#i took nearly 300

[bunny-heels]

Small portion of Alan Wake 2 screenshots I took

[madeofbees]

I’m a trust fund baby you can trust me~~

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[grinchwrapsupreme]

Hi its me your boss. Just came to say i know i didnt train or support or guide you at any step in the process but why did you fuck it up so bad lol are you stupid or something? Ok good luck fixing it bye

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 1: Envoy

a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

Character(s): Kien Eilath (ARR, 18 years old) CW: None Word count: 483 Notes: Happy 1st day! YAY :3 Short but sweet little drabble with Kien! How far my baby boy has come since this moment :,>

Of all the people to pick as an envoy for Gridania, why him? 

Kien could hardly fathom what the Elder Seedseer saw in him after everything that had led up to this point. Surely, she would’ve thought someone else more worthy of the task, someone who was wiser, older, and familiar with local customs–not someone who barely knew Gridania’s history, or seemed to have a knack for stumbling into trouble, or who just passes out mid-conversation during something important like a Greenbliss Festival he was an emissary for. Surely, this was all a mere jest and she would quickly take it all back...and yet, there was no doubt over the genuineness of her words, something he was not quite used to hearing from people. It was a strange and somewhat giddy feeling to be deemed as worthy.

When he had come to after the ceremony, the Miqo’te was pleased to see his new friend there to greet him but that feeling had quickly turned into dread as Mother Miounne told him the Elder Seedseer had requested his presence at the Lotus Stand. Would she be angry at him for passing out? Would she scold him like his sisters had always done? So many fears and questions circulated his mind as he made his way to his destination; he was practically shaking like a leaf when he came face to face with Kan-E-Senna again. 

She hadn’t scolded him, in fact, she asked how he was feeling after his collapse–she actually seemed relieved to see him on his feet again. That was strange. Even more so when she then entrusted him with the task of traveling to the other city-states as the representative. Her kind-hearted smile and pure belief that he was the right one, and the only right one for this task was enough to wash every fear and doubt away–she somehow succeeded in making him feel as if he was the most important person in the world, even if he saw himself as a bumbling new adventurer.

The two scrolls sat neatly in his bag as he made his way to the airship landing. Despite the slight anxiety he still had over the whole thing, he couldn’t hide the fact that he was excited to see Limsa Lominsa and Ul’dah in person, knowing the stories his guardian told him about the city-states were just barely scratching the surface. And after all, this was exactly what he had been hoping for when he left Meracydia, wasn’t it? A chance to explore Eorzea and see the sights…the whole envoy thing was merely temporary and he could just go back to being an adventurer after all was said and done, right?

How wrong he would soon come to be, but that of course would be something he’d come to realize and strangely enough, appreciate, much later. 

For now, he just hoped he wouldn’t pass out again.

[spinaroos-47]

Hi new to your page! (and Tumblr in general lol) do you have any ocs?

oh, i have many

mostly on my artblog @coxinhadoce47-art

[burning-omen]

OKAY. LET ME COOK. Can I request abo with Omega Wolverine (💀) and he is going into heat. And he needs his alpha to come take care of him and leads to wolverine and reader taking care of him to make sure his omega is okay.am fucking dying 💀 -😉

Logan Howlett x Male Reader

Word count: 5,841

Warnings: Smut, A/B/O/ Omegaverse, !!Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers!!, mentions of Wade and Logan figting (Logan repetedly breaking Wade's jaw, Logan has a knife in his shoulder, Ect..), Bottom! Logan, Omega! Logan, Top!Male!Reader, Alpha!Male!Reader, Marking, scenting, regular A/B/O stuff, Breeding, heat inducing wet dreams, breaking and entering.

(A/N: First fic back Hooray! I haven't written for Wolvie in years so bear with me)

Finding a man passed out drunk in your living room wasn’t something you planned for. You were actually planning to use your day off to catch up on some sleep, but this man- you recognized him as your neighbor, Logan, after taking a closer look- was really preventing that from happening. Your unexpected guest had taken over your couch and smelled very heavily of alcohol, you pushed him onto the floor so the smell wouldn't soak into your couch. You knew Logan was tough, and that he slept like a fucking 300 pound brick according to Wade, pushing him off the couch felt like you were trying to push a car with a dead battery but you were able to move the man onto the floor in an unceremonious heap after a couple of minutes of trying. A heavy thud followed his fall, but he didn’t so much as grunt when he hit the floor, and for a moment you wondered if he was actually dead, but the slight twitch in his hand told you he was fine, probably.

You weren’t going to let this ruin your day off, taking another look at the man, you did feel a little bad leaving him on the floor, not enough to put him back on your couch- no you paid way to much for it to do that- but bad enough for you to grab a spare pillow and blanket for the man. It felt a little weird, tucking in your intruder rather than calling the police on him, but you knew Logan well enough to know that he almost definitely meant to break into his own apartment and got a little mixed up. Being drunk will do that.

Moving away from him and into the kitchen, you decided to make breakfast, as your plans of sleeping had been completely ruined at- you looked at the clock on your stove- 6:37 in the morning. You just wanted to get some water before you went back to sleep, but no, now your making breakfast because even though you knew that Logan was relatively friendly- in his own way- waking up to him in your living room was fucking nerve wrecking and you falling back asleep wasn’t likely.

Opening your refrigerator, you took out a couple of eggs, then remembered that Logan was an absolutely massive man and promptly took out a couple more. You figured that eggs and bacon was an ok impromptu breakfast. Pans clinging together as you try to find the right one in the cabinet, trying to light your shitty gas stove without starting a fire, finally beginning to cook the bacon in the pan. 

When Logan walked in a couple minutes later, seemingly still asleep as he nearly reached into the pan to grab the bacon that wasn’t even done cooking yet, you grabbed his wrist, nearly dropping your spatula as you yanked the man's hand away from the pan.

“Dammit, be careful!”

Your voice seemingly woke him up, eyes opening wide as he stared at you, then his face morphed into one of confusion as he looked around, realizing that he definitely wasn’t in his own apartment.

“Good morning, could you please get out of my kitchen, you smell like beer.”

He blinked, “How the hell did I get here?”

Releasing his wrist and turning back to the stove, flipping the bacon as you said, “You broke in.”

You heard him groan, probably in embarrassment or annoyance, you’d be pretty embarrassed if you broke into your super nice neighbor’s apartment too.

“Fuck..” He muttered under his breath. 

“It’s fine, Logan, just let me finish cooking- and don’t sit on my couch!”

He left the kitchen almost immediately, but slowly. You figured he was hungover- you weren’t sure if that could happen with a healing factor like his but with the way he held his head in his hand, you figured something had to be happening. 

Wade had pretty much filled you in on his little multidimensional adventure. He also had a tendency to break into your apartment, (which is probably why you had a relatively calm reaction to Logan) he basically just declared that you were friends one day, it was pretty unceremonious actually. He told you everything, usually things you didn’t want to know, but you didn’t mind his company.

A couple more minutes passed and you finished cooking, making plates and grabbing forks before leaving the kitchen to find Logan. It took you a second, but you found him back in the living room, sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, cover draped over his shoulders. You sat down next to him, silently handing him a plate- he looked a little surprised, but took it with a quick, “Thanks.”

You ate quietly, you could tell Logan appreciated his sizable plate. When he was finished he sat it on the ground next to him. Hesitating for a moment before speaking,

“Sorry about breaking in,”

You hummed, “It’s fine, really, you’re not the first person to break in.”

He grunted, “I know Wade comes over sometimes.”

“Yeah, he’s bought me at least five new doorknobs in the past year, he acts like knocking will kill him.”

The irony made Logan snort, “Yeah, I wish.”

You sat your now empty plate on top of his.

“No you don't, you think Al will let you stay with her if he dies?”

“I’ll get my own place” 

“Uh Huh,” you hummed, “With what money?”

That made him laugh, even if it was a small one.

A moment passed and neither of you spoke, the house grew quiet and the space between the two of you became awkward.

Another moment passed and he pushed himself up off the floor, “I better get going.”

You followed behind him, to the front door where your door was left slightly open and what remains of the handle laid on the floor. You both paused at the sight, Logan glanced over at you, a bit of worry on his face.

You let out a sigh, “I'll get Wade to pay for it.”

The soft, humorous smile on your face made Logan relax as you kicked the sliced metal that used to be your doorknob to the side. 

“Thank you- for breakfast..and not calling the police.”

You laughed before saying, “Anytime, really. Just..call next time.”

He smiled as he left, deciding, deep in his subconscious, that he liked you.

~~~~~~~

You didn’t see him for another month after that, you’ve caught glances of him in passing, but nothing quite as friendly as your first meeting. Until one day, at about two in the morning, you could hear fighting next door. It woke you up out of your sleep as something was thrown against the wall over and over and over, then there was the yelling and growling and snarling. You knew Logan and Wade fought a lot in a mostly unserious way, but it was way to fucking early for DIY WWE. You knew better than to get involved in one of their fights. They were mutants, you weren’t, and you were not about to get in the middle of whatever they had going on. It’s kinda funny, considering what you’ve been told your whole life- the typical Alpha propaganda, being the strongest, the fastest, the leader. Your sure it worked on some people, but you were very fortunate to not fall down the aggressive uber dominate typical male alpha rabbit hole- you knew you wouldn’t always be the fastest, the strongest, or the most eligible leader just because you were an alpha (which most alphas should have figured out by now, considering that, like, half of the fucking Avenger are omegas- it was really funny trying to see people grabble with that fact when it came out.)

Pulling yourself out of your thoughts, you realized that the fighting had stopped, and now it was eerily quiet. You decided that it wasn’t your problem and rolled over to finally get some sleep. Your eyes were closed for maybe thirty seconds when a rapid banging on your door forced you out of bed.

Your door had long since been fixed, unlocking the door and swinging it open, a deeply tired look on your face.

Logan stood in front of you, covered in more blood that you’ve seen on a person in your entire life. A large gash on his face sealing itself right before your eyes. 

“Are you two done?” You asked tiredly.

He nodded, you stepped aside to let him in, only to look down and notice the trail of blood left by his boots. You grabbed him by the back of his shirt like you’d grab an unruly cat by its scruff.

“Take your shoes off, go shower.” He paused, turning around with a questioning look on his face, but he obeyed anyway.

Taking off his bloodied boots and tossing them out the door. You could smell something different in the air, but you were too tired to care- it wasn’t smoke or gas, so you weren’t worried about it, but it was something- something distinctly sweet.

You pointed Logan to the bathroom, flicking the light on with him trailing behind you. You could feel the energy practically draining out of your body every second you were conscious.

Muttering, “All the towels in the cabinet are clean-” you paused for a moment, really taking in the state of the man clothes, torn and bloodied- you noticed the small knife sticking out of his shoulder and didn’t even bother panicking, “You can leave you clothes on the counter, put the knife in the sink though. I’ll bring you something to wear.”

He listened well, you figured he must be tired too, his half-lidded expression and general obedience was surprising, but welcome at 2 in the morning.

You walked past him, turning the shower on before leaving without saying a word, closing the door behind you.

You left out a spare pillow and cover for the man, the same ones as last time, washed, of course, because Logan left them smelling like alcohol and you really didn’t want that stinking up your apartment. You moved on to half heartedly cleaning the blood off the floor with a couple of paper towels- cleaning may have been too strong a phrase, you really just threw them over the bloody footprints and moved on for the night. 

Finding Logan some clothes was really a guessing game, you couldn't really ask the man what size he wore, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to find something you thought would fit him. 

~~~~~~~

A sudden waft of cold air that filled the bathroom when you swung the door open, Logan could hear you moving around. Hot water cascaded down his body, washing away any evidence of the fight he’d had with Wade- really he needed to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes, that clearly wasn’t happening anytime soon, so Logan would settle for breaking his jaw over and over again until he got the point. It never stuck through, not with Wade, even after breaking his spine at least twice the man kept talking. The fight ended when Al woke up, not that Wade really cared, because even then he wouldn’t leave Logan alone. Because he likes Al, and to prove Wade wrong, he headed over to your house.

