#for all two people who care about both of these things

[creatingblackcharacters]

“The Ambiguously Brown Character™”- The Attachment to Eurocentric Beauty Standards

“maybe im petty but i wish people knew how to draw like different nose shapes. Sometimes I’ll see a character I like but im like that is not what their nose would look like.” @the-eldritch-it-gay

You’ve seen them before. The one character that has brown skin… And everything else about them is… an enigma. They’re not supposed to be white! You know that much… right? You can see what the designated white characters look like, so at least it’s not that. You could claim them as Black, if you want, and sometimes creators even demand that this character is Black. Depending on the quality, you’re either like “no, what the fuck is this” or you’re like “okay they’re cool, we’ll take them”. Representation is important. But… There’s a pit in your stomach that wonders… Are they really? Are they really supposed to be Black, is this really representation, or did the creators just toss a brown person in so all the Brown™ people could “have something”, so that they would look like they cared about “diversity” on their art resume?

Examples

Theseus, in my opinion, looks like a white man with a tan. Dionysus looks a little better with the similar skin tone, due to his purple hair coloration. Apparently people do think that at least Dionysus is a man of color. What’s interesting about both of these characters, is that they’re only about two desaturated browns lighter than Patroclus, a character in the game that we’re supposed to believe is Black (whom, in my opinion, also looks like a brown bucket tool character. I’m still claiming him, he’s my guy. But his design should have been more explicitly Black). Theseus and Patroclus are the two darkest-skinned dead humans in the first game. So… what was I supposed to think about these two? Was I supposed to think they are really dark white people, due to the thin textures of their hair? Are they men of color? Are Theseus and Patroclus supposed to be ashy because they’re dead, is Dionysus ashy because he’s dehydrated from wine? Why don’t the white dead people look off color? Hades was entirely too striking a game in use of color for the browns to look like… this.

Noe and Hibana are interesting. It was complete coincidence, the purple hair and eyes thing btw. Hibana is interesting because Ogun is an unambiguously Black character in Fire Force, and there are at least three other unambiguously Black characters in Soul Eater as well. So we know the mangaka knows how to draw Black people in their style! So… was this on purpose? Is this another of those ‘tanned anime girls with titties’ meant for shounen fan service? I’ve claimed Noe (Case Study of Vanitas) because Black French people exist and France has stolen so much from us already, but it is never actually specified what Noe is. He’s just the One Singular Brown Guy in this show, with regular, untextured anime hair. Are there more brown people in the manga? Is this explained? Because we know who is supposed to be white! If anyone else wants to claim Noe, they absolutely can, because we have no idea what he’s supposed to be. Hot Chocolate thinks he’s Indian, and I’m not going to argue that because… who knows! He very well could be!

My very first lesson addressed this, albeit lightly! There’s a reason that I said that if you gained nothing else from me, that’s what I want you to walk away with. Now that I’m on stronger footing with this blog, I can really get into the nitty gritty of what that really means.

Obligatory disclaimer: we are not a monolith!* As of 2015, it has been researched that African populations have the highest genetic variation on Earth*, with a lot of that genetic diversity in sub-Saharan Africa alone. This means that YES, there very well can and will be Black people with naturally thinner textures of hair, blonde, light brown, and red hair, straight, narrow noses, monotone lips, and lighter skin that comes more often with white people. There are enough genetic combinations within African peoples and of the African diaspora that I’m sure there are plenty of people that look the way people seem to want Black people in art to look, if those genes so express within them.

*as a scientist, I will say: while these papers seem fairly legit and I looked at many related articles and their sources, take Nature with a grain of salt. Though their vetting process has become much better, you can and should always do further reading on your own!

Here’s the thing: the possibility is not the issue here!

The first issue: I don’t have to teach anyone how to draw those features on Black people! It is evident, from the professional and fan art I’ve seen, y’all already know how to draw the features deemed highly by Eurocentric beauty standards. Those features are excessively focused on and promoted as part of “good art”.

The second issue here is that the average artist drawing a poorly done Black person is not considering things like genetic diversity when they draw them (and if they are, it’s usually as an excuse post-confrontation. Yes, I have seen it.) These creators are not designing these characters with the intent of them being Black with those features, they are designing “Black” people with features that they deem most aesthetic and are most comfortable with drawing.

And why do they deem those features most aesthetic? We’ve circled back to the point of this lesson!

Eurocentric Beauty Standards

Definition: beauty standards as defined through a white, western cultural lens, including but not limited to: straight, blonde hair, light eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones, narrow noses, thinness. It’s a way that white western people want other white western people to look to be considered classically attractive… and then enforced that on everyone else.

It affects people of color worldwide. Anyone that has ever had to deal with European colonization or imperialism has to deal with the interjection of Eurocentric beauty standards.

Examples

-Black women, standing at the intersection of Blackness and womanhood, especially deal with the constant pressure of Eurocentric beauty standards, being consistently told to hate ourselves due to our own ethnic features. It’s incredibly damaging to your self-esteem growing up; my mom told me that until I went natural at 17, I was determined to look ‘like a white girl’ because I thought it would make me beautiful, and it hurt her. And as for me, it was a stunning realization that at 17 that I had never really seen my own natural curl pattern before. My hair was in ponytails and such as a child, but as a teenager, growing into my identity, I had always wanted straight hair. I was in love with my coily texture, I couldn’t believe that I’d never seen it. An entire part of my own body, gone unknown, because I wanted to fit a beauty standard I would never reach.

-Kenneth and Mamie Clark: The “Doll” Studies: Black children- age 3-7 were shown white and Black doll babies, and were asked a series of ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ identification questions. Even by that young an age, most of the Black children associated things like beauty, kindness, and positivity… with the white dolls.

-“The Golden Ratio”: a survey was done in Britain (oh boy, here we go) to determine what people felt was the ‘most beautiful’ face, and apparently it all came down to “symmetry”. “International blueprints of beauty” they claimed, were applied, as humans “naturally seek symmetry”. In 2015, according to ye olde Daily Mail, this was the most beautiful woman. You'll never guess:

(It’s not even her natural hair color!)

-Another “research study” using E-FIT (Electronic Facial Identification Technique -- a facial recognition software used to create criminal profiles based on eyewitness descriptions; no WAY that THAT could get problematic!!) to determine what 100 people thought was the “most archetypal face of beauty”.

They came up with a figure similar to Kendall Jenner as the female option.

(Guys, we’re never getting out of here at this rate.)

-We’ve spoken about discrimination against Black hair before, and how natural hairstyles will be deemed less professional or appropriate for school, regardless of the brilliant mind that sits underneath it, and even the history of Black women having to cover their hair so as to “not steal the desire of white men” and ruin the status of white women.

Appropriation:

I try to have nuance on the Kardashians, but I have never liked Kylie, and it’s not because she’s not allowed to do what she wants with her body. I watched the world claim that she was so beautiful, that her kits were why her lips looked “so good”. Everyone wanted to have “full, plump lips” like the ones Kylie BOUGHT. But Black women’s full lips have been treated horrifically since racism was invented. In 2016 I watched racists dogpile and mock Ugandan model Aamito Lagum for her naturally full lips in her MAC campaign, after saying in just 2015 that Kylie’s lips were “top fashion and everyone wants them”. And she lied (not that we didn’t all know that)! She appropriated a look, and she lied about it to move product. And people who had no right to forgive her did so, and everyone moved on to make her a billionaire. Because full lips looked good… as long as they weren’t on a Black woman. I can’t even have my own lips, but she was rewarded with an industry for appropriation. No, I’m not getting over that.

I could go on, but I won’t. So what are some ways to address the existence of Eurocentric beauty standards potentially biasing our creation?

First thing: LET’S TRASH THE IDEA THAT BROWN SKIN AUTOMATICALLY MEANS BLACK.

Black people are not stupid, and we do have expectations. Splashing brown paint on your otherwise white character does not mean I’ll automatically think they’re Black. I’m going to look. When I see brown people in real life, I can usually tell when they don’t look like me. I don’t look at a South Asian similar to or darker than my shade and say “they’re Black”. Blackness is not just skin color, it’s an entire identity and sociological construct. Yes, you can tell us apart.

Acknowledge when you’re holding a bias:

For example: “Tall, dark, and handsome.” What did you picture? You must understand that different people had different ideas of what this meant, versus who it was actually meant to be. Because on its surface, that description includes tall Black men with dark brown eyes and dark hair! We’ve talked about this in lesson 3! Whoever came up with this phrase didn’t mean skin though, they meant hair and eyes- they meant white brunettes. Even in this, it was only meant to include whiteness. And we were all supposed to assume that, be damned anything else.

Part of that is knowing what things do and don’t fall under the category. They were listed off earlier: straight and wavy hair, blonde hair, colorful eyes, thin noses, high cheekbones, double eyelid with round eyes that “show youth and innocence”. People have been going the “aquiline nose” route lately to claim more diversity in nose shape but like… even that isn’t always going to be the case. Every Black person is not going to have an aquiline nose. It is not the “middle ground” of diversity. Draw us with some round noses. We look fine.

Often ignored (in depictions of Black people): afro/coily hair and natural styles, large, round noses, full faces, brown eyes, full figures that aren’t oversexualized, body fat. One of the characters from Craig of the Creek that makes me so happy is Nicole, Craig’s mother. When I look at her design, I see my own mother. I see a Black woman that… actually looks like Black mothers I know. It made me happy and comfortable.

White folk, you even do it to yourselves! I mentioned to a friend once that a good chunk of stories in our fandom with the blonde/brunette white character dynamic read like an Aryan fantasy: the blonde character will be treated like a god on high, the most beautiful of humanity, and then you’ll get to the brunette and it’s “my meek, mousy brown hair, my dull, brown eyes like dirt, and my tanned skin with freckles; no one would ever notice someone plain, nerdy, and unimportant like me until him” lmao like excuse me? Author, you okay there pal? Do you need a hug, lmao? I can’t take it seriously anymore. If y'all are being this mean to each OTHER about not hitting Eurocentric beauty standards, y'all are certainly not being nice or respectful about people of color- who never can- in your content! (and no, exoticizing Blackness is not respectful.) You should look out for how often this happens, and catch yourself when you’re doing it.

Creating with Intent (and the lack thereof!)

(This is so important I made the header larger)

You have to actually consider and reference REAL Black people when you’re drawing Black people. That seems like such an obvious thing, and yet it must not be, because these sorts of arts/the techniques used in them still happen.

For example:

credit to my friend @devilatelier; I asked for the worst Black art ever and he heeded the call!

I abhor art like this, and art that does varying versions of this. To the pit of my soul, hatred. I will not share your work if I catch even a whiff of it. Why? Because people know that this isn’t what we look like! If you get on the computer and type in “Black man with short hair”, option A is not even remotely on the first page. You’ll get nonblack men that show up, thanks to Google’s algorithm (another conversation), but the Black men don’t look like A. If you get on the computer and type “Black man with long hair”, you’ll even get Black men with all textures and styles of hair, including straight! And they still don’t look like B. Go ahead, I’ll pause- go type it in and see what you get. Have you ever seen a Black person that looks like these images? Be honest with yourself. Why do you let them slide, if you haven’t?

Why This Matters

So it’s not about the actual Black people in their lives that they’ve seen, that makes artists draw characters like this, nor a dedication to accuracy. Because if you were looking at us at all, you wouldn’t draw this. And yet, people draw it, and post it proudly. So there must not be any shame behind it, or they at least are comfortable enough with their target audience to think it’s presentable! That begs the question- who is your target audience, and do you include Black people in it?

It’s how people like Jen Zee can have a successful career at Supergiant despite drawing dark skinned people the way she does. It’s because studios recognize when their target audiences are not perturbed by, and therefore will still buy, their product. If poorly drawn Black people does not perturb audiences enough to affect the almighty dollar- or, in fanart situations, the value of popularity- then there’s no motivation to stop doing it! Who cares about the value and the demeaning of Black fans, right?

Think about it like this. You remember how everyone bullied the Sonic studio and they scrapped their entire reel? People do not get that much up in arms in solidarity about the antiblack treatment and depiction of Black characters. It’s how you end up with Wyll Ravengard on the drop of BG3. Because Larian could have stood on business, had some integrity, and said “this is a character we are going to develop, because there will be fans that look like Wyll, and deserve to receive our best efforts at inclusion.”

But instead, Larian said “this is what our majority fanbase wants, and apparently it is not a well-developed Black character” and released that game as it was. To rousing success. That was a choice. The antiblackness of both the fans and the studio, via their lack of concern about Black gamers, was involved in making that decision. We have to let go of the idea that antiblack racism is incidental, and not a part of the process- and that includes in character design.

I cannot tell you how much it shrivels my heart inside when I see a “Black” character with wavy hair. One, because I know the artist’s first thought was not to have a Black character with wavy hair, but because they draw white people with that hair and thought it was transferrable. Two, because if you wanted the aesthetic of hair down to the back… Locs could have worked! The same shape would be there! You can style locs in any way, and it would be fine! Even if you wanted them to have thinner hair, fine, but… I can see where the intent (and the lack thereof) is. We can see when you aren’t even trying for us!

I asked Angel how he felt about creating the “white man with the brown bucket” images, curious about how he felt given that he is more than capable of drawing Black people. His response was noteworthy, and consistent with my hypothesis:

“Thinking about it, these two drawings have been the most difficult thing I’ve had to draw, period. And it’s the first time I’ve actually felt nauseous during the drawing process from start to finish. I constantly felt like I was fighting off the part of myself that knew better, telling me that this is wrong. It felt like a betrayal, knowing what Black people actually look like and still choosing to be disrespectful. Especially because I worked on the first two and immersed myself in references and also Black youtubers, researching Black hairstyles. It felt like a betrayal to all of that to call these two (deliberately poorly drawn) characters Black, because they’re not. None of the Black people I found during my research (both photo references and videos) looked like these. at all. It felt cheap, it felt lazy. Creatively lazy in the way that you just take a white person and paint-bucket them brown and call it a day. In the way it makes you feel no pull to change what you do, or learn something new. Kinda like a thought terminating cliche. Unlike the first two, I used no references for them, but I mostly based them off of actual designs I’ve seen in fandoms, both fanmade and not.”

