#like i totally get what you’re saying and where you’re coming from

[chrrific]

綺麗 IT’S A BAD IDEA, RIGHT? 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 & 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

slytherin! 엔하이픈 x 𝑓. gryffindor! reader wc 2.005k ─── fluff forbidden relationship au est. relationships l’avis kissing pda pining nicknames like ‘doll’ & ‘pretty’

for : love 💌 mick’s coming back from the dead ?? this one’s for my love ai ( @jjennuine ) >< she’s mine y’all !!!! stay away 😾😾 and go support our collaboration series — lovestruck ! — @lovestruck-show-official

read more fleur

LEE HEESEUNG forbidden relationship

“y/n?”

a whisper echoed through the silent astronomy tower, the only source of light being the moon glimmering through the small window and the stars glimmering above, clearly visible through the enchanted ceiling; it wasn’t enough for heeseung’s eyes to adjust to the dark.

you tiptoed out from your hiding place, and gave him a silent wave and a smile. his lips instantly tugged up sat the sight of you, and he stepped forward, arms finding their home on the nape of your waist as he looked at you.

the look in his eyes was lovesick; wistful.

he hoped and dreamed so hard of the day when the two of you wouldn’t have to hide your relationship, and when you wouldnt have to meet in secret at night.

because this wasn’t right. slytherins and gryffindors just didn’t belong together.

the way you looked in the moonlight was breathtaking, so much so that he swears you’d put amortentia in his porridge that morning. but no, he knew you didn’t. that’s just how much he was in love with you.

PARK JONGSEONG hot boy x unnoticed

jay was the it guy of your year. girls would probably fall at his feet even if he didn’t ask them to. and for some, totally random, unknown reason, it made you almost jealous.

you could almost feel your gaze hardening whenever you saw him with another girl; a girl thats not you. I mean, it’s not like you like-liked him, right? he’s just hot. that’s all it should be, and that’s all it can.

but is that really true?

with the way he’s been shamelessly staring you down from the other end of mcgonnagal’s classroom, you’re sure he can hear your heart pounding from where he’s sat, arms crossed against his chest and gaze set on you in a way that made your breath hitch.

your gaze locked with his, the confidence in his eyes almost intoxicating.

you sighed in relief as the bell rang, snapping him out of your little staring competition before he shoved his stuff into his bag and got off his chair, almost lazily.

just as you were about to walk out of the classroom, a hand wrapping around your wrist stopped you from moving ahead.

“what class do you have next, pretty?”

needless to say, you could feel the ghosts of his fingers around your wrist the entire week.

SIM JAEYUN cocky rival

“good morning, class. today, we are going to be making the love potion known as ‘amortentia’. anyone who knows what it is?”

snape’s cold voice rang around the room, the sound monotonous. everyone knew — of course they did, they were just too scared to answer. there were only two people who were willing enough to answer his question; you and jake sim.

“ah, l/n, yes. so tell me, what is amortentia?” snape asked, shooting jake a glance from rhe corner of his eyes, as if to get him to shut up; like he wanted to see you fail, like he thought all gryffindors did.

you cleared your throat, making sure your voice was loud and clear, wanting your stone-minded, biased professor to see you shine. “amortentia is the most powerful love potion, that is characterised by its—”

you were cut off by another voice, that came from behind you.

“the scent. it is multifaceted, with the scent varying with different people”

a slight frown found its home on your lips, annoyed that jake just had to cut you off in between. “yes, professor. it’s scent.” you muttered, giving jake a glare.

“alright, since the two of you seem to know a lot about the topic, you two will be partners for the entirety of this class.”

you almost wanted to combust right then and there, from those words. why him? why not karina, or jungwon — your friends. at this point, you’d even go to the length of partnering with pansy parkinson, the slytherin girl who acts like she owns the world.

after a reluctant sigh, you shifted your things so jake could move next to you.

as you began to make the potion together, you found yourself struggling with one thing, just one; measuring the pearl dust.

it was so iridescent and was flying all over your workstation, creating a sheen layer that shone even in the dimly lit dungeon.

“need some help, doll?”

PARK SUNGHOON shy x tease

the smell of books overtook your senses as you stepped into the large library, overflowing with shelves upon shelves.

the library was surprisingly full today, and from what your eyes could catch, there was only one seat left; a seat next to a slytherin.

he was focused on whatever he was reading, and it was honestly kinda cute to you. you caught yourself staring for a moment before you got yourself out of it, reprimanding yourself inwardly for a second, before you gathered the courage to go talk to him.

“hey,” your voice rang through the somewhat silent library, even though it was relatively soft. “can i sit here?”

his eyes shifted from his book to you, before he gave a small nod.

you put your bag at the bottom of the chair, and sat down on the seat, not paying much heed to the discomfort the hard cushion underneath brought.

you pulled out a thick book on transfiguration out, starting to read it. it wasn’t like you really liked the subject like rei did, but you had to; you were very close to failing.

as you were starting to get into the book, you felt a pair of eyes on you. you glanced up, only to see said boy sitting next to you being the one looking.

he quickly looked away, pale skin undeniably flushed, staring at the table as if it was an art piece in a museum.

you smirked inwardly, before looking back at your book. maybe sitting next to a slytherin wasnt so bad after all.

KIM SUNOO sunshine x grumpy

sunoo; he just had a way with his persona. that is, he knew exactly how to trick anyone into doing absolutely anything for him, without them realising what trap they fell into.

as you tried to take a step into flitwick’s charms lesson, another person entering made you stop. you glanced behind your shoulder to see who it was, and it was sunoo — cheery smiles and all.

“go ahead,” you murmured, stepping back to let him go ahead. you were met with a too bright ‘thank you!’ before you stepped in yourself.

your eyes scanned the room, only to find that your usual seat at the back was taken already, and the last seat remaining was the one next to him. bracing yourself for the cheery sunshine-ball that sunoo was, you took a step to the desk, plopping down on the seat with your facical expression screaming uninterested.

the class began, with sunoo happily answering flitwick’s questions and taking his notes; meanwhile, you sat, barely able to keep yourself awake because of the all-nighter-study-session you did the previous night.

he shot you a glance from rhe corner of his eyes, his bangs getting in the way of his view ever so slightly. without thinking, he picked up a scrap piece of parchment, scrawling something on it in his overly near handwriting.

it was only because of the parchment being cautiously slid to you that you didn’t nod off, but the words were a bit blurry due to lack of sleep as you tried to read. yet, the second you read it, your brain immediately snapped to its senses.

“hey, you look tired. have you been sleeping well?”

YANG JUNGWON prefect x troublemaker

“another time?” his groan of frustration echoed off the walls, his fingers running through his hair. how many more pranks could you pull? well, considering your new attack, the number of times you could go again would be innumerable.

there you stood in front of his desk, slightly sheepish, but your signature smirk was still on — the one that irked him oh, so much.

“you see, your little warnings really won’t do much. in any case, they make me want to do it more.” the confidence in your tone got under his skin, causing him to look up at you with a glare, as firm as he could muster.

you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped your lips at his attempt to look intimidating, and for some odd reason, it made your heart stop slightly.

you paused, cockiness wavering for just a few seconds, before it came back stronger. “you do know that look it just making it easier to laugh at you, right?” you teased through a chortle, but the way your eyes softened a minuscule amount didn’t go unnoticed by jungwon.

and for a second, it all stopped.

the room went silent, the spirit of your laughter dying down until all that was left was a tension filled with unspoken emotion.

it only lasted a couple moments, though, before he locked back in and looked at you again, voice firm but with a hint of something else lingering at the back.

“just.. keep yourself out of trouble for a bit, yeah? you don’t wanna get yourself suspended before the school year ends.”

NISHIMURA RIKI quidditch rivals

the stakes were high, as the first slytherin vs. gryffindor quidditch match was about to begin.

niki — being the slytherin captain, and you, the gryffindor captain — had always had some sort of issue with you simply existing.

he always found ways to talk to you, always teasing and making fun of you until you’d snap and do something about it.

it just annoyed you so much; the ever-cocky smirk, the smugness layering onto his words, and the way his confident aura that made your heart stutter slightly in your chest each time you spared him a glance.

you couldn’t like him: it’s not right. you’re quidditch rivals from two different houses, and that’s all it would ever be.

but the way his gaze would trail towards you during matches, in the great hall, in the middle of classes, it all made you second guess everything you knew about him and how you felt.

the air was filled with a static kind of energy as the two teams hopped onto their broomsticks, shooting upwards into the sky as madam hooch blew her whistle.

the snitch was set free, and both your and niki’s eyes immediately locked for a moment, a hint of challenge and something else lurking beneath.

as the game went on, slytherin was winning by 130 points, and it felt like continuing to play was a lost cause. the only way you could win was if you were able to spot the sneaky little snitch.

it was all so sudden; you saw the snitch and so did he, and both of you dive bombed towards it. the next thing you knew, you were in the hospital wing with a broken arm and a pounding headache.

apparently, you and niki had hit each other in your speed, and you fell off your broom while he caught onto his somehow.

the second your eyes opened, you were met with the sight of two things; an overly bright light above your head and an apologetic niki sitting on the visitors chair next to your bed.

“hey, you feeling okay? i am so sorry about what happened.” the second he noticed you look up, trying to sit up with a disoriented and confused expression, the guilt crept back in even stronger, and he just word-vomited whatever came to mind: to hell with the so called ‘I hate you’ tag.

“o-oh, it’s fine. ill be alright.” you said, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like someone drove a drill through your skull.

yet, the guilt didn’t leave him at all.

in fact, it came back stronger, along with a weird thump in his heart.

it was probably today’s breakfast, right?

PERMANENT TAGLIST ✉️ 𐔌 ﹒ @liya07v @strvvy-anniee @flufflights @eunandonly @hannamoon143 @irasvr @ateez-atiny380 @amoressb @ikeulove @gudkc @mrsjohnnysuh @sol3chu @nerdywitchcrown @sol3chu @puma-riki @xeee334 @suhiiiies-blog @haerinheartss @layzfy @manaah02 @ijustwannareadstuff20 @enoclockz

likes + reblogs are appreciated !!

[v4mpire45]

The Things He Doesn't Know — K. Bakugo

This is part nine of the series, so chapters will be on the m.list.

☞ Link: click here.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Jealous female reader

Synopsis: When you realize you're in love with your childhood best friend, but force you're feeling's down for the sake of your friendship.

Author's note: 🫢 Is all I have to say. It's a long one.

You can’t get Kimiko’s words out of your head.

"I think you and I both know you’re full of shit."

What did she mean by that? And why couldn’t you just let it go?

It wasn’t just the way she said it. It was the look in her eyes, the smug, knowing smirk tugging at her lips like she had figured something out before you did.

It irritated you to no end. Everything Kimiko did made you mad.

But this? This was something else entirely.

Her constant flirting with Bakugo got on your nerves, but more than that, it made you sad. Every time she leaned into his space, every time she laughed a little too sweetly at something, he said, every time she called him Katsuki so casually, like she had the right to? it made your stomach twist. It wasn’t jealousy, was it?

No. It was something worse. Something heavier. Because she could do all those things, and you couldn't. Or rather, you wouldn’t.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump against your desk. Kimiko had a way of making sure her words stuck in your head like a splinter, and you hated it.

This was probably her plan all along, to make you overthink, to make you question yourself. And the worst part? It was working.

A sudden knock on your dorm door startles you out of your thoughts.

"Who is it?" You call out, still lying face-down on your desk.

"It’s me. Open up, dumbass."