Despite what Wade had heavily insisted, he’s not avoiding you, and he’s not suppressing any feelings for you because there weren’t any to be had in the first place.

“‘Left you some clothes, i'm gonna wash yours, I’ll try and fix them in the morning but they’re pretty beat up.” He could hear how tired you were, and if he was anybody else he might have felt guilty for keeping you up this late. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the attention.

You were gone before he could respond, by the time he got out of the shower he couldn’t hear any movement around your apartment, so he figured you went to bed. Cracking the bathroom door to let some of the steam out and wiping his hand on the fogged over mirror, his body had healed completely, no longer bruised or caked with blood. Rubbing his hand over his face, suddenly feeling just as tired as you had looked, looking down at the neatly folded pile of clothes replacing his old ones. A large black Superman t-shirt and a gray hoodie, long, red checkered pajama pants, and navy blue underwear, folded right on top. The clothes smelled like you, and not just like the detergent you used, no, they had your natural scent on them. Logan wasn’t going to not wear them, considering he had nothing else to wear and he really didn’t want to walk over to his place to get clothes. He thought back to what happened last time he was here- when he broke in. He doesn’t really remember much of that night, but he does remember his dream. It started off as nothing, the usual black void that kept him calm as he slept, then an unfamiliar scent changed that- he had what he considered an under-active imagination, but that scent kicked it into hyperdrive. He dreamed of being held and loved, but most prominently of getting fucked. Logan would be the first to say that it’s been a long time for him, and that was partially his own fault, chronic self isolation did that, and partially because the only people he’d ever wanted to fuck him were dead. Not all of them, apparently, because whoever scent it was driving him insane. He’s been called feral before, along with other things, but it made him feel like his heat was about to start at that very second. It was miracle he didn’t wake up covered in his own slick that moring- or worse, start his heat in your fucking living room- and that was just from having a cover on him, actually wearing your clothes might put him in a coma.

He figured the strong scent of alcohol covered any of his lingering arousal, or maybe you were too nice to say anything. And you cooked for him- he broke into your house, damaged your property and you fucking cooked for him.

Wade swore he has a crush on you- which led to them fighting, of course, but they fought most days over any little thing. This wasn’t anything new.

He put on the clothes more hesitantly than he’d ever admit- and it was almost overwhelming, but he pushed through it, cutting off the light in the bathroom and navigating through your dark apartment. The light in the living room was on, as well as the TV, the remote was sat on top of the folded cover you left out for him. He quickly settled, he didn’t usually watch TV when he went to sleep, but he needed something to distract from your scent right now. Finding some shitty home improvement show and settling on the couch, keeping his mind as blank as he could, he had Jean to thank for that skill because it was really useful right now. Couldn’t think of sex if he wasn’t thinking at all. Letting the mind numbingly boring show be the white noise as he drifts off.

Logan, however, could not control his thoughts while he was asleep. His subconscious was working overtime, now, with a face and a voice to put to the alpha whose scent had effortlessly disarmed him and brought him to his knees.

It was such an easy image to conjure, you sitting in front of him as he rested his head on your thigh, running your hands through his hair as he stared up at you with pleading eyes, you smiled down at him, a small, warm smile, swearing lightly as he slowly unzipped your pants, already hard and waiting for him, you’d grab him by the hair and he’d let out a slow purr as you pulled him closer. Taking the tip of your cock in his mouth, sliding his tongue over it a few times, finally getting a taste of what he so desperately craves. He took as much as he could in his mouth, feeling it hit the back of his throat. Looking up at you again, a string of moans fell from your open mouth, your eyes just barely open, staring down at him. Your grip on his hair tightened for a moment, the shot of pain coursing through his scalp for a short moment, a muffled moan left him, before settling as you released him. Using his tongue to feel every little vein in your cock, moving slowly as you ran your fingers through his hair again. Feeling no need to rush as the heat in his chest and in his stomach grew hotter and hotter.

His own cock throbbed between his legs but he didn’t touch it, even as it leaked and mixed with the mess of slick in the boxer you gave him, he had no doubt that you would handle it. Letting your cock prod his throat and push past the barrier. Almost all his airflow was blocked but he didn’t pull back, trying to take you as deep as he could only to be yanked back by his hair. Pulled completely off your cock, he looked up at you, confused.

“What?” He said, his voice rough and deep.

You didn’t respond, instead, you stood, still holding onto him- and practically dragged him to your bedroom. He tried to keep up on all fours, panting and moaning at the pain and at how much this turned him on.

He was practically purring in your hand as you guided him onto your bed.

“You look so good like this,”

Your voice was sweet and genuine, quiet praises fell from your mouth as you slowly removed his clothes piece by piece. He only got hotter the more you revealed of him, the burning under his skin reaching an all time high. Once he was completely bare in front of you, you ran your hands across his body, starting at his chest, moving all the way down to his stomach and the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock, then back up again.

“Tell me what you want sweetheart.” You muttered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his collar.

“I-” he breathed out, vision slightly blurred, “I want you.”

You smiled, kissing his neck, his jaw, his lips, “I want you, too.”

~~~~~~~

The almost overbearing smell of burning oak and honey pulled you out of your sleep, checking your phone, you saw that it’s been less that three hours since you let Logan in, and his scent, which was usually calm and almost unnoticeable, was filling your bedroom, even with him nowhere in sight. Running your hand over your face with a tired groan, then you took a deep breath, and any irritation you felt rising at being woken up again melted away. You enjoyed the scent longer than you should have- it made you feel warm on an otherwise cold night.

For a second you considered opening the window- you were practically drowning in his scent and you aren’t even in the same room- but a sudden and overwhelming feeling of possessiveness kept you from doing it. Logan was vulnerable right now, what kind of friend would you be if you let just anyone encounter him like this- god, what if Wade of all people found out, you nor Logan would ever hear the end of it. A small part of your brain that wasn’t completely clouded by Logan’s utterly intoxicating scent wondered why he suddenly decided to present so strongly, a louder, more primal part of your brain screamed “Heat!” until it's all you could think of. The thought made a shiver shoot through your spine as blood pooled straight downward.

You tried to think of what could have started his heat so suddenly, but any detective work would have to wait until you didn’t feel like breeding him anymore. That quiet, logical part of your brain was telling you to stay in your room- but it was too quiet and you ended up leaving your room and heading into the pitch black darkness that was the rest of your house. You moved completely out of muscle memory, heading straight to the living room. You could feel the heat radiating off the man the second you entered, reaching for the light on the wall, missing it twice before flipping the switch. The room lit up immediately. Logan was truly something out of your wildest fantasies, face buried in a pillow, cover completely discarded on the floor, his shirt rode up while his pants were riding down in an attempt to relieve the heat burning in his skin. Hips rolling against the couch cushion as soft, almost inaudible moans escaped the man. You just stared for a long moment, frozen in shock at the sight.

You were fully aware you shouldn’t be watching this, your heart was pounding it your chest, and your dick was throbbing in your pants. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he stopped, a long groan emitting from him as he rolled onto his back.

Fully hard and straining against the pajama pants you gave him, taking a deep breath in through his nose, then his body tensed, a second later his eyes snapped open and he stared you down, just a few feet away from him, just as flustered, heart pounding just as hard as his, pants just as tight and straining. He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over so he was sitting upright. He gave you a small challenging look. That’s all it took for any bit of resolve you had to be thrown out the window.

It was a messy, desperate first kiss, your hands practically clawing at each other's bodies as you pressed your lip to his- Logan decided that you were definitely a better kisser in real life than you were in his dream. It left both of you hot and gasping for air. Pushing Logan back down onto the couch, pushing his legs open and slotting yourself between them. He pulled back with a winded laugh and a smirk.

“Mhh, what’s so funny?” you asked, not waiting for him to answer before you continued kissing any exposed bit of skin you could find, leaving a hickey on his collar bone- only to watch it disappear seconds later.

He craned his neck back almost instinctively, giving you as much space as he could.

“Didn’t think I’d actually ever want an alpha,’ thought that was a bunch of bullshit.”

You hummed, your hands finding their way under his shirt, feeling his skin against yours, the searing heat of it. Feeling what Wade had called on numerous occasions ‘fucking massive tits’. You had to say he was right, watching as a shudder ran through Logan's body. 

“And now?” You asked, a small smirk on your face.

He hissed quietly, rolling his hips against yours, “I’m fucking burning for you.”

You felt the nearly unsuppressable urge to mark him rise. He wanted you, he was burning for you. 

Not any other alpha out there- He could have gone anywhere tonight, you're sure he knew every late night bar in a 50 mile radius, and he still came to you.

You pulled back, nearly ripping his pants in a desperate attempt to get them off- your frantic, ecstatic state made a small laugh rise in Logan’s chest, he didn’t even consider helping you. He let you do all the work, if you were that desperate for him then you wouldn’t complain- and you didn’t. (He was a considerable amount more desperate than you were, considering he was just humping your couch like a damn dog 5 minutes ago and he just started what was more than likely going to be a very, very bad heat.)

When you were finally able to get his pants off, you could feel just how wet he was. The navy boxer you gave him were drenched in slick, clinging to him, showing off the hard outline of his cock. Logan sunk farther into the couch, a low purr emitting from deep in his chest.

“Don’t just look.” he panted.

His body reacted so strongly every time you took your hands off of him, even if it was just for a moment, his body would ache and writhe the second they were away from him. He let out a low breath when you finally touched him again, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other holding his face as you kissed him. He moaned unapologetically, loud, but muffled by your lips as you kissed him. His hips bucked up into your hands as you rubbed him through his boxer. Logan's head fell back against the cushions, eyes squeezed shut as a babble of swears fell from his lips, almost indistinguishable from his moans and low growls.

You tease him for what, to Logan, felt like hours. Sensitive and so pent up, he clung to you, holding your body against his, his face buried in your neck, taking in as much of your scent as he could. The burning in his skin didn’t stop, but it felt a lot cooler with you against him.

Logan was scenting you- you realized that the two of you would be smelling like each other and sex for at least a week- a part of you wished it was longer. That he’d walk around and have everyone in his vicinity know he was yours.

Your hand slipped under his boxers, pulling them down until they were about mid thigh. Moving past his hard, twitching cock and straight down to his hole. Soaking wet, you barely touched it before he squirted more slick onto your hand. Still with your face pressed to his neck, you chuckled.

“I barely even touched you..” you muttered.

With a growl, he said, “fuck off.”

You kissed his neck, right over the scent gland, making it flare up again.

“Make me, cowboy.”

You didn't give him time to respond, pushing two fingers into his hole, feeling him clench around them. His hips shifted against yours as you massaged his walls, listening to him grunt, and purr, and moan. Rubbing his cock against your still clothed one. Little sits of pre-cum beading at the tip and smearing on your pants.

He could feel pressure building in his stomach, it was sudden and unstoppable- not like he’d want it to-  with little warning to you, his body tensed hard, his legs closing around your body and his arms holding you in an almost crushing grip. He whined, bucking hard and fast against you- trying to fuck your fingers deeper into him as cum short from his cock, staining your pants and both your shirts. 

Fuck, that only made things worse. Once his arms were loose enough around you, you pulled back, sitting up and looking at the mess between the two of you. His legs were wide open, one hooked on the back of the couch, the other hanging off the side. He stared at you, pupils blown wide, thrusting his hips against nothing in a desperate attempt to feel something.

“More.”  He growled out.

“You want more?” You asked in a teasing tone, moving your hands to rest on his thighs.

He nodded.

You hummed softly, leaning down and kissing his cheek, “Ok sweetheart, I’ll give you more.”

He purred at the nickname. Letting his eyes close he listened to you move, hearing each article of clothes hit the floor, your scent got stronger and he breathed it in as deeply as he could.

Logan gasped when you pressed the tip of your cock against his hole, trying to press against it only for you to pull back.

“Relax.” You said, running your hands over his thighs I what he figured was supposed to be a soothing motion be it only made things worse

-you were right there, just a little bit more, please-

“You’d think after being alive for 200 years you’d learn some patients.” You pushed in slowly, watching as his mouth fell open in a silent moan. Pushing in inch by inch, feeling how hot he was around you, squeezing you tight. Finally, you were fully pushed inside him. His hands grinned the couch cushions so tight you thought they might tear.

Teeth clenched hard and chest heaving, he nearly shouted, “fucking move!”, after a second, “please.”

You abided, pulling half way out, giving him a shallow thrust. Over and over, pulling out farther and farther, then burying your cock back into his hole until you were slamming into him burying you cock deep inside him every time.

Shame seemed to stop existing for him as he moaned your name loud and clear, then,

“More Alpha, come on- please.”

He said it so easily that he almost didn’t realize it until you paused, looking down at him, a nearly unreadable expression in your face.

Panting, you said, “say that again.”

So gone, so beyond horny that his mind had slipped away from him, catching up moments later.

“More, y/n-“ you pinched his side, a wide grin on your face.

“That’s not what you said.”

He huffed, “fuck you.”

You gave him a slow, soft thrust, “come on, you already said it, it just wanna hear it again.”.

He glared up at you, resisting the urge to tell you to get to hell.

“Please..Alpha.”

The look on your face made it worth it, you pulled back until just the tip of your cock remained inside. Logan knew you weren’t going to pull out now, so he braces himself for the hard pounding he knew was inevitable. When it did come he put a couple claw shaped holes in your couch.

His body bounced hard with every thrust. Listening to you growl and pant as you hammered into him. This was miles better than any dream or fantasy. Holding on to the couch for dear life.

Minutes passed and you showed no sign of slowing down, even as another orgasm shot through Logan’s body, you didn’t stop, looking down at the cum splattered across his chest.

“My pretty omega-“ you panted, you felt Logan tighten around you, “want me to fill you with my cum, huh?”

Logan, covered in his own sweat, slick, and cum, barely able to think, nodded.

He could feel your knot starting to swell, it took more and more force to push into him- it made you slower, but you still slammed into him just as hard. Your pre-cum leaked into his hole, your own orgasm moments away and Logan could tell.

A little dizzy, he put his hands on your shoulder, trying to guide you down but you wouldn't go- even though he was dazed and ,for the most part, satiated, there was still something he wanted.

“Y/n, mhhm- Alpha- mark me-”

It wasn't a request, it was an order, and you couldn't find it in yourself to deny him.

You couldn't think of the repercussions, what this would mean for either of your futures, what it would do to your still extremely new relationship, not because you didn't want to, but you physically couldn't, the idea of making him yours was too strong.

You leaned down and pressed your teeth into his bare skin. You could only taste his blood for a short moment, the skin healed as fast as it broke- instead of perfectly clear skin being left there was a scar. Before you could even begin to wonder how that could happen you came hard, knot swelling, keeping you locked deep inside of Logan as you finished inside of him. 

You pressed a kiss on his cheek, he blinked tiredly, a small grin on his face.

“What?” you yawned, feeling exhausted.

“I owe Wade an apology..”

You groaned, flopping down onto his chest.

“Don't bring him up now,”

He laughed, “‘ thought you liked him?”

“Yeah, just not while my dick is still in you, you can talk all you want about Wade in 30 to 40 minutes when my knot goes down.” you said, wrapping your arms around you to the best of your ability. 

He did the same, “Fine.”

