’d wish things would be fine.

—

The school has been very quiet lately. Too silent even for his taste. At nights like these, he could still feel the vigor and presence of the students running around, grabbing something to eat, planning to go out for a while... Instead, Logan found himself in a place that was mourning. Grieving the loss of Jean, Scott and Charles.

The feelings inside were complicated. He didn’t really feel the same, and the disgrace and remorse of his actions were growing on him. They were still haunting him; every day, every single night. You knew it too. It was impossible to ignore the nightmares each time he woke up from seeing Jean’s lifeless body fall against his own after he gave what she wished for the most: death.

And then, there was you. He noticed how difficult it was getting for you to sleep. You tried to hide your sorrow into your work, studying even more, keeping yourself busy with the school and not thinking about anything else. Since Charles was gone, Ororo took his place and you were her second hand. But you pushed yourself too hard.

Tonight he found your bedroom empty. He didn’t find you on his either, so he went to the place he knew you would be: your classroom. The door was half opened, the dim light of the lamp on your desk barely illuminated the papers on the surface. He found you deeply concentrated reading on something, hands on the sides of your head hiding your face.

“Hey,” he softly mumbled, stepping inside the empty classroom.

You quickly straightened yourself on the chair, wiping your cheeks and tried to look decent for a moment.

“Hey,” you replied back, low voice.

“Come to bed,” he said, coming to stand before you, his hand on your shoulder comforting and soothing you, making its way to the side of your neck. His big palm on your cheek, caressing the skin stained with your tears as if it was the most delicate thing. He took a look at the mess of papers and old books you loved too much to get rid of, scattered on the wooden surface.

“No, I- I can’t. Need to finish these by tomorrow…”

Logan gave you a nod and a grimace before taking your hand, motioning to come closer. You stood up, knowing he was trying to get you out of the work that was consuming you.

He observed every feature on your face, the sadness in your stare couldn’t be hidden. He just knew you too well, just like the palm of his hand, and he wanted to make you forget. At least for a little. You had taken care of him, helped him with your presence and your unique aura, bringing him comfort and peace to his broken mind. He wanted you to be fine. To feel loved.

Logan leaned just exactly to brush his lips with your own, teasing a kiss that he longed too much, his hands around your waist pulling you towards him.

“Can you just let me take care of you?” 

Swallowing hard the knot on your throat, you curled your lips as much as the grief let you. “Yes,” you nodded.

With this, Logan leaned until your lips connected. Your arms around his neck pulled him as closer as you could get, feeling his chest against your own, his strong hands around your waist, softly touching you above your clothes.

Logan slowly walked you until your back hit the desk, hands roaming on your ass down to your legs, placing you to sit down over the loose pages. It might ruin the work a little, but none of you cared. Everything in your head was him, between your legs, running his wet mouth down your jaw, his stubble burning your skin as you gasped gently. Lying on your back on the desk, he began descending down your breasts, unbuttoning your blouse until he exposed you to the cold of the room.

He stopped right on your trousers, and gave you a quick glance. You were so eager, wet already. He could sense it. Your eyes were glowing and you were already trying to catch your breath by just his kisses and touch.

“You locked the door?” you whispered.

“Damn right I did,” he voiced, hoarse and low voice from just thinking of railing you right there and then.

“Then don’t stop.”

At your command, he unzipped your trousers, letting them fall down along with your heels on the floor. He then leaned to take your lips in a sloppy kiss, more urgent this time of feeling you close. You moaned, nails scratching his skin. His calloused hands explored your bare legs and things, creating friction with his hips with slow, controlled thrusts against your crotch. Logan left a trail of kisses down to your breasts, licking and tasting the saltiness of your body.

You urged him to go down where you ached the most, hand tangling on his hair. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, spreading to him until his nose was almost buried on your panties, smelling and taking the sweetness of your scent, licking softly with his wet tongue over the fabric. A trail of moans and curses left your lips. He pulled your panties aside before diving in your pussy, licking your folds and teasing your hole with two of his fingers.

“Logan…”

His name repeatedly left your mouth like a plea, his fingers now inside you, stretching your walls for him. The noises grew obscene and nasty as he ate you out like a sweet craving he had been denying himself the pleasure for so long.

He was growing hard just by hearing your whimpers, and he needed you. You always were a fucking longing for him. Your words, your intelligence, your beauty… Everything he needed, you had it. And still, he didn’t have any idea of how such a rational, smart woman like you learned to love him so deeply.

You tugged on his hair, hips thrusting up to meet his growling mouth. You were so close, felt almost there where you wanted, but he pulled away before you finished.

Logan unzipped his jeans leaning back, admiring your blissed out eyes and glistened figure.

“Come here,” you begged in a whisper, tangling your legs around his waist.

He let out a low, dirty chuckle, feeling your hands on his boxers, freeing his erection.

“So fucking eager,” Logan breathed kissing your lips, hands supporting his weight at the sides of your head on the desk.

You tasted yourself within the kiss and you moaned at his words, your hand pumped him just enough to feel his pre cum leaking already, lining his dick with your cunt. Inch by inch, he entered slowly so you could get used to his size. Logan pecked your lips gently, kissing your cheeks and the side of your neck to get into your sensitive skin. You tugged on his white shirt so he could remove it and he ripped your bra apart right after. He loved to feel your chest pressed against his own. You gasped but paid no mind, instead urging him to move inside you.

“Shit, Logan please-”

A particular harsh trust caught your breath on your throat. You held onto dear life with your hands on his shoulders. He pounded into you rock hard and deep. So damn deep the desk was shrieking under, papers fell off and the lamp moved at the same rhythm but you hoped it won’t break.

Logan growled, inhaling your scent and tasting the sweat forming on your collarbone, your breasts bouncing against his chest. He felt your nails trailing down his back, and oh, how he wished he could get damn scars on just by fucking you like this. But the view of you, squirming under him, eyes closed, being a whimpering mess… All because of him. He was so insanely in love with your fucked out expression every time.

Your walls clenched, close to the sweet end. Logan felt himself twitching inside your warm pussy and his thrusts were getting erratic and sloppy. He filled you up, reaching his own climax first, hot white ropes of cum painting your insides. Your pussy milked him all the way as he kept spliting you open until you let yourself go, legs trembling around his waist. 

For a moment, you stayed like this, with him kissing your shoulder and caressing your thigh, taking in the aftermath of your intense lovemaking.

“Thank you…”

Your whisper forced him to look up at you. There it was, that loving, sweet gaze you had reserved just for him.

He nodded, palm on your jaw holding you gently. “Of course…”

For some reason, he wanted to voice out for once those stupid three words.

I love you.

Or at least hoped you would do it first.

��

The night was cold under the moonlight, almost freezing. He wondered how he got trapped there, between the messy, withered shrubbery, fog, and the trees of a forest he never recalled knowing. He was alert, senses to the limit in case something might attack him. He felt as if he was being watched, but there were no eyes he could find around. He couldn’t see much like that.

But then a voice started to call his name from afar, claws coming out immediately as he sharpened his senses to find the owner. One, two, three times he heard, trying to find the person who was calling but there was only darkness. His heart skipped a beat when someone spoke behind him.

“Logan…”

He turned on his feet and he felt like dying again. “Jean?”

He withdrew his claws back immediately. The redhead smiled, coming closer until she touched his cheek with a soft hand before pulling away. “How are you, Logan?”

“What-”

“Are you happy now?” she asked, beaming brightly as if they were in a casual conversation instead of the darkness of the woods.

His brows furrowed. She couldn’t be real. She wasn’t there with him. Jean was gone, he had killed her because it was what she wanted. It was her way out to get what she needed; it was the key to her freedom…

“What do you mean?”