Bakugo.

For some reason, your brain immediately goes into panic mode. You sit up straight, smoothing your hair down and glancing around your mess of a room. Why did it suddenly feel like a disaster zone? Why did you care?

You hurriedly shove a pile of clothes under your bed and straighten out your sheets before clearing your throat. Get it together.

"Um… come in!"

Bakugo opens the door, stepping inside, and you abruptly stop what you’re doing, frozen mid-motion like a deer caught in headlights.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Silence.

Bakugo lets out a small grunt before plopping down onto your bed like he owns the place.

Meanwhile, you just stand there awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. Why were you acting like an idiot? He’d been in your room plenty of times before. Hell, he’d seen it in way worse conditions, so why were you acting like some flustered fool now?

"What brings you here, partner?" You lean against your desk, trying to act casual, trying, and failing.

Partner? Partner?! Could you sound any more stupid?

As if to further cement your humiliation, your elbow knocks over a pile of books, sending them tumbling to the floor.

"Shoot," you mutter, scrambling to pick them up.

From behind you, Bakugo lets out what sounds close to a laugh.

You freeze.

That was a laugh.

Your face burns as you quickly gather your books, your fingers fumbling. It was just a laugh. Just a laugh. Don’t be stupid, Y/N.

"So… you wearing that out?" Bakugo suddenly asks.

You glance down at yourself, oversized, wrinkled T-shirt (with a mysterious green stain you’d rather not think about), old sweats with a hole in the knee.

"Well, uh—wait. Out where?"

Bakugo stares at you like you’ve grown two heads.

"Seriously? You don’t remember?"

You blink. What the hell is he talking about?

"No? Did I forget a birthday? Whose did I forget? Kaminari? Kirishima? Mina—"

"No, you dumbass. Chill out." Bakugo rolls his eyes. "We’re going to the arcade. Me. You. The other extras."

Oh. Right.

Your stomach sinks a little. You had completely forgotten. It's probably because Kimiko would be there.

"Heh… right. I totally remembered that." You mumble, scratching the back of your head.

Bakugo narrows his eyes at you. "It’s not like you to forget."

His words catch you off guard. "Something on your mind?" That’s not something he usually asks.

"Er, uh, no. Just slipped, y’know?" You force a grin.

Bakugo doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

"Right. Well, get ready unless you wanna go out looking like a damn hobo."

"Hey, not too much now." You chuckle, grateful for the shift in topic.

Bakugo huffs and stands up, heading for the door.

And you should let him go.

But you don’t.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist.

Bakugo stiffens slightly, glancing down at your hand, then back up at you. His expression is unreadable.

"Um… you can stay, y’know." Your voice comes out quieter than you intended. "And we could head down together. Like we used to?"

For a second, he just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then...

"Okay."

You got an okay!?

You let go of his wrist and step back, heartbeat hammering in your chest as you quickly escape to the bathroom to change. You try really hard not to freak out.

By the time you and Bakugo head downstairs, everyone is already gathered in the common room. Kaminari jumps up from the couch the second he sees you.

"Finally! Took you two long enough. Let’s go!"

"God, Kaminari, could you be any more impatient?" Jirou sighs, standing up.

Kaminari and Jirou are the first ones out.

"Wow, man, I didn’t even have to drag you out this time," Kirishima teases.

"Shut up," Bakugo grumbles, walking past him.

Kimiko, because of course she does, immediately rushes to Bakugo’s side, smiling sweetly.

Major eye roll.

The arcade was alive with flashing neon lights, the sharp chimes of tokens clinking into machines, and the occasional victory yell from a lucky player.

The air smelled of buttered popcorn and cheap pizza, the kind that tasted way better than it should.

You had barely stepped inside when Kimiko started her Bakugo antics.

“Hey, Bakugo,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Wanna team up? I bet we’d destroy everyone else.”

Before Bakugo could respond, you felt his hand on your wrist.

“Nah,” he said, pulling you along. “Already got plans.”

Your heart jumped at the sudden contact, and Kimiko’s expression flickered, just for a second, before she forced on a smirk.

“Oh, I see,” she said, crossing her arms but making no effort to hide her displeasure. “Have fun, I guess.”

Bakugo didn’t even acknowledge her before leading you toward a row of games.

“Pick something,” he said, hands shoved in his pockets.

You grinned, trying to ignore the warmth still lingering from where he grabbed you. “What, giving me full control? That’s dangerous, Bakugo.”

“Tch. You act like I won’t kick your ass at whatever we play.”

That, of course, became the challenge of the night.

First game: Air hockey. You managed to score a few points, but Bakugo, with his stupidly good reflexes, sent the puck flying into your goal more times than you’d like to admit.

“Damn it,” you muttered, watching the scoreboard light up with his victory.

He smirked. “Hope you’re not gettin’ discouraged already.”

Second game: A co-op zombie shooter. The two of you stood side by side, plastic guns in hand, mowing down wave after wave of the undead. You weren’t sure if it was just the adrenaline or the fact that Bakugo actually made a pretty solid teammate, but you found yourself laughing at how serious he got, cursing every time he missed a shot.

By the time you reached the final boss, you were both on your last lives.

“Shit, move, dumbass, you’re in my line of fire!”

“You move, I’m covering your left!”

Somehow, you both landed the final shot at the same time, causing the screen to flash VICTORY! in bold letters.

You turned to Bakugo, grinning. “We actually make a decent team.”

He snorted. “Obviously. You’d be dead without me.”

Final game: The claw machine.

Bakugo wasn’t one for the “kiddy” games, but after catching you eyeing a plush sitting in the pile of prizes, he shoved a few tokens in without a word.

“You don’t have to win me anything,” you said, watching as he maneuvered the claw with expert precision.

“Didn’t ask,” he muttered.

It took him three tries, but eventually, the claw managed to grab hold of a stuffed bear with lopsided button eyes and a slightly crooked smile. He pulled it out and tossed it to you, acting as if it was no big deal.

You hugged the bear close. “He looks a little messed up.”

“Yeah, well, figured he suits you.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “What should we name him?”

Bakugo tilted his head, pretending to think. “Dynamutt.”

You burst out laughing. “That’s awful.”

“Like you could come up with somethin’ better.” He mutters.

You glanced down at the bear and grinned. “Fine. Dynamutt it is.”

By the time you all returned to the dormitories, everyone had collected their fair share of arcade prizes.

Kirishima had an armful of plushies from a rigged punching game. Mina somehow ended up with a collection of flashy LED glasses. Kaminari and Sero had spent most of their time hoarding candy from a ticket machine.

You held Dynamutt close as you flopped onto one of the common room couches, exhausted but content.

Bakugo sat down on the opposite couch, and before you could blink, Kimiko plopped down beside him, far too close for comfort.

“So,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you have fun tonight?”

Bakugo just shrugged. “I guess.”

Kimiko giggled, tilting her head. “You’re always so hard to please, huh?”

You watched as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just a little lower.

“You know, I bet I could make things more fun for you,” she added, her fingers barely brushing against his arm.

You clenched your jaw. There it was again, that same feeling that had burned in your chest at the party and many times after.

The frustration, the annoyance, the overwhelming urge to say something.

But not here. Not in front of everyone.

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you mumbled, standing up abruptly. “Be back soon.”

Sero, who had been watching the entire thing, shot you a knowing look before getting up as well. “Yeah, me too.”

The cool night air was a relief against your heated skin as you leaned against the railing outside the dorms.

Sero stood beside you, silent for a moment before finally speaking.

“She really gets to you, huh?” He said, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. I know the feeling.”

You turned to him. “Kimiko?”

Sero sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I mean, I know I don’t have a chance or whatever, but watching her go after Bakugo like that… it sucks.”

You hesitated before admitting,

“I don’t even know why it bothers me so much. I mean, I do, but…”

“But?”

You swallowed hard. “It’s like some part of me still doesn’t want to admit it.”

“That you love him?” Sero blurts out.

The words made your stomach flip. "Yeah.." You kick a small pebble.

Sero smiled knowingly. “Denial’s a bitch, huh?”

You groaned. “God, you’re the worst.”

“Nah, I’m the best. And I think you should tell him.”

You gave him a look. “Oh yeah? And what about you? Gonna confess to Kimiko?”

Sero huffed. “Hell no.” Then, after a pause: “Maybe.”

You both laughed, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

“C’mon,” you finally said, nudging his arm.

“Let’s head back.”

As the two of you step back into the common room, you hear Kimiko’s voice cut through the air.

"Y'know, Katsuki, if you want to hold someone's hand, you could just ask me." She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. "I wouldn’t make you work for it."

There's something in Bakugo’s eyes that tells you he's barely back his frustration. He takes a deep breath before responding.

"Could you stop that? It's annoying."

Kimiko’s expression falters just for a moment before deciding to continue. "Oh come, Katsuki, you know you like it." She reaches out to touch his arm once more, but he shifts away from her.

No, I don’t," he says, voice firm, final. "I never have."

Silence falls over the room. Kirishima shifts awkwardly, looking like he’s about to step in, but Bakugo isn’t done yet.

"I’ve just been putting up with it because I didn’t wanna deal with the drama." His voice is sharper now, frustration rolling off him. "But you’re annoying as hell, and I don’t like it, so stop."

The weight of his words hangs in the air.

You and Sero, still standing near the doorway, exchange a glance. This is... a lot.

Even Kaminari and Jirou, who had been hanging around earlier, had the good sense to disappear before things got worse.

Kimiko mutters something under her breath, too quiet for you to hear before pushing off the couch. She leaves without another word.

Mina sighs, rubbing her temples before grabbing Kirishima’s wrist. "Come on, Red, we should check on her."

Kirishima hesitates but follows. "That was kinda harsh, man," he mutters to Bakugo before leaving.

"Well, that was—" You turn to Sero, only to find him gone.

You huff a quiet laugh. Traitor.

Bakugo looks up at the sound, his usual scowl still in place. You hesitate for a second before walking over, dropping into the seat Kimiko had left empty.

Silence stretches between you both.

It’s not uncomfortable, though. Silence has always been your thing.

"You heard all that?" he finally mutters.

"Yeah..." You pick at your sleeve, not sure how else to respond.

There’s another pause before Bakugo exhales sharply, his voice lower when he speaks again.

"I don’t get why people think I’m into that flirty crap. It’s annoying." His gaze flickers toward you, then away just as quickly. "Not my thing."

"Then why did you tolerate it?" you ask.

You’ve spent months watching Kimiko flirt with him. At times, he barely reacted. Others he seemed to like it, so you assumed he was fine with it. But now? Now he’s snapping, like he’s had enough.

"’Cause damn Shitty Hair wanted me to," Bakugo mutters. "He said she was just trying to be friends with me, so I let it go. And she’s an okay sparring partner, I guess."

"Oh... I see..."

There’s something heavier in his voice now, something that goes beyond just Kimiko. You wait, and sure enough, he keeps going.

"After the war," he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself, "everything felt… different."

He exhales sharply, frustrated. "I know I probably worried the hell outta everyone, almost dyin’ and all. I feel like, like I gotta make up for that somehow. Be better. Do shit right."

You swallow. "You did worry everyone," you admit softly. "Me, especially."

Bakugo clenches his jaw, his hands curling into fists in his lap. "I know, and I hate that," he mutters. "I hate knowing I made everyone go through that."

His gaze flickers up to meet yours, and there’s something raw within his expression.

"That’s why I let that shit slide. Why I put up with dumb crap like Kimiko’s flirting. ‘Cause it felt like… I dunno, something I should do."