~~~~~~~

Logan’s heat lasted about a week, he stayed with you the whole time, partially because he really didn’t want to deal with Wade, but mostly because the two of you could not stop fucking. He was your mate after all, what were you supposed to do, let him suffer? In the past 6 days you and Logan have fucked a total of 9 times- 

-10 if he didn’t stop kissing you neck right fucking down.

“Logan, I have to go to work,” You said in a stern tone that only made him want you more.

“Call off.”

“I’ve already been off for six days because of you.”

He really didn’t care- you could feel him leave a hickey on your neck- as though you weren’t already covered in hundreds of bites and bruises because of him.

“I’m going to lose my job-”

“Come on, please?” He said quietly.

You took a deep breath in-

“What the fuck, I leave for a couple of days and you house break my roommate!”

Oh god, it's entirely too early for this.

You don’t know where Wade came from, but now he’s in your kitchen with you and Logan.

“Kidding, I’ve been listening to you two fuck all week. You-” He puts a finger in your chest, “-are a real freak. And I thought I was a dirty dog, you are really something else.”

“Fuck off, Wade.” Logan said, seems like the mere presence of Wade turned him off.

“And you, I don’t even know what to say to you- You think you know a guy, live with him for a year and he just doesn’t tell you he’s an omega, that's considered extremely rude in most places. You don’t have to worry about anyone else being surprised, I’m pretty sure they heard you begging for Y/n sweet, succulent dick all the way in Europe.”

You stood, grabbing your keys off the counter- you were not staying and watching Wade get torn to shreds.

You turned to Logan to see that he was thoroughly pissed off.

“Don't get blood on my floor.” You kissed his cheek, knowing it was very likely  that he was going to get blood on every surface. “Have fun.”

You walked away, hearing a loud thump behind you and deciding that you weren’t going to pay it any attention, even as Wade’s high pitched screams met your ears. Reaching the front door you saw it in pieces again. That was a problem for later, for now you needed to get to work and attempt to explain to your manager why you’ve been MIA.

Request are closed

[illbegottenfaith]

sweet?!

you may not be the one dating theodore nott but you'd be damned if you let anyone think of him as sweet (theo nott x reader)

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - I meant to make a separate post a while back but college has been kicking my ass so 😭 but 300 followers!!! insaneee ily all sooo much mwah I feel so so grateful and also a little weirded out cuz wdym 300 people... (I am SO bad at these can you tell um anyways) also this was inspired by a new girl episode!! I kind of have plans for a part 3 but im still workshopping it so idk yet but !! we'll see :)

tropes/warnings - fluff, slight angst, mattheo not understanding physics (but its not like he had a formal education in the subject so is it rlly his fault??), tw descriptions of injury

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @kandralice @clairesblouse @deenaaa

"You're still coming this afternoon, right?"

You were having lunch in the Great Hall with your best friend Ivy, hours before one of the most entertaining sporting events of the year - an underground Muggle sports day. Every year, a group of students from each house would compete in some arbitrarily chosen muggle sport, with varying levels of success. Casualties and knee-slapping memories (for those standing in the sidelines, such as yourself) were a guarantee.

You nodded. "Are you kidding? Watching the boys wack each other black and blue at some poor attempt at a muggle sport? I wouldn't miss it for the world. I hope it's hockey. It's got sticks, you know." You got an odd, dreamlike look in your eye. "Merlin, I hope it's hockey."

Ivy dug into her Shepherd's pie. "Good. It sounds interesting enough. Plus, Theo's new girlfriend will be there."

You nearly upset your pumpkin juice.

"Girlfriend? When did that happen?"

Something in your voice must have given your true feelings away from the way Ivy squinted at you suspiciously. You pulled a face. It seemed convincing enough.

"It's all very new," Ivy said a tad bit sternly. "They met at Davies' party a while back and, well, they fancied each other, so -"

You snorted.

"What, is he blackmailing her?"

Ivy frowned at you. "Don't snark," she rebuked. "It isn't nice. She's a regular daisy, you'll see."

Yeah. Sure. You piled some more mashed potatoes onto your plate.

"Has anyone checked her for brain damage? Look - I'm not even snarking, I'm genuinely concerned for her wellbeing - "

“I don’t understand how this is supposed to work,” Mattheo was saying as the two of you walked over the makeshift Muggle basketball court someone had fashioned out of one of the disused storerooms in the dungeons. He and the rest of the Slytherin boys were wearing matching fluorescent green mesh vests to distinguish themselves from the Gryffindor team, engaged in some deadly serious discussion. A part of you wondered if you should mention that muggle sports weren’t generally meant to be as fatal as Quidditch.

As usual, Theo looked bored to death by the conversation. "We've been over this a hundred times. You dribble the ball -"

"Yeah, right," Mattheo vehemently said. "Like this thing's coming up if I throw it down. What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, oddly reminscent of the way you did when you felt a migraine coming on.

"Remember the tennis ball, Matty? The fuzzy, green one?"

"That's different. That thing was tiny, and bouncy. This thing's heavy. It's the size of my head. No, a quaffle. No, a -"

"Then what do you think is going to happen?" Theo interrupted irritably.

“Stick to the ground, obviously. Watch - "

As seasoned as the lot of you had become in anticipating Mattheo's often highly dangerous impulses, this one came entirely out of left field. Theo yanked him back by his vest, but it was too late. He slammed the basketball down and it ricocheted back up almost immediately, punching him right in the nose. Mattheo swore loudly, and the last thing you saw before you looked away was an awful amount of blood.

Even after Enzo took him to the Hospital Wing, once Theo had sufficiently plugged his nose with obscene amounts of tissue, things did not improve for the team. About halfway through the game, an unfortunate scuffle between some of the players left Draco curled up in a ball, grimacing as he clutched his knee. Theo winced, running over to where Draco was doing a rather poor job of concealing his pain.

"Oh, that's so Teddy," Margaret gushed to you, "always stopping by to help anyone in need. Isn't he such a gentleman?"

You nodded stiffly, your slight smile frozen on your face, willing Ivy to hurry back with the snacks and drinks she had left for. After she had introduced the two of you to each other, you decided that Margaret was a perfectly pleasant person, even if she wasn't the type of friend you typically sought out. If anything, you were more confused than ever about what she was doing, hanging around a guy as bitter as Theo.

However, one thing that truly bothered you was the odd remark here or there that revealed her grossly inaccurate perceptions of him, such as this one. You thought back to just last week when you had tripped in front of him on one of the Shifting Staircases, your books tumbling down into the recesses of the stairwell. He had stopped by you, alright. Stopped to point and laugh, that is.

"Honestly, I couldn't have asked for a better boyfriend. He's really sweet," Margaret finished.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head.

"Sweet?"

Just in time, Ivy hurried over, gently pulling you away with some half-hearted excuse.

"O-kay, I think that's enough bonding for today."

"Sweet," you echoed weakly as you limply allowed yourself to be carted away, the appalled expression still on your face. "She thinks he's sweet." Euch.

But Ivy wasn't paying attention to you anymore. "How bad is it?" she asked, as the two of you neared the cluster around Draco.

"Bad," Ivan replied, gingerly pressing Draco's knee. "He definitely needs to see Madam Pomfrey. No way he'll be able to play any more today, and we're out of reserves, so we're a man short." He turned, motioning to the Gryffindor players scattered across the field that the game was over.

"Damn. I'll take him to the hospital wing, I've been meaning to check on Mattheo too. Meg, you'll help me, won't you?"

With a little difficulty, the three of them limped along once they had pulled Draco's arms over their shoulders. One of the Gryffindor players approached the crowd, picking up on what was happening after a glance at Draco.

"What about the game?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "We'll rematch, you nitwit."

You went back to your seat, trying to figure out what to do with Ivy's refreshments. Once it was clear that the game was over, the last of the players and the scanty audience filtered out of the room.

"What gives?"

You pulled your gaze back to the lone Slytherin player left, in a blood-spotted mesh vest. Your least favourite player. You could slap that on a T-shirt - not that you wanted to cheer for him. Merlin, no. Cheer against him, maybe. You wouldn't wish it on your worst enemy - which, coincidentally, happened to be him. You momentarily abandoned your musings as you returned to the real world, noticing the expectant look on his face.

"Hm?"

Theo spread him arms out and shrugged in a helpless sort of manner.