“With her… Be careful. You could kill her. Just like me,” Jean whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

Logan stepped back, trying to get away. He shook his head in disbelief, not knowing exactly why Jean was saying this to him.

“No… You’re not real…”

“Everything you love is destined to death and chaos, Logan. You shouldn’t be there,” Jean continued, her eyes switching from her usual tone to a deep black. The ground began trembling under their feet with each step of her, wind building up around. Logan felt truly scared, but somehow he couldn’t run, just stand there as she approached. “All she will know is a life of suffering if you stay. She doesn’t need that.”

“Jean-”

“She doesn’t need you!”

“Jean!”

And then it happened so fast. His claws buried on her chest, the Phoenix disappearing and leaving her to die. Jean collapsed against his body and Logan reminisced about the events of that battle, where he had to choose to be selfish or liberate her from her own demons. Logan wasn’t sure why he stabbed her like this. And when he thought Jean was dead in his arms, she started to call his name again. This time, he heard it far away.

Logan.

Logan.

Logan…

Logan!

His eyes went wide open. And there you were, by his side on the bed, calling for him with a pain grimace on your face. His claws buried on your stomach.

“Logan…” you gasped and he pulled the claws out, but you were already bleeding, your nightshirt and the mattress stained.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- I-”

“It’s okay,” you managed to say as he caressed your cheek before taking you in his arms hurriedly and quickly made the way out of your room through the halls. “The nightmares… I know, Logan…”

“God, I’m so sorry, please forgive me. Hank!” Logan stood outside the scientist’s door. “Hank, I need your help!”

The commotion caused some of the students to peek from their doors, and Logan waited outside what he felt it was forever under the gazes of the teenagers. It wasn’t the first time he had caused the same accident. The door opened, finally revealing a sleepy Hank putting his glasses on.

There was no need to explain what had happened.

—

“She’ll be stable soon,” Hank informed once he let Logan inside the med bay. “If you hadn’t brought her soon…”

Logan swallowed the knot on his throat, watching your unconscious figure on the stretcher. You already had received blood to cover up what you lost because of the wounds, and Logan’s claws were not minor weapons. His mind was a mess, confusion taking over. He didn’t know how he let this happen. He had nightmares pretty often, yes, but nothing like this.

Maybe Jean was right. Maybe she was trying to warn him about something. Or Jean was just trying to protect you from him. The last one felt more realistic. Logan wouldn’t hurt you, not ever. You talked about how dangerous it was to sleep together not so long ago, but you had insisted on staying. It was the first time something felt so damn real in his dreams and he wished you wouldn’t let him in your room that night…

“She’ll wake up, right?” Logan asked.

“Absolutely,” Hank nodded. “I will need to monitor her vital signs though, hopefully within a day or two she will be normal again… At least she’ll be stable until the wounds heal completely.”

Of course, Logan thought. You didn’t have a healing factor just like him.

“I’ll be right back,” Hank announced before stepping out of the room, leaving Logan alone.

He felt so guilty for doing this to you. For everything. For being the cause of your suffering now. He was a threat and mentally unstable. He was strong thanks to his genes, but he was weak on the inside. He promised countless times to protect you, but he couldn’t avoid hurting you himself. It didn’t matter that it was a very bad dream that felt disgustingly real, he had failed and hurted someone who truly loved. Again.

Taking your hand gently into his, he leaned to plant a kiss on your forehead, wishing it would be just another game from his mind.

But it wasn’t. Now, he had the person he loved the most lying unconscious and hurted because he would let his darkest thoughts consume him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching you sleep peacefully. “I should have said it sooner.”

-

PART TWO

[ashkabbom]

Storm - Mouthwashing

A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator 🫶🏽

Versión en español en Wattpad: Libro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Cuenta: ashkabbom)

Versão em português no wattpad: Livro de One Shots - Mouthwashing (Conta: ashkabbom)

•Pre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader

synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night

Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.

Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.

It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.

Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.

Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.

Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.

You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.

Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-

"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.

Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.

"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."

He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."

"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"

Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.

Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.

Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.

"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.

"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"

Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.

"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.

"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.

You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.

It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.

Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.

You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...

He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.

Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.

You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.

"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.

You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"

"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."

"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.

"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.

You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.

You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.

So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.

The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.

Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-

"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand

"It's not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.

A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.🫶🏽🎀

[heartz4levi]

your writing is so JUICY NGHFSHDDHDHGHH 🤤

waiter could i get a till x gn reader with face sitting pretty please shnookums :3 !!

remember to take care if yourself ! Ur very awesome !! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

in a moment, and i'm losing my mind!

☆ thinking abt till + face sitting . . .

☆ till (alnst) ,, gn reader . . no dom/sub dynamics established ,, face sitting ,, oral (reader receiving) ,, till is so in love with reader ,, worshipping if you squint ,, light hair pulling (till receiving) ,, cumming untouched (till receiving).

till would be over the moon if you ever decided to sit on his face.

first and foremost, he loves giving you pleasure. second, he loves giving oral. third, he loves being suffocated by your plush thighs. meaning having you sit on his face is an absolute dream come true for him.

till nearly loses his mind when you initiate it. one kiss turned into three, then it turned into a making out session. then his hands were roaming underneath your clothes and before he knew it, the two of you had discarded your clothes elsewhere within the room.

without any warning, you push till back, his back hitting the mattress below with a soft thud. his heart begins to hammer inside of his chest, face becoming a deep shade of red as you tantalizingly slip off the last article of clothing you still wore — your underwear.

truth be told, he wanted to take it off of you himself. but all protests die flat on his tongue the moment you inch closer. too close. till thought you were going to stop around his midriff area, but no. now he's face to face with your bare, eager hole and that only serves him to get even harder. because he already is hard, of course.

you don't even need to tell him anything. the expectant and playful look swirling in your eyes is enough for till to grab your hips firmly, anchoring them in place once he pulls you down onto his face.

his movements are eager, almost frantic. his tongue hurriedly darts out, collecting all of your arousal that already began to ooze out. the taste is heavenly, nothing comes close to it. he can smell you, your addicting scent in this position, and till feels like he's being intoxicated.

till doesn't waste much time on pleasantries before his tongue is already inside of you. he closes his eyes, fixating all of his focus on devouring you whole, on moulding your insides with his tongue despite knowing that he'll stretch them out with his cock later anyway.

the moans tumbling past your lips spur him on, much like the light tugging he can feel on his hair. if he opened his eyes he would probably cum on the spot — hell, he can already imagine the sight of you on top of him. head thrown back, pretty lips parted and chanting out mantras of his name, arching further into his face.

you really are going to be the death of him. till loves you with his whole heart, he knows you're the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with but god you're irresistible. maybe that's why he's already sloppily making out with your puckered hole.

a few muffled groans of his own rumble from within his throat, only providing you with more pleasure to get high off of. he's so immersed in the act, using his tongue on you like a man starved, as if you're his last lifeline. if you didn't know any better, you could say he's parched.

but no, till is just very, very enamored by you. and your hole. plus, it's not his fault that the two of you are in that position — you saw his reaction to it, if his eyes were as wide as saucers then how could he possibly be the perpetrator? regardless, till absolutely loved the stunt you pulled.

and he's going to thank you for that. oh, he will. him tongue—fucking your insides with fervor is plenty of proof to back that statement up, reaching spots so deep that you didn't even know they existed. well that's the magic of till, a man who knows he's good in bed.. at least when it comes to oral.

too good at oral. your brows knit together tightly, eyes screwing themselves shut and breathing becoming ragged. till dived in so fast, he's so enthusiastic, you can't even think straight. you really riled him up, huh?

a broken gasps is pulled out of your throat as you begin to feel a coil form in the pit of your stomach. it's tightening, fast. you scramble to tell till, to urge him to continue because you're so, so close. all that escapes you are a few incoherent but equally desperate whines, but till gets the gist of it nonetheless.

till opens his eyes, blessing them with the sight of you coming undone above him. bliss crosses your features, shining a light so much more breathtaking on you than any of the ones till has ever witnessed before.

the scene bestowed upon him, the sounds coming from you that can be compared to music to his ears, the taste of you as your orgasm comes crashing down on you.. it really is heaven. on a second thought, maybe it's better than heaven.

because he just came. untouched. he doubts the heaven everyone knows and probably loves could ever have that effect on him.