Conclusion

So what I want us to consider for now is: if we know that’s not what Black people look like, but so many people are willing to do and/or accept it without any mental dissonance… how much do they care? Why is this allowed to ‘pass’, if we recognize that it is not accurate, unless we think what we are being presented with is acceptable? Or at least, not worth fighting over? Why not? Why do you not think that this Black character deserves to be unambiguously Black? And why does that ‘better’ way to exist always come back to whiteness?

We’re going to get into this, as well as more into the other, more overt and equally harmful manifestation of these beliefs in the next lesson on Whitewashing! But I want you to simmer on this part, first.

When you draw a character that you want to be Black, not only should you keep in mind your intent of how you’re going to draw them, but it also means putting in the work to make sure you’re doing so. You do not put pen to paper and “accidentally” draw a white man lol, it came from somewhere- let’s shatter that connection that views white features as superior, as 'ideal for attention grabbing', so we can create better. Because remember, it is the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[irndad]

i wish i knew you wanted me - s.r.

a/n: okay this ended up being so so long forgive me!!! i hope you like<3 summary: based loosely on 'bad habit'. spencer got asked out by reader 5 years ago, when he was recovering from his dilaudid addiction, and turned her down. now, he's in love with her, and pining for her. also, jealous!spencer. she fell first, he fell harder. wc: ~2k

She’s very pretty. It’s distracting. Right now, she’s staring intently at his hands, and he feels hot under her gaze. It’s been a while since he’s done this, the little rocket trick, but she’s visiting the office, and Garcia had mentioned he’s a magician. 

“That’s incredible!” She exclaims, a giggle in her laugh, and he feels the swoop of his stomach, the butterflies of it all, “You got them so high up!”

“It’s just physics,” he laughs, meeting her warm gaze. Her smile is one for the ages. 

She’s here dropping off a file. They’ve known eachother a really long time, actually. She was an expert witness for them, once, years ago. She spoke with ease, both on the stand and in person. Equal measure kind and measured, and Spencer had adored her on first glance. They’d met when he was just getting clean from Dilaudid, and Spencer’s been in love with her since not long after than first meeting. That’s pretty much the only thing about her he wishes he could take back. 

He still has a hard time thinking about it, the fact that he met her when he was barely himself. Still, she’d been kind, listened to him talk and let the others tell her that he was…going through something. It was on his two month sobriety date (which she’d had no way of knowing) that she’d asked him out. 

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he replays the memory in his head. How she works just south of their office, and how they’d meet at the café nearest, and chat for an hour before calling a cab home. 

On the other side of the veil, he can picture that night, years ago now. How she’d looked with the snow kissing her nose, dotting the edges of her faux-fur hood. She’d stuck out her tongue to catch a snowflake, and he’d almost combusted and the adorability of it. 

“You look nice,” she’d said, although at the time he’s pretty sure he looked gaunt. He’d only recently started to gain the weight back- but still, her praise felt like stardust. 

“You look nicer,” he’d said back, gently bumping her shoulder as a fond gesture. Her little grin is well-worth how awkward they both look on the street.

“Listen,” she had said, stuffing her hands into her pockets, the size of the coat causing her hands to disapear from sight entirely, “I asked JJ and Morgan, and they said you’re not seeing anyone.”

“Oh, yeah. They love reminding me of that. Not everyone can be like Morgan and have dated half the western hemsiphere.”

He felt embarrassed, her watching him. It’s nice, but sometimes feels like staring into the sun. 

Her chuckle was nervous, not fully reaching her eyes. 

“You okay? 

“Yeah,” she swallowed again, before speaking, “I was wondering, um, if you might want to grab a drink with me?”

“Sure,” he’d replied back, amenably. He couldn’t tell why she looked so nervous, “I can’t really do hard liquor, though. Maybe we can invite the team.”

“No, Spence, I was wondering if you and I could go on a um, a date.”

And he’s frozen. Because this might be the second time he’d ever been asked out, and second, this might be his dream girl. She’s gorgeous and kind and she’s in front of him, asking him out. 

“I um,” his mouth was dry. He’d be a bad boyfriend. He was a recovering drug addict who already was bad at talking to people, and she lit up a room whenever she walked in. She finds him easy to be with, easy to care for and he’s bound to fuck it up. He couldn’t imagine giving that up because he was too greedy to take what he got. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He almost took it back with incredible speed, with that flash of disapointment on her lovely face, and the knowledge that it’s because she wanted him, before she quickly regained her speech.

“That’s totally alright! We’ll just be good friends, yeah?”

In the here and now, they are friends. Best of, really. And he made the right choice. He’d lashed out at Emily a month later in a withdrawl, and he knows that he’d have done the same to her, and now, she’s still in his life. 

The drawbacks of course, to being her friend, means she has dates. Boyfriends, as well, and he’s been a…friend, through it all. Good friend. She’s never suspeced him of anything more, of course, after he’d categorically rejected it. 

(Even though this rejection plays in his head all the fucking time, like a torturous groundhog day.)

She’s beautiful today, a blue blouse with a scarf lazily around her neck, and the way she’s leaning over his desk to see the  trick before she drops off her analysis. 

“Alright, Spence,” she says, her rose perfume wafting in the air prior to her hopping off the corner, “Did you need anything else? Today is my half-day, and Harry wanted to take me to Art Insititute.”

Harry, is the boy on rotation at the moment. Spencer has no impulse control and a super-computer expert best friend, so Spencer knows that Harry is 6’0 on his Driver’s License, and is a Financial Analyst. Spencer knows from her own mouth that this will be the third date, and that he’s a little boring but she’s attracted to the fact that he was direct and wanted to go out again. 

Low bar, but one Spencer couldn’t even clear. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

“That sounds fun,” he says, instead of saying that he’d love to walk her through the inscriptions on each art piece, love to kiss her in front of something thats’ beauty does not come close to her’s. “Are you thinking it might run long, or are we still doing the bookstore and TV at mine after?”

He’s been looking forward to this all week. He bought special marshmallows for her cocoa. He also htes to imagine her date running long. 

“Nah,” she smiles, “besides, he’s just some guy. You’re Spencer.”

Morgan doesn’t say anything when he looks down at his. paperwork, and scribbles instead of thinking, the best he can. 

________________________________

Don’t think about the fact she was on a date. Don’t think about how Harry might have got to kiss her. Just don’t bring it up. 

“How was the date?”

She shrugged, pulling at the spine of a hardcover novel. 

“It was fine. Like I said, he was kind of boring.”

“So why’d you go out with him again?”

“I dunno, Spence, I just… I want a boyfriend, you know? I want someone to want to be with me.”

She is so beautiful. She laughs with her whole chest, and she listens to his stories and chimes in with her own expertise. She has a voice that seems like it’s spun gold thread, and he’d give anything to kiss her. 

“I get that,” he says, instead of anything he’s thinking. She’s wearing brown lipstick, transfer proof. He’s in love with her. “There’s got to be guys lining up for a girl like you.”

“That’s a nice thought, Spence. Not the ones I’d like.”

___________________________

This thought haunts his evening, and when he parks and they start the walk-up to his apartment, a confession hammering at his throat, a physical urge. She’s giggling at some long physics joke he’d made, and he’s addicted to the soft bell of her laughter.

His apartment is small and lovely, and he enjoys having her in the small and dark of the night, the sun set over what he wishes were two lovers. 

“You are really pretty, you know,” he says, once she’s settled into his chest, a sick satisfaction of knowing Harry got a quick thank you text before she darted over to Spencer’s arms. 

“Thanks, Spencer. You’re a good friend.”

“Why do you always say that?”

“That you’re a good friend?”

“I’m not saying you’re pretty because I’m a good friend. I’m saying it because it’s true, and I enjoy saying true things.” 

“You don’t…I don’t know why you’re saying that, Spencer. We’re friends and I adore you and I’m here right now, but you don’t need to make it harder on me.”

She looks nervous, and a little disapointed. He wants her to know, that even if he’s missed his shot, she’s not going to be alone. He’s gonna spend the rest of his life hating whoever knew to take the best thing offered to him, but Spencer- he knows he is not going to be the last to love her. He grabs her hand without thinking, her doe eyes peering into his with some emotion he can’t pin down. 

“Hey, I’m not trying…to make anything hard for you. I don’t ever want to do that. I just… some day someone’s gonna see you and want to be with you and I’m going to watch it and know it was inevitable.” 

The words taste like barbed wire. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg, I’m ready now. I’ll do it right. 

Is that even true? Is it just that he wants her bad enough he’s willing to risk not doing it right?

“You’re so sweet,” she sobs, and oh, she’s crying. Just a little, but tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “You make it so hard to be your friend. And I know that’s my problem, that you’ve always been straight up with me. I asked you out and you said no, and I know that-“

“I know that I was too late, and freaked out about being with someone like you when I was still so fucked up.” they’re so close to eachother, he can smell her chapstick. His chest aches. “Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you. It was all me. It’s a train I missed that I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wishing I’d caught.”

He feels uncomfortably bare, even in the oversized sweater that she’d gotten him last Christmas, and that he’d pretended had been from his lover all of that week. But it’s important that she knows.

“What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

Her voice is small, so quiet he barely hears it. She threads her nimble fingers into his slender ones, and his heart is hammering. 

“I-I was on Dilaudid, or just barely off, you know- you wouldn’t want to be with someone like me. You asked me out when you didn’t even know that.”

“I know you now. Years worth of knowing.”

“And you haven’t asked me since.” 

“Spencer,” her voice is warm, rich like silk and grainy old music, and he wants to drink this image in, her fingers stroking the side of his face like he’s holy. He wonders if he’s dreaming, with how good she feels to be so close to. 

Ask me again, he wants to beg. I’m ready, now. 

“Spencer Walter Reid,” she says, properly holding his hand, bringing her soft lips to his hand, kissing his knuckle. He feels anointed, blessed by a higher power. “Could I take you out on a date?”

“Yes,” he says, finally. Five years of waiting melts away as he kisses her, warmth and light seeping into existence, a dream brought to tangible life, to touch and reality, “Actually, wait,” he says, and finishes before her face can fall, “Would you be my girlfriend?”

It’s maybe playing his cards too much, but her wide, ear to ear splitting grin is everything he needs to see, everything he might need to see for the rest of his life. 

“Took you long enough, boy-genius.”

“All you had to do was ask again!”

If she has a complaint about that, it certainly couldn’t be heard by the many, many kisses that would follow. 

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine ex-husband Gojo doing things for his new love interests that you begged him for while you were married.

After a joint meeting between the sister schools, you overheard Suguru asking him who he was texting during the meeting.

Satoru replied, "Just letting my date know I'll be a bit late tonight since we ran long here. Todo can yap, huh?"

"Seriously!" Their voices faded as they walked down the hall.

You stood just outside the meeting room watching the corner the disappeared around. If you had to pinpoint the number one reason your marriage failed - more than clan pressure, more than the strain of being young parents, more than back to back to back missions - it would be the fact that Satoru can't communicate for shit.

Part of it wasn't his fault. His brain just didn't work like that. An inconvenient side effect of limitless is that everything makes sense in your head, but it's hard for a person with the gift to explain their thoughts to others.

So the no-call, no-shows to dinners was technically a side effect of limitless, as was his inability to articulate his feelings like an adult or the fact that he would just do things without even telling you there was a problem in the first place.

"Quit doing that with your face, brat." Sukuna emerges from the meeting room. He's out of his Ryomen form at the moment, as he usually is during meetings so that he can actually fit in his chair. "How long are you gonna let what he does affect you?"

"It doesn't!" you insist.

Sukuna rolls his eyes. "If that helps you sleep at night."

Imagine reminding yourself that you can't be mad at him.

You're seeing other people now, too. Hell, you've been divorced for over a decade, it's insanity that you care at all.

It's just. You never doubted his love for you. Not for a second, not even now that your marriage failed and you largely raised your son on your own.

"Mom?"

Maybe your divorce was his motivation to be better. You're not sure. But if he's capable of change, capable of being attentive and communicative, why couldn't he change for you all those years ago?

"Mom."

Could it be that you were his childhood companion and he loved you, but he was never in love with you? Was his love for you less than your love for him?

You hardly notice your son calling out to you until he springs into action. "Mom!" Sen nudges you away from the stove to turn of the burner. When did smoke fill the kitchen? The roux you were trying to make was burnt to a crisp, stuck to the pan and emanating an unpleasant smell.

Sen gently pries your hands off the handle and drops the ruined pan in the sink to soak. Then he makes sure the burner's off before turning to you with a conflicted expression.

He may have inherited a hybrid of both your and Satoru's personal brands of emotional stuntedness, but he could put two and two together between how distracted you've been and the rumors of Satoru dating again - What with it being huge news among jujutsu society (aka power hungry clans with eligible daughters.) Your son had his own complicated feelings regarding his father and as much as he'd prefer Satoru stay away from you, it hurt him to see you like this.

Though, watching you try to keep a stiff upper lip for his sake during the divorce is the reason he doesn't want his father anywhere near you.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." You wipe your hands on a dish towel. "I wasn't paying attention. Hang tight while I make you something else."

He could kill Satoru right now. But you wouldn't like that, so he won't.