"I don't get it, L/N. What do you want from me?

You stared at him blankly. "...what are you talking about?"

He scoffed half-heartedly, like he was too upset to put any real heat behind it.

"I have this amazing new girlfriend that everyone loves." He tossed the ball away with a defeated air. "Everyone, except you."

The words stung. You stuck your chin out defiantly.

"Why do you care so much about what I think?"

"Why can't you just be happy for me?

"I just want you to be honest."

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "Honesty? That's what this is about?"

That's what it had always been about, you wanted to say. You sniffed nonchalantly, rearranging the pleats of your skirt.

"I don't think it's fair to Margaret that you're selling her some lie just to -"

"You think I'm lying to her?"

He kept his voice cool, almost offensively neutral. You rolled your eyes. "I know you are."

Theo was quiet after that, as if mulling over what you had said.

"So," he pressed after a moment, slowly walking towards you, forcing you to crane your head up to maintain eye contact, "you think I should be more transparent with her. That is...show her my unpleasant side."

You allowed yourself a brief smile. "Exactly."

"Be more rude to her."

"Yeah."

"Mock her."

You furrowed your brow slightly.

"Erm, sure."

"Insult her."

"I - what?"

"In short," Theo continued, as if you hadn't spoken, "you want me to treat her like I do you."

He tilted his head.

"Why is that? Do you feel...betrothed to me? Or, perhaps, you consider me your boyfriend? Since we're being honest, and all."

In that moment, you decided you never hated Theo more than you did then, with his domineering stances, condescending sneers, and caustically sarcastic remarks. You swallowed hard, your throat almost painfully tight as you felt the traitorous prick of tears behind your eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," you muttered. But he wasn't being entirely ridiculous, was he? It was what made the whole thing all that more upsetting.

If he noticed you were teary-eyed, he didn't comment on it, as if it were disappointing. As if you were yet another disappointment in his book of unfairly high expectations. He straightened with a barely convincing air of nonchalance. If anything, he looked just as upset as you felt.

"Whatever, L/N. See you around."

[erodasfishtacos]

Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||

Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out

AUTHORS NOTES:

There is 5 more part to this up on patreon (17k words, a 25.1k fic overall)

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating abo!roommates

All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature

There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here!

========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.

The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.

He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.

At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.

He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.

It came at a cost.

A really fucking big cost.

It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.

++

”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.

“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.

Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”

Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.

”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”

YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”

”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.

”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.

”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”

“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.

”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”

++

He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.

Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.

++

”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.

YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.

Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.

Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.

”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.

Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”

YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.

It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.

He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.

But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.

YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”

”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”

”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”

It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”

”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.

Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.

He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.

”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”

Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.

She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.

”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.

Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.

++

Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.

He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.

Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.

Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.

He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.

Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.

His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.

Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.

No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.

YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.

”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”

Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.

He was the cutest little thing.

Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.

”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.

”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”

YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”

”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”

Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”

One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.

It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.

YN had complete and utter trust in him.

It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.

”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”

”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”

YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”

Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”

YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”

”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`

++

After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.

The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.

YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot he was.

YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.

She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.

He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.

Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.

There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.

”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.

His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.

What if she leaves you?

What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?

She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?

You don’t deserve her.

Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.

He had to make this up to her.

++

Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.

Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.

”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”

”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.

YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.

”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”

”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”

YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”

“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”

”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”

“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.

“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.

”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”

YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.

”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”

Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.

Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.

”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.

He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”

It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.

He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.

”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.

God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++

It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.

Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.

It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.

So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.

Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.

Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.

YN never complained about anything.

She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.

YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.

It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.

He was going to figure this out himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.

Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.

It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.

However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.

He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.

Harry should be enjoying his time right now.

They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.

Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.

And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.

When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.

He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.

Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.

He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.

When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.

”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“

A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.

”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”

Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”

“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.

“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.

“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”

“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”

His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.

Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.

“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”

Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.

Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.

Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.

Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.

When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.

“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.

“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.

“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.

“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.

“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.

“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.

“My bedroom-“

“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”

Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.

“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.

“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.

Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”

His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.

Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.

When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.

“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.

“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”

Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.

Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.

YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.

Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”

But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.

What is YN is leaving you?

What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?

First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?

Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything felt like it’s crumbling.

[steddieas-shegoes]

top shelf pretty

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘top’

rated t | 510 words | cw: alcohol, mention of recreational drug use | tags: flirting, drunk shenanigans, getting together, implied happy ending

🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃🥃

Eddie’s never had top shelf anything, not even that time Wayne took him to a fancy restaurant to celebrate his graduation. He liked cheap shit that got you drunk fast and hungover faster.

So when Steve decided to have a party for all the adults, dragging out his dad’s $300 bottle of whiskey and his mom’s most cherished champagne, Eddie went at it the same way he would have with anything else. He was disappointed to find that five shots of whiskey didn’t seem to do much for him.

“You gotta let it sit, man,” Argyle smiled at him, already crossfaded. “Good shit takes time.”

He would’ve thought the opposite, but whatever.

He sipped on a glass of champagne, gagging at the bitterness of the bubbles.

“Doing okay over here?” Steve asked from right behind him.

“When did you get there?” Eddie slurred.

“Ah, so doing really okay,”

His hand was on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s heart was on the floor.

He turned to respond, but the world was spinning and Steve had a twin standing right next to him. When did he get a twin? He was an only child an hour ago.

Steve was touching his hair. Oh god. His fingers were so big, but so delicate, and gentle, and-

“Hey, maybe you should have some water.”

Eddie nodded. Water was good. He liked water, liked being hydrated, thinking straight.

He giggled to himself. “Never thinking straight,” he said quietly.

He heard Steve laugh, but didn’t question it. He wasn’t questioning anything anymore except how he was gonna stand up and get to where the water was.

Maybe he could make it to the shower and just sit on the floor and tilt his head back, open his mouth and-

“You don’t seem like the type to not be able to handle your liquor,” Steve’s arm was wrapped around his waist and they were walking. When had he even gotten up? “At least for as little as you’ve had compared to Nancy. I’m convinced she’s hiding her shots somewhere. She’s had at least seven.”

“Nancy’s prettier than me.”

Steve froze for only a second before continuing their journey to water.

“I don’t think so,” he finally replied.

Eddie shook his head, which was a terrible idea.

“She would make pretty babies with you.”

Steve snorted. “I don’t wanna have pretty babies with her.”

“You don’t wanna make pretty babies with me,” Eddie pouted.

He stopped short, nearly tripping over his own feet. Why did he say that?

Steve was staring a hole into the side of his face.

“Who said I don’t?”

“I mean. You. And I-“ Eddie sighed. “This liquor is something else.”

“So are you, Eds.”

Eddie drank a glass of water while Steve watched. He was tucked into Steve’s bed to sleep it off.

And in the morning, when he woke up with Steve’s leg over his, he thought maybe he was still drunk.

At least until Steve opened his eyes and smiled at him.

“You’re a pretty drunk.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but even prettier right now.”

[sachiko6243]

Make me your wife

Summary: Y/N and her sister got attacked by giant spiders. Luckily Thranduil and his men were near enough to come to their rescue. What Y/N didnt think would ever happen, would be the elven king falling for her sassy and sarcastic character...

Word count: 6606

Warnings: spider attack in the beginning, sass, smut in the end, Minors DNI, this contains adult content!

This was written on request for: @mitsurisu I hope you like it. Sorry for the long wait, but I had much to do at my work. 😅

I was riding through the forest of the Woodland realm with my sister Leonor. We had set of from Rivendell on the request of Legolas. We had met him after he had helped the dwarves to take back their mountain. He was a very nice fellow, flirtatious and easy going, to the point where my sister had poked me and made fun of me for maybe pursuing him as a potential partner. She had been married to her husband for the last 300 years and was still utterly convinced that I would be happy in a marriage as well.

Nothing I said was driving her from that path and I had given up convincing her otherwise, deciding that letting her talk and ignore it would be the best option. She was once again on a rampage on married life, while I rode besides her, letting my thoughts and gaze wander. A crack deeper in the woods made me listen up. I knew that in those woods there were living many giant spiders, so I silenced my sister. She wasn’t a fighter like I was and if we were in trouble I needed her to listen to me.

“Shut it, Leonor. I think I heard something!” I whispered, but she waved it off. “Oh, come on Y/N. You always see and hear danger everywhere.”

“Its my job. I am a soldier after all. Be quiet, there are many spiders in these woods. I need to figure out if we are in danger.” I growled, my hands already gripping my two swords.

“Relax. There is nothing out there. You know how thoroughly Legolas and the guards clear those woods. He has told us on many occasions.” She sighed, not taking the threat seriously.

Another crack made me draw my swords, telling my horse to speed up. Leonor was quick to follow me and we were now thundering through the forest. I really hoped that it was just the forest doing foresty things and not some giant spiders, but my hope was being denied.

With a loud thud, a dark green giant spider dropped right in front of us. Leonor was just quick enough to steer her horse around it, while I was cut of by the spiders body. My horse shrieked, nearly throwing me off, but I was just able to keep me on its back. “RUN!” I yelled at my sister, making myself ready to face the big monster.

“Y/N!” She screamed, drawing the attention of the beast to her. It got up high enough for me to ride under his stomach, grabbing the reigns of my sisters horse who seemed frozen in place.

Dragging her behind me, I rushed my horse through the woods, hoping that we would be faster than that spider. Leonor took a while to come out of her frozen state, but when she was able to steer her horse again, I gave her back the reigns, now drawing my bow, turning around on my horse to shoot at the giant spider. But it didn’t seem like my arrows really seemed to bother the creature that was chasing us. And to my dismay, I hear the clicking sounds of several more coming through the woods.

They started to catch up to us, our horses slowly but surely loosing speed. And then it happened. We got circled by two smaller spiders dropping in front of us. Our horses freaked again, this time throwing us off their backs and making a run, only to be killed by spiders stomping onto them. Immediately they started to drag them away, probably into their net. I reached for another arrow, realizing, that I had shot every single one of them, without taking down one single spider.

“Fuck.” I let out, throwing my bow to the ground and dragging my swords.

“What do you mean fuck?” Leonor asked and I just gritted out: “Fuck as in we are fucked. I am out of arrows.”

“You shot all of them?” She asked and I wanted to smack her: “No, I threw them away. Of course I did!”

“No need to be so snappy.” She lashed back and I just looked at her with a deadly glare. “Oh yes, we are just about to die and I should play happy fun time with you? Forgive me for feeling a little stressed.”

“Its not my fault, that it happened.” Leonore seemed hurt and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I never said it was. I am sorry for snapping at you. Its just… Ah forget it. Try to stay close to me, without getting in my way. If we are getting separated, I cant protect you and if you are in my way, I will probably hurt you. Just…” I tried to make it understandable for her. “…think of it as a dance.”

“A dance?” She asked and I could hear she was raising her brows. “Why would I think of this as a dance?” Shrugging my shoulders I swung my sword at the first spider stepping close: “I don’t know. You are the minstrel of us. I was just trying to make it logical for you.”

I didn’t hear what she answered, because my sword collided with the heavy foot of a spider, drawing an ugly screeching sound from it, as I cut through the hard material. Letting my second sword swing higher, I managed to stab it into the thicker part of the leg. Ripping out my first sword, I swung my body around and through the air, landing on top of the spider. I forced both my swords into its head, managing to down it. Jumping off, I faced the next one, but my fight seemed to have no end, as I saw that the ranks were quickly closed again.

A horn being blown and horses thundering through the woods made me catch a new wave of hope and I started to fight back harder, always making sure to cover my sister from any attacks. I heard yelling and arrows whirring through the air and I realized, that the spiders slowly but surely were thinned out. Facing another one, I was just quick enough to jump aside, as it launched for me. Rolling around, I found myself underneath its big body. Not hesitating a second, I stabbed my blades into its stomach drawing it along, as I ran to get out of there.