You feel your heart tighten in your chest. "You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bakugo."

"I know, and that's why you’re the only one I don’t gotta pretend around."

Your breath catches in your throat.

"You’ve always been my best friend, but—" he hesitates, just for a second, before pushing forward. "You’re different. You always have been."

Sero’s advice flashes through your head.

And suddenly, you feel like you’re on the edge of something terrifying.

Your hands clench into fists. "Bakugo..."

His eyes meet yours.

"Katsuki, idiot," he corrects automatically.

Your pulse races.

"Katsuki," you say, and his name feels heavier in your mouth than it ever has before.

His brows furrow slightly, like he can sense something shifting. "What?"

You take a breath.

And then, before fear can stop you, you say it.

"I’m in love with you."

© 2025 v4mpire45 — All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

Tags: @tsukikoxo @pet1t3 @anon-mouse223 @nepenthes-things @hakkoyo @ita606 @raeroowrites @dreamybabbyy @ghostkat23 @channnee @sanriihoe @ch3rryjampi3 @eyesforbkg @charlotterosea13 @chuugarettes @mtsudaa @myblogsucks @emmaafinchh @adherethecomingofage @uhsakusa @shewki @galaneiaeris @surprisemodafakas @uhnanix @ilovemushroomss @bakunianadecorazon @bonbonbytes @snoozebunz @wowbonanza @holobean @littlestinkybastardman @closehereyes @keiva1000

[bunni-v1]

so shadow milk legendary costume is coming so can we get more content of pre-corruption smilk 😝😝😭 pretty please and thank you ♥️

🍓Again I’m gonna call him Blueberry Yogurt because typing out pre corruption is annoying as fuck. Anyway, yes you can pookie mwah mwah mwah! These are short, but I still hope u like them :)

-Blueberry Yogurt is veryyyyy different from Shadow Milk. Shadow Milk describes his past self as a “Goody two shoes wet rag with no personality,” and while he’s being dramatic I don’t think he’s far off.

-Blueberry Yogurt is contemplative, gentle, kind, and above all else caring. He loves his subjects and his friends and he aims to share his knowledge with everyone. He’s in all sense of the word harmless. A sweet cookie with nothing but good intentions.

-He’s, essentially, his position as sage. And he doesn’t mind that, but he’s never really considered that he could be anything more. It’s what he was baked for, of course.

-Booooriiingggggg, as Shadow Milk would put it. But Blueberry Yogurt was content with things, it’s only after he realized cookies turn from the truth — mixed with the understanding of the sheer amount of power he held, that his mind changed.

-You we’re part of that realization. That, maybe, he could be more than what he was. That the life he lived wasn’t all it seemed to be. He was never made to fall in love, but he did, whose to say there isn’t more for him out there?

-But before that, he was likely the perfect partner to have. He cares a lot about his partner and their well-being, and he wants to be their total equal, even if they’re weaker than him.

-He spends a lot of his spare time with you. He’s an incredibly busy cookie with too many things to do, but he will always find time to spend on you. You are a high priority in his life, and he makes sure you know that.

-He likes having you around him, even when you aren’t doing the same things. Just you being there brings him peace of mind and makes him feel content.

-You being educated is equally important to him, so he takes the time to have conversations about serious topics. He’s particularly fond of reading with you and discussing the books with a critical eye. He won’t let you be blind to the truth, and if you’re afraid of it, he’ll work with you to ensure you aren’t.

-He’ll take you around the town when he visits, and most cookies know you as “The Sage’s Lover”. He won’t admit it, but that fact makes him proud. He loves to show you off, and he loves the fact that others know you’re together.

-Oh he does this cute thing where he’ll sweep you up in his arms and dance around with you. He’ll press you tightly against his body and swirl around like you’re at a real ball.

-He is so much more open about how much he loves you. He has no reason to hide or fear his affections for you, so he just doesn’t. His love is unabashedly displayed through physical touch as Blueberry Yogurt.

-Soft and gentle kisses pressed upon you dough. He burns into your dough his love for you so that you never forgot how much you are adored.

-He pulls you close and whispers his adoration like a prayer, as if to convince you of his love for you. Like you might forget if he doesn’t remind you so tenderly.

-He treats you to beautiful dates in locations you’ve only dreamed about, each one more heartfelt and romantic than the last. They’re built specifically to wow you, and he’s phenomenal at his job.

-He also gives you gifts all the time, hand made or things he found around the kingdom, it doesn’t matter. They’re all things you’ll make good use of, he makes sure of that.

-His goal is to make you feel considered and thought of. Again, he’s very successful. Everything he does takes you into account, and you become a very important part of his day to day life.

-One thing he does that Shadow Milk keeps is his love for carrying you around. It’s not a strength thing, he isn’t showing off, he just loves carrying you around. He feels like he can really care for you like that, so he does it as much as he can.

-He’s also very protective of you. He doesn’t stop you from engaging difficult topics and finding out truths, but he does stop others from disturbing your peace. It’s the one time he’ll use his magical abilities for selfish reasons, his need to keep you safe and happy winning out his morals for once.

-This is why when he feels himself… slipping… he sends you away as soon as he can. He doesn’t want you to think of him differently, and he’ll even take extra measures to ensure he won’t find you once he’s fully gone. (It’s the most annoying thing about himself, if you ask Shadow Milk. He plans for everything far too well.)

-It does ache and pain him to be so far from you when he does it, but it’s more important to him that you are safe. Even if it means you have to be safe from him.

[natsredbra]

More guitarist Nat please it’s so good <333

guys I love her

She’s such a night owl

this girl will go to sleep at 5am, sometimes she wakes you and you think she’s getting up

you’re all “Why this early?” and she says she’s only now going to bed…

still, she wouldn’t dream of disrupting your own sleep by practicing so she usually does it in the afternoon

you bring her drinks and snacks and even stay with her sometimes

guitar player Nat who doesn’t want a stylist or a makeup artist

like at all

she wants to do her makeup herself for the shows

as well as pick out her own outfits

also for her hair

only trusts you to do it

guitarist Nat definitely has the bleached mullet and she’s not letting go of it until retirement

if her band wins an award and she’s giving a speech, you best believe she’s mentioning and thanking you first

not that she has that many people to thank

but you’d been there since day 1 and she loves you to pieces

sooo protective if paparazzi is giving you trouble

sometimes she’ll go as far to smash their camera and she got into a littleeee trouble for it

but doesn’t regret it at all, she’d do anything to ensure you’re comfortable

mentions you in interviews 647282 times

especially when they get asked where the lyrics come from……

and everyone is all 🙂‍↕️😩 because as i already said, their songs are dirty as hellllll

thinking about her proposing to you…

she might love glory and fame but she really wants to do this privately

still finds a way to record it, fuck living in the moment, she wants to look back on it

she’ll set the phone or a camera down on a makeshift stand

and she tries sooooo hard to be all cute and romantic that night!!

first she’ll come home early, before you get back from work

make you a nice dinner (pasta), and drinks half a bottle of wine to not be nervous

totally has it all planned out, exactly where and how she’s gonna do it, what’s she gonna say…

but once she gets down on one knee she’s at a LOSS for words

you literally have to help her say it

and she does, through tears

the ring is suuuuper pretty, 2 carat cushion cut

she definitely planned it for a long time, saved up for it too

you wait at least a month before telling the world

(however you do facetime all your friends that night while sobbing)

all of a sudden (some) of their songs get much softer and pg 13 when it comes to lyrics

(also i totally imagine guitarist!Nat x model!reader)

[shadowsndaisies]

death, who?

a/n: staying true to the resolution! the largest folder in my wips is probably the crossovers. way too many possibilities for someone entrenched in too many fandoms. but, nonetheless, here we are. also big shock! i still write for other fandoms, not just dc.

main masterlist

prompt: A; hold on you died?! ... B; yeah, well, it didn't stick.

synopsis: what if a hunt brought you and your older half-brothers and guardians, Sam and Dean Winchester, to Beacon Hills, and what if, you get in a spot of trouble with your new friends, and need to call for a ride.

wc: 2.7k

Black.

Everything is black.

You feel your body being torn apart, excruciatingly slow, and suddenly it all snaps back together, muscles, veins, tendons reconnecting and attaching, skin growing back.

Flashes of light, bright, discombobulating.

And then your eyes open.

You shoot up, bodies hovering over you.

Someone screams, someone else is crying.

You choke on nothing for a second, and then you push yourself back to your feet.

Hands grip onto you, frantic, and finally everything fits back into place.

You blink and turn, coming face to face with two boys. Not your brothers, a piece of you panics, but the memories come quick, and you force yourself to relax.

Stillinski and McCall, your brain supplies as you stare at the two. Both are watching you with wide eyes, lips parted, slightly pale. There’s a girl behind them with tears in her eyes. The redhead, Lydia you mind supplies after a second, looks especially distraught.

The choking feeling comes back and this time when you cough, something falls from your lips, a bullet.

You stare at the brass for a second, “seven fucking hells,” you hiss, bending down and picking up the bullet.

It’s deformed, likely the exact bullet that had killed you mere minutes before. Deformed from where and how it had impacted against your body.

The memory of being shot comes back fast and painful, your whole body flinches as you jerk to check your side. There’s blood, and your brow furrows as you push off your jacket and then pull your shirt off, wiping at your side, until you clear away most of the blood.

No wound.

“(Y/n)?” Stiles’ voice cracks as he says your name, and your head snaps back to the others.

They’re still staring at you like they’re all about to be violently sick.

“Hey,” you say, swallowing thickly as you calm your heart rate.

Who brought you back? No Angels nearby… Crowley didn’t have the pull anymore… Leaving… Billie? Or… Chuck?

You shudder at the thought, you hoped it was Billie.

You reach into your pants pocket, and pull out your phone, but your frown deepens when you realize it’s broken, screen cracked, totally toast— kinda like you were.

“Damn,” you mutter, turning back to the four still staring.

That was a problem.

“Can I borrow a phone?” you ask, voice hoarse, but they’re all still staring at you. You roll your eyes, and snap your fingers startling them. “Phone? Please?”

Lydia reaches a shaky hand into her purse and pulls her out, holding it to you.

You’d just dialed Dean’s number when Scott comes back to himself.

“Hold on,” he begins, “you died,” he states.

Newbies, you scoff internally.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick,” you lament, raising the phone to your ear.

It rings, and rings, and keeps ringing, until you’re met with “Agent Plant, FBI, leave a message.”

“Damn it,” you mumble, dialing Sam’s number next

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“Agent Page, FBI, leave a mess-”

You don’t wait for the end of the message, and instead hang up, biting your lip you try the last active number you knew of.

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“This is Agent Jones, FBI. Please leave a message and I will-”

“Chuck’s sake,” you grumble and then freeze. There was more than one way to call Cas.

“Your tattoo is gone,” a voice interrupts and your head whips back over to the other teens.

“Fuck, are you sure?” you ask tilting your shoulder in to look at the blade. “You’re so dead, Chuck, stupid things hurt like a-”

“What is she talking about?” you’re vaguely aware of Stiles’ muttered question, but you force yourself to take a deep breath and refocus on the task at hand.

“You were dead,” Lydia finally speaks up, as you hand her phone back.

“Yes,” you nod.

“We did CPR,” Scott adds on.

“Explains the pain on my ribs,” you note, looking around, eyes perking when you spot your backpack.

“It didn’t work,” Stiles.

“Yup, got that,” you confirm half-heartedly, as you pull open the bag, rummaging through.