"Mama, I--" He shuts his mouth. You've been protecting him from the details of the divorce his whole life. What did he know about comforting you? But while he may not have been able to protect you then, he can sure as hell try now.

"Mama, why don't I take you out to dinner? My treat."

Imagine that Sen decides he needs to stop having ideas.

He brought you to a local okonomiyaki that you've been going to since he was little to the point where the owners knew you well and liked to give you little extras from the kitchen. Today's treat was a side of pickled radish.

It was your happy little hideaway. Away from jujutsu and clans and curses and your broken home.

Sen insisted on cooking the okonomiyaki for you, saying that, "My treats means I'll take care of everything!" The weak smile you gave him made his heart soar.

You giggle while he jokes around and tells you about school like how Hikari fell asleep for 45 minutes out of an hour long test and still got a better score than him. Hearing about your son and his happy school days always made you feel better.

Sen was ready to give himself a pat on the back for cheering you up when he hears the front bell jungle and a woman's laughter carries over.

"Fancy places are like that, though!" the woman laughs. "They give a bite of food per plate."

Then a familiar voice replies, "Yeah, but it was good, wasn't it? And now we get to fill up at a cute place like this."

Even though he's the one facing the door and not you, the look on your face tells Sen all he needs to know. What breaks his heart is that you've sunk lower into your seat to make yourself smaller.

Sen could kill his father right now.

Hooray, angst!

Click [here] to keep up with ex-husband Gojo and his estranged family | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: sweet baby boy drew whos willing to help u, nothing else rly

tropes: second chance, fake dating, one bed, forced proximity

authors note: i wanted to give it a sort of “the proposal” / “anyone but you” type of feel !! this is obviously going to be a series so let me know if u want to be added to the tag list from now on so u dont miss an update ! <3

your body freezes in place when you’re asked about the wedding. crap, you forgot. but it isn’t like you received any invite.

“theo sent you an invite through the mail. you got it right?” your friend, leila, asks you. leila and her fiancé theo have been your friends for years now, ever since leila applied for a job at your work. she’s been your closest friend, so theo naturally had to come along too.

“what? yeah,” you lie right through your teeth, and guilt punches you in the face when you stare right into her bright eyes. you raise the cup of coffee. “was literally jumping for joy when i got it.”

leila sighs in relief. “thank god we got the right address,” she says and you question what she means by that before she continues, “we didn’t know whether to send it to your apartment or drew’s.”

your breath is caught and you pause before your drink reaches your lips.

“drew,” you repeat, and she nods.

“yeah, but we figured you’ll both see it either way so, sent it to his place ‘cause theo said it was closer,” leila says, and you raise your eyebrows in amusement. “but anyway! before the wedding, i wanted to stay with our inner circle so if it’s possible for a little two-week vacation? the venue is close to my mom and her boyfriend’s house so we’d just be staying there. i would’ve picked after the wedding if theo didn’t already have the honeymoon planned. he’s too excited.”

“wait, two weeks?” you inquire, “who’s coming?”

she shrugs, “you and drew, libby, gia . . .” she trails off as she thinks about it, and you swallow as you set your cup down. “i forgot who else. i know it’s one of theo’s coworkers but i forgot who. let me text him actually.”

your face lights up at the opportunity to get away, and you nod. “i need to call drew actually,” you say, and she smiles and nods as you stand from your seat and make your way to her living room. “need to remind him to take the . . . fish . . . out.”

“fish?”

“we’re having fish tonight, yeah.”

you turn away to scroll through your contacts until you find his, then click on it. you settle down on the couch as you wait anxiously for him to pick up, and just hope that he does.

just before the call goes to voicemail, the line clears. “yeah?”

“you are such a—!” you hiss quietly, careful not to let leila hear you. “why didn’t you tell me leila and theo sent you a wedding invite for us?”

“i literally just checked my mail, alright? i would’ve said something about it as soon as i saw it,” he tells you. “i just flew in two days ago, y/n. i’m at the . . . i’m not at my apartment right now but my mail’s all on my counter. i’ll look for it once i’m home and then send you pictures of it, okay?”

you know that your situation with drew is slightly complicated. you were together for five years before ending things just a year ago.

because of your careers, you aren’t surprised that people assume you’re still dating. even close friends like leila and theo. everything was kept private. a year into the relationship was when fans even found out about you two.

you both have been looking for a time to address the breakup, to friends first for sure, but with your conflicting schedules, the time’s just never come up, and sending a “by the way, we broke up” text to an imessage groupchat wasn’t totally ideal.

even with the wedding coming up, having to be around everyone while you celebrate your closest friends, how are you either of you supposed to bring it up now?

“okay,” you tell him. “just text me when you’re free. any time before 10, please.”

“okay,” drew’s voice is soft and understanding. the line goes dead and you pull your phone away from your ear, seeing that he’s hung up.

your expected text comes around 8pm. drew’s sent you four different attachments. all are photos of the elaborate and detailed wedding invitation. the designs must’ve been leila’s idea.

you’re surprised to see an incoming call on your laptop right after. you hover over the accept button, then click on it.

his face fills a rectangle of your screen. he’s on his phone—“do you see it?”

“yeah wait,” you mumble, clicking out of the facetime to open your messages with him, then click the first photo. “leila and theo; rsvp by september twenty-seventh.”

“the letter’s addressed to my place but they put our names on the envelope,” drew tells you, and it looks like he’s ruffling through something before he flips his camera to display his counter. on it is the envelope in question, which is addressed to his apartment, but for y/n and drew, it says.

you hum. “are you going?” you ask him.

“of course i’m going. what do you mean?”

you shake your head, “nothing.”

drew only knows of leila or theo because of you, because leila works with you. maybe he’s made friends with theo but it’s not something you’ve personally seen, so you’re just assuming that maybe since you’ve broken up, there’s no reason for him to go? especially when he’s filming soon?

you stare down at your keyboard as you speak again, “leila wants us to come on a two-week pre-stay with her and theo. and others.”

there’s a brief pause from drew, like he doesn’t understand.

you sense it immediately and continue. “like, before the wedding, she told me today about how her mom has his house she wants us to stay in, just a few of us for two weeks, then they have her wedding— i don’t know, i need to ask her more about it. i think she just wants to fly everyone out and spend more time with us before she’s on honeymoon and living the wife life.”

“could be fun,” drew says. “i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i was out with theo or leila. it might be good for us.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him through the screen, and you try to read him to see if he’s joking. “there is no more ‘us’, remember? and by the way, neither leila or theo or anybody else knows that.”

drew hesitates as if he’s trying to justify your situation.

you rub your eye before resting the side of your head against your fist, “they addressed the invitation to both of us, drew. i feel like we should at least tell them the truth so that when we get there, they know.”

drew hesitates, his eyes moving around as if searching for the right words. “yeah, i know. it’s just . . . complicated.”

“complicated doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you say, feeling frustration build up. “it just feels dishonest. they think we’re still together, and if they find out at the wedding, it’ll look like we’re hiding things.”

“we are hiding things,” he reminds you. “we’ve been avoiding the topic. do you really want to drop this bomb on them right before their wedding?”

you go silent as you think about it, because if telling them isn’t a good option then . . .

“what if we just kept up the appearance that we’re still together?” drew suggests. it draws your attention as you look up at your laptop. “for the wedding and the pre.”

you blink, taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” drew continues, “what if we act like we’re still together while we’re there? it might make things easier for everyone. seeing us apart will just create tension. people will feel like they’ll need to walk on eggshells around us.”

you give him a skeptical look. “acting like a couple isn’t the same as actually being one. i’m not sure i can just pull it off without it feeling fake.”

“we’re not faking,” drew says gently. “we’re just playing a part for a bit. we’re professionals. it’s literally our job. we can do this for a few days.”

you pause, considering his words. “but what if it just makes things worse? what if pretending just complicates everything?”

drew’s expression softens, and he speaks more earnestly. “look, we’ve been in tough spots before. there’s been so many times on set with you and i before that we’ve had to navigate headfirst. this is no different. think of it as a role we have to play for a short time. it doesn’t change what’s real.”

you sit back, processing his suggestion. “so we fake it for now and deal with the truth later?”

he hums. “it’s not ideal, but it could save a lot of awkwardness and stress. we can be civil and supportive for their sake, and then handle everything after.”

you let out a long sigh, feeling the weight of the decision. “it just feels like a lot of work to keep up a pretense. but i guess if we’re going to do this, we need to at least figure out how to make it believable.”

“we’ll figure it out,” drew says, his voice a little more hopeful. “it’s not about being perfect. it’s just about getting through the weeks without making things worse.”

you nod slowly, still feeling uneasy but recognizing the practicality of his idea. “okay. pretend for leila and theo, and then deal with the fallout afterwards.”

there’s a faint smile on his face as he nods at you. “just two weeks, remember? we can do that,” he says. “i’m gonna head to bed. i’ll talk to you tomorrow about it, alright?”

“okay,” you murmur, and drew hangs up on you.

the facetime window closes and displays your last app that’s been open, your messages. you’re face-to-face with the photos of the invitations once more, and a part of you is overwhelmed with emotions—fear, excitement, guilt.

two weeks. that’s all it is. just two weeks with your ex-boyfriend. you can survive that . . .

right?

[brighttearss]

When the party starts -

You had gotten a joint from someone you didn’t know, probably someone from your school. You came to this party just to try and "fit in" with all these people since you were the new girl. It was your first joint and your first party of this kind, but everything felt so boring... It wasn’t what you expected. Honestly, you didn’t even want to smoke, you just wanted to forget your problems for a while. So, you stepped away from the noisy crowd and headed to the mansion’s terrace—not that you knew whose house it was. You’d been invited by one of the organizers, probably his parents. Nothing surprising.

You sat down, staring at the sky, before trying to light the joint to make things a little more interesting. You searched your pockets for a lighter, but realized you had left it downstairs.

“Great...” you muttered, disappointed, setting the cigarette aside for a few seconds. A shadow approached, and you noticed a girl’s presence. She had long blue braids, tattooed arms, and wore knee-length shorts and a neon blue top that was incredibly bold, yet striking. She was pretty attractive. You admired her for a moment before she sat down next to you, offering a lighter.

“Thanks” you replied, a bit shy,opening a small smile.

“You come here often?” she asked, curious, more as a way to start a conversation as she crossed her legs.

“No... it’s my first time,” you replied, lighting the joint, then handing the lighter back with a friendly smile.

“Ah...”

The girl didn’t react much, just raised an eyebrow. It was a typical event, after all. She took the lighter and pocketed it.

As expected, you choked on the smoke.

“It’s just a matter of time, you’ll get used to it,” she said, taking a drag too and blowing the smoke out through her mouth. It looked kind of sexy—or was the joint already hitting you? Wait... you still didn’t know her name. Not that you hadn’t heard about the troublemaker with blue hair who supposedly sold drugs and had some mental issues, but who cares? You sure didn’t.

“... What’s your name?” you asked as she looked at you, analyzing you for a moment before adjusting her posture.

“Jinx.”

“Oh... interesting name. Different, to be honest,” you tried to compliment her while she continued smoking her joint. You had already forgotten yours. It seemed like this Jinx girl was far more interesting than that.

She let out a light, sarcastic laugh. “Hmm... everyone says that.”

“I bet…”

“You new around here? Never seen you at school,” Jinx asked, leaning in a bit closer.

“Yeah... just got here three days ago.”

“Three days? And you’ve already ended up at a party like this. Impressive,” Jinx said with a mischievous smile, twirling her braids like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Must be a talent.”

"I don’t know where I ended up, actually..."

Jinx nodded in understanding. She noticed your joint was going out and took it from your hand. “Lemme see that...” She took a drag and blew the smoke out, holding both joints before handing yours back.

“Got the hang of it yet?” Jinx gave a small smile, watching as you kept struggling, coughing over and over. It looked so easy. A tear rolled down your cheek, and Jinx, noticing, gently touched your face, leaning in to wipe the tear away softly. You didn’t even need the joint anymore—nothing felt better than that moment.

You leaned in, and surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, Jinx did the same. She planted her hands on the concrete floor, keeping the intense eye contact. Her blue eyes were as deep as the ocean, or maybe like the sky. Then, finally, your lips closed the distance between you two. You were on cloud nine now, for sure. Jinx seemed just as dizzy as you, and it felt amazing as her hands slid from your cheeks to your waist, tracing every inch of your body. Your face was burning red, but thankfully, she couldn’t see it.

"If I knew the party was gonna get this good..." she whispered against your lips with a playful smile.

You give a shy smile. "Same..." Then, you lean back into Jinx's lips, fully immersing yourself in the kiss as Jinx explores your mouth with her tongue, gently nibbling on your lower lip.

And just like that, you continued, kissing and getting more and more lost in each other as the night—or maybe the early morning—wore on... This was definitely way more fun.

★★★

I could have done a bit better, but I did it in a hurry. I'll bring a better one, I promise! ♡

Wc:639

[oddlittlestories]

Thinking about Cuddy.

House is a genius. I’ve written about how Wilson is equally talented.

But Cuddy is, too.

One of three(?) female deans of medicine in the country. One of the youngest. And every time the spotlight turns onto her, she does things no one else can do.

She has a kid by herself. Wilson points out that a man in her position would have a wife, two nannies AND two assistants. (She tries to hire an assistant and the job is so demanding they quit regularly.)

She consistently gets things for the hospital no one else can get and is the trump card only she can play. In 5 to 9, she gets (I think) 7%, which is far and away better than her opponent, her board, or anyone else but her thought she could get.

In season 1, iirc it’s implied SHE brings in Vogler, and she’s the only person who can stop him when he starts tearing the entire hospital apart to get at House.