A mixture of spider blood, gushy intestines and a sort of dark slime covered me, as I stumbled out beneath the tumbling and falling creature. Catching my breath, I stood there for several seconds, trying to regain some strength and to get rid of the slippery mixture that covered me. When I was able to look back up, the rest of the spiders had either been slain or forced away, leaving us and the elves that came to our rescue behind. “Y/N! Leonor!” I heard Legolas yell, turning to look at him.

A sarcastic smile on my lips, I greeted him: “You seem to lack in your mission to clear the woods, my prince.” He gritted his teeth, hugging Leonor, but refraining to do the same to me: “You are as friendly as always, Y/N.” I shrugged, shoving my swords back into their sheaths. “What can I say. I was raised to be a sunshine.” But when I saw his father approaching us, I stopped talking, bowing to greet the king. “My king. I apologize for causing trouble in your lands.”

“No need to apologize. You were right. It seems as if my son isn’t particularly thorough with his task. I am the one in need to apologize as this has clearly endangered you and your…”

“Sister, my king.” I helped him out, still looking down on the ground.

“…your sister. Am I correct with the assumption you came to visit my kingdom?” He asked.

“Yes, my king. We came to visit your son, prince Legolas. He has invited us.” I answered stiffly, looking at Legolas for help. The blond elf just smiled at me and I dared to look at his father the first time. And what I saw knocked the breath out of my lungs. He was gorgeous to say the least.

Tall, strong, handsome. The similarities to Legolas unmistakable. And his blue eyes. Staring at me as if he was reading directly into my soul. I was totally caught of guard by his appearance, not realizing he was talking to me again: “I am sorry. What did you say, my king?” I barely remembered to address him by his title, but he didn’t seem to mind. Smiling at me, he repeated his words: “I was welcoming you to my kingdom. As it seems, something must have caught your attention, my Lady.”

“Y/N. Just Y/N, my king. I am no lady. Just a common soldier of Rivendell.” I corrected him, trying my best to hide my breathless voice. Thranduil looked behind me, the smile on his lips widening. “A very good one, as it seems. You took out two spiders on your own.”

“And I shot all my arrows without them having any effect.” I reduced his praise, not feeling comfortable with the king saying such high words about me. He clicked his tongue. “Ah, arrows barely have any effect on the spiders. Their shells are far to thick for them to penetrate deep enough.”

“I didn’t know, my king. The next time I will come prepared.” I said, bowing deeply again.

“The next time?” He asked with a smirk to his lips and I furrowed my brows: “Yes? Did I do something wrong, my king? If I have insulted you in any form, I apologize.” But Thranduil just grinned at me with a knowing look on his lips, before he turned around: “The next time you visit us, let me know beforehand, so that I can ensure your save journey. A lady like you must not face such beasts under my watch.”

“I can fend for myself!” I yelled after him, this time leaving out his title, as his assumption angered me. He looked over his shoulder, taking in my angry form for a moment, before he answered: “I know. But I would feel better if you were protected by my guards.” Then he turned around, looking at a light brown haired man: “Feren, ensure that Leonor and Lady Y/N have a horse to ride on and have a bath prepared for them.” The man bowed his head slightly. “Yes, my Lord.”

***

And that’s how I had met Thranduil. That was nearly 100 years ago. 87 to be exact. He had started to court me soon after that incident, sending letter over letter to Rivendell, to the point where even Lord Elrond heard of what was happening. In the beginning I didn’t think much of it, reading his letters as nothing more as friendly correspondence. Until one day he literally showed up in Rivendell, demanding to speak with Lord Elrond himself.

Later on, I was told, that Thranduil had demanded to know if I was forced to work too much, since I didn’t answer every single one of his letters. From then on, our letters turned into a frequent thing, until one day I asked Lord Rivendell to free me from my duties and to allow me to live in Mirkwood. Lord Elrond let me go with a warm and knowing smile, something I didn’t exactly know how to read back then.

But soon, Thranduil and my friendship turned into him making advances until I finally gave in to courting him. Thranduil had pulled every string he had, to get me to fall for him. He made sure that I was taken care off, that I had everything I ever wished for to the point where I literally had to fight him on lessening his extensive gifts, but there was nothing I could do to talk sense into that man.

And now here I was, sitting at the big banquet next to him. We had gotten married. Well technically we weren’t truly married yet, since for elves the marriage was only completed when the marriage was conceived. And to be honest, I couldn’t wait much longer. My friends and family had come to Mirkwood and wished me the very best. Even Lord Elrond had managed to fit in time to spare my marriage a visit, congratulating me.

I looked at my now husband, only to find him staring at me already. “You are so beautiful, my little starlight.” He whispered, reaching his hand for mine. I squeezed his hand, leaning in to his shoulder. “How long do we have to keep up this thing, until we can retreat?” I asked, the alcohol in my blood probably pushing me to speak this openly. Thranduil chuckled at my words: “So desperate already?” I smacked him on the chest. “Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“At least I don’t show it so openly.” He teased me, kissing my hand softly. “Dance with me, meleth.”

Letting him pull me to my feet, he guided us to the dancefloor, pulling me close to his body and I could feel that he was longing for me the same way I did for him. His head sank down to my level as he whispered: “This one last dance should appease our guests. I think they already know what is about to happen, but it is much easier to vanish between dancing couples than from the high table.” I smirked at his words, leaning my head onto his chest. “Is that so, my king?”  I felt him shrug: “At least I suspect it would make things easier for Feren. He always seems to be so stressed.”

“That’s because you stress him, herven.” I answered and the way he stiffened at me calling him husband for the first time, made me smile. “Herven.” He repeated. “Say it again. It sounds so beautiful from your lips.”

“What? Herven?” I asked, putting a soft moan to my words. Thranduils breathing became rigid, as he clearly had trouble keeping the rhythm of the dance. He took a deep breath, before he simply ended the dance pulling me through the other couples. “You know what? Fuck it. I am done waiting.” Once we were far enough away from the others to hear or see us, he threw me over his shoulder, causing me to shriek out loud. “Thranduil!”

“Oh yes. That’s even better.” He grinned, carrying me through the halls and back to his chambers. “I am going to make sure that the only things that are leaving your mouth will be my name, my title and those sweet little moans or yours.”

***

Thranduil stopped in front of his door, looking at me with what I believed to be fear in his eyes. “Are you ready?” He asked me and I nodded: “Yes.” Taking his hand, I followed him inside. As soon as the door fell shut behind us, he pressed me against a wall, a sly smirk on his lips. “You have no idea, how much I waited to do this.” I didn’t react to his tease, just pulling him in by his collar, desperate to kiss him. His hands wandered to my waist, gripping the fabric of my dress.

I held onto him, still letting his hands wander over my body. “Are you sure, you want to do this?” He asked, his breath fanning down my neck, before he bit down on my sweet spot. Moaning at the sensation that rushed through my body, I tried my best to keep the conversation going: “Yes, I am. I haven’t been so sure about anything in my life, ever.”

“Good. Because I doubt, I would be able to endure the wait any longer.” His husked voice sent shivers down my spine and I had to hold on to his shoulders, to not faint. “You know what this perfume does to me, darling? The whole evening, I could not focus on anything else than you sweet smell. Do you even know, how hard I was all evening?” He picked me up, pressing me against the wall, looking at me with an angry hunger in his eyes. “I should not be commanded by a woman like that, especially not one that does it so easily like you do. It is endangering my reputation.”

“I think your reputation as the King is hardly attacked with you desiring your wife.” Trying my best to fight back against his administrations, I rolled back my head when his free hand opened the lacing of my dress, desperate to feel more of him. “What reputation, darling? Go on. Make your point.”

“The… fuck…” I cursed, earning a chuckle: “That’s very unladylike, darling. I should knock that word out of your brain.”

“You wouldn’t dare to do that. You love my dirty mouth.” I sassed back. He hummed at my words, just holding me tight to his body. “I do. And I want to make sure you are taken care off.” His words made me open my eyes again, leaning back to look at him.

He let me down slowly, still trying to hide his face from me, but I held his head, looking at him, when he let go of me: “No, please tell me. What are you afraid of?” I asked, stepping closer to him, but he just dodged backwards. Tilting my head, I followed him into the living area, effectively backing him into the sofa. When he sat down on it, I straddled his lap. “Are you afraid to be close to me?”

“No…” He breathed heavily. “Yes… I don’t know. I… I want to be close to you, but I don’t want you to feel forced. You know how it is… Wifely duties and all and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but at the same time I want to feel you, hold you, smell you, taste you. Everything. I am in no place to expect anything from you, so I refrain from giving in to those thoughts too much, because I don’t want to make it too obvious to you, that my needs are currently overruling my consciousness. And now that I am close and… and alone with you, I realize that its much harder than I have thought it would be... I want this to be special to you. I want to be the loving husband you deserve, to let you know that you are my most priced treasure… That I would do anything for you.”

I just looked at him: “Are you… are you rambling? The elven king and man of precise language is rambling and stuttering?”

“Yes.” Was all he said. “And you currently sitting on my lap, dressed like that, doesn’t help my case either.”

“What's stopping you?” Letting my voice drop lower, I leaned forward, rolling my hips shamelessly over his lap. He groaned out, gripping my tighter. “Y/N… You don’t have to do this. I can live with it, if you aren’t ready.”

“Do I look forced, meleth?” I whispered close to his ear, nibbling on it. “Show me what it feels like. Please, meleth. Touch me. Please… be my husband.”

Thranduil let his head fall back, his eyes were closed, as he was definitely on his last straw of mindfulness. “How much do I need to push you, until you give in?” I giggled at his neck, making my way up to his chin and then hovering over his lips. “Would it help, if I lose my wedding dress?”

“You sound like a prostitute…” He gritted out and I just grinned wider. “And? Is it working?”

“Yes. And I don’t know if I like that thought.”

“Which thought? Me as a prostitute, or that I am succeeding to win you over that easily?” I kept on teasing him. Leaning back, I opened up the strings of my dress, pulling it over my head.

He balled his fists at my waist, his eyes forcefully trained on my face. “Both. But I would never let you become a prostitute.”

“Scared to share me?” Still keeping up my teasing way, I just sat on top of him, waiting for him to react. “No.” He gritted out.

“What's it then? Afraid another man might do me better?” Wetting my fingers with my tongue, I let them slide between my legs, stabilizing myself with my free hand on his knee. And when my fingers found my clit, I hummed in pleasure, still watching his face intently. Not reacting to my administrations, he spoke in a very forced tone: “You are my wife. There is no other man. Ever.”

“Hmmm. I like that, meleth.” I sighed, feeling how I grew wetter, so I dipped one finger inside my core, only to then put it to my mouth to lick it clean. “I like it, when you get possessive and confrontive towards other men. The difference of how you treat them and how you treat me, makes me feel special.”

“Does it now?” He sassed and I sighed internally. I finally had him broken out of his restrictive shell. I had my husband back: “Always has.”

“You really want to do this?” He inquired further and I nodded. “Yes. Please. I think I am ready.” Taking one last breath, he gripped my thighs. “Hold on.” Without giving me much time to react, he got up, walking towards the bedroom. “If you want me to do this, I am going to do this properly.”

“I know. Everything else wouldn’t be like you.” I grinned, hiding my face in his neck. He sat me down slowly on the edge of the bed. Then he stepped back, taking off his clothes one piece after the other: “If you are already naked, I shall be too. I don’t want to make you feel insecure.” His words made me blush and I stuttered out a quiet “Thank you.”  

Thranduil came back to me sinking further to his knees. When he was eyelevel with my stomach, he softly kissed it, then down my thigh until he reached my knee. “Lean back and relax.” His voice was rough, his warm breath sending goosebumps over my inner thigh.