“I heard your heart stop,” Scott adds, and you pull a spare t-shirt, the one you’d used for gym class, out triumphantly.

“Make sense, since I was dead,” you nod, tossing the shirt over your shoulder, and looking back into the bag.

“I felt it,” Lydia adds, you shudder slightly at that, Banshee premonitions were an entirely different beast.

“Sorry about that,” you say uncomfortably clearing your throat as you pull out the small container of hand sanitizer.

You grab the bag and walk back over to the other three, they’re still starring wide eyed, and you refrain from rolling your eyes again as you reach down for the bloody shirt. You reach to your ankle and pull out your switchblade, using it to cut up the shirt, taking the clean parts, and then dousing it in the hand sanitizer, using it to remove as much blood from your skin as possible.

It leaves the skin sticky, you wrinkle your nose at the feeling, but once content, toss the bloodied clothes in a pile, and wipe your blade before putting it away.

You toss the mostly empty hand sanitizer back in your bag, and run your finger over the bullet again before putting that in your pocket. You pull on the gym shirt, it reads Beacon Hills High School, across the front, and is made of a stiff cotton polyester blend that scratches at your skin, and well, it smells like gym, but you’ve had worse, that’s for sure.

You swipe back your hair and reach into another pocket producing your lighter. You crouch down, and set the bloody clothes on fire. It burns quick, hot, and bright. Especially once it catches on the cloth that had the hand sanitizer. You watch the flames quickly until your blood is gone, and then you stamp it out.

Finally, you swing the bag back on your shoulder and you turn to the other three, really taking the time to take them in. This time you do roll your eyes.

“Yes, I died. Tragic, I know. And yes, I’m back, shocking is an understatement I’m sure, but can we please move on?”

“You died!” Stiles repeats again, and you let out a long sigh.

“And it didn’t stick. It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last,” you admit, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say because the three of them seem to raise into higher hysterics. “Right. okay! You process this, however you need to. Let me know when you’re ready. In the meantime, I gotta… make a call.”

The three offer jerky nods and you huff, walking ahead of them. They follow in a daze as you guide them out of the preserves and back to the main road. You look up and down, and quietly you close your eyes and pray.

Cas… Castiel, I could really use a hand right about now… Please?

You peek an eye open but are disappointed by the lack of blue-tie-trenchcoat-wearing angels.

You cave after another few minutes of silent prayer.

You drop your bag and walk into the street, “CAS! CASTIEL!!!” you shout.

Stiles flinches so violently he trips over his own feet, the three staring at you as if you were a lunatic, which; fair, but now was so not the time, to go into the angels and demons of it all.

“CASTIEL!” you try again.

“What is a Castiel?” Scott asks, eyes wide and concerned.

“CASTIEL,” you begin, shouting his name once more for good measure, before your lips turn into a deep frown, “is a no-good, older-brother preferring, utterly useless contingency plan,” you huff out, before looking back at Scott and shrugging, “apparently,” you add clearing your throat.

“Right,” Scott nods, but nothing about his response inspired his belief.

Again, fair.

You huff again, “guess we’re doing this traditionally,” you mutter, turning to the three. “No chance any of you has chalk?” you ask.

“Chalk?” Stiles repeats, spluttering. “What like sidewalk chalk? What are we gonna do hopscotch our way back into town?”

You deadpan at Stiles unimpressed, and he shifts under the weight of your stare.

“So no chalk?” you ask, and he huffs. “Fucking townies,” you mumble under your breath, but the look you get from Scott tells you he heard it.

“No chalk,” Lydia confirms. “But, chalk’s mostly made of the shells of single-celled organisms, like coccolithophores and foraminifera,” she explains and your brows furrow.

“What?”

“It’s found in most sedimentary deposits,” she continues.

You blink at her.

Her shoulders sag a bit, “Limestone rocks would work,” she relents.

You perk at that. “Wait here,” you tell them, taking off back the way you’d come. “I saw some limestone on our way out!”

By the time you make it back to them, the three are huddled, whispering quickly and casting weary glances around. They pause as you come back but you barely pay attention, instead, you focus on chalking the ground, delicate and precise marks as you use the limestone on the asphalt.

Once happy with the markings you stand outside the drawing, and toss the leftover limestone aside, wiping your hands on your jeans and standing at full height. You crack your neck, and turn to the markings.

“Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you begin, voice loud and clear. It pulls the other three’s attention. Stiles ready to interrupt when you began again. “Rah ah gah ee oh es, Castiel, Rah ah gah ee oh es,” the three were now staring with wide eyes, on your second pass of the Enochian chant, your voice seemed to reverberate through the preserves, sounding less and less human. “Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you repeat a final time.

You hold your breath, waiting, seconds tick by and finally your eye twitches. Fucking Castiel, you appear whenever Dean calls, bastards, all three of you.

“Fine,” you huff, throwing your hands in the air. “Prayer didn’t work, neither did calling nicely, or an official summons, so I guess that leaves me with threats! I hope you’re happy!” you shout at no one, and you catch the look Lydia shares with Stiles.

“(Y/n) maybe you should-” Scott begins and you wave him off.

“CASTIEL, YOU GET YOUR WINGED ASS HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR ON MY NAME I WILL NEVER LET YOU HAVE ANOTHER MOMENT OF PEACE YOU WINGED RAT!” you scream, causing the other three to flinch.

And then a man in a trenchcoat materializes right behind you, and the three lose their shit.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“WHO?”

“WHERE DID-”

You whirl around and the Angel stands stiffly as he stares at you.

“About fucking time,” you huff, glaring at him.

“I find your demanding tone off-putting,” Cas decides and your eye twitches.

“Off-putting? Are you kidding Cas? I’ve been trying to get in contact with Dean and Sam, no one’s answering their phones!”

“Which numbers did you try?”

“Plant, Page, and Jones, FBI,” you counter.

“We deactivated them.”

“No shit,” you hiss.

“You are acting like a-” he stops himself, sighing.

the audacity.

“Like a what, Cas?” you press.

“Like an ass-butt,” he admits and you have to scrub your hand over your face. “I do not appreciate it,” he adds on.

You open your mouth with a sharp retort but you stop yourself, count to ten in your mind and let out a deep breath instead. Reminding yourself, you can’t talk to Cas the same way you would to Dean and Sam, it was counter-productive at best.

“You’re right, I apologize Castiel. I’m… flustered,” you admit, levelly, jaw clenched and eye twitching as you do.

“Is it because of these three?” he asks, finally addressing the others hovering just a few feet away.

“No, these are friends Castiel,” you huff.

“Why then? You are usually the most put-together of the three Winchester siblings,” he questions.

Isn’t that a low bar? The 17-year-old little half sister is the most put-together when compared to her two adult older brothers.

“I was shot, and killed about an hour ago Cas, I can feel where they sliced me open down in hell, and smell like a mix of death, blood, and high school gym class. I would very much like to know where my older brothers are, right now,” you explain, once again keeping your voice in that forced level tone.

“I see. One moment,” he says and before you can disagree he disappears.

“Oh, Fuck me!” you shout again.

“I have so many questions,” Stiles speaks up from where he and Scott are still stood.

“Sliced you open?” Lydia repeats, voice pitching up.

“Yeah, and Hell?” Stiles tags on, funnily enough, his voice did the same thing.

You glare at the two. Chuck’s sake, it was going to be such a pain to do the whole tip of the iceberg speech, at least they already believed in the Supernatural.

“Just-” you pause for another deep breath. “Please, let me find my brothers first,” you request instead.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long, because only a few minutes later you can hear an engine coming up the road, and you sigh when you catch sight of the Impala.

The car’s moving fast, and it screeches, skidding a bit, as Dean throws the thing in park. Both of you brothers rushing out. Dean gets to you first, hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down.

“The hell happened?” he asks, voice gruff.

“Hell,” you answer shortly.

“That’s not funny,” Sam counters.

“Neither is radio silence,” you shoot back.

Both of your brothers share a look.

“Fair,” Sam concedes, when Dean stays resolute, he hasn’t let go of you yet.

You feel Dean’s grip tighten and you sigh, “I’m fine, seriously,” you relent, voice softening far more than it has since you woke up.

“C’mon let’s get you to the motel,” Dean decides, keeping one hand on you as he starts pushing you to the Impala.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam calls after him, a nervous laugh paired with a clearing of his throat.

“What?” Dean barks the question over his shoulder, walking you forwards.

“She’s got friends,” he reminds him and you shrug at Dean who finally turns and stares at the the three who have been watching your brothers with curious eyes.

“Ah shit, more teenagers,” Dean frowns. “Fine, pack it in,” he huffs, opening the door.

Sam smiles nervously and gestures for the three to slip into the back row. You on the other hand, end up sandwiched between your two big brothers. Sam casts another look over you once he’s back in the car, and Dean’s pulling a U-turn.

“You sure, you’re okay?”

You sigh, and reach into your pocket, pulling out the bullet, and then dropping it in Sam’s hand as a response.

“Sorry I asked,” he backtracks.

You roll your eyes, and lean back into the leather seat, “Someone has to redo my tattoo when we get to the motel,” you speak up.

“Damn, total wipe?” Dean asks looking over at you.

“Not even a scar,” you mutter.

“That’s not too bad, I mean that wendigo last fall caught you pretty bad, right? Scar’s gone now?” Sam tries to point out but both you and Dean level him with a look.

“I thought we agreed to no bright sides on death, hell, torture, and resurrection,” you mutter mutinously.

“We did,” Dean agrees.

This time Sam rolls his eyes, “Alright, I’m sorry I tried,” he huffs, settling back as well.

“So many questions,” you hear Stiles repeat, and you groan in despair.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[awardenandacrow]

SNIPPET 49

[Lucanis *almost* apologizes for the almost kiss]

PLEASE NOTE: I’ve decided to alter the timeline a bit from how it plays out in-game because the almost kiss happening AFTER Blood Bath was actually totally screwing everything up. So. For the purposes of the fic, the official timeline is The Cauldron —> the almost kiss —> this snippet —> Lucanis has a nightmare before Blood Bath (snippet 31) —> Blood bath

I wrote this snippet yesterday in a migraine-fueled haze and then logged onto tumblr and the first post I saw was @foxxology ‘s clingy demon art and I laughed because the Spite-invading-Rook’s-personal-space vibes were clearly universal.

——————————————————————————

“Where are we on Zara?” Rook asked him, coming around the table and sitting back against it, across from the opposite side of the fireplace. So she still didn’t want to stand too close to him. She turned her head towards him, craning her neck somewhat to be able to hear and see him best.

Lucanis hesitated with his coffee cup at his lips. “I — forgive me. I was unsure if you would still…”

He trailed off as his attention was captured by Spite, behaving his worst. The demon sidled over to stand in front of Rook, leaning over towards her, his face near her exposed neck. He looked over his shoulder at Lucanis with a devilish smirk.

“Lucanis,” Rook said solemnly, and his eyes flicked from Spite to her face. “No matter what happens, I’m here for you. Okay?”

COULD APOLOGIZE. TO HER, Spite’s grin widened. LIKE THIS. He leaned in, his purplish lips practically brushing her skin.

“Mierda, Spite,” Lucanis snapped, setting his coffee sharply down on the table. “Could you not?”

“What did he say?” Rook asked, wholly unaware that he stood practically between her legs. Lucanis swallowed thickly.

“He is just being… difficult.”

JUST REMINDING YOU. WHAT YOU. *WANT.*

Lucanis swallowed again. It might be useless at this point to deny the demon was right. Hadn’t he admitted as much to Neve?