[tourettesdog]

Beta Reading and Fanfiction

I’ve been writing for a long time myself, but it’s only been very recently that I’ve immersed myself in communities online for it. I’ve been having so much fun really diving into Danny Phantom and DPxDC fanfic, and I’ve met so many great friends doing so.

I mostly do my own writing, but I’ve really enjoyed doing some beta reading as well, especially for friends! There’s something so fun about getting to dive into a work in progress and help where you can.

But I do feel like some people might really struggle to understand how to beta read, or what makes a good beta reader— especially where fanfiction is concerned. I’ve been extremely fortunate to have wonderful beta readers, but I’ve had some friends frustrated with the beta reading they’ve in turn received, or otherwise feeling uncomfortable in asking for a beta reader since they don’t know what to expect.

So, how should beta reading work? How do you do a good job?

Above all, the most important thing about beta reading is communication with your author. You are not in their WIP to prove how good of a writer you are, or to hammer their work into what you would personally be proud to present online. You are there to help, in whatever way the author has asked or communicated they're comfortable with.

Before you beta read anything it is vital to ask what the author is looking for in a beta reader. There are a number of things you can ask in particular, including:

What are you looking for help with?

Do you just want me to look for typos or confusing sentences?

Do you want suggestions for things to add?

Do you want suggestions on grammar, or other more in-depth writing suggestions?

Do you need help with characterization, or even the plot?

Depending on who you are beta reading for, you might have someone who only wants a very light beta touch. They might just want you to look for glaring mistakes, or for confirmation that a plot beat makes sense. 

Other authors might want something much more involved! They might be trying to improve their grammar, or perhaps they're not very familiar with writing a new character and they would like suggestions for how to better capture their voice.

Regardless of what an author wants in a beta reader, you won't know unless you ask them! It's possible that you simply might not be compatible as beta reader and author, depending on their answer, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's okay to step back and say "I personally like to beta read things more in depth than this, so I might not be the best person to give it a look."

Otherwise, getting an answer about your author's preferences can help you figure out how to help them. Perhaps you would normally make more suggestions, but if an author has specified that they're not comfortable with that, then it's not your job as their beta reader to do so. If you are capable of sticking to the help they've asked for, then you will ultimately be fulfilling your role as their beta reader admirably.

"But I'm just trying to help. Their work has a lot of places it could improve!"

Again, beta reading is not about shaping a story into something you would personally present as your writing. It is about helping the author produce a story they're comfortable with and proud of.

It's not about being right, or heavily criticizing their writing and grammar abilities (unless this is what the author has explicitly requested!)

Especially while writing fanfiction, the work presented is not something that will ever see publishing, or that needs to have flawless grammar and syntax. This is work done for free, and it is done for fun.

And that's something very vital to beta reading—

A beta reader needs to preserve the fun.

It's very daunting, putting your work out there for others. It's especially daunting putting your work up for analysis of any kind. You're accepting that people might not understand your vision, or may judge you for what you've written.

It's all too easy to compare yourself to other creatives online, and to overthink and overanalyze your talents. Too often, it’s easy to get discouraged and feel like your work isn’t good enough.

Beta reading should never be done in a way that will discourage writing. Even if an author has asked for a lot of help, it’s important to pick your battles with what you choose to analyze, and to check in with them if you feel like you might be crossing boundaries or covering their work in too much metaphorical red ink.

When people are trying to improve their writing, you don’t always have to mark every little suggestion you think of. Unless the author is a friend you know well, or has explicitly asked for Extreme measures of help, it might be best to ignore some smaller writing issues and focus instead on bigger things. 

If you’ve already marked a lot of issues in one paragraph, but have more things you could say, consider if the additional suggestions are vital or if it might be better to leave them be. After all, if your author is looking to improve, and if you are planning to beta read for them again in the future, then helping them with more glaring issues now will help them in a way that is not overwhelming, and will open the door for other kinds of suggestions to be better understood and absorbed. 

You can always check in with your author if you’re unsure, too. Ask them if they appreciate the amount of suggestions you’ve given them, or if it’s been too much. Your author might be uncomfortable with telling you that they’re overwhelmed, and checking in is a good way to ensure that you’re both on the same page.

All that being said, though, it is also important to not always focus on things to fix and improve. You’re not just editing the story, you’re reading it. Part of keeping beta reading fun is engaging in that story as any reader would. It both helps morale, and helps let the author know what they’re doing right, when you take the time to tell them what you enjoy about the work you’re beta reading!

There are so many ways you can express positive things about an author’s writing. Consider:

“I love how you phrased this sentence here.”

“This body language feels natural and very in character!”

“I love this word choice here.”

“This part was really funny and had me laughing.”

“I’m excited to see where this goes!”

You’re reading a story, and you must have thoughts and feelings on it outside of suggestions. Let your author know! People thrive on positive feedback, and there’s just as much to be gained in marking Positive attributes to a story as there is in noting places to improve.

The last major thing I feel is vital to beta reading is respecting that it is your author’s work, and that your suggestions (however clever or helpful you feel they are) may be rejected. And that that is okay. 

Suggestions are just that— suggestions.

What you might like in creative writing might not necessarily be what your author wants to express. You might love to use ellipses, or lots of different dialogue tags, while your author might prefer dashes and more standard dialogue tags. You might like to use more colorful descriptions of scenery and atmosphere, while your author might want to focus much more on the character body language and dialogue. You might like to use a lot of exclamation points and next to no italics, while your author might like a lot of italics and very little exclamation points. 

You’re ultimately two different people, with two different ideas of what is an ideal way to tell a story. And while you can give many different suggestions on just about anything the author might add, remove, or change, it’s ultimately the author’s choice whether or not they accept those changes.

It’s not your job as a beta reader to double down and insist that they accept a specific suggestion. It’s not your job to make a case for why you think they need to change something. If an author has denied a suggestion— it’s best to let it go. Especially if you don’t know them well, and don’t have a very good rapport with them, pushing the issue will only serve to make you both uncomfortable.

It’s not just about picking your battles, but also about mutual respect. You’re not a teacher, nor an editor looking to make their work prime for publishing. You have to respect their decisions for their own story, even if that means they decide not to take a suggestion you felt would be impactful. 

It’s also always important to keep in mind that writing style, particularly where creative writing is concerned, can vary wildly. The strict rules that you learn in school were made to be broken. You learn them to figure out how to break them and, particularly when writing for fun, it doesn’t even matter if you’re breaking those rules in a perfect way. It’s fanfiction. It’s freeform, it’s fun. If someone wants to make a habit out of going buckwild with their writing style, there’s really no reason to try and corral their writing into a box labeled “High School English 101”. 

You can’t force someone to write their fanfiction like it’s going to go to a letter grade, nor should you try to unless they’re looking for that level of editing. 

Be willing to listen, and pay attention to what is and isn’t working. It’s good to take note of suggestions that your author has already commented on. Have they thanked you for pointing out something in particular? Have they expressed they feel weak with something in their writing?

Is there a type of suggestion that you keep making that they have rejected multiple times?

Work with their strengths and with their style. Focus on suggestions that have been received well, and consider letting go of ones that the author clearly has no interest in, or that might conflict with their style.

Communicate and respect each other, above all else.