In season 3, she ends the nonsense with Tritter.

She’s also the only person who can and will keep House on her team (no one will hire House or Foreman, other than her). And she’s the only person who can wrangle him, canonically (I disagree with canon, but Cameron does hand the reigns back to Cuddy with this exact statement). Moreover, she makes House an ASSET. In 5 to 9, she explains that PPTH is on the cutting edge, which includes their world famous ddx department.

And! Despite the fact that House routinely accuses her of being an administrator and not a doctor anymore, she still successfully treats patients from time to time. She helps ddx the babies in Maternity. She saves her patient’s baby in Fetal Position. In s5 Joy, she clocks that something is wrong with the mom when no one else does, and pushes until the diagnosis is made and saves both their lives. She figures out the diagnosis in Joy to the World at the same time as House, and is so kind and respectful to the folks caring for the baby, yet still makes sure she gives the baby what she needs.

I have to admit that I don’t remember s7-8 well enough to go through those, but it’s clear to everyone that Cuddy is a great doctor. Much like Wilson, she gets dismissed in part bc she gets too emotionally involved. And it’s also clear that no one really understands her work or how good she is at it. Everyone only sees their part, and she has to see all of it and make it all fit together, making sure everyone gets what they need. Her ability to flip between caring and hardass undermines her ability to seem tough, but it’s also necessary. If she couldn’t care, she wouldn’t take such good care of her people or patients. If she couldn’t toughen up, she’d let people walk all over her. It’s a unique style, and not without its pitfalls, but it’s all hers.

And like Wilson, she doesn’t get seen as a genius. In fact, she barely gets acknowledged as smart at all. A lot of her successes come from charisma and social intelligence. And those things often get dismissed in women, especially women who care as deeply and obviously as Cuddy does. The ability to juggle so many things gets dismissed as “basically being well-organized,” and also, no one really SEES what she does. It sometimes takes her a minute, but she reads people like THAT. She figures out and outwits that sociopathic drug dealer. She sees through most of House’s lies. She often settles with plaintiffs because of guilt, but she also often talks them out of suing the hospital in the first place.

Cuddy is just as good, and just as brilliant, at her job as House and Wilson. But she doesn’t get seen as a genius anymore than Wilson does.

[copper-16]

Chapter 8 has been posted - but before everyone goes to read, a little bit of an announcement on my end:

This is going to be my last longer Mapi/Ingrid story, and probably the end of me being super active/posting on ao3 and tumblr. I might write the occasional story here and there, but writing is not bringing me the same joy it once was and I want to dedicate my time to other things. I’ll still be around reading on ao3 and somewhat on Tumblr, but I just won’t be posting a whole ton on either. I’ve been so incredibly lucky to get to know all of you guys on here, and to receive so much love for my work. It means the absolute world to me - and thank you all so much for welcoming me into this little community so wonderfully! I hope the stories I wrote were able to bring just a little bit of happiness when you guys needed it (even if I constantly left everyone on cliffhangers - I truly am sorry about that).

The rest of this is long, and you don't have to read it if you don't want to, you can just go ahead to the story now if you would like. I'm not known for my ability to keep concise, that is for certain. If brevity is the soul of wit - perhaps we know why my stories aren't very funny!

I’ve especially enjoyed joining tumblr and really finding a little community here. Getting to interact with so many people, both those who read my works and those who don’t, has been such a joy for me. I love getting to hear when people like the things I've written, even if it touches them in a small way. I love getting to interact with so many brilliant minds and am forever in awe of how much amazing talent there is in this little corner of the internet! I've made some incredible friends from getting to be on here, and it makes me so happy to have a little community of people I love. Thank you guys for letting me have space here even if I don’t write reader works or know how this app works most of the time.

I started writing seriously in September 2022 and I can't tell you how much joy it has brought me in the last two years. As someone who doesn't enjoy the college degree they are currently getting, this was such a fun creative outlet for me. It was so cool to have this blank canvas to work with, to weave things together, especially as I began to write longer stories. Writing was a place to destress for me and interact with other people who loved football as I was coming to love it. Every single kudos, comment, and bookmark meant so much to me. Even when it was something silly like someone dubbing the 'Copper Monologue,' it made me feel so seen. Someone cared enough to read enough of my works to pick out the fact that I do that? Absolutely mind blowing to me. It's crazy to hear that people cared about the silly little stories I wrote. When someone told me that I was one of the things to help inspire them to write their own stuff - I think I properly sobbed. It meant more to me than anything has in this entire world, and it still does! Writing has helped me to process, it's helped me to grow, it's helped me learn to identify my emotions and struggles and think through my own thought processes. I hope that maybe for someone out there, it could help them do that as well. It's a little strange for me not to want to do that anymore. Writing this last story solidified to me that for the most part it was time to be done, and HDITA was more of a goodbye than anything else. But even with that, it feels strange not to be thinking of my next idea, thinking of how I am going to create characters and relationships and plot lines.

I think for me right now, I'm just excited to be myself. Maybe this vessel of writing was what I needed to get myself through the last two years. I wrote la princesa when I was at my absolute worst in life, and as I've grown and matured as a person, I like to think that my writing has. I no longer find myself in a place where it fills a huge void in my own life that I once needed.

I've grown a lot as a writer these few years (those who read my earlier works will understand), and I'm excited to one day come back to it, maybe in a different sphere. I love the idea now of writing a real book. It always terrified me before - I didn't know where I would start or if I would be horrible at it. But you all have given me the confidence that maybe at least one person would like it, and maybe that's enough of a reason to try. So thank you all for holding my hand and encouraging me. I hope that if nothing else, everyone remembers that a little bit of kindness on here or ao3 or anywhere on the internet costs nothing, and yet can go a long way.

It did for me.

But enough of my sappy rambling, please enjoy this last chapter of mine. I hope it brings you as much joy as it brought me when I was writing it. Love you all so so much!

Chapter 8 of How Do I Trust Again?

[shira-cosmic-star]

hey!

im still in episode 3 of tb but Leo pissed me off in ep 2 broooo

and MC who doesn’t defend herself like 😔😔😔😔

WHO IS HE TO CALL MC A NPC 🙄🙄🙄

anywayy so I thought if you can write hcs with Leo, Tohma and Romeo x MC who outsmart them please ?

I hope I didn’t disturb you 🫶

thank you 🙏

𝓜𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮

Tags: Comedy, Romance, Enemies to lovers(?), slice of life, supernatural 

Characters: Romeo, Leo, & Tohma 

Warning: cursing, seductive on Tohma’s part

 Word count: 2,066 words

Leo:

You knew you weren’t smart in the same way Leo is. However, you were still witty. Often when he would insult you. You manage to always have a comeback. This interaction would go different ways. One, Leo would actually get upset. Maybe mumble, “bitch” after you shut him up. Two, color him impress. He liked the interaction and would playfully bicker with you. Three, he would be caught off guard. It would take him a minute to think about what to do next. Then, a sinister smile takes place. Everyone knows, he is up to no good... 

So, what does he do next? He will do everything he can to get under your nerves. This dude loves to reactions you give him. Although, he finds himself more frustrated, rather than pleased. Why? 

Simple, you weren’t giving him the time of day. You were well aware of the type of person he is. He was basically those type people, who bullies others to get what they want. A pure bully.  

Often when he talked down to you. You would try to handle your anger. Though, as much as you hate to admit. There were times where Leo did hit a nerve. Leo knows what button to press. He often pressed them as many times as he could. But what happens when old tricks don’t work anymore?  

Leo would often insult your friends to get under your skin. Yet, when it didn’t work this time. It displeased him, he tsked as he watched you react to his words like it was nothing. So, he changed his approach. If insulting your friends won’t get your attention. Then maybe he needed to attack you personally?  

He started to insult how you dressed, what you would say in conversations, how you made a mistake on anything and so on and so on.  

Nothing worked, he balled his fist as steam of rage shoots out of his ears. Why don’t his tactics work? He complained over and over to Sho. His best friend grew tired of the constant complaints. Sho was at his wits end with his friend. So, he asked Leo why does he care so much? You were just an NPC, right? So, what is up with Leo being obsessive over you? 

First Leo was in denial. “Me? Obsessed over that NPC? Don’t be stupid.” For a while, he was in denial. He actually loved the witty comebacks you shot back at him. It was smart, creative, and it was like you were ready. There wasn’t a dull moment with you. As much as he hates to admit it to himself. He enjoyed being around you. 

After realizing what this meant. He now needs to figure out how to get your attention. So, the game began. He’ll find creative ways for you to speak to him. He wants you to bicker back and forth with him. But he wants to be on good terms with you too. Everyone knows an apology would work. He’s too prideful, that won’t work in his case. It was set, he was going to challenge you to a game. Loser takes the other on a date. Leo planned to win, and he did. 

Now you were aggravated about the date thing. But you knew Leo wasn’t going to let it go. Therefore, you invited him to the arcade. You challenged him to all of your favorites. Surprisingly, you both were having fun. By the end of the date. Leo asked, why were you ignoring him. 

“I did it because I knew it would trouble you, Leo.” He blinked, “Troubled him?” 

Now it dawned on him. You knew Leo hates to be ignored. So, you played him. Seeing him basically beg for your attention was your planned all along. In shocked and impressed, he looks over to you as you smirked cheekily at him. 

Boy did he fall hard for you.  

Leo have finally met his match. 

Romeo:

You and Romeo weren’t always on the same page. Often, he would yell at you when you don’t understand his abbreviations. When this would happen, you felt exhausted, how on earth were you supposed to know? Even though he would often abbreviate his speech. There were times you did understand what he was saying. You were a tad bit quicker than others in the room.  

When you are at the casino or his office. Romeo would demand you to do this and do that. You were deeply over it. So, to get back at him and make him possibly leave you alone. You came up with your own plan. While making errands for him. You would purposely take your time. He needs a certain document from Professor Hyde? Sure, you’ll get it for him. Although, you’re going to take your time. Oops! You showed up with the papers two hours late? He doesn’t want to hear any excuses. Not, that you had anything else to do. Jin, Leo, or anyone really bothered you that much today. 

If you were tasked to clean his office. You would purposely make even the tiniest mistakes. After observing him and his behavior. You completely knew how to set him off. Why can he clean up his own office? Or his own mess? Or anything really? Pretty boy s just spoiled rotten in your book. As you were cleaning the spilled sparkling wine. You “accidently” smothered it more on the floor. It had left a brutal tough stain. This annoyed him, he yelled at you to do your job correctly. While tilting your head to the side and blinked slowly. You acted innocent and dumb. “Like this?” you questioned him as you made the stain even worse. 

Boy, if looks could kill. You would’ve been dead by now. Romeo was red to the face, a thick vein popped out on his forehead, his hands balled up, and smoke coming out of his ears. He had enough of you. “Enough! How useless can you be!? You’re even worse than that TGA!” You fought hard to keep up the act and not smile or laugh. He takes the rag out of your hand and decided to clean up the mess himself. 

He grumbled on how everyone is stupid and useless. He tells you to get out as he cleans up. In your sweet fake upsetting tone. You spoke softly with a deep fake sigh, “Okay...” His back was facing you. Satisfied, by your work, seeing him on his knee cleaning his mess. You smirked and went home. 

Later on, Taiga went to look for Romeo. When he finds him, Romeo was still annoyed by the whole thing. “Lulu, what got you all angry? You’ll get wrinkles if you don’t relax~” Taiga teased. Romeo quickly turns around and tells him to shut up. “Honestly that new student is working on my last nerve! They can’t do anything right!” His rant goes on for quite a while. Romeo was now finished in his nicely cleaned room. He sat down on his couch and told one of the general students to get him a drink. Taiga, resting on the couch next to him was wearing a smirk on his face. 

“What is it TGA?!” Taiga had a small clue on what happened here. Kitty cat wasn’t a dumb little cat. Oh no, Kitty cat was a sneaky and slick kitten. Color him amused by the antics. “Are you sure they didn’t do this on purpose?” His words held a teasing tone. That is when it hit Romeo. You have purposely made him angry just so he would do his own work. He was angry, but maybe he was impressed too.  

You knew what cards to play. You have successfully won the game. 

Tohma:

This man is hard to break. He’s sharp, too sharp. Most people can’t even tell what he is thinking or what is his next move. You on the other hand love secrets and mysteries. He was a whole book of nothing, but wonders. You wanted to know if you can break him. Would he fall for your tricks? Or would he know your game play? Tohma was always a few steps ahead of anyone. That always felt like he was mocking you. So, it was decided. When you want something. You go and get it. There you were playing a game of chess with him. You have tried asking him questions about him and his personal life. Yet, he would advert the question or smoothly changed the question towards you. So, you changed tactics and asked him the same questions but in a different form. He saw right through it. Now you have to change to pace of the conversation. What do you do? Pick a habit that he does without realizing. Everyone does something without being fully aware. This will be an ice breaker. 

Little by little, you want to break that ice. Your eyes skim over his body to see if you can pick up on any type of body languages. You see his smirk as he plays the game. By looking into his deep sharp blue eyes. That when you began to speak once more. “You know there’s a saying about eyes being the window to the soul?” He hummed, “Yes I’ve heard of that.” 

“I bet I can guess something about you just by looking into your eyes.” You smiled confidently. Ignoring the game, you stand up and strut towards him. He entertained you by letting you come stand by his side. You take off his monocle glasses off and placed it into his breast pocket. When you took your hand out. You left your hand on his chest. One hand on his chest and your other taking his face. Looking deeply into his eyes. You noticed a tired look in his eyes. “You are an intelligent man. Everyone knows that, but you are kind. I can tell you have a deep soul too. You are also extremely handsome, but you feel lonely. Am I right?” You smiled playfully, he laughs lightly and takes your hand into his. “Fluttery will get you nowhere I'm afraid.” 