Wanting and deserving were two very different things.

“Oh.”

Lucanis struggled with what to say next. Being alone in the same room with her again, finally, was harder than he’d anticipated.

“I actually… have Zara’s location,” he said finally. “I was… going to go tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Rook said again, her expression stricken. “I see. You’re… going without me. Please tell me you’re not going to go alone?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I had asked Lace… and Davrin.”

Rook sucked in a breath and gripped the edge of the table. “Oh.”

“Rook, I…” he began.

“Lucanis,” she cut him off. “I understand if you… don’t want to be around me.”

She… *that* was what she thought? *She’d* been avoiding *him!*

“But I know what you’re doing. You chose the two people on this team you *know* won’t hesitate…” she swallowed and looked away, her brow furrowing. “If Spite gets out of hand.”

Lucanis felt his eyes widen, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “I did not realize I was so transparent.”

“You are to me,” Rook murmured, so softly he almost didn’t catch it.

“Rook, I…” he tried. Cleared his throat. “If I could…”

She lifted her eyes from the floor, catching him in that soft, purple gaze. A shiver ran down his spine.

TELL. HER! Spite snapped in his ear.

“I want…” Lucanis tried again. It felt as though his ribcage were shrinking around his lungs. His throat was tight. He dropped his gaze from hers and lost his nerve. “Forgive me. I’m not certain what I wish to say.”

Spite growled in frustration and stalked off towards the pantry.

“There’s nothing to forgive, Lucanis,” Rook said gently, but when he looked at her again, her face told a different story. “But will you *please* let me help you with Zara?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“And…” she hesitated. “Would you be okay if I asked *Emmrich* to come along? As a compromise? He can hear Spite, and his expertise with spirits in general could help… if something *does* happen.”

Lucanis saw the wisdom in her request. Emmrich may be ruled by his heart, but he was a sensible man — and protective of Rook. He would not hesitate to corral Spite… or whatever else might be necessary.

He could not trust Rook to take him out, he knew. She would do everything possible to save him — and Spite. The thought was both troubling and exhilarating… and it overrode his self control. He found himself, as he so often did, drawn to her, closing the distance between them without realizing he’d made the decision to do so. He was excruciatingly aware of his own knee insinuating itself between hers. His mind was clouded, Spite’s suggestion of a *physical* apology seeming less like a terrible idea as she lifted her face back up to his, her eyes dewey and her lips slightly parted.

The dining hall doors opened, and Lucanis instinctively pulled away. Mierda, what *was* he thinking?

[plaidos]

Have you considered "Talia's detractors" might be tongue in cheek about some things they say when criticizing academic writing by a woman comfortable accusing them of being abusive seperatist groomers on platforms used to promote that academic writing?

abusive separatist groomers???? i’m literally the girl people call a separatist groomer like??? 😭 people are saying that about her even. what utter nonsense are you talking about? anyway i don’t really care if people’s posts about her are tongue in cheek, if you’re resorting to shitflinging, anonymous harassment and unfounded whisper campaigns to criticise trans women of color and people who….. reblog from them? you’re legitimately no better than any other transmisogynist.

if at any point anybody had come to me non-anonymously and actually pointed to something where Talia had said something like “oh so and such is grooming people into being separatists” then that would be very alarming and concerning. but nobody has actually been able to bring ANY criticism of her to me that isn’t just “this infiltrator talks over lesbians (by posting her opinions that are different to mine)”, blatantly fabricated quotes and opinions wildly misrepresenting her opinions, and a single all-edge-no-point vaguepost screed

like, that’s what is most bullshit about all this, the foul stink attached to it: it’s the exact same behaviour any trans woman or woman of color who speaks her mind gets treated to. rumour mills and harassment campaigns and sourceless whispers. anybody who interacts with her immediately becoming a target — like, i’ll be totally honest, until i started getting anons like this i didn’t have many strong feelings about Talia except “her book looks really interesting” (now “her book is really interesting”) but after seeing the way yall treat her (and me, based on perceived connection alone) you’re making me want to run for president of her fan club.

i genuinely can’t imagine being a part of the trans community and acting as vilely & blatantly racist & transmisogynistic as a fucking whisper campaign. i thought we were past this shit. i’ll block the next person who sends me stuff like this.

[merlucide]

DYED DAISIES

notes: this wa written over the course of two months so ignore any writing differences LMAO [requested]

pairings: Lev Haiba x F!HanhakiReader

word-count: 4k

warnings: reader dies, angst, unrequited love

The prettiest flowers still die.

Or something like that.

That saying had never felt more cruelly fitting than now. Because your love for him had bloomed, beautiful and endless, only to wilt under the weight of its own yearning.

Lev Haiba. He was everything—like fresh air on a new day, clear and comforting. There was something so radiant about him, like he carried the sun inside his chest, always burning, always glowing. He was so full of life, so eager, so unshakably bright. Every moment with him felt like a memory before it even ended, something worth keeping, something worth holding onto.

But even the most beautiful things don’t last forever.

You had just moved to Tokyo from Okinawa, a small island of little shops and quiet streets, where the sea was always within reach and the air smelled of salt. Life had been simple there, almost dreamlike in its familiarity. But dreams don’t last, and neither did your parents marriage.

The divorce was inevitable. Necessary, even. So when the dust settled, you and your mother packed up for a fresh start. Tokyo. A world away from the slow comfort of your island home, but still Japan, still familiar.

The apartment was small, tucked into a four-story building with little railing balconies. You lived on the third floor—high enough to feel safe, close enough to the ground to still hear the life below. You neighbors were mostly elderly, eager to welcome you with stories and recommendations, their warmth a surprising comfort in a city so large.

But one neighbor, in particular, caught your eye.

You were hanging your towel over the balcony railing, completely focused on not dropping it, when suddenly, a head popped up from below like some sort of startled meerkat.

“HEY! YOU’RE THE NEW NEIGHBOR RIGHT?”

You yelped, flinching back. Your towel nearly slipped from your fingers as you leaned forward to get a better look. A boy stood on the balcony below, looking up at you with wide, cat-like green eyes. His silver hair was tousled from the wind, and his grin was nothing short of electric.

“Uh—yeah?” you said hesitantly. “We moved in, like, four days ago.”

“Sweet! I’m just below you. I’m Lev, by the way. Are you going to Nekoma?”

He spoke fast, his excitement practically vibrating off him. You tilted your head, vaguely recognizing the name. “Um, I think so? That’s the one with the red, right?”

“Yep! That’s the one!” His grin widened. “Hold on, lemme come up.”

Before you could process what he meant, he disappeared from view, the sound of pounding footsteps on the stairs echoing through the air. And then—

Holy shit.

He was tall.

You blinked up at him in disbelief as he stood before you, lanky limbs clad in a black hoodie and red shorts. Was he really a high schooler? There was no way. He had to have been held back.

“I’m a first-year. What about you?” he asked, peering down at you like a curious cat.

Your brain short-circuited. “You’re a first-year? No way.”

“Yeah! Why?”

You shook your head in disbelief before finally responding. “I’m a first-year too, actually.”

Lev brightened. “Really? Hey, maybe you’ll be in some of my classes!”

“Heh, maybe.”

The conversation spiraled from there, filled with his boundless energy and your cautious amusement. And before you knew it—

“Hey, wanna walk to school together? When’s your first day?”

You blinked, taken aback by how natural the offer felt. “S-sure. I think I start this week?”

“Sweet!”

“Levochka!” A voice rang from below. “You’re gonna be late for your game!”

“Oh crap!” Lev jolted, eyes widening. “I totally forgot I have a game today—aaaaah!”

You barely had time to react before he turned to sprint down the stairs. But just as he reached the first step, he hesitated, turning back to you.

“Wait—what’s your name again?”

You laughed softly. “L/N Y/N. Just call me Y/N.”

“Got it! See you later, Y/N!”

And with that, he was gone, a whirlwind of energy and excitement, leaving only the lingering echo of his voice behind.

It had barely been a four-minute conversation, but somehow, you felt lighter. The thought of starting over in a new school, in a new city, suddenly felt a little less daunting.

Monday morning rolled around, and your mom had already picked up your new uniform. It was simple, flat colors that complemented each other nicely. You liked the tie.

The apartment was quiet when you left. Your mom was still asleep—her new job wouldn’t start until next week. You carefully locked the door behind you and made your way down the stairs, hesitating when you reached Lev’s floor.

Did he really mean it when he said he’d walk with you? Or did he just say that in passing and forget?

Just as doubt began to creep in, his door slammed open, then shut just as fast. Lev stepped out in his uniform, his height making it fit a little awkwardly, the sleeves just a little too short on his long arms. His eyes immediately landed on you, and his face lit up.

“Heeeeey, Y/N! Ya ready?”

You nod, and without another word, the two of you dribble down the stairs together.

The walk to Nekoma was anything but quiet. Lev fired off question after question—Where did you live before? What’s your favorite food? Do you like cats? Oh! Do you like volleyball?—each one tumbling out of his mouth with unrestrained curiosity. He listened earnestly to your answers, nodding along like he was committing them to memory, only to get sidetracked seconds later, launching into an excited ramble about something completely different.

Then, without missing a beat, he switched gears again.

“Oh! Right! So, school pointers!” Lev straightened up, as if preparing for an important briefing. “Now! The senpais can be super scary, and they give awfulnicknames—seriously!”Lev shuddered. “Yaku-senpai calls me ‘Stickman Godzilla’!” He flared his arms dramatically, his voice dripping with exasperation. You giggled at his theatrics, covering your mouth not to hurt his feelings.

“But! They’re all pretty cool,” he continued, grinning at your reaction. “They won’t give you any trouble!”

The morning air was crisp, the city bustling with students heading in the same direction. And with Lev beside you—talking a mile a minute, making the simplest things sound like the most exciting adventure— it was really refreshing.

Nekoma’s campus looms in front of you, larger and more modern than the one back home. The sleek glass windows reflect the midday sun, and the polished doors stand tall, welcoming in the hum of students passing through.

“Oh yeah! Let me see your schedule!” Lev says, leaning over your shoulder to scan it. His eyes light up as he spots something. “Hey! We got two classes together—3rd and 7th!” he exclaims, his voice filled with excitement.

A small smile tugs at your lips at his enthusiasm, his energy contagious. He gives you a quick, wave before darting off to class.

You were more than happy to share some classes with him, you won’t be all alone in a big new school, THANK GOD!

You watch him for a moment and your heart seems to skip a beat, and you can’t quite shake the feeling that this might be the start of something more than just an ordinary school day.

And that was the beginning of your demise.

You exhale, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter. It’s only been just a few days since you transferred, but you’re already settling into a routine.

And that routine, involved Lev.

As he’d mentioned, he was part of Nekoma’s volleyball club. The past few days, you’d been waiting for him to finish practice so he could walk you home, since you still weren’t familiar with the area.

And it sure doesn’t take long for Lev’s friends to notice you.

Kuroo leans against the wall near the gym doors, watching as you wait outside like you have the past few days. He nudges Kenma with his elbow. “That girl’s been hanging around a lot, huh?”

Kenma glances up from his game, “Yeah.”

“Aye, Lev,” Kuroo calls out, catching the lanky boy’s attention “You got a girlfriend or what?” His tone is teasing

Lev, stretching out his arms, blinks in confusion. “Girlfriend? No? Why?”

At the mere mention of the word, Yamamoto all but barrels into the conversation, eyes wide in horror. “YOU GOT A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE I DID?!?”