“I want to watch you. I need to see you.” I whispered, stroking through his hair. His jaw clenched at my words, but he didn’t say anything, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it. “If you wish so.” His fingers ghosted over my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. “I will take my time today. I want to take care of you as good as I can.” He whispered roughly, kissing the insides of my thighs up to my core. I was too mesmerized with his softness, his blue eyes burning with love and passion, that I was incapable of answering him.

Then I felt his first finger touch my core and I stiffened up, digging my nails in his shoulders. He immediately stopped, looking up at me, waiting for me to relax. We stared into each others eyes, Thranduil kissing and nibbling on my thighs. “You are safe, meleth. Relax. There is nothing you have to fear.” Taking a deep breath, I focused on his eyes, relaxing as much as I could. And when he felt me giving up my barrier, he kept on pushing his finger inside of me. “See? You are doing great.”

I closed my eyes, the faint sound of his name on my lips and I could feel the familiar feeling starting to grow between my legs. Carefully he added another finger, scissoring them apart, creating a steady rhythm. “Let go, love. You are doing so good. Taking my fingers so well.” He praised me, his voice low and soft like silk. I could feel my blood rush to my face, painting it a light pink shade, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, that I nearly missed his sweet little murmurs. His mouth wandered all over my thighs, my stomach, and hip bones, until he hovered over my core. “May I?”

“Yes…” I breathed out, moaning, when I felt his lips kiss my sensitive spot. Instinctively I spread my legs further, letting myself fall back onto the bed, one hand still clasping his free arm. “Thranduil…” I moaned, unable to focus on anything else than the man between my legs, lulled in by his sweet touches and soft little praises. “Please don’t stop.” I cried out, not really caring, that it was still the early evening, our windows hanging open, still a hurried humming coming from the big ball room.

“Never.” Was all he answered, slowly finger fucking me. It was ridiculous, how fast he was able to find the sweet spot deep inside of me. I heaved myself onto my elbows, wanting to see him, rather than just feeling him. And the expression that he had on his faze was breathtaking. Full of confidence and arrogance, a slight smirk forming on his lips, when he realized I was watching him again. “You taste so fucking good.” He groaned, raising his head to properly look at me. The shamelessness of him made me gasp out in embarrassment. His face was covered in my slick, eyes wild and hungry.

His gaze flickered between soft love and hungry possession as he was clearly fighting his urges to claim me. And I was absolutely turned on by it.

Thranduils smile grew wicked, when he saw how much I was affected by him. Wiping my slick of his chin, he licked his fingers clean, making a show out of it, simultaneously not stopping his fingers working my core. “You like that do you?” I wasn’t able to answer, just staring him in the eyes. “Answer me, my love, or I will stop.” He teased, some of his usual possessive self breaking through.

“Yes.” I pressed out, his name quickly following, when he curled his fingers perfectly against my sweet spot. Dipping down again, his fingers and tongue kept pushing me further down the road of my orgasm. The knot in my lower stomach starting to grow tighter, my legs wrapping around his shoulders, to keep him in place. I could feel my walls starting to flutter around his digits, another sign that I was close. The strength left my upper body and I fell back onto the bed, pulling his free arm close to my chest, nails digging into his skin. My eyes rolled back into my head as his name rang through the room, when my orgasm suddenly washed over me.

I felt him carefully pull out his fingers, his hands gently covering my cunt, as I just dwelled in the feeling. Tears started to form in my eyes and I tugged on his arm. “Meleth…” I mewled, desperate to feel him. He reacted instantly, getting up from his position climbing onto the bed and pulling me higher into the pillows. I turned around, crawling to the headboard falling to my stomach. “Feel you!” I pressed out, hugging a pillow tight to my chest.

Seconds later, I could feel his warm body hovering over me. I reached out for his hand that was holding his weight, clamping my fingers around his wrists. Sinking down on his elbows, he pressed me down, taking my hands in his bigger ones. The new intimate position making me feel hot and safe at the same time. His strong chest forced me down, chest hair tickling on my back, his thighs caging me in, as he buried me underneath him. “Thranduil…” I whimpered desperately, bucking my ass against his crotch.

He growled into my ear, his lips smothering me roughly, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind. “Please… I need you… Meleth…” I tried again, pressing up against his body, only to be met with him pressing me down further. “By Valar, please… I cant bare it anymore…” Begging for more, I cried out for him the tension in my body so high, that I was sure I would snap any moment.

His hands were roaming over my body, when he suddenly grabbed my arm, twisting me around. I shrieked and he instantly pulled back, skidding back to the edge of the bed, hands raised. “I am sorry, darling. I let myself go. Forgive me.”

“Its alright, Meleth. I trust you. I just didn’t expect this.” I smiled at him, reaching out for him. “Come back. Please.”

“What if I hurt you?” He stayed at the end of the bed.

“You wont hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!” He nearly yelled; the stress clear in his eyes. I gulped hard, seeing him irritated like that send a shiver down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I forced the unwanted thoughts out of my head.

“I know that you would never willingly do something that would harm me in any way. And that is all you can do. I trust you with all my life and I want this, meleth. I need this. Please. What can I do to make you believe me? To help you to trust yourself with me?”

“Promise to tell me, when its too much, or when I hurt you.” He rasped, slowly coming back to me, leaning his face into my hand.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, kissing my palm, before he sat back on his ankles, opening his breeches and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

His cock sprung free, hard, and tinted in a light pink shade, a drop of precum already crowning on his tip. “Fuck yes…” I breathed, staring at his manhood, not realizing, that he moved again, ridding himself from his breeches, crawling towards me again. He forced me to lay back down on my back and I just wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against my core. That caused him to grind his hips against mine, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. I just clung to his body, squirming against his touch. “So needy.” He mused, kissing his way down to my breasts, taking one nipple between his lips.

Him sucking so delicately on my nipple, let me jolt in pleasure. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh, twitching in anticipation. Supporting all his weight on one hand, he looked at me one last time, waiting for me to give him my consent. Nodding I bit my lip, bracing myself for what was about to come. He guided his hard member into me, very carefully easing his way in. I was still incredible wet from my previous orgasm, but I wasn’t prepared to take him, my body tensing up at the intrusion, making him stop mid movement. “Are you alright, darling? We don’t have to…” But I shook my head. “Go on. I want this.” 

Once he bottomed out, he stayed sheathed like that, distracting any thought I had with kissing me, until my head spun. It didn’t take long for me to grow accustomed to him, my hips starting to roll against him. I held onto his shoulders, looking him deep into the eyes. “I love you.” Thranduil nearly crumbled at my words, closing his eyes and groaning lowly. “Fuck me… That’s the hottest ‘I love you’, you have ever said.” Giggling I blushed. “I doubt that.”

“Not that it isn’t incredible to hear you say it in any other situation, but this… this just hits different. You trusting me like this... This memory will forever be my heaven.”

“You old romantic.” I groaned, but my smile betrayed me, him bending down for a kiss. “Always for you.”

Slowly he started to move, setting a slow and steady pace, fully set on pleasuring me as much and long as he could. My walls started to accommodate him more, relaxing around him. I hummed at the sweet feeling that started to spread through my body, my head sinking deeper into the pillows. “Yes…” I sighed, closing my eyes, just holding onto his upper arms.

“I love you, darling. Just relax and enjoy.” His words were water on a hot stone, instantly fogging up my mind, a light veil covering us.

He bent down to my neck, kissing it, nibbling onto my shoulder and a short worry of being marked up by him shot through me, but when he managed to hit my sweet spot, that worry got kicked out of my mind again. “Thranduil!” I yelped, digging my nails into his arms even more. “Do it again.” He growled against my skin, his teeth nipping on the sweet spot right under my ear. “Let me hear how much this pleasures you.” I complied to his demand, babbling before I even managed to filter anything that left my mouth: “Please… Give me more… I need more. Make me your wife, please… This feels so good. You feel so good. Claim me, please… meleth.”

“God, Y/N.” He moaned. “You are going to be the death of me…” The way he was so affected by it, only fed the tingly feeling in my body, spreading it to my limps. The tension in my lower stomach now growing bigger with every second, causing me to produce a guttural moan. I clasped my hand in front of my mouth, my gaze wandering towards the open balcony door, but Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit. Quite the opposite. He let out a growl, taking my hand away again. “Let them hear. Let the whole kingdom know, that you are my wife.”

Shifting his weight, he leaned back on his ankles, raising my hips, while fucking me deeper into the mattress. The new position caused him to hit a particular deep spot inside of me, pushing all the air out of me in a loud cry of his name.

“Say it again, little one. Let everyone know who you belong to.” He darkly smiled at me, his thrust not faltering one second. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Taking my cock so well.” Praising me, he didn’t let go of my eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, bereth. I want to see you, when you come.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by him, not able to resist the drawl he put into calling me his wife. His wife. That title alone did things to my mind, I wasn’t prepared for. The knot in my stomach was about to pop, threatening to pull me under. And by the way he was grinning, he knew. Knew from the way I shivered, the way my walls fluttered around his length. “Go on, my starlight. Let go for me. I wanna see those beautiful eyes roll back in your head. Wanna feel how you twitch around me and make a mess on my cock.” He spurred me on. And on cue I came.

Hard.

My back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back inside my head. I shivered in his hands in pure bliss of my orgasm, his name ringing through the room loud enough, that I was sure even the soldiers standing guard on the southern entrance were able to hear me. This orgasm was hard and fast, crushing into me like a rogue wave. Thranduil still kept his pace, thrusting into me, roughly praising me: “That’s it, darling. Ride it out. You are doing so good. Looking so fucking beautiful.” And I could feel my cum leak on his lap, drawing lush sounds from my core.

“Meleth!” I cried out, now completely kicked out of reality.” Crying out in desperation I reached out for him. Thranduil gave into my pleading, leaning forward again, pressing me down with his full body, effectively caging me in between his hot chest and soft mattress. “Yes…” I mewled, wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling him thrust much deeper into me. I was again babbling absolutely unfiltered: “Don’t stop, meleth. Makes me feel safe. So good. Thank you.”

“Of course, darling. Everything for you.” His voice sounded strained and I realized that he was close as well. “Its okey. You can let go.” I tried to get the words out straight, but another moan rippled through me, him groaning, desperately gripping a pillow. “No. I am not finished with you. I want you to come with me.” The pure determination and love in his words, striking me deeply, so that I couldn’t help but, whimper again. I earned a soft bite on my shoulder, followed by more praises: “Fuck yes… I love it when you do that. Taking me so well, moaning for me in such beautiful tones.”

Sneaking a hand between us, he pressed two fingers on my clit, sloppily rubbing circles over it. I clenched around his cock as an answer, goosebumps spreading over my skin, as he forced the fire to burn up in my body once again. A shiver ran down my spine, my walls fluttering around his cock, my legs wrapping around him even tighter. It spurred him on to fuck me even harder, his fingers moving faster, the sloppy kisses on my neck now closer to love bites than anything else. I started to shake uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the desire and stimulation that he had and still was administrating.

“I got you.” He rasped out and it was all I needed to hear. I came again, succumbing to a shivering mess underneath him, clamping down on his cock. “Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned and I could feel him twitch inside of me. The feeling of his hot seed shooting up my core made me whimper desperately and I couldn’t help myself but to think about what it would feel like to carry his child. Slowing down his pace, he rode out our orgasms, smothering every bit of skin with wet kisses. He was breathing hard, trying his best to catch his stance again.

Pressing me close to himself, he rolled onto his back and I was now lying on top of him. “You did so good, meleth nin. Took me so well. I promise I will always love and protect you. You are everything to me, the only thing I would give away everything I own for without batting an eye.” Listening to his sweet ramblings, I let the tears roll from my cheeks, cherishing his love and the sweet intimate moment between us.

To my dismay, it was interrupted far too quickly, when I felt the mixture of my slick and his seed trickling out of me. Wriggling in his arms, I tried to find a comfortable spot, but the stickiness just got worse. He was quick to realize what was the problem. Pressing a kiss to my head, he rolled around again, getting up from the bed. “Stay there. I will get something to get you cleaned up.”