Beta reading is such a helpful and wonderful thing someone can do for an author. I’ve been so thankful to have it done for my own work, and I try my best to be helpful and considerate when I’ve beta read myself. 

Having my work beta read has really helped me find things to improve upon in my writing, and has helped me feel more confident in the stories I’ve posted, just having another eye look over them before they hit the internet. I don’t always take all of their suggestions, and might disagree from time to time with the direction they want something to go in, but I’ve been thankful to have understanding, kind betas that work with me well. 

And that’s one more point I want to touch on too, is that I hope that, as a beta reader, you find yourself with authors that show you mutual respect in turn. That they thank you for the work you’ve put in to help them succeed, and have made the experience positive for you as well.

It always makes me happy to see beta readers credited on posted works. It’s a kind thing for writers to show appreciation, and to acknowledge that someone helped shape the words you see on the page. 

This got much longer than I intended it to, but I just hope that this post might help some people in some way. Either to understand beta reading and the purpose of it, or how to potentially go about it themselves. 

I really recommend giving beta reading a try if you’re comfortable with it, especially if you have friends that write fanfiction! Even just an extra pair of eyes looking for typos can be a godsend for someone who has spent hours upon hours staring at a long fic and editing it.

[mingoooossii]

Soft spot.

Yeosang x reader ft. ateez

Synopsis: yeo introducing you to the other members<3

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, brief moments of anxiety w yeo but it's all good. Whipped! Yeosang and when i say whipped, i mean WHIPPED. He's so in love 😣. The reader is mentioned to be a university professor. And also Mother Hwa makes an appearance 🙏

A/n: this had me 🤧🥹😭 kicking my feet and everything. Men in love >>> Also my first time writing multiple characters so it might be a lil awk.

Words: 1.0k

Requested ♡

Ateez masterlist.

Yeosang stood at the entrance of the university, his eyes scanning the lively campus scene. He had never been one to immerse himself in such vibrant energy, but everything had changed, precisely six months ago.

He recalled that Sunday morning vividly when you entered his life like a literal ray of sunshine piercing through a dreary sky.

Innocent conversations had led to this, to him and you. You, who he considered his total opposite. You, who managed to break through his otherwise cloudy existence and you, who he had fallen for completely and hopelessly.

"Yeosang!"

A sweet voice pulled him from his reverie.

He turned to see you approaching, your bag in hand and a radiant smile lighting up your face. That smile sent a wave of affection through him. Though he typically shied away from public displays of affection, in that moment, he yearned to kiss you.

"Why are you looking at me like that? It's making my heart race."

You teasingly remarked, stopping right in front of him and linking your arm with his.

"Come on..." Yeosang murmured, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. His heart raced uncontrollably, or perhaps it was just the anxiety of the question he was about to ask you.

In that instant, he spotted a group of students strolling past, one of them calling out cheerfully, "Professor Y/n!" while waving enthusiastically.

You responded with a wave of your own, playfully adopting a mock serious expression that couldn't quite mask your grin. "Make sure you keep up with your studies, alright? I’ll know if you don’t!"

Yeosang observed the exchange, a soft smile gracing his lips. He had certainly noticed the admiration and respect in the students' eyes when they looked at you. You had a unique ability to connect with others, or perhaps this was always your world. And he was glad to be part of it.

"Oh, right! Didn't you have something to tell me?" you asked, redirecting your focus back to him as they continued walking.

"Yeah..." he replied, a nervous flutter coursing through him. Even though you had been together for some time, he wondered if he was rushing things. "My members... they want to meet you..."

He had envisioned that very moment countless times—introducing the love of his life to the people he considered family. Though he wasn't sure what to expect. Surely, they'd love you yet there was nagging feeling of worry in the back of his mind. And he wasn't sure what you'd feel about it...

"What?" You halted abruptly, spinning around to face him with eyes wide open, disbelief etched across your features. For a fleeting moment, he felt a pang of regret. But before he could take back his words, you interrupted him.

"Gifts... gifts! I have to get something ready for them!" you burst out, a trace of anxiety flickering on your face, yet the joy emanating from you was undeniable. "You should've told me this earlier!"

He watched as you rambled on, something about wanting to give a good impression and something about handpicking gifts, a wave of relief and warmth washing over him. Seems like he was worrying for nothing.

જ⁀➴

Or maybe not. Standing in front of his dorm room, his heart raced as if he were the one being introduced. He glanced at you beside him, feeling his nerves ease at the sight of your beaming smile. You definitely seemed more calm than him.

His gaze then shifted to the bag you held, a small smile forming on his lips. True to your word, you had spent hours carefully choosing gifts for the members, drawing from what you had learned about them from him. You were always so attentive and so particular about the small things, a trait that he adored so much.

Turning back to the door, he inhaled deeply before grasping the doorknob, twisting it open, and stepping inside.

"Oh, Yeosang...-" Seonghwa, who was lounging on the couch engrossed in his phone, glanced up and froze, realizing they had company.

"Hyung, this is...Y/n, my...my partner..." Yeosang introduced you with a tentative smile as you emerged from behind him, a bashful grin on your face. "Nice to meet you, Seonghwa."

A warm smile spread across Seonghwa's face as he took in your presence. You matched every detail Yeosang had shared. "It's great to finally meet you; Yeosang talks about you all the time."

You laughed lightly at that, while Yeosang's cheeks turned a shade of pink, though the fleeting embarrassment was overshadowed by the relief he felt.

Meeting the other members led to similarly warm exchanges. Seonghwa and San, in particular, took an instant liking to you. Wooyoung, thrilled to have found "his match," quickly opened up, leading to laughter and a strong connection between you two.

And as the afternoon wore on, he noticed the others starting to warm up to you too. Mingi and Jongho had began to partake in the conversations, the latter a bit more after finding out you had similar interests. Even Yunho and Hongjoong, who were bit on the sceptical side initially, could see why you were special.

Hongjoong exchanged a knowing glance with Seonghwa, both sharing the same sentiment.

Seonghwa cast a quick glance at Yeosang, whose gaze was locked onto you, like it had been the entire afternoon. The admiration in Yeosang's eyes sparkled brighter than anything else around.

A smile began to spread across Seonghwa's face. Yeosang was a gentle and soft-hearted, often a bit reserved person. Blame his motherly nature but as endearing as it was, it sometimes left Seonghwa with a sense of concern.

But now, Seonghwa realized he had discovered his sanctuary, his one true person. You undeniably brought out the joy in Yeosang, and for that, he felt immense gratitude.

"They're perfect," Seonghwa whispered, his voice laced with warmth, just loud enough for Yeosang to catch, as he reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring pat.

Yeosang turned to him, a wave of warmth enveloping him. Then, he shifted his attention back to you, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he watched you engage in a lively yet heated discussion with Wooyoung about something trivial. (Oh, Wooyoung...)

It was enamouring. He had not only found someone who loved him but also someone who fit effortlessly into his world. As if you were that final piece of a puzzle he had been searching for all his life.

And... you truly were. For this, he was eternally grateful.

[imagine-it-was-us]

something on my mind || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Purple Disco Machine x Duke Dumont x Nothing but thieves "Something on my mind".

Author's note: To fully immerse yourself into the story, I highly suggest listening to the song first. My first instinct to go back to writing after 7 years was highly inspired by the song and the idea of the music dictating the narrative. So here we are. Hope you like it. ✨

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: The two of them could not be more different. A loud, extroverted racer, and the shy, introverted graphic designer. Yet you can't control the spark.

Word count: 2.8k+

Lando’s life wasn’t meant to be simple and ordinary. He moved too much, changed cities like clockwork with brief moments of tranquility. F1 took him everywhere, yet because of that nowhere ever felt permanent. Don’t get it wrong. He simply adored his life, it was after all his dream. The constant buzz around him, the rush of adrenaline, the highest highs and the lowest lows. He enjoyed it all and never took it for granted. Yet living this particular dream has its cost.