You giggled and moved to sit on his lap. “I’m only speaking the truth~” It was a bold move, but he did nothing to move you. There was tension in the air. Nothing negative, but something. You played with his hair as his hands rest on your hips. “It must be so hard doing what you need to do. I can’t imagine half of it really.” You spoke quietly to him. Your eyes were gentle and filled with worry. Moving your hand from his hair. You placed it back on his chest. “You really are handsome though. I’ve always had a think for blondes and blue eyes.” He hummed again as you began to move your hands up from his shoulders to his forearms. He was tonally built; you looked back into his eyes and noticed a cloudy hazy look in his eyes. He was feeling strangely hot and bothered. You leaned close to his ear with your arms wrapped around his neck. “What’s the matter handsome? You are all quite all of the sudden.” 

He gulped as quietly as he could, but man. You had a grip on him. He was deeply attracted to you, but didn’t have time to play your little games. Here he was with his guard down. He knew he shouldn’t have let you sit on his lap. But he wanted to see if you were brave enough to make such a bold move. And you did it. You leaned in as if you were going to kiss him. He also leaned in. 

*Ding Ding* 

It was his phone; Jin is calling on him. You removed yourself off his lap and teasingly smiled at him as his answered the call. While you can hear Jin on the other line. You placed your lips to the ear that was left open. You whisper softly, “I had fun playing, maybe next time you’ll will handsome~” Rubbing your hand his shoulder blade gently. You began to walk out of the vault. Swaying your hips side to side as he watched. 

Even the king’s right-hand man falls too.

I'm so sorry this too super long to write. I do hope it is to your liking. Thank you for being patient with me. Please like, comment or reblog. It helps a lot. Love you all my sweet starlings

(Unedited)

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Eddie noticed things. Well, not always right away, but he noticed things. He noticed that Steve liked to be affectionate with the people he cared about: Robin, Dustin, Nancy, and so on. He tried not to read into it when Steve immediately started doing it with him in the Upside Down. He could still feel the tingles from when Steve had placed his hand on his lower back for the first time. The shock that shot through Eddie and the realization that it might not be just women for him nearly sent him crashing to the ground. Worst time to have a sexuality crisis. It had made him realize that he had been checking out Steve on that boat, though. They hadn't gotten together for a long time, though, with them both still healing and Eddie dealing with the aftermath of everything, still dealing with the weight of Chrissy's death. Not until after the kids had gone back to school again.

"I'm just worried, you know! Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and Vickie graduated. Who's going to look after the kids? Plus, becoming a basketball coach is something I would definitely enjoy doing. Is that stupid?" Steve asked.

Eddie was leaning back against the counter, watching Steve restock the shelves in Family Video. It was empty except for them. He loved the way that Steve’s eyes lit up all protective-like when he talked about the kids. It made Eddie's insides all fuzzy.

"Fucking marry me," Eddie had blurted out.

"Buy me dinner first," Steve said, blushing.

"Okay," Eddie said. "It's a date."

Steve looked at him for a moment, trying to decide if he's serious or not. His face split into a grin, and he put the wrong video on the shelf. He was ridiculously goofy-looking with the way that he grinned, the way his hazel eyes got bigger, and his prince charming hair just looking even better today. Eddie couldn't help but let out a dreamy sigh. That was that. Being with Steve was an adjustment because he had to change his entire view of jocks. He could no longer look at them all as the enemy. It was just a game, just like his own game. The real assholes were the ones that hunted him down, who accused him of murder, and bullied him and his group of misfits. No, the real enemy were the people like Higgins who thought there needed to be division and hatred because they had different interests. Eddie couldn't prove it, but he was pretty sure that Higgins had encouraged their behavior and, because of that, had given Eddie a skewed view of jocks. So, it's all Higgins' fault, really.

Over the last few months of being with Steve, he had come to accept a few things: that jocks weren't all bad, that he was actually starting to like sports, and that he was absolutely in love with Steve. Though he wished Wayne would stop cackling at him. Yeah, yeah, all the shit he gave Wayne about liking sports, and Eddie had to go fall for a jock. The one thing he really loved about Steve was how much he would do for the people, but he hated that he would sacrifice taking care of himself to do it. Although, Eddie was guilty for taking the opportunity to swoop in like a brave knight to help take care of the former king of Hawkins High.

"Where do you think you're going?" Eddie asked from the doorway of Steve’s bedroom.

"Dustin needs a ride," Steve groaned as he rolled out of bed.

"How are you going to do that when you're sick?" Eddie asked.

"I'm not sick," Steve scowled. "I do not get sick."

Steve sneezed so hard that he fell back onto the bed. He groaned, a snot bubble coming out of his nose.

"Sexy," Eddie grinned.

"Fuck off," Steve groaned.

"You say such sweet things to me," Eddie said.

Steve got up off the bed, stuffed his feet into two different pairs of shoes, and tried to move past Eddie. He grabbed Steve’s shoulders.

"I got to give Dustin a ride," Steve said. "I promised."

"Hm, okay, what day of the week is it?" Eddie asked his very stubborn boyfriend.

"It's Tuesday," he scoffed.

"Yeah, try again, big boy. It's Thursday," Eddie said.

"If it's Thursday, does that mean I already gave him a ride?" Steve asked.

"I gave him a ride, and I'm here now. You don't have to be a single mom anymore, Stevie," he teased, flashing his dimples. "Daddy's here."

Eddie picked Steve up and laid him on the bed.

"You're just trying to get into my pants. I'm not sick," Steve said and coughed up phlegm.

"And what's that?" Eddie said.

"I forgot to swallow again," Steve said. "I'll do better. I just need practice."

"Right."

Eddie had stayed all week to take care of Steve and another week for Steve to take care of him when he got sick. Supposedly, he had been worse than Steve, but he was pretty sure that Steve was lying. Steve hadn't complained about it, though. Apparently, he had gotten used to it when he had to take of Eddie when he gotten bit by the bats. Eddie really didn't remember how needy he had been, but apparently, he had been. It was amazing how easy it had been to slip into the role of caring boyfriend, considering that he had never really been one. The first girl he had been with had been a dare for her, and the second had been Paige. He had epically screwed that up. He wasn't perfect, and neither was Steve. Oddly enough, he liked that about their relationship. They didn't have to try so very hard to be perfect. There's always a little give and take in every relationship, though.

"Steve, honey, what are you wearing?" Eddie asked him one day when they were hanging out at Steve's house.

He was dressed all in black. Okay, the black pants were a good fit, but there was something off about everything else. There was something missing.

"You don't like it?" Steve pouted.

"I mean, I do, and I don't," Eddie said, shaking his head. "Where the fuck is your polo?"

"I just thought a change might be good," Steve said.

"No! Nope! No way!" Eddie exclaimed. "If I wanted to date myself, I would take my hand out for a nice little dinner!"

"Robin said - "

"Robin also believes that there are little demobat eggs waiting to burst out of us like in Alien," Eddie said. "So, what she says might not be so trustworthy especially since there's the possibility that she's fucking with you."

"So, you really don't like it?" Steve asked.

"Steve, baby, I love your sweet little sexy numbers," Eddie said. "Do you know why I love seeing you in them?"

"Why?" Steve asked.

Eddie sighed and pulled Steve into his lap.

"Because you like wearing them," Eddie said. "I don't want you to be me or anyone else. I fell in love with Steve Harrington, and Steve Harrington is what I'm going to get. I love everything about you, from your pastel colors to your polos to you playing basketball. Everything. So, if you don't want to wear these clothes, you shouldn't."

"I love you, too," Steve said. "I mean, I kind of like the black pants with the polo, but other than that, I'll change back."

"Yeah, I figured," Eddie grinned. "I mean, there's nothing about me that you want to change?"

"No! I love everything about you," Steve said. "I mean, I wish you wouldn't leave the wet towels on our bathroom floor. I totally busted my ass on them the other day."

"I think I can work on that," Eddie said and caressed his butt. "Wouldn't want to do anything to damage this sweet thing. But seriously, Stevie, don't change a thing. I'd rather you butt ass naked than try to be me."

"I think I can work on that too," Steve grinned and kissed him. "Let me go change."

Eddie sighed and watched him walk out of the room. When Steve came back in, he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, and his hands were firmly on his hips.

"Well, I was going to put on my polo, but I got a little hot and bothered," Steve said.

"Goddamn, darlin," Eddie whistled, stood up, slapping Steve’s ass. "I guess I have to go put up those towels. It's not fair if only you make the effort."

"I love you!"

"I love you more!"

"More than Dungeons and Dragons?!"

"Don't push it!"

[intairnwetrust]

You know I am usually someone to easily call out Xaden (especially on his communication issues in Iron Flame *cough* call out *cough* lol )

But now I actually need to defend him in regards of what he said and how some people receive it:

"In the years after my father died, I forgot what it felt like to be loved. [...] But then you (Violet) gave those words to me, and I remembered..."

And then you have responses like:

Garrik, Liam, Bodhi, Imogen: What I am? A roach?

Basically pointing the finger at Xaden, what about your friends who love you?

Where I need to say okay first valid or rather understandable response.

Buuut I think people are to harsh here on Xaden. I'm deliberately simplifying this here, Xaden's life consisted of two parts, the revolution and survival. Violet gave him love outside of that. It was something new, something, looking at the quote above, he didn't even knew in the beginning he wanted or maybe didn't dare to want. (Also Violet is awesome! Who can blame him? Edit: and look his new BC he is a total simp for her, as he should be)

"Now, Riorson."

I can't keep from wincing. She never uses my last name. Maybe it's because she doesn't like to remember that I'm Fen Riorson's son, and all my father cost her, but I've always been Xaden to her. The loss feels like a bottomless abyss, like a death blow.

"I've always been Xaden to her" and look how shattered poor boy was when he thought he lost that. With Violet he was not Fen Riorson's son, he was not his last name which symbolizes the proclamation of the revolution, the continued existence of the revolution. He was just Xaden with Violet. Just a man.

But now let's look at his love for his friends and at the beginning of the very same letter which brings you an understanding of his feelings

"Then I entered the quadrant and became the monster everyone needed me to be, and I never regretted it."

Who is everyone? Every person being part of the revolution. He consciously tried to forget the feeling of love because that would help the revolution best. Cold and calculating. But who is also part of the revolution? His friends. With his friends he was also Xaden, but not only. The revolution became a huge part of their lives.

I think with his friends their love and loyalty became the same thing for him. That's why Xaden said only when Violet came along he remembered what love meant. Don't get me wrong, in a healthy relationship it goes hand in hand but it's not the same and I think it just became too blurry over time and given circumstances alas being key figures in a revolution.

Also I understand when people say they want to see more of Xaden's friendships, same I am no different, but the lack of these relationships is due to the fact that the books are currently only from Violet's POV, after all they are Xaden's friends and not hers. I mean every chapter we had in his POV there were always interactions with his friends (except his chapter at the end of IF) and we can all agree we loved them (I hope so lol)

I hope it makes sense what i am trying to say i just think people are to harsh here on Xaden became in the end of the day he cares for his friends. Both sides would go through hell for the other, if you look at their lives you can safely say it's their "I love you"

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 13)

A/N: i'm sorry yall, i feel like my posting is getting slower and slower. I know this a short one too but i've been so stressed with uni

WORD COUNT: 862 words

Series masterlist

Both Safia and Rose are waiting for you when you get back from your supper.

“Gods, i’m nearly ready for bed. I’m so tired.” You groan as you walk into the room but both of the girls can see clearly that you walk as if you’re much lighter than you have been for the past few weeks.

“Yes, princess. Your ride was very long today. You entirely skipped lunch.” Safia muses, fetching yours and her own needlework. She hands you yours before sitting on a settee across from the armchair you rest on.

“I suppose I did.” You murmur as you make yourself comfortable, not yet looking at the needlework.

“Your meal with Lord Stark seemed to perk you up.” Rose comments and Safia shoots her a pointed look for her impertinence. She always was the more bold one of the two. 

“I look happier because he said we should have my brothers over for a visit, not because I shared a meal with him.” You say sharply.

“That is wonderful news, princess!” Safia states politely but her joy is clearly genuine as well. She’s loved nothing more than playing with little Aegon and Viserys since her brother died.

“Yes, very wonderful.” Rose adds. It isn’t that she is unhappy with the news, she just senses that it isn’t the only reason you’ve come back to your chambers with such a smile on your face.

Rose is higher born than Safia and you can tell in these moments. She is much less frightened to speak her mind than the lowborn girl is even if she is only the daughter of a second born son whose house is nothing close to prominent. You’ve always liked that about her; Rose doesn’t let her station define her and that’s one of the reasons she’s your closest friend.

“You have other thoughts on your mind, Rose. Speak them.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstep, princess.” She replies. The girl may be bold but she isn’t stupid. She knows how easy it is to hit a nerve when speaking of your relationship, or lack thereof, with Cregan.

“You’ve never had that problem before.” You point out and Safia smiles at the comment, looking back down at her needlepoint right away.

“I just sensed that you were getting along better with your husband. It pleases me to see you smile once in a while. It used to grace your face so often back in Dragonstone, and even in Kingslanding. Now, it seems as though you haven’t smiled for weeks.” it's a sad notion but you aren’t regretful of your coldness.

“I am the last woman in this world to sit down and take the hand they’ve been given by an unfair dealer.” You muse. The anger all feels justified, thinking of yourself as an avenging angel. “If I am compliant in my own misery then every other woman will follow suit... They’ll have no choice. I’m the second most powerful woman in the world and I had no choice.” You say solemnly.

“Change is coming, princess.” Safia starts. “It is just… slow.”