Kenma doesn’t even bother looking up from his console. “We all know that’s unlikely,” he says flatly. “But even so, Lev has a better chance than you do.”

Yamamoto gapes, snapping his head toward Kenma, ready to fire back with an outraged rebuttal.

Kuroo smirks. “Then who’s that girl who keeps waiting for you after practice? The one you’re always walking around with?”

“Oh, you mean Y/N?” Lev brightens. “She’s my new neighbor! I’ve been showing her around. She’s really nice too!” His smile is wide, easy—completely oblivious to how much attention this conversation has gathered.

“SO SHE’S AVAILABLE?” Yamamoto nearly shouts, grabbing Lev’s shoulders with urgency. “I think so?” Lev tilts his head slightly.

“She’s pretty,” Kuroo comments offhandedly.

Lev shrugs, nodding. “Yeah, she is.”

You don’t hear any of it, you’re too far away and too focused on the tiny pixelated worm inching across your phone screen. The soft click of the buttons fills the silence around you as you tap away, trying to guide it toward the apple without crashing into the walls.

A shadow falls over you, and a familiar voice breaks through your concentration.

“Sorry for the wait! Ready to go?”

You glance up to see Lev grinning down at you, his usual energy still buzzing even after practice. Quickly tucking your phone away, you nod, pushing aside the strange warmth lingering in your chest.

The years passed, and your world became entwined with his.

Lev was your constant. Through high school, through late-night study sessions, through laughter that echoed off apartment walls. Your love for him had been a slow bloom, petals unfurling with every moment spent at his side. You never said it out loud, never let it slip past your lips. But it was there, woven into the fabric of your being.

Then came adulthood.

Lev became a model—of course he did. He was perfect for it. Tall, striking, a natural in front of the camera. You were the first one to encourage him to pursue it, to tell him he had what it took. And he did. He thrived.

Meanwhile, you chased your own dreams, diving headfirst into Bio Technology! You got into a great collage for it too! Your days were filled with labs and research, your nights with the same familiar routine: wake up, go to class, go out with Lev, repeat.

It was simple. Comfortable. A rhythm you could live in forever.

But one morning felt different. You woke up with a tightness in your lungs—subtle at first, but unsettling. It was unusual, almost suffocating, and scary. You took a slow sip of water from the glass beside your bed, hoping it would help as you got ready for the day.

The feeling didn’t go away. Days passed, the tightness lingering, pressing heavier with each breath. You brushed it off, blaming exhaustion, stress—maybe just the effects of your messed-up sleep schedule.

But when you stumbled into the bathroom, fingers trembling, and vomited into the toilet—

White petals.

Soft. Fragile. Coated in the slickness of your own blood.

Daisies.

Your breath stilled.

With shaking hands, you grabbed your phone, typing with feverish desperation.

‘Why did I throw up flowers?’

The answer came faster than you wanted.

‘Hanahaki Disease.’

An unrequited love. A curse born from emotions too strong to bear. The flowers bloom in the lungs of the afflicted, suffocating them slowly, petal by petal.

The only cures?

Surgery.

They would cut the flowers from your lungs, but they would take everything else with them. Every feeling, every longing glance, every heartbeat that belonged to him—gone. You would wake up whole but hollow, looking at Lev without so much as a flicker of emotion. The love you had carried for years, the love that had rooted itself into every part of you, would be nothing more than a memory erased.

Or…

Reciprocation.

Lev loving you back.

Your breath shudders as you scroll further, as if the words might shift into something kinder, something that doesn’t sound like a death sentence. But they don’t.

And there it is—the third option. The one that isn’t written, but looms over you like a shadow.

If neither cure happens… you die.

The flowers would grow, day by day, petal by petal, tightening around your lungs like vines, filling every breath until there’s no space left. Until your body becomes nothing but a garden of unspoken love, blooming too beautifully for its own survival.

A weak, shaky inhale rattles through your chest, and for the first time, you feel it—the weight of something growing inside you.

If you do nothing, it will kill you.

Your trembling hands grip the edge of the toilet, knuckles white as you struggle to steady your breath. The taste of blood lingers on your tongue, metallic and bitter, mixing with the phantom sensation of soft petals against your lips.

Your phone gripped tightly beside you on the floor. Hesitantly, your fingers hover over the contacts, your vision blurring as you scroll down.

Your eyes flickered to Lev’s name in your contacts.

Your throat tightens.

He doesn’t love you.

The thought crashes into you like a wave, violent and merciless, knocking the air from your lungs.

You’ve spent years searching—grasping—for something, anything that could mean he felt the same. A lingering glance, a touch that lasted just a second too long, a shift in hisvoice when he said your name. But there was never anything there.

Nothing.

A shaky breath escapes you, sharp and uneven. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing back the stinging heat behind them. Your body feels too heavy, your chest unbearably tight, like the flowers are already taking root, growing vines around your ribs.

You press a hand against your sternum, as if that will somehow stop the ache, stop the petals from blooming.

You have to try.

Even if it’s hopeless. Even if it kills you. Which, if he doesn’t it will.

You bite your lip, forcing yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs shake beneath you. You have to give it a shot.

You don’t have any other choice.

The bell above the diner door jingles softly as you step inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you. Lev is already sitting at a booth near the window. He grins the moment he sees you, waving you over with the same easy enthusiasm that’s always made your heart squeeze.

“Hey! Took you long enough,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the way your chest tightens—not just from the disease, but from the way he looks at you. Like you’re only a friend. Like he doesn’t see the way your hands shake when you hold the menu, or how your breathing hitches every time he laughs.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

The two of you fall into easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing at once. He tells you about his latest shoot, his voice buzzing with excitement as he mentions the new campaign he’s working on.

“—She’s half-Japanese like me! I mean, not Russian, but still, y’know? She’s really cool—and, like, really professional. I was kinda nervous at first, but she made everything feel so natural.”

You nod, forcing a small smile as he rambles. He looks genuinely happy, his excitement infectious. It’s nice. It should be enough just to see him like this.

But it’s not. Man.

So you keep searching—grasping for something, anything—a glance that lingers just a second too long, a touch that hesitates before pulling away, a shift in his voice when he says your name. A fleeting moment, an unspoken word, some tiny, fragile proof that maybe—maybe—he feels it too.

But there’s nothing. Nothing at all.

The diner’s warm glow seems to be the only comfort in the bustling evening, but even that doesn’t seem to settle you. You poke at your food, trying to force down a few bites, but your thoughts keep racing. Every now and then, Lev glances at you from across the table, his usual energetic demeanor a little more reserved today.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice light but with a note of concern. An honest expression.

You look up from your plate, blinking at him for a moment. “Yeah, of course.”

Lev raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he studies you. “Really? ’Cause you’ve been kind of… off,  you’ve barely said a word y’know?”

You laugh nervously, but it sounds more like a quiet exhale. “I’m just tired, really that’s it.”

Lev doesn’t buy it. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Sureeee…”

He leans forward, a little more serious now, his usual teasing tone softened. “Come on, talk to me. What’s really going on?”

He really can see right through you.

“I’m serious! I’m just tired!” You exasperatedly laughed shaking your head.

Gosh, one of the things you fell in love with him for was his persistence! but not right now…!

Lev’s expression softens, and he reaches over to tap the edge of your hand lightly. “I won’t push you for answers anyyyymooooreeee.. You know you don’t have to do all of it by yourself, right? You’ve got me Y/N.”

You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I know, Lev. Thanks”

Lev’s eyes narrow as he processes what you said. Then, without missing a beat, he grins his usual wide grin, shooting you two big thumbs up.

For a moment,it felt like everything was okay.

Maybe it’s just that he doesn’t realize that he loves you.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Still, some stubborn, pathetic part of you clings to hope.

It not like you have a lot of other options right now.

Weeks pass.

Your symptoms worsen.

The ache in your chest no longer fades, the petals come more frequently, and the taste of blood lingers longer than before. It’s getting harder to hide, harder to pretend that you’re fine when every breath feels heavier than the last.

You had tried and tried and tried to find a spark.

And still, no progress with Lev.

You had made plans to meet him at one of his shoots. Lev had begged you to go, which obviously you’d go regardless, he really wanted to introduce you to his new partner for this campaign.

But this time, it was different. It felt like your last chance. If something didn’t change now—if Lev didn’t feel the same way—it could be the end. You could already feel the weight of the disease creeping closer, and the thought of never hearing him say it, of never being loved in return, made everything seem so much more real.

Today you would tell him. You would confess. 

Praying that he felt the same, somehow, and somehow be cured.

It has to happen.

You walk through the glass doors and the woman behind the desks sends you a soft smile, recognizing you. Lev has done a handful of photoshoots at this location, so that means you’re somewhat a regular.

you walked up the stairs, heart beating erratically. 

And then—

You saw him.

There he was, standing in a buttoned white shirt, the top buttons undone, trailing down to his chest just enough to show a hint of skin.

Beside him stood a woman, her raven-black hair falling elegantly over her shoulder.She leaned into Lev, and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. She was draped in a satin gold dress that shimmwred in the light, the rich hue complementing her skin tone perfectly. The cameras clicked rapidly, capturing the intimate moments as they shifted positions.

Each shot seemed to get more…intimate, more intense.

You started to feel the tightness in your chest. It wasn’t like Lev hadn’t done photoshoots with women before—that really wasn’t it. It was the way he was holding her, how his hand rested possessively around her waist, how he looked at her with such tenderness… that was new.

The photographer called out, ‘That’s a wrap!’ and they reluctantly pulled apart. But the woman’s hands lingered on Lev’s chest, soft and warm, as if she couldn’t bear to break the connection just yet. You could feel the weight of the moment from where you stood, the air thick with something unspoken. You couldn’t hear their words, but you could see the way Lev’s smile deepened, how it stretched wider than usual, his eyes twinkling in a way that made your chest tighten.

It wasn’t just any smile—it was a smile brimming with warmth, with something deeper, something that made it clear that he was lost in whatever was happening between them. Something you had never seen from him before. Your heart slammed in your chest, a sickening wave of jealousy and fear rushing through you as you watched.

Lev’s fingers brushed back her hair, soft and lingering,the tenderness of the gesture cutting through you like a knife. The motion was almost reverent, as if he were trying to hold on to her, to pull her closer even though she was already standing right there. Your breath caught, your chest ached with the hollow feeling that gnawed at you. You couldnt look away, but you didn’t want to see it.

She pulled away with a sly smile, a quiet confidence in her every step as she walked off toward her manager, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. Lev stayed rooted to the spot, still smiling, his expression distant, lost in the euphoria of the moment. He was completely adrift in something you couldn’t reach, something that felt like it had already taken him far, far away from you.

And as you stood there alone, watching him from the corner of the room, it felt like you were watching your own heart break all over again.

The world blurred.

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized it was too much. This wasn’t something you could stand to watch anymore. With every ounce of strength, you turned and left the set, your heart heavy, your legs unsteady.

Lev, still lost in his thoughts, didn’t notice. He never knew you were there.

His eyes flicked toward the door you had just exited, a blur of color rushing away.

The park was quiet when you collapsed beneath the tree, your knees drawn tightly to your chest, hugging them as if trying to hold yourself together. The world felt heavy, unbearably so, pressing down on you with a weight you could hardly carry. Each breath felt like a struggle, and the familiar surroundings of the park—the one you and Lev had always come to when life got too overwhelming—seemed foreign now, like they no longer held the comfort they once did.