That feeling of never being settled? It applies not only to the locations. It also does to people. It was easy to keep in touch with family or friends, it was all like second nature to them. But relationships weren’t easy to maintain. It is not like he didn’t try, but his last relationship was a complete disaster and had taught him that love didn’t fit neatly between airport terminals, paddocks and packed schedules. So now, he didn’t look for it. He didn’t want to get hurt like that again.

That’s what made one-night stands easy. There were no expectations, no heartbreak, no risk. No promises, no trust issues. It just provided the gratification he needed, blowing the steam off, as one could say. And he was purposely looking for the women, who were just like him. They didn’t ask questions and hold any expectations. They also didn’t stay.

And that’s how he ended up in another club tonight. He wasn’t a DJ—just a guy who knew enough about music to have fun with his friend, Martin Garrix, filling a gap in the setlist. Even though he enjoyed playing with music, everyone knew that this show was a one-off thing. Something to laugh about later. Standing behind the booth, watching a crowd move to the beat you controlled, felt good.

Then he saw her. 

She wasn’t the kind of girl who got noticed. And she liked it that way. She had never been the loudest in the room or the one who commanded attention just by walking in. She likes blending in the crowds and living her life from the sidelines. Yet as it happens to introverts usually, she was domesticated by rowdy extroverts, who teased her for it—Live a little, dance with someone, let loose for once.

She did dance. That was the only reason she had agreed to the club in the first place. Not for drinks, not for hookups—just the music. She had always found a kind of freedom in it, a way to exist without thinking too much. Just lost in the rhythm, in a world of her own, as if the music was the only thing that mattered. 

That night, she felt seen. She didn’t even know why she looked up. Maybe it was instinct, the pull of something invisible. But when she did, he was there. Watching her.

A stranger behind the DJ booth, but not like the others. Somehow he wasn’t showing off, wasn’t scanning the crowd for attention. He was just there, hands moving effortlessly over the decks, looking straight at her. Her breath caught.

Lando experienced the same thing. When she looked up at him, really looked, something in his chest tightened. For a guy who kept his heart locked behind logic, something about that made his pulse stutter. The moment stretched as the bass thrummed between them; for a second, it felt like the entire club faded away.

Then she looked down. And the moment was gone.

Martin coming to the booth caught Lando’s attention for a split second and once his focus shifted to the crowd again, she was already slipping away, vanishing between shifting bodies, just another face in the blur of neon lights. Frustrated, he tells himself it was nothing. A passing moment. A trick of the lights.

So he tried to let it go and let the night play out like it always did. Drinks. Another girl. A half-hearted hookup in a darkened corner of the club, taking her to his hotel room. But the second it was over, he felt it—that hollowness, the restless edge in his chest.

He knew exactly why.

Later at night, staring at the ceiling, with a nameless woman sleeping calmly by his side, Lando couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let something slip through his fingers. Not in a grand, romantic way—but in a what if way. A nagging curiosity. A voice in the back of his head whispering: Did she feel it too?

He told himself he was being ridiculous. It was just a passing moment. A look across the crowd. But then why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? And was she dreaming of him?

________

Imagine his shock when going through the streets of Barcelona, he saw her again. Not at the club, but in a quiet bookstore café, tucked into a corner by the window, with her full attention on the computer screen in front of her. There were no flashing lights, no pulsing bass—just her in her world, while headphones blocked out the outside buzz.

The second he saw her, something in his chest shifted. She wasn’t dancing now, but she still looked lost in another world. And this time, he was not going to let her disappear.

She flinched and gasped when she saw the cup of matcha appeared in the empty space on the table right in front of her. She stopped her favorite playlist and the gaze immediately shot to the one carrying it.

Her first instinct was to assume he had the wrong table. Maybe he was meeting someone else and just placed the drink in front of her by mistake. But by looking at his face for another second, she realised that she knew him. Not in the way that counted, but in the way you remember a face when it stands out from the blur of a night. He was the DJ from the club. The one she had locked eyes with for just a second too long before vanishing back into the crowd.

What was he doing here? More importantly, why was he standing in front of her like he remembered her, too?

“Hey,” Lando said, leaning against her table as she was pulling the headphones away from her head. “Saw your empty cup and thought you might wanna refill.” He explained when her eyes went from his face to the hot beverage. But selfishly he wanted to bring her attention back to him. “You ran away the other night.”

Her brows furrowed and she felt her stomach flip. “What?”

“The club,” he said. “You looked at me. Then you ran.”

She flushed and felt her cheeks starting to burn. “I—I didn’t run.”

“You disappeared,” he countered, while swiftly pulling away an empty chair from another table so he could sit right in front of her. “Felt a lot like running.”

She hesitated, then exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t really do clubs.”

“Yeah, I figured. So why were you there?”

“My friends.” She shrugged while closing her laptop. She felt that this conversation might be a little bit longer than just a quick chit-chat. She will deal with her responsibilities later. “I just wanted to dance. I didn’t expect… anyone to notice me.”

Norris studied her for a beat. Shy. Reserved. The opposite of the girls he usually ended up with. But there was something about her quiet confidence, the way she had felt the music that night, that intrigued him more than any of the loud, fleeting distractions he was used to.

“Well, I did.”

She bit her lip, then asked, shifting attention from herself. “You’re a DJ?”

He laughed. “Not even close. My friend shoved me up there for a set. I just went along with it.”

She tilted her head. “So what do you actually do?”

And just like that, conversation shifted. She thought he would be the kind of guy who only knew how to flirt in half-truths, but instead, he talked. Really talked. About his job, his travels, how he ended up behind that booth on a whim. The more he talked, the more flustered and surreal she felt. She had a literal millionaire sitting right in front of her, who could have been doing anything he literally wanted. And somehow he ended up sitting in her favorite cafe, chatting her up. And he showed the interest that she wasn’t expecting – even though she tried to talk about herself as little as possible, he persistently asked her about her days, what she was doing for living, about the kind of music she actually liked, about things that had nothing to do with the place they had met. When Lando realized that she had been living in Barcelona for a while and since it was just another stop before another grand prix, he asked her if she could find some time to show him the city. 

The connection was born and both of them were eager to further explore it. 

____________

Ten days passed quicker than any of them expected. Lando saw her every chance he got, whenever she wasn’t working and he was done with the meetings and practises. Their meetups had no expectations. No pressure. Just stolen moments—late-night drives with the stereo turned up, quiet dinners where he learned how she hid her laughter behind her hand when she was embarrassed. With every glance, every unexpected touch, the feelings were growing deeper.

Her heart was doing somersaults trying to warn her not to fall for his charming and immersive personality. Especially now, when she knows how his daily life looks and that his days in Barcelona are counted. Also, of course, once he said his name and his occupation, it took her less than 5 seconds to find countless articles online about him and his lifestyle. Parties, rumors, links to several different women. His world seemed so distant to her and on paper it would be difficult to find two people who are as opposite as the two of them were.

And yet it was hard to believe everything she saw online when she had a breathing and living example right in front of her. During their week together there weren't any acts of sheer extravaganza. He always chose to lay as low as possible. Instead of taking her to expensive restaurants trying to impress her, he asked her to take him to a pub that would repel any tourist, but was so loved by locals. As much as he claimed to love speed, somehow he ended up with the slowest rented convertible. Even though there were longing looks and accidental touches that seemed to last a little bit longer than necessary before one of them would pull away, he never pushed her and never threw himself on her or even asked her if she was feeling something.