I just watched him scramble through the room and come back with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. He looked so incredible hot like this. His hair messy and disheveled. Eyes still glowing with desire. And when he saw his cum seeping out of me, I believed to see his gaze grow even darker. I sighed loudly, catching his look with mine: “How was I ever able to deny me such pleasures…?” He laughed at my words, slowly sinking to the bed and cleaning me up with soft little touches. “From now on you will never have to. Whenever you need me, feel free to come and get me.”

“Even when you are in a meeting?” I asked and he smirked at me: “Especially then.”

[mycurrentobsessionis]

@pink-pearl-plain-jeans took a few days but here. hope this is something you actually wanted lol. this is lowkey a ramble but it is an informed ramble.

First, you are gonna seriously regret asking me, because I have nearly 300 hours logged between these two games and half a masters degree in clinical psychology.

Second, to be fair, you don't have know a lot about ballroom dancing -- I know almost nothing. Toward the end of Step 4 on Baxter's route, he will joke to Jamie about the irony of ballroom dancing, which requires both a partner and a certain level of intimacy, is his most beloved hobby, when the ability to form close, intimate relationships is his biggest struggle.

Baxter is a pretty good example of what disorganized, or fearful-avoidant, attachment looks like in adults. He both desperately wants to form emotional connections with others and intensely fears those same attachments, viewing them as inherently unsafe and unstable. The player can see this in the way Baxter attempts to form lots of superficial connections where he overshares personal details while also being evasive about his deeper feelings. He is aware that he needs some level of human interaction and works to fill that need without leaving himself vulnerable to being hurt or abandoned. This can occur in individuals who had inconsistent parents growing up. Baxter's relationship to dancing mirrors his emotional progression with attachment to others.

As a child, he has a stable group of friends and dances at the country club competitively, and thus likely has a stable, consistent partner with whom he performs. We know very little about Mr. and Mrs. Ward, except for the following:

They are older.

They are wealthy, and likely old money.

They are bigoted, like being queerphobic and racist.

They expected Baxter to behave with greater maturity than would have been typical for his age and "at times, as if he was even older [than them]."

He did not want to spend his first summer after college with them, so they shipped him off to a tiny beachside tourist town, either not caring or not knowing that he is petrified of the ocean.

Something about Baxter would be a problem, and they would hate him if he were someone else's child.

From this, we can garner a few things. The first is that the Wards were likely emotionally immature, possibly parentified him, and likely played "it's okay if it's you" card. When we meet Baxter as a child in OLNF, he is clearly very fond of Qiu, Ren, and possibly Tamarack and Franky as well. These relationships likely provided insulation from parents who alternated between being emotionally distant and overcontrolling. It also makes sense that Baxter would be drawn to younger children here. Baxter chalks it up to his own immaturity, but I would argue that it is in fact because he is precocious that he chooses a younger friend group. Kids his own age would likely be put off by his attitude and may take it as condescending, whereas younger children would appreciate him as older and wiser. Additionally, younger children give him the opportunity to play and engage in silly antics that he may have missed out the first time.

I also wouldn't be surprised if there was some cognitive dissonance as well, since his parents probably espoused queerphobic ideals while also professing to love Baxter, who himself is bisexual and knew very well that he was attracted to boys by the age of 12. Given this, and the amount of bitterness with which he later speaks about them, it also would not surprise me if they had some influence on his drifting apart from Ren and Qiu as they got older. Not that this has to be the case, but I could see Baxter avoiding bringing his very-visibly queer friends (including one who is also a POC) around his parents to avoid hurting them.

He grows up and appears in OLBA as a teen who is somewhat adrift. He doesn't appear to have a stable friend group or sense of identity, and he has limited his contact with his parents to the minimum amount that he feels obligated to contact them. Now, shifting identity is pretty normal for young adults, but Baxter's seems less stable than it should be. What I actually thought was really interesting is the subtle shift between Baxter as he presents himself and as he actually is. He presents himself as accommodating, complimentary, confident, and friendly. The person he actually is -- the one he thinks no one will like -- is sardonic, self-effacing, mischievous, and lonely. In his desire to be included, he avoids imposing his will on others -- Jamie can even convince him to wear a swimsuit and go into the ocean if they really want, something he is terrified to do. He is only able to be genuine if either (a) Jamie has made an explicit effort to show him he is accepted or (b) he is emotionally dysregulated enough that he is unable to keep up the charade

Anyway, at this point, he is presumably no longer competing, and no longer has a steady partner. In his first interaction with Jamie and Cove, he is immediately offering to be their partner, which is a deliberate double-entendre. He comes on strong, because he needs the relationship to begin quickly in order the get what he needs out of it. He has no intention of actually taking the time to get to know people or build a genuine connection with them. It's about control here. Also note that he offers this with the implication that he would be teaching them to dance. Even in asking for a temporary connection, he's framing it as him offering a service in exchange for their company because he doesn't see himself as valuable on his own (Qiu also does this btw). In summary, he is dancing with people he barely knows because while the steps won't be familiar or comforting, he doesn't have to worry about mistakes either. (dun dun dun, the mortifying ordeal of being known!)

As an adult, he shifts this into a more formalized version. He isn't stupid, nor does he enjoy hurting people. He knows that most people are unwilling to abandon relationships so quickly, and he knows he's hurt people. The thing about attachment styles is that you can develop a secure attachment style as an adult. The problem is that you do this by essentially re-parenting yourself. Learning to treat himself with self-compassion is really difficult, though, because that's a learned skill. He needs community or a therapist. The problem is that because of his disorganized attachment style, forming a community is difficult and he would probably also have trouble finding a therapist because that would require a level of vulnerability that he struggles with. Baxter also heavily relies on avoidance as a coping mechanism. When he enters into a relationship, because he is primed to view them as unpredictable and conditional, it activates his fight-flight-freeze response. He then attempts to escape the situation by (a) leaving, (b) ghosting/ignoring, and (c) distancing himself using social niceties to avoid confrontation. If he is cornered (like the end of step 3), he switches to fight mode and becomes caustic. This may indicate that if he entered a therapeutic relationship, he is likely to end therapy prematurely to avoid thinking about his loneliness and attachment issues.

So, because he knows he hurts people by doing all of this, and because he doesn't know how to maintain a relationship, he formalizes the arrangement. People literally pay him for a service (planning) and because he is "in" on such an intimate event, he still gets the feeling of getting to know people and be included, without the emotional risk. Same thing with dancing.

That's why dancing with him after the wedding is such a big deal. Yes, it's a callback to a very special moment for Baxter, but it's also a metaphor for re-entering a relationship. He's been looking at and judging his relationships on the ruptures not the repairs, and to be able to repair a relationship after the mask has come off, the set's been wrecked, and the crowd is gone means that he has lived a lonely life for no reason.

Anyway, all this is to say that Cove was 100% right when he clocked that Baxter was insincere and interacted with people in a really weird way. No one listened though.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Still going through the slowest Deathly Hallows reread, and I encountered this lovely Tomarrymort moment I felt like sharing. I mean, I saw some people mention how Hermione refers to their mental connection as a relationship:

“You never really tried!” she said hotly. “I don’t get it, Harry—do you like having this special connection or relationship or what—whatever—” She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up. “Like it?” he said quietly. “Would you like it?” “I—no—I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean—” “I hate it, I hate the fact that he can get inside me, that I have to watch him when he’s most dangerous. But I’m going to use it.”

(DH, 202)

Above Harry clearly denies it, but later in Deathly Hallows, there's a moment I didn't see talked about as much, where Harry, in his own mind, agrees with Hermione:

Harry was just able to make out the indistinct features of an object that looked like a skull, and something like a mountain that was more shadow than substance. Used to images sharp as reality, Harry was disconcerted by the change. He was worried that the connection between himself and Voldemort had been damaged, a connection that he both feared and, whatever he had told Hermione, prized. Somehow Harry connected these unsatisfying, vague images with the destruction of his wand, as if it was the blackthorn wand’s fault that he could no longer see into Voldemort’s mind as well as before

(DH, 375)

Not only did Harry lie to Hermione but he actually prizes his connection to Voldemort for its usefulness and for the sense of purpose it gives Harry. Now, I want to expand on the latter one.

I already talked about how in Deathly Hallows, Voldemort's sole purpose and obsession is Harry, but, Harry isn't much different. Like, he has a few other things going on, but a lot of his sense of purpose and sense of self hinges on Voldemort.

The reason these visions from Voldemort become so important to him is that he feels it's the only useful thing he can do since they're stuck on the Horcruxes' front. They give him a sense of purpose. The fact he connects the loss of his connection with Voldemort and the destruction of his wand is so fascinating to me.

Because Harry's wand is so important to him, he describes it as a piece of himself, like a living thing that is part of him:

The holly and phoenix wand was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand of phoenix feather kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly. Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the wand to Hermione

(DH, 300)

Without realizing it, he was digging his fingers into his arms as if he were trying to resist physical pain. He had spilled his own blood more times than he could count; he had lost all the bones in his right arm once; this journey had already given him scars to his chest and forearm to join those on his hand and forehead, but never, until this moment, had he felt himself to be fatally weakened, vulnerable, and naked, as though the best part of his magical power had been torn from him.

(DH, 303)

Connecting something he thinks about like this and his connection to Voldemort is... well, it's interesting, to say the least.

I mean, of course, there is the twin core and its protection, and it's clear why he would connect his wand to Voldemort, but Harry was always fond of his wand despite its connection to Voldemort, not because of it:

Harry had never shared this piece of information with anybody. He was very fond of his wand, and as far as he was concerned its relation to Voldemort’s wand was something it couldn’t help — rather as he couldn’t help being related to Aunt Petunia.

(GoF, 310)

So, I find all this kinda interesting. How during the final book Harry's sense of purpose and being becomes more and more hinged on Voldemort while essentially the same thing is going on with Voldemort who forgot about the ministry entirly and is only focused on killing Harry.

[unactive-shroom]

Take Aim!

Characters: Inumaki Toge

Warning: Gun mention (in a fair game)

a.n: Take a shot of alcohol every time I switch from Toge to Inumaki omg

Inumaki was pissed.

You didn’t need to hear his digruntled ‘Tuna mayo’ nor see his face to tell this, because you were just as mad as he was.

The smug attendee at the fair game, however, was not.

“Well, that’ll be another 300 yen if you wanna win your girl that cute plushie over there!” he smiled at the two of you, flashing his yellow teeth in that smug smile.

Inumaki grunted and went to pull out another handful of cash, before you placed a hand on his arm. “Toge, really, we should move on. We can get it online with Gojo’s card later, or something. I don’t mind!”

He gently pushed your arm away and angrily shoved the cash towards the vendor, determined to get that plushie for you. You groaned beside him, pulling on his arm once again.

“Okay wait, can you at least let me try this time?”

He laughed and let out a “Salmon” in such a tone that you knew he was recalling your terrible aim during the Kyoto exchange event, where the ball very nearly hit Itadori, who was drinking water behind you in the stands.

Regardless, he handed you the rusty old shotgun and gave you a peck on the cheek for good luck. You turned the gun over in your hands. The plastic pellets were already loaded - three to be exact. Despite your terrible aim in baseball, you were actually pretty decent with guns. Your uncle was a hunter, and you spent countless summers shooting at trees and cans, since you refused to hurt a poor animal. You raised the gun onto your shoulders and took aim.

Ting! With perfect aim, you skillfully hit the first can down. You could sense Inumaki grin beside you, but you didn’t break your focus. You had a plushie to win, and a boyfriend to impress.

Ting! The second one can fell down and you were certain you saw the vendor frown slightly, before resuming his cocky grin. “Well, you still have three cans to hit, sunshine, and with one bullet I don't think that's very-”

Ting! Ting! Ting! Shooting from an angle, you managed to knock down one can, bringing down the other ones with it. You and Toge grinned as you high fived excitedly and turned to the vendor.