You ran here, your legs carrying you without thinking, desperate to get away. This was supposed to be your safe place, the one place where everything felt right, where you could laugh and talk with Lev, away from everything else. But now, it felt like you were suffocating in the silence, the emptiness filling the space where his presence used to be oh so comforting.

You buried your face in your knees, trying to block out the memories, the images of Lev smiling at her—the way he looked at her.

A single daisy grew beside you.

You plucked it from the earth, twirling it between your fingers.

The delicate stem bent between your fingertips as you twirled the flower absentmindedly, staring down at the small thing that felt like the last piece of life you had left.

Then, softly, you brought it to your lips.

You kissed the petals, your lips trembling as they met the soft flower. Every unsent word, every unspoken wish, every tear you never shed for him—it all poured into that one fragile kiss.

“My heart is forever yours, my Lev.”

A final whisper. A final truth. A truth you never thought would be yours to claim.

The words like a confession, but it wasn’t a relief.

It was a heavy burden.

A promise you could never fulfill, but one you were more than willing to make. You would never be able to give him the love you wanted, the love he deserved. The ache in your chest deepened, and with each breath, it was as if the world was slipping away from you, inch by inch, until there was nothing but the weight of your own heart breaking.

You couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t fight it. You were tired, tired of waiting, tired of hoping, tired of loving him in silence.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in colors of sorrow—purple and orange as though the universe itself was mourning you. It felt like the end of everything.

It was the end of everything.

You let the flowers around you bloom, their petals soft against your skin, but their beauty felt distant. Fading. Like you.

And as the quiet swallowed you whole, you gave yourself up to it. The ache, the love, the pain—everything. You allowed yourself to be consumed, to fade away, because living without him, without that love, was something you couldn’t bear anymore.

lol I hope this made sense bc I wrote the majority of this sleepy and only proofread twice LMAO (also 2nd angst I have ever written)

Made March 1st 2025

[villainsapologist]

the interview

Summary: You’re the newest member of the band and you’re doing your first sit down interview with James – who is definitely in love with you.

Warnings/Tags: James Hetfield x Reader, RPF, load era james, fluff, mutual pining, explicit language, sexually suggestive content, no smut though, still intended for 18+

Wordcount: 1.97K

PART TWO

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell us how you first got in contact with these guys.” The interviewer asked. You are sitting beside James on the couch with barely any space between the two of you. The interviewer faces you both, his recorder resting on the arm of the single seater with a pen and notepad in his hands.

“Well we actually connected through my friend Brandon who worked as an assistant producer on one of the records on the album.” You spoke calmly, acutely aware that everything you say, every movement and miniscule expression will probably be written about by the interviewer. And to add to that you could feel his eyes staring into the side of your face. James had his arm slung across the back of the couch, you could feel the heat radiating off his body. 

“Yeah it’s actually really interesting because our newest member here was only supposed to come in for one day.” James spoke up.

“Brandon and I had been friends for a long time and together we would make little things here and there for fun.” You had often spent your Saturdays with him playing and writing together. When he told you about the opportunity he had gotten to help produce a Metallica album you were so excited for him. 

“He has a studio in his house so we would hang out and just come up with stuff, you know.” You glance upwards in James’ direction, a tight lipped smile playing across your face. In response he gives you that familiar grin, the one where basically all his teeth are on display. 

“And one day we stumbled upon something that he thought the guys would really like and could get some inspiration from.” You answered, turning back towards the interviewer. “So I went in one morning and was basically only supposed to be there for a couple of hours. But before we knew it we had spent the entire day working together.” 

“By the end of the week we had completed one of the tracks and she was so ingrained in the whole thing that there was no way we could play it without her.” James explained.

“That’s the one you guys played during her debut right?” The interviewer questioned. Less than twenty-four hours ago you played your first show with them. An experience that you are still reeling from. You would never have believed anyone if just a year ago they would have told you that you would be onstage playing with one of the greatest bands of all time. 

“Yes, and wasn’t she amazing” James answers, never missing an opportunity to go on about how talented you are. “I mean the crowd loved her solo so much, I just knew they would.” He beamed, thinking back to the day before. You were beyond nervous, the entire thing almost a blur. The smoke machine, the crowd, the music, it all blended together. You only remember James saying your name over the mic and the wind between your fingers as you pulled at the strings of your guitar.

— — — 

“What about the dynamic between you all? How has it been working with these guys as not only the newest member but also the youngest.” The interviewer asked as he perched up in his seat, eyes glancing between the two of you. “Is it a sibling thing or are they more like your daddies?” 

Your head slowly turns to James who couldn’t help himself as he burst out laughing. “My daddies? What…” An air of confusion in your voice. 

“Right, huh?” James agrees with your confusion, his eyebrows furrowed with a smile on his face. Although to be totally honest he seemed more amused than confused.

“Definitely more of a sibling dynamic I would say. I mean they’re all really cool and have been very welcoming. We’ve also been hard at work so…”

“So who would you say is your favorite so far, if you would dare?” The interviewer cuts in, eyebrows raised, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Definitely not Lars.” James cheekily admits. “I'm just kidding, she hates us all now.” You shake your head at James’ comments. 

“I wouldn’t say hate, but I definitely liked you guys more in the beginning.” you add, only half joking. “No, but seriously Kirk’s a sweetheart and we got some time to bond over our guitars. James and I both write and with the album I also got some vocals in, as you probably heard.”

“I know she seems like a sweet little thing, but she’s actually very strict.” James tells the interviewer. “What's the word you used again?” he turns back to you.

“Boundaries.”

“Yeah that. Boundaries. No touching without permission. And when those headphones go on, you would be an idiot to disturb her.” James tells the interviewer. 

“I know it seems odd but I promise if you spend almost every waking moment with these guys for months on end you would see that it’s necessary.” You added to your defense. Truthfully you weren't really bothered by them touching you. It was fun and you enjoyed being silly with them. You just had to come up with something to stop James specifically from touching you. Reason being well…the body does have a mind of its own and whenever he would so much as brush past you, your breath would begin to waver and your body would heat up in a flash.

Case in point that one late night at the studio when it was just you, James, and a few others from the tech team. He sat beside you holding a photo album he found with an assortment of early days Metallica photos, excitedly showing off and recounting stories from the time period.

He had seemingly… unknowingly snaked his free arm around your waist as he used his other hand to turn the pages of the album. At that point your mind became so fogged that you couldn't even comprehend anything he was saying. You were holding your breath so silently beside him. And then it got worse, you were wearing a thin fitted baby tee with nothing beneath it and of course your nipples had to start getting visibly hard. 

“Have some fucking self control.” You scolded yourself internally. It was so embarrassing, but if James had noticed he never said anything. You really didn't want to be that person. You wanted it to remain as friendly as possible with the guys. The thought of everything becoming awkward and the judgement you feared you would face if people found out that you were romantically involved with one of your bandmates, made you recoil.

You feared that you would not be taken seriously and that your hard work of getting into the band and creating such amazing art that meant so much to you would be summed up to you just fucking the guys and getting what you wanted. So you took the opportunity one day when the guys were being playful with each other and consequently you, to act increasingly annoyed with their antics. 

“Get off! New rule, no touching me without permission. Where are the boundaries in this group? Damn.” You didn’t mean it but you had to come up with something. 

— — — 

“You said that you guys have been hard at work. Is that all you guys have had time for – no bonding moments outside of that?” The interviewer continued. Considering that James only looked at him when he was asking him a question, coupled with the fact that he was staring holes into you – the interviewer was sure he had an idea of the dynamic budding between the two of you.

“Well James is a bit of a redneck, I’m not sure if a lot of people know that. So he took me fishing and hunting for the first time. It was definitely an experience…” You trailed off, recounting that day.

“More so fishing, there was very little hunting done. Someone started crying so we had to wrap that up quickly.” James remarks in a teasing tone. 

“I so didn't cry.” You rolled your eyes.

“You so did cry.” James rebutted, side-eyeing you with that grin.

“Maybe a little. If the animal also had a gun then I would feel much better and maybe then I would call it a sport. But on a brighter note I caught a really big fish! That was fun.” James couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest as he watched you talk about the time you spent together – just the two of you. Honestly from the first moment he saw you he hasn’t stopped thinking about you since. Every minute of every hour, now consumed with you. 

When he suggested you two do an outdoorsy activity you were elated to finally be doing something other than music, just for a little while. Plus you would get to know another aspect of who James is. 

There is always more to James than meets the eye. It was something you had suspected before you really knew him but now you know for sure. His exterior suggested a more hardened individual but as you spent more time with him, you were met with this incredibly attentive and caring person. More times than not if you looked at James you would find his eyes already on you. At first it made you shift a bit nervously on the spot and made a certain shyness creep up on you. But now it brings you comfort. Now it feels like you have someone who sees you, and for the most part likes what they see.

— — —

“Nice. I’m sure your family, friends and partner are thrilled for you. Although now you probably won’t see them much. You’re going to be on the road for quite some time from now on. How have you been navigating this new change with them?” The motive for the interviewer's line of questioning wasn't lost on you. Both you and James had caught it, “partner”. You debated whether or not you would address that particular part or just ignore it. 

“Yeah they can’t believe it, honestly I’m still coming to terms with it myself. But they are very supportive, I’m lucky to have them.” You ignored it. But as it turns out the interviewer had no intention of letting you off the hook that easily.

“Ah so your boyfriend is very supportive then. That’s great considering how much time you have to now spend so closely with a group of men who aren’t him”. There it was, probably the first of many pushy press interactions to come. You chuckled nervously and as you were about to speak up, James did it for you.

“I don’t think I recall her saying anything about a boyfriend just now. Did I miss that?” His smile is gone as he turns to the interviewer, a puzzled look on his face. James knows he should pull it back, he shouldn’t be so negatively affected by this question but he really couldn’t contain it. He was an emotional and impulsive person to begin with, and when it came to you everything went into overdrive. 

“I didn’t, but it’s alright.” You assured James, acutely aware of his growing frustration. The interviewer on the other hand seemed to get exactly what he was hoping for. A barely audible “hmm” comes from him as he scribbles something in his notepad. 

“Well just a couple more questions.” He closes his notepad and looks between you and James. Thankfully the questions that followed were routine. Although you were only giving him half of your full attention. James had now moved his arm from the back of the couch to rest behind you. His fingers brushing your elbow.

He made up his mind, after this he had to let you know how he felt. No more subtle suggestions. He’ll do it tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: first of all i need him and part two is posted.

PART TWO

Also please don't be shy, tell me what you think! my inbox is open :)

<3

[archivalofsins]

Thanks @doctorbunny for helping me find the source to answer this,

"Is it said that the staff thought Mahiru would be forgiven in trial one, or?"

Well not by the entire staff but Yamanaka and Deco themselves said they hadn't anticipated Mahiru being found guilty within the Milgram Second Anniversary Stream that was translated by Maristelina,

Yamanaka: Ahh… I don’t know about Deco-san, but in my mind I kind of had a hunch about if this person would be forgiven, or if they wouldn’t be forgiven. I was wrong about 2 people. Amami: Wow, two people? Lounsbery: Can we ask who? Yamanaka: Hmm what should I do? Maybe just one… hm, what to do? Lounsbery: We want to know at least one Yamanaka: Should I do it? What should I do… Umm Amami: Hey, tell us Yamanaka: Um… Mahiru Amami: Oh… Mahiru-chan Lounsbery: Did it surprise you? Yamanaka: Well, not surprised per se, but I pictured that she would be forgiven in the beginning. How about you Deco-san? From a composer perspective. Like did you have a feel for whether a song would lean towards being forgiven, or not forgiven?