And that was down to two things. Firstly, Lando believed that good things always required time. It didn’t matter that he was indeed hooked by her presence every time they met, but he knew that acting on his desires might simply turn it into another meaningless and awkward fling. And he most certainly didn’t want that. And secondly, as closed up as she was to the rest of the world, Norris saw her opening up just a little bit more every time they texted or saw each other and as cocky as it sounds, he knew that she felt it too. He knew that it was rational to give it a little bit more time.

Yet time wasn’t on their side as it was Sunday night after the grand prix and he had a plane to catch in the morning. He was still buzzing from placing second, but the happiness was overshadowed by looming goodbye. They walked in comfortable silence, the city humming softly around them. The celebrations had faded, but neither of them seemed in a rush to end the night.

She glanced at him—his hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted toward the sky like he was trying to freeze this moment in his memory. He seemed so out of place in these quiet and empty streets further from the action, but yet somehow he fit here. With her.

This was the part where she should start pulling away. She knew how to do it – keep things light, make a joke, pretend none of this meant more than it should. It was easier that way.

She had spent years perfecting the art of being just enough. Just friendly enough to blend in, just open enough to avoid too many questions. People rarely noticed when you kept your answers vague, when you laughed at the right moments, when you never let them see the parts of you that meant something.

But Lando noticed. Not in a way that was prying, but in a way that made it feel safe to be honest. And that was dangerous. Because honesty led to attachment. And attachment led to expecting things that were never really yours to begin with.

“You should be celebrating tonight,” she said, nudging his arm lightly. 

Distraction. Distance. The only tools she had left.

He seemed too deep into his thoughts and she had a strong feeling why he was in that state. Yet she didn’t want to seem cocky or push the forced narrative. 

Lando exhaled a short laugh, shaking his head. “I am.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her. The streetlight above them was casting a soft glow, making everything feel strangely surreal and intimate.

“You know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “you’re a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

She blinked, surprised by the blunt expression. “Excuse me?”

“You,” he repeated, taking a step closer. “Making me enjoy slow drives and quiet nights when I should be focusing on my job.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. He knew from the get go that she couldn’t be further away from his typical life. And yet he accepted it with open arms. “You know, you had a free will to do whatever, right? Now you’re making it sound like I ruined you.”

His mouth quirked into a smirk, but his eyes gave him away – there was something deeper there, something hesitant but real.

“Maybe,” he admitted, voice softer now. “Maybe you just made me realize I want more than what I usually get.”

That did something to her chest, twisted it in a way she wasn’t ready for. She wanted to make a joke, wanted to deflect – but instead, she just looked at him, just like the first time in the club.

And he looked back. This time he wasn’t going to let her gaze go, still low key thinking that she would somehow simply disappear. Neither of them moved. Neither of them had to. The weight of unspoken words filled the air between them, stretching the moment just long enough to make it unbearable.

Lando inhaled sharply, like he was about to say something – then changed his mind. Instead, he just reached for her hand.

It wasn’t forceful, it wasn't desperate. Just an unvoiced question. Are you going to let me in?

She exhaled slowly. She knew that she could simply walk away from this. Right now, if she chose to ignore it, she would probably never see him again and the only proof of the last couple days would be random selfies on her phone and his presence would linger for a while in her favorite places around the city. But when he looked at her like that, she felt the sense rare sense of fuck it filling the air. And instead of answering that lingering question, she closed the space between them. It took a blink of an eye for Lando to meet her halfway.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, it wasn't perfect. It was something in between – a slow, careful exploration of something neither of them were ready to name. Of something so fragile that any rapid movement could break it. When they finally slowly broke apart, Lando let out a low chuckle, shaking his head and finally exhaling as if he was holding his breath this whole time.

“Well, damn.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes, feeling the sense of ease rushing through her. “Don’t let it get to your head, Norris.”

“Too late, there's already something on my mind.” His thumb brushed absently against her wrist before he finally – reluctantly – let go.

The moment lingered, heavy but not unbearable. No promises. No dramatic confessions. Just the quiet understanding that this wasn’t over.

And somehow, that was enough.

As they started walking again, neither of them spoke. But as the streetlights flickered above them, their hands brushed once more. And this time, neither of them pulled away.

[fraugwinska]

I swear your stories make my heart skip beats❤️🩷❤️🩷 I need some soft spicy Alastor x Female Reader. Maybe a Morning After scenario with Alastor and the reader (waking up together, being soft and cute. Kisses and stuff and maybe a slight continuation of last night😏😏)

After the last stories I was EAGER to write your request, my dearest @alastor-simp. I've accepted my rank as fluff fairy, and I oh-so-love to write these cute, tender moments!!! Thank you for this ask, I hope I did it justice!

For the best experience, I suggest to listen to Ingrid Michaelson's "Love is', which I imagined the radio to play in the story (and listened to while I wrote it)

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

We only have Forever

The birds in hell weren't like anything on earth – their songs were not sweet and melodic, but rather ominous and melancholic.

Which is why, when you were woken by an unusual, bright chirping sound, you thought for a split second you were alive again, waking up from an intense, unusually immersive dream.

You shifted, cheeks still pressed into the white, soft pillow and body messily wrapped in cotton sheets, too drowsy to realize that the chirp was not coming from birds, but the little, vintage radio that sat beside the bed in. It quietly came to life, the search for a channel resulting in high, pitchy squeaks and fuzzy static feedback. Which was always the tell-tale sign of a waking Alastor.

The arm around your waist twitched, causing you to sigh peacefully. Your lids fall close and you let it pull you back into the center of the bed, into a warm, waiting body - a soft chest, thinly covered in silky taupe fur that tickled your nose, an underlying, hearty scent of wood and vetiver and the familiar rhythm of another heart drumming against your ears.

You left your eyes closed, relying on the most comforting senses of touch, hear and feel, the latter came into use as the sensation of sleepy, light kisses on the crown of your head that caused your lips to pull into a blissful smile.

"Mornin' my buck."

"Good morning, my doe."

His voice was nothing more of a mumble, still lazy and half asleep, hoarse and slightly deeper than when up and about. When he finally seemed to have picked a radio station he liked, the room was filled with a soft, dreamy song which suited the very same ambiance that was present - happy, in love, slow, silent bliss. It was one of your favorites, and one of the few more modern ones Alastor tolerated.

He ran his slender fingers up your back and shoulders, through the disheveled masses of hair, stroking it gently with his sharp talons, scratching ever so lightly on the scalp. He pulled himself a little more forward, tangling his legs even more with yours in an effort to maximize the connection of your bodies and minimize the space that span between you.

"Hey, easy now or I'll think you're afraid I'll jump up and leave as soon as my eyes open." you teased playfully, as Alastor nuzzled his nose deep in your hair, taking in deep breaths, inhaling your scent and humming in content.

"I had hoped after all my efforts tonight you wouldn't be able to even if you tried, darling."

You flicked his ear in fake indignation, but chuckled and raked your fingers over his back in soft, tender streaks, your fingertips gliding over his spine and sides. He shivered under your touches and melted deeper into you. A rhythmic, shuffling sound joined in with the faint tune from the radio, and Alastor groaned when you purred in lofty pride.

"Damned, traitorous thing...", Alastor scowled, trying to evade the hand that reached for his wagging tail under the sheets.

"Don't you talk like that about my precious friend.", you cooed and caressed the plush fur on his lower back, scratching with nimble fingers close to the base of his tail, the very spot where he was extremely... responsive. Alastor just growled again, missing any angry or mad edge, his tail continuing to thump louder and even quicker and causing him to whine as he failed to stop its excited sway.

"It betrays me."

"No, it only tells me that you're happy."

Alastor tilts his head to brush his lips over your own, almost not touching, a tiny, bittersweet distance between his and your mouth.

"If it's that much more of a conservationist for you, maybe I should stop talking then."