“Look at your mother. Westeros had not seen a queen rule in her own right before her.” Rose says.

“At this rate, our children won’t even see a fair world.” You reply.

“But the later generations will benefit.” Safia says optimistically. “Prince Jacaerys will see that it is continued.”

“Yes… Jacaerys.” You murmur bitterly. “Is it so wrong that I want to benefit from it? More could be done.”

The girls ignore the slight against your mother and Rose speaks again, “It could take… unfathomable amounts of violence to accomplish such a thing.”

“Who cares for the lives of men who are unfaithful to their ruler?”

“And those men’s children, wives, families, are innocent but if you kill the head of their house, they would never forget it. They might not directly call for vengeance but most would resent a radical ruler. People of status rarely care for radicality. It diminishes their power.”

“Death would extinguish it.” You murmur. The girls know you aren’t truly serious but such laxness in reference to violence discomforts them. “Jacaerys will continue our mother’s progressions but that doesn’t make him any less of a man. He can’t truly understand.”

“I am sure Lady Baela will be of aid to him in that.” Safia adds thoughtfully.

But it could’ve been you aiding him. Though, the people would never chant your name the way they chant his.

“She will make a good queen one day.”

“Perhaps one day your brother will take you on as an advisor.” Rose suggests. She sees how badly you want control.

“If I’m not too busy tending to Stark’s children.” You scoff.

“They will be your children too, princess. I am sure you will love them as any mother loves their child.” Safia says kindly.

You ponder on her words for a moment, wondering if a mothers love if truly unconditional. Is there something inherent in childbirth that will make you fall in love with the babe that tears itself from your womb?

You’re not sure if you’ll ever love the children Cregan puts in your belly.

“Perhaps.” 

Comment to be added to taglist

[dolliethv]

One Of The Girls.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! Hiii, this is a pretty TO long story, I wanted to write something with a lot of sexual tension and a lot of smut, read it calmly and I hope you enjoy it xoxo!!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 6k

You weren't sure if attending Jude's party was a good idea, but something inside you—maybe the excitement of Halloween and the thought of celebrating with your group of friends, or perhaps the hope of seeing him—convinced you. Jude's huge, new house in Madrid, decorated with lit pumpkins and fake cobwebs, gleamed in the distance, full of people already enjoying the night.

You stepped inside, and strobe lights danced on the walls, while laughter and music filled the air. You grabbed a drink as you passed by the improvised bar, trying to relax. You hadn’t taken more than two steps when you felt that familiar gaze tracing your body. You slowly turned, and there he was, Jude, leaning against the wall, his eyes fixed solely on you.

You wished the ground would swallow you because your damn group of friends was headed straight toward Jude Bellingham’s group. Of course, they all knew each other.

After your friends had chatted enough with the other group, you decided to take the lead.

"Couldn’t you put a little more effort into your costume?" That was the first thing you asked when you finally looked him in the eyes for the first time that night.

Curious about what he was actually dressed as?

Seriously? A simple cop uniform? You could bet your life on the fact that men have zero originality—they always go for the easy option. Lord, give me patience.

You absolutely hated basic Halloween costumes. Anything that took less than ten minutes and minimal effort didn’t deserve attention. It might seem a bit over the top, but given the number of creative ideas this particular holiday offered, you just couldn’t stand it.

Not when you even designed and made your own costume for the occasion.

But it was funny how quickly Jude changed your mind.

Basic is good. Basic is great. Damn it.

"What’s your costume supposed to be, anyway?" Jude continued, his voice calm but his body still a bit tense.

"It’s Suki from Fast and Furious!" Drew, one of Jude’s friends, shouted loud enough that the music barely muffled it.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his blatant staring, but truthfully, neither of you cared. You turned and headed off with your friends to who knows where.

You knew you looked good. You’d worked particularly hard on your outfit for tonight, so you had no reason to hide. Everything was perfectly planned, from head to toe.

Minutes passed, and you tried to convince yourself there was no reason to panic, but there were a lot of people, and your outfit was a bit too revealing. So, when you felt hands around your waist, you were ready to scream for whoever it was to back off.

"It's me."

Oh my God, you almost had a heart attack.

Jude pulled you against him, your back pressed to his chest, his left hand settling on your hip while his right extended around your shoulder to not-so-gently push people aside. The tall, dark-haired boy didn’t take long to start moving you both, making space with his prominent frame when people were too slow to get out of the way, shoving them until he cleared a path for both of you.

Stupid party, stupid Jude Bellingham. It was his fault you ended up there anyway. Jude may not have seen your face, but he definitely felt how tense you were in his arms.

"Why the bad attitude?"

Bad attitude? You didn’t know much about attitudes, but all your limited knowledge vanished when he pulled you even closer.

You cleared your throat briefly, your words followed by a slight shake of your head.

"Am I the one with the bad attitude?" you replied.

Because truthfully, you’d been on your best behavior since you got to that house. Or at least trying.

Jude loved driving you crazy; he thought you looked damn adorable acting tough at barely 5'1".

"By the way, you look amazing."

It was a great move, saying something so flattering to ease the tension.

"Thanks," you murmured, not caring whether he heard, your eyes glued to the back of the guy Jude was elbowing out of the way.

Two stomped-on feet and a "Are you gonna move or what the hell are you waiting for?" later, you were finally out of the chaos.

Well, as far out of danger as you could be at a party and in a house full of mostly strangers.

However, Jude didn’t stop there. He guided you to what you vaguely recognized as the first hallway on the right, his hands never leaving your body. It wasn’t unpleasant for you, not at all, but you both drew more than a few curious stares. It didn’t bother you much now that your closest friends knew. Other people’s opinions of you were never the most positive anyway, but you were surprised at how little Jude seemed to care, considering it was his house.

When you finally stopped, you found yourselves where you’d suspected a few moments earlier, slightly sheltered from the loud music. There were a few other people around, but they were far enough away not to intrude on your conversation.

Jude released you a few seconds before turning you around and wrapping his arms around you again, pulling you close as he leaned against the wall.

"I like your hairstyle; it’s cute," he said, grabbing a lock of your hair between his fingers. "Scratch that. Actually, I love how sexy you look with your hair down."

You were starting to seriously regret the day you told Jude you wouldn’t mind being complimented daily because it was getting out of hand.

How were you supposed to function properly when Jude kept looking at you with dark eyes?

You swallowed hard, shifting your gaze to the side of his face to avoid dealing with the intensity of his stare. You needed to say something and had to do it now.

"People were staring at us."

Of course, your voice trembled, and of course, out of all the things you could’ve said, you picked the one with the most potential to ruin the moment.

Jude was being very open tonight, and while you didn’t dislike it, it was new and somehow made him even more intimidating. All you could focus on was trying to stay afloat, despite involuntarily melting into the warmth of his touch and the comfort of his voice.

"When you look like that, baby, of course, people are going to stare."

You were getting nervous so quickly that it was unreasonable. Your breathing was already picking up, and butterflies were fluttering, one by one, to the point that you could no longer distinguish between those in your heart and those in your stomach.

This was exactly why you shouldn’t stay away from Jude for too long.

"News travels fast, Bellingham. Especially when you’re the footballer of the moment."

But with Jude, you didn’t have to worry. Jude could take care of both of you, and maybe you shouldn’t trust him, but God, it felt so good to be protected.

You desperately wanted to kiss him. Every brush of his thumb against your skin was electrifying. You needed to be closer, needed more, and this time, it had nothing to do with lust.

It was the kind of need you hadn’t felt before, the kind that demanded an exchange of feelings, even if not through words. Even if you tore off your clothes and pressed skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, it wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to be inside Jude’s mind, to share all his thoughts, to experience the unknown, to finally understand each other, but you were too scared.

You couldn’t get there just yet.

"Your costume is stupid," you finally said, your voice coming out a bit more determined.

Jude’s lips curled into a smile, which quickly turned into a laugh that disappeared just as fast, but it was definitely something worth remembering.

"You’re so good at flirting," he purred sarcastically. "Tell me more."

You thought you might be able to keep a straight face, but as soon as you saw him smile, you followed. There was something so addictive about it, maybe the fact that you didn’t see it often, but it definitely made Jude ten times more attractive.

And he was already too attractive to begin with. God.

"It really is stupid," you confirmed your own thoughts, your fingers trailing up to fix the collar of Jude’s cop uniform. "But you look so sexy. I don’t know why I’m so into this kind of stuff."

You knew you weren’t the only one. It’s not for nothing that women love men in uniform.

"You don’t like the uniforms; you like the authority behind them. Or should I say, you’re afraid of it?"

Even though you had the same smile, Jude looked completely different, but he was right. You always felt uneasy around any kind of authority figure.

Watching Jude—with the quite noticeable height and body size difference compared to you, with the sleeves of his uniform stretching around his biceps every time he moved—you couldn’t blame yourself for feeling a bit nervous.

And to top it all off, a pair of very real-looking handcuffs hung from his belt.

So yeah, you gave up your principles about liking the basic for one night, but Jude had chosen a really good costume to spark your imagination.

"Honestly..." Jude grabbed your chin and pulled you even closer, his eyes fixed on your lips. "I wouldn’t mind being a cop if it meant I could make pretty things like you tremble."

As if he needed to be a cop to do that. Idiot.

As if you didn’t already find him intimidating enough without the costume. As if your knees didn’t buckle and your body didn’t heat up every time Jude looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds.

"I think that’d be an abuse of power."

Very socially aware of you, but it might be more believable if you stopped looking at him like you wanted him to take advantage of you. You know it's wrong to think that.

Jude hummed, sliding his thumb over your lower lip before pressing it and pulling it down. The movement was so sudden it made you hiss. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were for Jude to do whatever he wanted, to play with your body however he pleased, without questioning the reason.

"It isn’t if you enjoy it."

Their heads tilted to opposite sides, moving closer with lips tingling from the desire to kiss. You could feel Jude exhale before gently pressing his body against yours and brushing his mouth against yours when—

"Bellingham!"

Both grimaced, and you quickly jumped back, your hands starting to smooth out the wrinkles in your clothes. You didn’t turn around or look at Jude; you didn’t want to know if someone had really seen you and didn’t want to deal with it.

Jude’s friends weren’t the type of people he enjoyed talking to, so it would be weird to find yourself in a situation where you had to pretend to be a bit interested in what they had to say.

"Oh, hey," Jude responded with much less enthusiasm as the sound of footsteps grew louder.

"Good party, man."

You recognized the characteristically deep voice and immediately tried to move a little further from the sound. You opted to take the empty space next to Jude, and to avoid seeming rude, you looked up, meeting Trent Alexander’s eyes before giving a small nod in his direction. The man nodded back with a shy smile resting on your lips.

"Hey y/n, you look great!!" He said.

"Thanks."

You knew him, or at least you knew who Alexander was. In your defense, you knew all the people in your circle of unfortunately extroverted friends. You knew he was a guy with too much money, another footballer, not surprisingly—very attractive—and also much kinder than many other rich and attractive people.

However, you started to feel anxious.

Alexander didn’t seem to notice your discomfort, even after greeting you. But then the guy lowered his gaze, not going below the level of your skirt, but enough to make you wonder— is this guy checking me out?—God, men are all so bold.

Suddenly, Bellingham cleared his throat, subtly but enough to move you a little out of Trent’s view.

Oh, okay.

"Sorry to bother you, but my friend here won’t stop saying she wants to meet the great Jude Bellingham."

Unaware of the presence of someone else before, you moved your gaze to Trent, where a model-like tall girl was giving all her attention to Jude.

You were annoyed by how attractive she was. You couldn’t imagine how she looked in Jude’s eyes. You weren’t a fan of the cliché thought of hating other women over men, but damn, this feeling was hard to handle.

"Can you blame me? He looks even better than I imagined," she said loudly.

Then you looked at how that girl was dressed.

She was obviously someone very bold, and you were all for female empowerment, but if she came any closer to Jude, you’d have to break her neck.

If Jude hadn’t noticed her before, he definitely was now, shamelessly scanning her figure until stopping on her chest a bit longer than necessary. When he looked back at her face, he gave her a playful smile.

"She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it. My kind of girl."

Sorry, what? His type of what? Is he really giving me a hint?

A fake and shy smile spread across the unknown girl’s face as she tilted her head slightly and flipped her hair back, exposing more of her neck and collarbones.

"Oh, yeah?" She asked, her voice interrupted by laughter. "What else is your type?"

Me?

The girl started tracing circles with her index finger over the lower part of her collarbone before dragging it down, outlining the beginning of her breasts. They were quite exposed; it was hard not to notice them, but there was no worse way Jude could handle it than staring at them, his expression not hiding what he was thinking.

Bellingham took a step towards her, immediately placing his right hand on her hip without gripping it, just touching a bit, while moving to whisper something in her ear.

There was absolutely no damn way Jude was doing this in front of you, there must be some kind of reality error. No fucking way, you were really holding yourself back from pulling him away from her and giving him a beating.

Once the brunette straightened up, they were both smiling, and you couldn’t hear it, but you read it from the girl’s lips.

"I got lucky tonight."

Well, you had never considered yourself a crazy person, or at least not one who acted out of her mind with no regard for social norms.

Nevertheless, at that moment, you could barely stand.

You had no doubt about it anymore; it was too strong not to recognize, too powerful to ignore. You were jealous, so jealous that all you could think about was violence and all you could see was red.

"I’m leaving," Alexander suddenly said, visibly uncomfortable with the looks being exchanged.

You didn’t even have time to thank him mentally before the girl grabbed his arm as if her life depended on it, sweetly smiling at Jungkook and saying:

"I’ll be waiting."

And with that, they left.