“… You cheated.”

“Uhm? No I didn’t? I won fair and square!”

“Nah, you can’t shoot from an angle. Rules ‘r rules, miss.”

“But you didn’t say that at all! You litterally said the only rule was three bullets, and to stand behind the line. I did that!” You cried indignantly, but the vendor had already turned away, suddenly becoming very fascinated by the cash in his pouch.

You pouted, about to turn to your boyfriend to whine about the whole situation, only to find that he had removed the hood around his mouth.

“Give her whatever plushie she wants.”

The vendor immediately turned around and smiled expectantly.

“um… I’ll take that.. big sanrio one, please.”

The vendor begrudgingly handed over the massive plushie to you, and you and Toge began to leave the arcade section of the fair. The second you had left the area, Inumaki took a swig from a cough bottle. You immediately engulfed him in a massive hug, plushie and all.

“Thank you! I love you! But also please don’t use your cursed speech for something silly like a plush from a fair, it’s not worth the pain in your throat, Inu.”

He hugged you back with a croaky “Tuna, tuna”, before spotting Itadori and Nobara dragging a dizzy Megumi off some crazy looking ride.

They immediately ran over, in awe of the massive plushie in your arms.

“Huuh?? Did Inumaki really win this for you, y/n? That’s crazy!”

You giggled as you grabbed Inumaki’s hand, a grin spreading across your face.

“’Course he did, he’s such a gentleman!”

Inumaki returned the hood to his face to cover the pink blush spreading across his face, but not before Panda and Maki returned, immediately poking fun at how much of a softie he’s become.

Requests r open, but very slow.

[seannessy]

⚠️POLITICS⚠️

haha bet you forgot through the shitposts that i have a bachelor's degree in political science

here's a bunch of reasons why Kamala Harris is going to win the presidency because i can never find the effort to edit this into a video:👇

1. The current polls are VERY biased towards republicans. Most large polls just take the averages of other smaller polls, and right now the GOP has been dumping LOTS OF MONEY into publishing a lot of fluff polls in swing states to make themselves look better and to get more donations. Democrats don't usually publish their polls publicly. Odds are it's another red mirage.

2. The majority of people who Trump is catering to just don't vote. A lot of the latest pushes in the Aiden Ross Gamerbro communities are not reliable voters, even as loud as they are online. You cannot convince me that the twitter edgelord crowd has ever even seen a ballot in their lives.

3. In elections canvassing matters by about 300% more than advertising (my own ballpark estimate, not a specific datapoint, but still very true having worked in both canvassing and campaign marketing). The only people signing up to canvass for Trump are just stealing Elon's money, meanwhile people are flying out from all 50 states to swing states to canvass for Kamala.

4. "This is Hillary Clinton all over again." No it isn't. Hundreds of papers have been published that all agree that the reason Hillary lost (besides the Michigan debacle) was that largely a lot of people already assumed she was going to win, and so they didn't go out to vote. Sean Westwood did a really good paper on this in 2018, the more likely you are expected to win, the less of your supporters turn out. The entire narrative is that Kamala is either tied or behind, so anyone who supports her will NOT be sitting this one out.

5. Kamala just did a MASSIVE rally event in Texas. Texas. In this part of the campaign, any sane strategist would tell you to do ALL campaigning in the swing states, so this makes no sense... unless internal democrat polls are saying that Texas is now winnable for democrats. I will remind you that Texas is not NEARLY as red as the stereotype says, and Greg Abbot has himself previously said that Texas would have gone blue if not for all of the voter suppression he did. I'm not joking. This is real. The only reason Texas is still Lean Red instead of Moderate Blue is because of insane levels of voter suppression by Texas GOP.

6. When turnout is low, republicans win. When turnout is high, democrats win. Turnout is already STUPIDLY high in the early voting metrics. Even higher than 2020 (which i will remind you, we won) in some cases.

7. Voter demographics just aren't on Trump's side here. Lots of republicans have bled out of Trumpism, and in a close enough race as this one looks to be even a few thousand republicans deciding to stay home could make or break it in a lot of states. Additionally, while Trump has made a lot of progress in minority voters (daily reminder that the median voter is stupid enough for "median voter" to be used as a slur in political science communities), Kamala has the white woman vote locked down. And oh no! Look at that! Which voter demographic is orders of magnitudes both larger and more active voters than all of the minority demographics that Trump has been gaining in? Yep! Kamala's lead in the white woman demographic has entirely erased Trump's gains in other communities. Abortion was the final nail in the coffin of republican chances, they took the mask off too early. The dog caught the car and didn't know what to do with it.

8. Voter demographics are STILL not on Trump's side even ignoring all that other stuff, because keep in mind, Trump voters have largely been older people, and the waves of people who elected him previously have... well they've kind of died. Covid really didn't help with that. I mean obviously not everyone, but like, this is a close race, and a very large chunk of those voters have been reincarnated as plants or whatever now.

9. "The X Factor" is 100% on Kamala's side. By that I mean just the force of raw charisma, the Kamala campaign is just more appealing and less unnerving to the general population. I really hate to keep hammering this but oh my god dude have you SEEN JD Vance????? Even after the debate where he performed as best as he possibly could and Walz performed as bad as he possibly could, samples STILL said they supported Walz over Vance by a factor of 85 PERCENT.

10. "The Shy Trump Effect." There's a myth a lot of people believe that Trump underperforms in polls and overperforms in elections because voters are shy to admit they're fans of him. A few things. #1: This was disproved so many times, including in Sean Westwood's previously mentioned paper. #2: Even after it's disproved, many polls already factor it into their calculations, which is actually INFLATING his odds in the polls. #3: Anyone who would have been a Shy Trump Supporter either just isn't going to vote this election cycle or is going to follow the Cheney's lead and vote for Kamala instead. This is probably the one election in our entire lives where Democrats have appealed to the right and it actually fucking worked.

11. Polymarket. A lot of people point to the new Polymarket as evidence that Trump has a lot of support among the average joe crowd. These people have no idea how the Polymarket works. American citizens legally can't bet in it, and the only way to get around that is by using Crypto. How many tech illiterate boomers do you think are going to know how to use both Crypto and a VPN? All of Trump's support there is coming from techbro whales or people in other countries. Infact, I think the number was that about a whopping 30% of all bets made on the side of Trump were sourced back to this one French Billionaire.

That being said, it's not a predetermined victory. Currently I'd put the odds at anywhere between 60-40 and 70-30 in favor of Kamala, but that still leaves Trump plenty of room.

The moral of the story is that things aren't hopeless! We have a very good shot at winning--as long as we all keep pushing like hell!

Oh also, if they try another Jan 6th, reminder that Biden is now the one in control of the military and national guard at the capital. Lol, Lmao, even.

[alpaca-clouds]

So, which Drow House kidnapped Halsin?

Fuck it. This morning @adelar-plays posted this excerpt of the dialogue you can have with Halsin about his time as, well, a sex slave to the drow. tl;dr: If you play as a drow with a noble background in the game, you get some extra dialogue options and through it learn that the House Halsin had been captured by was not just destroyed, but is looked upon very poorly by other drow. Badly enough that working for any surviving members might get you into trouble.

And my very first thought about it was: Wait, was he captured by House Oblodra? (Aka: Araj's House?) Sure, Araj does not react to him or he to Araj (Or does he? Has anyone tried?), but Araj's dialogue does imply that she was fairly young when House Oblodra fell.

However, there are other options of course. Let me go through them all.

Now, what we know: Halsin is about 350 years old. This happened when he was a "young druid" (though your guess is as good as mine what he might consider "young"). And it definitely happened before the Shadowcurse was cast. So at the very least he escaped the Underdark more than a hundred years ago.

So, the drow house in question must have fallen between about 300 and 100 years ago. That much is fairly certain. So, between ca. 1190 and 1390DR.

Before I go into the list of possible Houses, let me quickly go into what the houses are:

The drow are a matriarchal people, and usually group themselves into Houses. The most apt comparison for those Houses - at least among the drow of Menzoberrazan - is basically mafia families, that are usually organized around one matriarch. Most of the Houses have their own little army, and just tons, and tons of slaves. (Look, in Menzo there is about 5 slaves for every drow living there. Most slaves are goblins or minotaurs, but there are also other races.) The Houses are in constant rivalry with each other to become the most influencial House of the city. And if you as a drow do not belong to a House, you are basically worthless.

So, which Houses were disbanded in the timeframe?

House Celofraie got destroyed in a conflict with House Agrach Dyrr in 1367 DR. We do not know the reason, but it was probably simply a rivalry between the Houses. The same goes for House Mlin'thobbyn and House Syr'thaerl.

House Do'Urden is one that we know a lot about, duh, because Drizzt is such an important character for the lore. The House was originally very important, but lost the favor of Lolth after Drizzt saved a normal elven kid on the surface. This led to the destruction of the House in 1338 DR.

House Elec'thil got destroyed at some point between 1327 and 1367 DR. The exact reason was never given.

House Bron'tej got destroyed in 1227 after a conflict with House Barrison Del'Armgo.

House Kenafin and House Horlbar were disbanded in 1383 DR, though the members of both Houses together formed the new House of Melarn.

House Srune'Lett nearly started a drow civil war and got subsequently destroyed in 1372 DR.

House Tuin'Tarl got destroyed in 1383 DR, after trying to attack House Kenafin and House Horlbar. In a revenge attack, obviously.

House Teken'duis had a rivalry with House Freth. When trying to assassinate their leaders, they failed - and in return the family fell into shame and was susequently executed by the ruling council of the city. This was in 1319DR.

House DeVir formed an alliance with some gnomes in an attempt to overthrow one of the other houses. Because Lolth hates everything not-drow, they lost the favor of Lolth. House Do'Urden took advantage of this and destroyed the House in 1297.

House Oblodra, as we all knew, allied with some illithids. Now mind you, this was seen as somewhat okay for about 2000 years, allowing some members of the house to develop psionic magic. Until some members of the members of the house got about the same idea that Gortash and Durge had: "Hey, if we use magic on the tadpoles and put them into people's brains, we can mind control them and take over the city." Which went about as well as it went for Gort and Durge, ending with the destruction of the House and Exile of all members in 1358DR. It should be noted that this is the one house, where Lolth took an active role in their distruction, sending demons to destroy them.

So, based on this information and the dialogue that was shared...

Again, I will disregard the entire "when I was young", because your guess is as good as mine to what Halsin considers "young". But the other information given there is more interesting: The fact that if you associated with the House, you might lose the favor of other drow/might actually get into trouble.

Because to me that tells me that the House in question was not destroyed in a rivalry. So we can disregard pretty much all of the Houses that were destroyed in a simple conflict with another House of the city without any further information given. It makes me assume that the House in question has lost the favor of Lolth, making them outcasts among the other Lolth-alligned drow.

That leaves the potential candidates of:

House Do'Urden

House DeVir

House Oblodra

With the vague possibility that it could also be Teken'duis. With them it is not quite clear whether they still have the favor of Lolth or not.

So, yeah. It could obviously also have been a not before named House in the city. But if it is among one of the Houses in question, it should be one of those three (or four).

Make of that what you want. One way or another, there is a chance that either Drizzt, Viconia, or Araj might have met him - even if they do not remember him necessarily. Given that to them he might have just been "another slave".

Bonus:

Since we know that he was with the House for 3 years, before he escaped in the chaos of the House being destroyed, we can also calculate Halsin's age at the time.

If he had been a prisoner of House Do'Urden, he would have been around 190 to 200 years at the time. Had he been a prisoner of House DeVir, he would have been between 150 and 160 years. And had he been a prisoner of House Oblodra, he would have been 210 to 220 years old. (Just rough estimates, as I do not assume he is exactly 350 years old.)