With a faint, sighed chuckle he finally closed the agonizing gap, lips met lips in a slow and flowing embrace, moving almost at the tempo of the song, it's calming beat guiding the cadence and harmony of his kiss. You felt him smile, more relaxed and at ease that his usual signature grin, even though your eyes were closed shut in drowsiness and enjoyment. The slow, lazy, fullness of this morning's intimacy, of your bodies so closely pressed together in ruffled sheets while hell's sun was only slowly rising on the horizon, making out and embracing each other without the need to rush or be somewhere in another hour or so was a rare occasion and therefore worth savoring.

His hands traveled over your hips, up your waist to settle in a gentle, cradling grip around your neck, fingertips grazing the outer edges of the delicate bite mark still there as a reminder of the contrasting feverish passion you both shared last night. With Alastor - It was war and peace, in a circle - hard, unforgiving, passionate desire at the beginning of dusk, and soft, tender and sensual love at the break of dawn. A clash of burning flames and gentle streams, all on an even ground of equals.

You sensed the slight change in the mood, the licks over your parted lips with the warm tip of his tongue soon turned to be deep and demanding, less lazy and more eager movements from his tongue - exploring the insides of your mouth, playfully flicking yours and circling around and between your teeth. His large hand left it's spot in the crook of your neck and pulled on the base of you head, sinking his digits in the tuft of your hair. You moaned softly into the kiss, more of a wanton, sloppy sound rather than anything else and you started to grow flushed, your skin tingling pleasantly under every touch and lick and nibble.

You deeply enjoyed the roughness and depravity you shared in the nights, you really really did. But this, this was what you loved. It was when Alastor wasn't starved for you, endlessly hungry and hasty to devour you but when you were a well prepped meal, slowly cooked and seasoned with care and love that you felt the most powerful connection of your souls - his touches were careful and secure and when he held you in his arms like this, kissed and adorned you like that, every and any gesture or caress spoke so clearly the sentence he had captured your heart with - you are mine and only mine.

"You are saying an awful lot with that body language for someone who wanted to stop talking, my buck." Alastor laughed fondly at your husky breathed words, rolling you on top of him, sheets sticking to the planes of your bare bodies. You threw a leg over him to sit in a straddling position, your face a mere few inches above his as he rolled his hips and swayed your body against his growing length.

“That's the beauty of a loophole, my doe, for no spoken words could express me quite as honestly as this."

Alastor kissed you once more and, now grinning as devilishly as you were used to, let his hands find rest on your hips, ready to start one more of those heavenly nonverbal conversations before you both had to ready yourselves for the hellish world outside of your bedroom.

Again, thank you for suggesting this. And a big shoutout to @minkdelovely, who made my heart skip with her article on 'Pictures of you'. The fluff fairy had you in mind with this, too ;>)

[michanvalentine]

I just read a post here on Tumblr. I don’t feel like making some elaborate speech—because I’m lazy. And honestly, it would be pointless.

All I’ll say is this: in a massive game like BG3, reducing a character to a single narrative arc—especially an evil one, and especially when the vast majority of first-time players tend to take the hero path—would be a huge mistake.

If that were the case, Astarion would make no sense in any heroic playthrough and would just get staked at the first opportunity. Or maybe a little later, especially if you’re playing consistently. All morally ambiguous characters in BG3 follow the same good/evil final pattern: either they stay on the path forced onto them by others (almost always abusers), or they break free and carve out their own.

It’s literally the theme of the game, for fuck’s sake—you don’t need a degree to get it. Even the song “I Want to Live” is about that. They’re designed to reflect the player’s choices and playstyle, to be adaptable so that everyone—especially players who are morally thoughtful—can enjoy them and face meaningful dilemmas.

I honestly can’t understand this need to strip Astarion of all his nuance, inner contradictions, strengths, and his potential to be something else—and flatten him into some monstrous, evil being who wants nothing but blood and power. It’s so frustrating.

I mean, seriously—the devs and writers busted their asses to deliver an immersive, complex, and emotionally layered experience, and despite all of that being crystal clear in the game, people still insist on chopping off pieces of it to make a version of the character that fits their narrative—but which is, in truth, just a mutilated shell.

And no, this has nothing to do with which of Astarion’s arcs is better, cooler, or more “valid,” for the record. People can play however the hell they want.

What it does have to do with is the absurd assumption that he has no alternative to ascension. That he has no duality. That he isn’t as adaptable as the others, and that he’s some kind of monolithic character who—unlike literally every other character in any media ever—has no arc of transformation, no narrative development, no complexity.

And that’s such a ridiculous thing to even think, especially when you consider that Astarion is one of the companions who clearly received the most attention from the dev team. Seriously, at that point it’s just another slap in the face to poor Wyll, who’s out there being completely forgotten.

Sometimes it feels like Astarion fans themselves throw out bullshit takes just to piss off other Astarion fans. I’m relatively new to the fandom and this stuff still leaves me speechless. There’s a difference between talking about preferences and headcanons, and talking about facts.

People even go as far as speaking on behalf of the devs—what they supposedly intended or didn’t intend during the design and writing process. Like… really? You’re in their heads now? Everyone’s a Mind Flayer when it suits them, huh?

[androdetective]

As a poc, I have a complicated relationship to vbros. On one hand, the world is really immersive and the characters can be really great, on the other hand it is a very white show and has a racism problem. Many of the white characters have done racist things when characters have gotten punished or killed for less. There's also barely any side characters of color. And even then, many jokes get made at them regarding their races, because they're not seen as the norm. Also because it's an adult swim show made by white guys.

Off the top of my head, there are 4 side characters of color (Orpheus, Jefferson, Kano, and Dr Z). If we want to be generous, we could include Al. Maybe even Triana with her being biracial, albeit entirely passing as white. Even with those characters, Orpheus became whitewashed over the years.

However, ironically enough, he's the best written character of color. He's a very nice, multifaceted character. He's even become a fan favorite. He's also had no racist comments made towards him in the show. Which was a pleasant surprise. Especially since he lived on the compound with Rusty of all people. As happy as I am with that, it feels off because why did they spare only him but not others? I'm not sure if his race was ever figured out as the writers. It never got brought up, unlike other characters. I won't lie, that gives me a feeling they didn't write him as a brown man in mind. If they did write him with that in mind, he probably would've been written worse. It feels like they could only relate to him and made his character good by thinking he's white like them. Hell, they even projected their weird breakup feelings onto him.

With Jefferson, his character is a mixed bag. He's a cool character and very capable. He's a solid character, all things considered. It's just that he gets racist jokes thrown his way. And just, the show has one black side character, and they can't even act right. Why is racism, the hatred and otherness of one's entire existence, so funny. I noticed that each episode except one that he was in had at least one antiblack joke. That's an insane ratio. The worst joke was in the Halloween episode, where he was at the party. They specifically made his character open the door to a side character, red mantle, doing blackface. It was to make a shitty reference to some niche movie and just oh my god, can you stop being shitty white nerds for a second? People who think shit like this is funny makes me want to project years of racial trauma into their brains so that they could finally Get It. Again, this is the best black character they have, but they to make him go through cheap antiblack jokes.

At least with Kano and Dr Z their skin tones stopped being yellow. The other times we see characters of color are when they're background characters. They're either there to make a scene feel full or they're labor workers. The worst is when they were what I'd describe as background antagonists. One-off antagonists that aren't really villain villains. Moreso regular criminals. These tend to be depicted as black and latino. This was more common in early seasons and stopped happening over time. Which obviously great albeit bare fucking minimum, still doesn't change that it happened.

For a world that critiques the old mentalities from previous generations and even specifically denounces generational toxic masculinity. They don't say shit about the blatant racism of the Johnny Quest times they parody. And the times they try to, it's just showing racism and doing nothing about it. Princess Tinyfeet is the worst example of this. She's a blatant racial stereotype. Who for whatever reason, used to be married to Sgt Hatred, an American soldier. And Sgt Hatred is a whole can of worms.