The crowd made them disappear in less than a minute, leaving no trace. All you could focus on now was the unshakable smile on Jude’s face.

You despised him.

None of this was part of the plan.

Jude’s plan was to keep you without sex for a while, make you show how much you missed him, make you feel so needy that you’d give in to anything in seconds. Bellingham thought nothing could compare to the feeling he’d have once he saw your desperation, the ease with which he’d let you go, giving him the upper hand in the situation.

He was wrong.

Something better than a proud version of you was a version willing to admit, to admit that you were jealous, and he made you realize it after this little outburst.

"Where were we?" He asked as if nothing had happened, his attention slowly returning to you, clearly displeased at his side.

-I might have overstepped a bit- you thought. Relax.

Since Jude did everything he could to avoid giving you more than a glance while talking to that girl, wanting to make it as real as possible, he was enjoying watching your reaction.

You stared defiantly at the wall opposite them, obviously trying to transfer all your anger to her instead of Jude.

Seeing you cute probably wasn’t what you was looking for, but Jude found it absolutely adorable.

"Is something bothering you, sweetheart?" He gently brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his voice laced with false concern.

"No."

It wasn’t a very convincing lie with your teeth clenched and a blank expression on your face.

"Mm, I think it is."

"Good for you."

Jude had to stifle a satisfied smile. The way you responded with the first thing that came to your mind showed you weren’t thinking much before speaking.

"Not in the mood for a conversation anymore?"

You closed your eyes.

But you couldn’t do that, not when it was exactly what you wanted to do. He couldn’t be the first to break, admit his lust, show that he wanted to be with you so much that he’d trample his pride.

Not again.

“You know, I never took you for a jerk who got jealous so easily.”

If it were physically possible, your jaw would be hitting the floor. The air caught in your throat and your lips hung oddly open as you looked at Jude and found the lack of concern on his features.

Being honest was the easiest way to get through to him.

“How dare you?” You asked offended, pushing Jude away as hard as you could.

His balance seemed to falter as you failed to move him an inch, but he did successfully sway on his two feet, before Jude grabbed your wrists.

“How dare I what?” He asked you with an amused smirk. “Does she make you jealous? I was just having a conversation, babe.”

“No, not that.” You finished your statement with an irritated groan, violently breaking free from his hold. “You’re an idiot. Go have a conversation then.”

“Should I?”

The look you gave him only said one thing. “I fucking dare you.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find her?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm. “You didn’t look at her face even once.”

Well, if it wasn’t obvious, you screwed up. The chances of her living without Bellingham mentioning what you wanted him to not notice were now basically non-existent.

“She didn’t put that on so I would look at her face.”

You had never looked so angry, your head shaking in disbelief and fists clenched on either side of your body. You looked like you were really struggling not to slap him and Jude couldn’t blame you. That was the point, after all.

“Oh, wow.”

He was already on his way to calming her down, his hands reaching for your waist, when you raised his in defense.

“Don’t touch me.”

You even pointed with your index finger in warning, wagging it when Jude didn’t stop.

“I’m not joking, I’ll slap you, don’t touch me- mhppm-”

With one hand around your waist and the other pressing against your jaw, Jude had you backed up against the wall in no time. Despite your earlier threats and your bad mood, you surrendered into his arms quickly, melting into the touch, your soft moans being muffled by Jude’s mouth. The longer it went on, the more eager you became, tugging at his uniform, trying to pull him closer despite your bodies already being together.

When he pulled away, you were a mess. It was being a fight for him to refuse your touch.

“We can go to my room…”

He whispered against you, before moving lower.

“Talk…”

He pressed a kiss against your chin

“I’ll make you laugh…”

And then one on the side of your jaw

“I can make you cum…”

You shuddered at the proposal.

You both knew he wanted it, that was not in doubt. The question was how far he would go to get it.

“You will have my full attention.” With sarcasm.

Another kiss, just below your ear.

“All you need to do is ask.” He made sure you were looking at each other when he spoke, eager to see your reaction. “Tell me you don’t want to see me with someone else.”

You noticed how your body completely gave out, all hope in your eyes. Your excitement was replaced with panic as your pupils dilated and your mouth opened and closed without saying a word.

The offer was so tempting, the promise so real, so possible. I hate it.

You wanted it so badly, but it was a matter of pride and even though you were the prouder of the two of you, it was clear that you still had a hard time taking a step back from him.

“If I need to ask for attention, then I don’t want it.” You replied with a dry tone.

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Your jaw clenched at the implication. You knew it.

With the girl dressed in a bad porn nurse costume.

(...)

“Can you stop looking at him? I’m talking to you.”

The words of Odessa, your best friend, barely reached your ears, your thoughts overwhelming you in an almost pleasurable way.

You watched as Jude’s hand wrapped around an unfamiliar waist for the umpteenth time that night, causing your own fingers to grip your knee tightly.

This time it was a redhead, dressed in something that was more meant to cover the most private parts of her body than disguise, but who were you to judge? Right?

There was clearly a set pattern that you noticed during the time you spent sitting, gaping and staring in Bellingham’s direction. People would come up to say hello, most often women, their hands touching as much as they could without being inappropriate and a few minutes after sharing a few words they would come over with eyes fluttering in a way that could only mean one thing.

The first few times it happened, your heart nearly stopped beating. You were sure you knew what was about to happen next- Jude would take her by the hand and lead her to his bedroom.

But it didn’t happen. Not with the curly-haired brunette, not with the six-foot-eight leggy blonde, not with the one he was feasting on now.

Is he not interested? You asked yourself.

A raspy growl rumbled somewhere deep in your throat before you grabbed your glass and clumsily emptied it down your throat, not caring how the liquid spilled from the corners of your lips and down your chin.

You called out to your friends, as you abruptly stood up, almost tripping over someone sitting between them.

“Let’s dance.”

Your lips formed a smile at the thought of Jude seeing you with someone else. It was childish, yes, but you didn't really care.

You were about to execute your plan, but when you turned around, you found nothing worth your attention. The spot Jude was occupying all this time now had other people in it, no sign of the brunette in sight.

You wished you could say that it didn’t affect you.

So you turned your back on your friends and walked in the opposite direction, your newly gained good mood now ruined. You thought maybe if Jude admitted to being jealous, you could too. It would make it less embarrassing.

If Jude was here, surely he could get something better.

Yes, if Jude was here. If he wasn't fucking someone else.

"Having fun?"

A familiar voice reached your ears, close enough to feel the vibration of the sound, making you shiver, thanking God the place was too dark for anyone to notice as Bellingham's proximity made your entire body shake.

You kept your eyes on the empty glass in front of you not quite sure how you were going to respond with his mood.

Any words or actions from you from now on could be detrimental.

"Don't you want to talk to me?"

Silence.

"Okay, I'll go then."

Jude didn't even move. He didn't pull away, nor did he lean back. He stood right where he was five seconds ago, the same annoyed, mocking smile on his features.

"You're still not jealous?"

You weren't just jealous, you were seething with it.

"I am, actually. Tell anyone and I'll make sure it's the last thing that comes out of your mouth."

Admitting jealousy was a big deal for you, especially since you didn't know if Jude felt the same way. Also knowing what was coming after this.

"There's not much that can brighten my mood right now."you entered the room, "I just needed courage for what I'm about to do." locking it once the door was closed.

When you turned around, your eyes met and Jude felt something he hadn't felt in a while, it felt like he didn't really know anything about you.

He wasn't blind to the progress you'd made in the different areas of your relationship, but there was still a lot left to say, explain, discover, and - in a situation like this, when you seemed to be a completely different person - he was surprised at how much he still had to get to know you.

"Yeah? And can I know what it is?"

He longed to feel you again on other parts of his body and even more so when your hot mouth landed on his mouth as you said-

"Punish you."

It wasn't that it hadn't crossed Jude's mind that you might do something like this all night, but still, hearing you out loud was enough to bring a smug smile to his lips.

"Oh, really?"

It would be a lie to say you didn't find it fun.

Things were definitely taking a different turn than he had planned, but then again, ever since the party started, all of his plans were ruined, so he was surprisingly not opposed to the idea.

He was actually very intrigued.

You hummed in agreement and within seconds your hands were back on Jude's body, this time being bolder and freer with your movements.

It was the first proper touch that night and Bellingham thought he was ready, but he really had no idea how much he had missed this until he experienced it again. He struggled to keep his eyes open, but the feel of your palms and the heaviness of your fingers prevented him from doing so.

Your hands moved in opposite directions, one sliding down his abdomen and the other circling the side of his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you traced circles on his skin, massaging and releasing some of the tension.

He had a hard time trying to keep from getting an erection from the moment he laid eyes on you when you arrived. Now... now it was impossible.

"You know..." you started saying.

Jude heard your whisper, but could barely register it due to the heat that was beginning to creep steadily down his body, fading only for a moment when his belt got in the way, but then coming back stronger, with a grip more powerful than before. Bellingham would be ashamed to admit that his breath hitched as soon as he felt you where he wanted it most.

“I’d rather have these for myself, but you left me no choice.”

It all clicked, both metaphorically and literally, in his brain and out loud, but Jude couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.

The handcuffs were already dangling from the tip of your index finger as you swung them teasingly back and forth in front of his face.

Oh. Interesting.

The way you could overpower Jude in a mere second was wonderful.

“What makes you think I’m going to let you do that?”

You pursed your lips briefly as if contemplating his answer.

“And what makes you think I’m going to ask for your permission?” You replied.

“Maybe that drink was too much after all,” he looked at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’re confusing roles.”

Judging by his expression, you didn’t share the same opinion.

You pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed.

Jude didn’t stop you or object, instead sitting on the edge as he was pushed down, curious to see how things would play out.

“Are you threatening me, baby?” He asked, leaning back on his forearms.

You looked perfect from every angle, she was so sure of it now.

Your free hand gripping Jude’s jaw and squeezing it a little in annoyance.

“My name isn't ‘baby’.”

You slid your fingers down the side of Bellingham's throat where the smear of a lipstick still rested on his skin.

As you stared into each other's eyes, you looked so angry that Jude couldn't help the heat spreading throughout his insides.

"Wouldn't that make you even more angry, baby?" He emphasized on the nickname on purpose, arching an eyebrow mockingly.

The sound that came out of your throat was quiet, but he didn't miss it.

-Even her grunts are cute.-

"Shut the fuck up."

It was clear that you weren't usually the type to get angry to that extent, and even if you had been, you were the type to never act on it.

"Keep your hands behind your back if you don't want to lose your most prized possession."

You felt it before you understood it - a pressure of something hard and unfamiliar against your crotch. Something unwanted.

And it came, a sign. Not too big, not too flashy, not too obvious, but painful and threatening.

Your foot moved so abruptly that the tip of your shoe met the tip of Jude's cock and hit dangerously close to his balls.

You did it. I got you.

"Good choice."

With one swift movement, his crotch was free again, but his hands were bound at the wrists by the steel rings.

You pushed him down onto the bed and pulled his shirt open, leaving his chest completely bare.

“Shit,” you muttered at the sight. “You’re lucky to be attractive.”

“And you’re lucky to be able to see me like this.”

You sent him a questioning look. “Oh, I am? Who hasn’t gotten to see you like this? Because from what I’ve witnessed, you don’t exactly have a criterion when it comes to who you let undress you.”

“You seem really upset by that thought, sweetheart. Are you scared of having a little competition?”

“And what makes them my competition? They’re not as pretty as me.”

“But they’re a lot more obedient.” He replied.

Pure shit.

There’s nothing Jude likes more than how disobedient you are.

“You know my legs are always open for you.”

"Baby..."

"You know you can take anything you want from me, anywhere you want... any way you want..."

Every syllable that came out of your mouth was filled with confidence. Your fingers caressed his jaw as if he was teasing, barely grazing the skin before pulling away and touching another part.

"You have such a dirty mouth." The boy said.

"You want it around your cock?"

Holy shit, did you really say that?

"Yeah."

You hummed, acting like you were considering it.

"But I think you acted like shit, I don't think you deserve it."

"You're lucky that I'm tied up right now, otherwise I'd fuck you until you were ruined."

You seemed to take it as a compliment, your thighs clenching tightly around Bellingham's hips to feel him better.

"Oh yeah? You wanna fuck me?"

As if his massive erection wasn't proof enough already.

“Yes, baby. So bad.”

His confession brought a satisfied smile to your face.

“You wanna see what I got under there?”

“Show me how pretty you are.”

But you didn’t take off any clothes.

You just started riding one of his thighs, your movements teasing and slow.

“Shit. Take this off me.” The dark-skinned one said.

“And why would I do that?”

God, this was getting so frustrating. Jude wanted nothing more to do than watch you choke on his cock until you remembered how to talk to him properly. You shifted a little on his lap, creating a small but effective friction.

“Baby…”

“Suck.” You claimed.

Shit. Usually, Jude was the one giving the orders. Usually, you were the one with Jude’s fingers inside your mouth, too. He opened his mouth obligingly and you immediately pushed two of your fingers in, letting them rest on the tip of his tongue before pushing them fully into his mouth.

“You like having my fingers in your mouth?”

Jude couldn’t help but like the mess he was turning you into.

You withdrew your fingers without warning and brought them to your own mouth, sucking and moaning lewdly as you looked directly into Bellingham’s eyes.

“You’re so fucking dirty.”

Your hand trailed until it was just above your breasts, eyes still on Jude’s as you squeezed your tits.

Jude didn’t even have time to react before he saw you move up your own body and rub through the material covering your pussy, touching up and down a bit teasing the boy in front of you, leaving a wet spot when you pulled your hand away.

“Move your hips for me. Can you do that for me?” That innocent tone you set made Jude explode. And he didn't need to be told twice.

He put all of his weight on his arms, his palms and heels sinking deep into the mattress, and he lifted his hips so hard that you jumped a little on his lap.

Without further ado, he thrust up, fast at first, to give you a taste of his desire, but then slower, nicer, dragging his length over your underwear-covered clit.

You decided to go a little further and freed Jude's cock, so damn big and veiny. You pulled off your underwear and started rubbing yourself. It was so damn delicious the difference in size and how the head of Jude's cock rubbed against your clit.

But what kind of punishment would it be, giving him something he so craved? You knew. You had prepared better.

So when you forgot about everything except the repetitive motion you were supposed to follow, when your moans were finally released loud and clear in the way only he had heard them before, when he could already feel the pleasure, you lifted your hips.

Bellingham groaned in frustration, closing his eyes as he fucked into the air, unable to stop his body from seeking the orgasm he had just been denied.

“Untie me this very instant.”

He may not have sounded angry at his ragged breathing, his body still recovering from the denial, but he was and he would gladly show you how terrifying he could be if he gave him the chance.

You smiled sweetly, dropping your weight onto his lap, a movement so sudden it left him breathless.

“No.”

"I wasn't-" He trailed off, a small sound escaping his mouth from another roll of your hips on his axis. "I wasn't asking."

"Fuck, did I tell you how big you are?" You replied, your small body shaking as you pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. "You should learn not to play with me Bellingham, I'm not one of those girls, don't get wrong with me."

You pulled up your underwear and pulled back up the shorts that barely covered your ass and the small miniskirt accompanied by a pink belt that was hooked with straps to the leggings that reached just above your knee.

"Shit, shit, shit..." He replied frustrated.

"I'm sorry but now you'll have to fix this on your own." You turned around and walked away.

Jude Bellingham is totally lost.

[larcenywrites]

Hi English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes, but I could do a Kurt Wagner x reader, in which the reader follows the Wicca religion, or something linked to witchcraft, they are both in a relationship and I would like to see how their different beliefs would affect their relationship (already that Kurt is Catholic although I believe he has no prejudice in dating someone with a different religion I would like to see how this would affect their coexistence)

sorry for the writing errors

I have lots of thoughts about this that I can’t reflect in a single one shot, so for now I’ll do some headcanons! However, it would be interesting to parallel this with a spin on Kurt’s 2004 solo series! So I will probably do something with that :) Obviously, I can do research, but I am in no way knowledgeable about the practices nor those who practice wicca or witchcraft. I don’t want to generalize and say, like, “Kurt x witch reader”, but I’m not quite sure what else exactly to put :(

Nightcrawler with a Witch S/O

Headcanons

Warnings: aside from mentions of religion and witchcraft there’s nothing | I mean there’s some cute stuff here and there if it counts :)

⚜️ Kurt may be catholic, but his background is full of diverse people with different perspectives and practices!

⚜️ Scarlet Witch, his adopted mother, and his adopted sister all practice witchcraft, and he has a… well, decent enough relationship with all of them! But any of their spats have nothing to do with their way of life!

⚜️ He means well when he wants to drag you to mass Sunday morning. Really! He does! It’s something he’s done with every one of his friends by now, anyway, but it’s just that it’s a huge part of his life! He genuinely just wants you there! Sure, he can’t deny there’s always going to be some part of him that wants you to also be on some level of his own religion, but again, it’s from no place of ill will.

⚜️ After all, even though he has seen firsthand that this rule is relatively loose, I think it’s normal for someone in his belief system to worry whether their life partner will be able to join them in the afterlife :( He’s going to worry about it from time to time. He’s also definitely going to pray about it a lot. Take it in a sweet way— he just really cares about your love so much that he’s afraid it’ll have to end 🥲

⚜️ He also means well when he brings home various herbs and wildflowers he’s seen you use!! He probably even tries to make a cute little bouquet to present them! Obviously the source of said plants might not be ideal 😅 So maybe it’s time to expand a little garden! Plus, having a small garden if your preferred ingredients or offerings is a good way to teach him a thing or two in case he needs it (again), and he enjoys helping out in non-direct ways! Besides, gardening is a cute activity to do together 😘

⚜️ Speaking of which, while he’ll always be grounded in his faith, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t acknowledge everything around him! He’s seen demons and gods, magic and ghosts, heaven and… well, not hell, but you get the gist! So don’t worry, he knows well enough that not only what you do is real and powerful, but still a respectable craft. In fact, I’m sure he holds a deep respect especially if you tend to be one who thanks the Earth/ask permission for resources often. And you just might rub off on him! While he would be thanking God instead, it probably makes him more mindful of his everyday interactions with the environment 😌

⚜️ But because of his own beliefs, I’m sure certain practices or spells would make him nervous 😅 Because of this, if there’s a specific deity/god/goddess/etc you answer to/pray to that really clashes with his morals and beliefs, a relationship probably won’t last long.

⚜️ But just because some things make him nervous, it doesn’t mean he’s going to leave or anything. He might not partake in a tarot drawing or participate in certain things, but he still respects it and trusts you.

⚜️ But, uh, there might also be times when he’s literally in the next room holding the cross around his neck and praying aloud while you’re trying to do something 🤧 But this also works the other way around! Not only does it probably throw off either of your thoughts, but I’m sure it doesn’t help either of you when you both might be putting very different energy into the room rn 😅

⚜️ If for whatever reason you ever need something from him, like a bit of his fur, you probably have his permission already to just walk up to him with a pair of scissors! Even so, he usually asks billion questions 😒 So is it worth the hassle?

⚜️ While your beliefs and intentions may be different, you both might share quite a few daily rituals! Kurt won’t at all mind sharing the rug or the lawn with you if you meditate as often as he does. You both use it for similar reasons, really. It might even be both nice and interesting to have a conversation about any thoughts and experiences afterward 💙 Maybe, for once, you both found the answers you needed this morning and can share it :)

⚜️ But there are some other things he considers more “harmless,” so to speak that he does participate in. If you tend to journal things like dreams and daily experiences to cross reference later for any signs and such, he might do it too. Well- he’ll probably tell you his dreams or a reoccurrence he’s noticed (especially if it’s something that has been stressing him or maybe he’s just got a gut feeling he can’t explain) and see what you have to say about it! Just because you have different beliefs doesn’t mean he can’t find value in what you have studied and what you have to say!

⚜️ I’m sure many mornings he likes to drink teas with specific herbs and what they’re known for, and you might also partake in this! Of course, there’s probably much more intention behind the herbs you use, the way you prepare it, the way you stir it, but sometimes Kurt just likes to feel involved :)

⚜️ You don’t have to worry about him messing with any of your stuff! It’s probably out of both respect and paranoia, but he won’t mess with any alters or offerings or generally just the way you have your side of the room set up (though, probably after some gentle explaining here and there…)

⚜️ However, he may have a hard time with wanting to look at and touch any rocks and crystals… In a very respectful way, he just thinks they’re pretty and neat, okay? ;w; To be honest, get him one or two to have of his own that you think he needs when he’s stressed or when he’s out on missions. Kurt will carry them with him everywhere ❤️‍🩹 Because while he might not always believe that they carry this or that type of energy, he knows it means you care 🥰

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming…

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[nevermorgue]

I'd love to hear your headcanons with Ada and Annabel and Ada and Wil. Their relationships interests me, and I'm curious what you have in mind with roommates, and two people who find admiration in the same guy. (Hopefully two in the same ask is okay--)

Okay, you’re so right. I do love both of those dynamics a lot. And of course I’ll do two, I love these

Ada and Annabel

- It’s complicated. Annabel finds her irritating, but she wouldn’t wish for anything bad to happen to her. Ada envies Annabel terribly, but admires and respects her greatly.

- Ada keeps begging Annabel to help her try the rag curl method out, but Annabel is trying to drag it out because she knows it won’t work with Ada’s hair type.

- Annabel hates how Ada tries to flaunt her ‘friendship’ around like an object. It’s how she was treated when she was alive; pretty object.

- Annabel had to resist every urge to roll her eyes when Ada told her she could ‘have Prospero to herself now’ once she got with Montresor.

- Ada tried to take her tea the way Annabel does but it was far too bitter. She sneaks sugar in when nobody is looking.

- Ada loves walking with her in the garden, pointing out flowers that ‘her darling would definitely pick for her’. Annabel is so tired of it, but she puts on a smile and goes along with it.

- Annabel has woken up to Ada hyperventilating/crying. She usually pretends to stay asleep, but on one occasion she actually sits up and offers comfort. Ada refuses to tell her what is upsetting her, wiping her eyes and insisting a lady would not react like this. Annabel says nothing to that.

Ada and Will

- cannot get along. They’re too similar, and they both hate it.

- Will is passive to literally everyone but her in canon. He talks back to her all the time. I think he sees her on his level of pathetic.

- They will tell the other that Montresor doesn’t care about them, even though they both know deep deep down that it’s true on both ends

- Will is further in denial than Ada. Ada kinda knows what she’s doing + pursues Montresor in a time of vulnerability. She wants to like…see someone as messed up as she is. Meanwhile, Will is just desperate for someone to call a friend.

- Ada finds out that he writes and insists that she is made into a character. So he makes a very ugly, evil hag.

- She tried to use ‘Fear Itself’ on him and couldn’t find one thing. It kept changing, as if his brain couldn’t decide what was worse.

- She was genuinely uncomfortable seeing him wear her face for the first time. It was too accurate. It made her wonder how often he’s watched her to be able to do that.

- Ada laughs in his face and jokingly says he probably turns into her to pretend that he gets Monty’s romantic attention too…and he can’t even deny it.

- They have a big fight after that. Ada always hits harder.

- They really cannot even sit in a room together alone without arguing unless someone is supervising them.

- Will remembers when she complimented her eyes. One day they’re just existing in the same room and he just quietly goes, “…did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said my eyes were nice.”

And then Ada is confused- when did she say that? When she remembers, she ends up speaking without a filter.

“Duh, gray is a rarity for eyes you know.”

And that’s the only time they can ever truly speak to one another because Montresor is such a heavy blanket over them both that he’s the factor that keeps them from forming any sort of bond.

[steaming-system-takes]

IMPORTANT NON TAKE!!!

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️@/dissociative-misinfo IS SPREADING MISINFORMATION!!!!!!⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

They're saying final fusion is a way to "heal" a system. They did say that it doesn't go away, but that's not HEALED!!

They're saying people HAVE to source separate, which is NOT true!!

And they're also just being a dick-face to anyone who says otherwise!!! Please, please, PLEASE be careful when looking at their blog!!!!!!

Good morning (again), everyone. We have some down time in our second period, so I'm taking the time to address this.

As some of you have already pointed out, the blog mentioned is actively spreading misinfo while being extremely aggressive towards people with different views from them. The specific things I'll be talking about are in relation to one of their reblogs of a post on our blog claiming that any form of healing other than fusion/final fusion is "anti recovery". This is blatantly wrong.

Recovery is not set in stone, nor is it completely linear. No matter what condition someone has, they aren't going to recover and/or heal the same way others might. This can apply to any mental illness and/or disorder. Let's say two people are suffering from clinical depression, and both are taking antidepressants as well as going to therapy regularly. One of the two ends up being in therapy longer that the other, simply because the two individuals recover at different rates and in different ways. One may reach a point of recovery by spending time outdoors in natural sunlight more often, while the other reaches a point of recovery by interacting with family and friends more often. Both are recovering, despite their different ways of doing so.

The same logic can be applied to systemhood. For some systems, fusion is their way of recovering and healing. For others, fusion only causes them more stress, more hardships, which can very well lead to more splitting and a worsening mental state. Final fusion is not a cure-all for dissociative disorders. There is no such thing as a cure-all for anything. As a system, a large part of our healing stems from building connections between headmates and being able to rely on each other. When headmates fuse, there is a clear absence of the support they offered the rest of the system. Our headmates matter to us, so of course we react to fusions and dormancies the same way a singlet would react to the loss of a friend or family member. When me and my fellow headmates work together and support each other, we are healing. We're learning to make the most of this disorder and embrace it with positivity and optimism instead of dread and distaste. We're learning that we aren't alone, and that there is always someone we can lean on when we need it. We're learning to trust, which is something we've always struggled to do because of our trauma responses. For us, that is healing. However, we recognize and acknowledge that there are systems who heal and recover in different ways. That's okay. Trauma is deeply personal, and how you recover from it is entirely dependent on the individual. There's no right or wrong way to overcome trauma. Trying to force someone to do something they can't handle/aren't ready for/don't want isn't helping them. That is hurting them. That is anti-recovery, as you're actively reversing any progress they might have made.

As for source separation, that also entirely depends on the individual. We've talked about this on our main blog, but I'll summarize our points to make this easier on everyone. There are reasons that introjects may choose to source separate, and there are reasons they may choose not to. Both are equally as valid as the other. What an alter chooses to identify with/not identify with is no one else's decision but their own. No one has the right to strip someone of their own identity.

We've found out through a reblog from one of our followers that this blog is pro endo. For that reason, we'll be blocking this blog as this breaks our DNI. We encourage anyone else to block this blog as well to ensure none of you come across any harmful/triggering things yourselves. We haven't looked at any other posts from this blog, but we've seen warnings of their posts being paranoia inducing. Please stay safe out there <3

Okay! That was a lot! Thank you for bringing this to our attention, and thank you to the people who have reblogged these posts combating the spread of misinformation. Fortunately for you all, we have some hot takes lined up and ready to post for you! Thank you for bearing with me. I'll try to keep posts on this blog a little more lighthearted from this point on, but sometimes you need to sit down and talk about something serious ^^;

It's better than having Zack do it, I'll tell you that much /lh humor

Yours truly, Mod Green