With Dr Z who was apart of the Quest era, at least they tried to give him a character. The thing I will say is that he's voiced by a white guy (Publick) doing a stereotypical vaguely Eastern Asian accent. Something I wished when watching the show was for Dr Z to mention the old racist era he lived through, and maybe even how the present is still rough. The toxic masculinity of the era got mentioned, so why not that too. It would've been so obvious too.

I won't lie, a part of me is glad they didn't try to handle the racism because it would've been a horrible train wreck. I can get why they didn't delve too into it, they're white after all. I just wish there were more poc in the team and sensitivity writers because they were desperately needed. But for a show that can't even handle white women, I'm not surprised they can't handle people of color. For a show whose best thing they were able to tackle was toxic masculinity, I find it ironic how misogynistic they still were. Like quick, why were the side effects of misogyny that affect you 🫵 handled the best.

The thing is, if they did try to critique the racism, they'd alienate the audience, and it'd also be strangely hypocritical of them. Venture Bros'/Adult Swim's main audience is white cishet men. The ones least affected by bigotry. They're able to laugh at bigoted jokes, and they're the most marketable people. White guys will appeal to other white guys. In the early 2000s, white creators were able to get away with much more. Not because it was alright but because it was easier for them to shut down minorities calling them out. Despite how "normal" it was, that doesn't change how that fed into a very toxic, bigoted culture. Despite today still being hellish for minorities, it was even worse just a couple of years ago.

Venture Bros obviously did not invent racism/bigotry. The show is very much a product of their time and environment. And whenever I think about that, it feels draining. Especially having had to live through the 2000s. The show can be amazing when it wants to be. There's so much potential and a lot of charm and character. I really enjoy it, and that's why I'm so critical of it. Not only because I want it to be better but because I want something better for fans of color. We barely get anything, and the least we should get are characters that look like us and are respected. Just like their white counterparts. It's like, how am I supposed to feel when Sgt Hatred gets redeemed and made a main character before we got a character of color that didn't face racist jokes/got whitewashed. Or even before we got a female character whose existence didn't hinge on their relationship to a man. Obviously, the show doesn't hate people of color. They've tried to better over time, which again great. But it barely felt like they respected poc enough.

With the movie, despite its own problems (not helped by Adult Swim screwing them over), you could tell they were trying. And it was really appreciated. Jefferson had a big spotlight, and there weren't jokes against him. We even got to know a bit more about him. It was genuinely his best. Ignoring Orpheus still looking like he's in a perpetual state of winter, that aspect of the movie was alright.

I'm very glad to see fans who are critical of these aspects. It makes me more happy seeing them vouch for poc. However, there's still a large majority that ignores or even excuses the racism. Unsurprisingly, these tend to be the white dude bro fans. But I've seen even the more liberal fans excuse/ignore stuff. The fanbase is very white, just like a lot of other fanbases. I can get why a supportive white person feels they wouldn't be best to call out the show's shit. I just wish they'd mention it more with a simple "oh there's xyz in this episode and it wasn't alright." Something as simple as that carries a lot of power in very white environments. Also, of course, uplift other fans of color, especially when they talk about or face racism. Things as simple as that make me breathe sighs of relief. It personally encourages me to interact with communities more.

I'm unsure of how to close this off. This feels like a topic you could talk about all day. All I wish is for things to be better, you know? Hopefully this all makes sense. I just wrote shit off the top of my head. I'd love to hear thoughts expanding or adding on to stuff. Really hope this reaches the right people

[dimonds456-art]

PLEASE GIVE US THE OLD MAN RAMIREZ LORE!!!

GLADLY

I have two other asks like this and I wanna answer them each independently so get ready fghdsjka

Soos worked alongside Dipper in the 80s, at first acting just as a friend and adventuring partner. While Dipper moved to Gravity Falls, Soos is a native and working as a janitor in the elementary school at the time.

They met at the arcade, where Dipper was trying to find a ghost haunting one of the machines, and he found very quickly that Soos was not only a good partner, but also a good friend. They bonded pretty fast after that.

Dipper was mostly chasing ghosts, but he would take interest in other anomalies as well, leading him to writing down and sketching this weird grafiti he found in a cave once, then translating it once he got home. While he heeded the warning not to read it aloud, Soos... didn't. Dipper yelled at him over it, fearing the worst, but then nothing happened, so whatever. Weird cave drawing.

That night, Soos meets Bill Cipher.

Bill was not as patient as he was with Ford in canon. Here, he told Soos about a dimension with all the answers only a couple months into their friendship, IF that long. Soos had the technical know-how to build it, and Bill gave him the blueprints one at a time in his sleep. Then, to avoid suspicion since they both knew Dipper would assume Bill was a malicious entity, Bill had him put those blueprints outside Dipper's door for him to wake up to, making him think a cryptid was helping him, thus giving him confirmation bias about that other dimension of weirdness.

Portal test happens, Soos gets pulled through, and he puts two and two together. He tells Dipper immediately about what he saw, which lead to him confessing everything. Dipper rightfully got mad at him for lying, which caused Soos to run. But at this point, he'd made a possession deal with Bill, and Bill uses Soos' body to torment Dipper.

Soos, wracked with guilt, immerses himself in the arcade. He plays games in a form of avoidance, eventually getting addicted to them as McGucket did the memory gun.

There is one game in particular, however, that was more addicting than the others. I'm picturing it as a bit of a sim, which IS strange for an arcade. This game talks directly to Soos, telling him that life would be better in a video game, to which he agrees. Things tend to just work out that way.

Over the next few months/years, the game takes pieces from Soos and transfers them into the game itself. Soos doesn't notice at first, only feeling more and more lost and depressed, especially after he goes to check on Dipper only to find him missing...? And yeah, of course he wants to search for his friend, but he not only doesn't trust himself anymore, but he also feels that pull back to the cabinet and just makes his situation worse.

After a while, the game asks him again if he would like to become a video game, to which he says yes. The game then offers to transfer the rest of him inside, and Soos freaks out. He didn't mean it literally, even if it still doesn't sound too bad...? But the change freaks him out too bad, and he refuses.

The game tries to do it anyway, resulting in a torn sense of self. Old Man Ramírez is that result, his entire life being viewed as a video game. He's unable to take anything more seriously than one would a plot point IN a game, and he often dissociates and daydreams when he's not actively running around looking for loot.

See, it turns out the ghost Dipper was looking for way back when? The ghost they caught was unrelated. There was still a different ghost inside the arcade machine, a ghost named Giffany. And Giffany refuses to let Soos go.

This brings us to modern day, when the Stan twins find out that Ramírez worked with the Author. They are able to figure out that Soos is in the machine, and dive in to look for him. Once they do find him, he rejects the machine and declares he's never gonna play a game again, before backtracking and admitting he might every now and then, but never to the point that he stops living again. They all escape, and though Soos is still extremely disoriented and needs to re-learn how to be a person, he starts being able to heal.

And yeah, in that "episode," part of the B plot is that everyone else's bodies are running around, reduced to their basic personalities intertwined with video game tropes. So like, Stan loves adventuring and causing trouble, so he just starts doing that and "scoring points" while doing it. Ford, who loves mysteries, starts basically dong escape rooms. Idk who else is there but Grauntie Mabel is trying to keep all the bodies together to make the transfer back easier.

Basically, instead of the memory gun, it's video games, and specifically Giffany. Soos becomes avoidant, thinking Dipper doesn't wanna see him, and feeling incredibly guilty over the Bill thing. His soul basically split from his body and it's kind of a metaphor for getting lost in the sauce, for lack of a better phrase fdshjk