This is also the same livestream where they assert that the prisoners cover songs are unrelated,

Deco: Mahiru. Amami: So it’s Mahiru Deco: I thought the result would be the opposite. It was unexpected. The song itself was cheerful, cute, a girl in love. Amami: The comments are saying her voice drama was scary Deco: I guess she has this something that’s seeping out of her, and that’s scaring people. Amami: I’ve been told that it’s unrelated, but I’m pretty sure her cover song is also influencing the results. Yamanaka: It’s totally unrelated. Deco: Covers of Deco*27’s songs are completely unrelated. Unrelated.

So, neither Yamanaka or Deco expected Mahiru to be found guilty trial one but they also didn't anticipate one other prisoner getting the verdict they received trial one. Yamanaka and Deco noted this in regards to Milgram,

Deco: We’ll talk more about the second trial later, but I just want to say that it’s so fun to produce contents for Milgram. We receive votes from everyone who’s sending us comments right now, and we come up with new ideas based on those votes. Milgram isn’t only made by the people sitting here, but also by the viewers. I felt it’s a very fresh take, and I had a lot of fun Yamanaka: We can’t prepare the screenplay or music beforehand. It really feels like a free-style rap based on the answers we get from everyone. Amami: True true Deco: It’s a lot of hard work Yamanaka: Like if that’s how you’re gonna come at us, then we’ll add these factors in. I have that side to me and I’m sure Deco-san does too, like adding new information or setting. That’s also a part of the fun over the last two years.

Milgram has been very reactionary in hindsight. It's kind of funny to look back on this livestream now,

Lounsbery: I really think writing scenarios is a difficult job. Plus people speculate and write their own theories on how things are going to turn out. Do you ever feel like you never want to make those theories come true? Yamanaka: Yup. The story progression has already been decided though. Lounsbery: Of course Yamanaka: It’s already been decided, and most of the time I already have a feel for how people are going to guess, and what kind of speculation will be born. But there are times when I see something that comes from a completely different angle, and I feel tempted to direct the story that way because it’s so interesting. That’s how diverse the minds of our audience are from all walks of life and various parts of the world, and I feel great value in our contents.

There were also more discussions on the prisoners verdicts some highlights to me are,

Yamanaka: Arthur-sensei, what was your view on Milgram? Yamanaka: Arthur-sensei, what was your view on Milgram? Lounsbery: I think it comes down to, “Ah, so this person is forgiven while this person isn’t?” I had a lot of thoughts about that. We can see the changes in the votes in real time, so I wondered at what point did people have changes of heart. At first you can have this person with majority votes, but before you realize, the other person has more votes. I’m guessing that’s due to everyone changing their minds as the speculations are updated. I want to peek into the thoughts of everyone who follows the websites that post speculations and theories. Like why did they decide they could no longer forgive certain issues.

"It’s ok for everyone else but not for me."

Yamanaka: But was there anything that turned out differently than you expected? Deco: Kotoko has a scene in her MV that shows her clearly beating someone, yet she was the most forgiven character, and that was unexpected for me. Like, why?

24/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Mu: You know, I think this is all your fault really. Everyone’s on edge because you lashed out. And because of that, nobody’s paying attention to me any more. It’s kinda boring. I don’t get it. Kotoko: ……you went out of you way to say that to my face? Aren’t you scared of me? The next target of my fangs might be you. Mu: Why? Kotoko-san, aren’t you punishing the bad guys? I didn’t do anything wrong. And anyway, fufu, you’re talking like you’re fine too. Aren’t you gonna be not forgiven too this time? What will you do then?Start biting yourself? Fufu, that’s hilarious. I want to watch. Kotoko: ……you’re good at provoking people. I’ll pray that you won’t be forgiven this time. When that time comes, I’ll be sure to crush you.

"But, I must say, the current situation within this prison is directly influenced by the fact that she was once found “innocent”."

Yamanaka: Like Deco-san mentioned earlier, instead of those with blatant depictions like Haruka and Kotoko, those without any depictions, like Mahiru, are less likely to be forgiven. It’s interesting how people approach Milgram

"What I saw was... Just you having fun."

I'm sure you were in love. Your feelings of bliss were conveyed to me as well. "Right? It was really fun- Did it make you want to fall in love?" No clue about that one. "Heh, you're so cold~. So, how... does that correlate to me not being forgiven?"

It was so unexpected that there's an error in the second trial commencement notice that literally contradicts itself by saying,

"Your judgment was “guilty”, and as such, her ideas were affirmed. Because she was found “guilty”, she’s lost the raison d’etre of her own existence."

So yeah those are all the reasons I'm pretty sure they didn't expect Mahiru to be guilty trial one.

What do you think a Trial 1 Innocent Mahiru would be like?

I know this is going to be short but if anyone wants to know what a trial one innocent Mahiru would look like they just have to look at Mu. I was discussing this in a server I'm in but there are three choices when it comes to the prisoners verdicts,

Say nothing (Don't engage. Leave them be.) Guilty/Don't Forgive (Reject, Restrict, Restrain.) Innocent/Forgive (Accept, Affirm, Allow.)

Due to the ways in which the audience choose to engage with Milgram there are a lot of possible paths that are for lack of a better term lost to us now. For instance we never got to find out what would happen if Es just shut the hell up and didn't give a judgment on certain prisoners as they were told to do by many prisoners.

I think that we will be seeing the aftermath of enabling certain characters behavior twice in a row more clearly once the commencement notice drops.

Since as we saw trial one the Innocent/Forgive verdict doesn't just give the character leniency and show mercy too them but validates if not outright states to them that the behavior that led to that predicament is okay.

We saw this with Haruka,

"It is. I felt uneasy about it this whole time… Someone as worthless as me having killed someone to gain attention, and a person who surely had more worth and more of a future than me, at that…" … "But it turns out that I did nothing wrong after all! It wasn't wrong of me to kill her! There was never anything for me to worry about…!"

Mu,

"…um… um, by the way Warden-san! I don't know about this, but…" What? "You forgave me because I'd only given the bullies their just desserts, right?" … Well… I guess so. "What was it called again… Revenge… Revenge? That means revenge is an acceptable motive, right? So if you don't forgive me this time, that'd mean that it isn't." … "Leaving behind all that stuff you said about me possibly having been a bully myself- not that any of that's true, of course!" Sure. "So, if I'd gotten payback for how my bullies treated me, then that'd count as revenge, right? And if you believe that was my only option, then don't you have to forgive me?" …uh… I'm not really sure what you're trying to say… "You see~, if you think that me bullying someone back after being bullied is the natural course of action, then wouldn't it be bad to bully me back in return?" … "But if you were like, "I won't forgive you Muu! Revenge is bad!" then wouldn't that imply that it's also bad for me to bully someone back after they bullied me?"

Mu you said it was okay for me to bully people who bullied me when you voted me innocent first trial. If you had said you didn't forgive me then you'd have said that revenge is bad. Yet, the fact is you forgave me so revenge is good so it's acceptable for me to bully people who have bullied me. You're verdict said that is the correct course of action so if you bully me now then you'll deserve exactly what happens after that right?

"If you want to betray from jealousy- You know what’s gonna happen ON YOU."/ "Is this fun for you? Tying me up, bullying me, watching me suffer. You’re just like the others, getting mad because I was lucky in life and thinking you can treat me however you want."

and Kotoko through her attacks on the prisoners.

However in the case of Yuno, Shidou, and Kazui their responses to their verdicts were treated as vague. In Shidou's case his response to his verdict wasn't really that vague. He just did what he said he'd do if he was forgiven continue what he was doing regardless of how meaningless it was.

Kotoko's attacks allowed Shidou to showcase how he hadn't changed one bit as he weighed lives against each other. Deciding who was salvageable and who was a lost cause,

It's been a while, Shidou. "Orbital floor fracture on the right." Hm? "Traumatic retinal detachment. Bruising. Lacerations. Partial fracture of the thorax." ... "This is Kajiyama-kun's present condition." Futa's...

"“Throw down”, someone’s value cannot be the same as another. “Throw down” should choose between superiority or inferiority."

23/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Mahiru: You have a family right, Shidou-san……? How does it feel, being married, having kids……? Shidou: ……yeah, it’s a wonderful thing. Children…… yeah. They really are hope for the future. When you have your own, suddenly it becomes fun growing old. Since as you grow older, you get to see them grow up. Mahiru: Ah…… how lovely. It was always my dream to become a bride. Though maybe that seems a bit out-dated. I wish it could’ve come true…… Shidou: It isn’t too late. I’m going to make sure you live. So let’s get out of here, and you make your wish come true. ……you still have so much to live for.

"You don’t even know yet, and yet... Killing, extracting, I still won’t see them again I need to be tagged as RED."

Shidou's Aesculapius

Shiina-kun's is even worse. Head lacerations. Bruising all over her body. A sprained neck. Fractured ribs. Further fracturing to the left arm. And furthermore... This may be outside my profession, but her mental health is deteriorating as well."

"So this is unpleasant, so this makes me sick- What do you mean INNOCENT"

"If this is my punishment. Now I see, this world is cruel and merciless."

"“Throw down” it’s ok, that’s enough Can’t stay away Please don’t forgive me. That’s why I want this to end."

"I’m still guilty even if the morning comes."/"No thank you, it’s none of your concern."

"[Cackling] Not dead... yeah she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of."

"To keep you alive, you are still living."/ "Killing, extracting, I still won’t see them again."

"Lying, replacing with hope."/ "The correct answer, I don’t yet know, but there are lives that need safeguarding."

noun 1a : pass, safe-conduct b: convoy, escort 2a: a precautionary measure, stipulation, or device b: a technical contrivance to prevent accident safeguard verb safeguarded; safeguarding; safeguards transitive verb 1: to provide a safeguard for 2: to make safe : protect

24/09/02 (Yuno’s Birthday)

Shidou: Thank you for your assistance with Shiina-kun’s treatment. It’s been a big help having you here. Both for her and for me. It’s good to know that even if something happens to me, you’ll still be around. Yuno: No way. I can’t do anything on my own. All I’m doing is helping with whatever you’re doing. It’s just like playing pretend as a nurse. Shidou: No, you’ve got a good sense for things like this. You’re quick to notice things, calm, and fearless. If you haven’t decided what you want to be in the future, maybe you should consider becoming a doctor yourself. Yuno: You think so? ……haha, stop it. I don’t want to be thinking about the future right now. And for someone like me to have other people’s lives in my hands…… that’s no laughing matter.

Honestly the audience is lucky they only managed to recreate three of the prisoners crimes. We could've gone ten for ten-

23/05/15 (Interrogation Start: Shidou and Mahiru)

Jackalope: Prisoner 05, Shidou Prisoner 06, Mahiru. The interrogations for these two will now be held. Just leave your questions in the comments here. Ask whatever you want to know. This is where you show off your skills as a prison guard. ……hmmm. These two have now totally slipped into the roles of doctor and patient huh. It probably isn’t a good time to be getting interrogated for them…… but, well, it’s the rule.

Let's give the guy in here for malpractice another patient he definitely wouldn't do the same thing again,

"“Throw down” it’s ok, that’s enough. Can’t stay away."

He definitely would not take advantage of another person having a medical emergency. He did not have a documented history of doing anything like that to other people's family. Definitely not.

"Hey, you remember what it feels like? The feeling to take away in order to give."

Shidou began focusing all his energy into recreating the dynamic of doctor and patient that led to the crimes he committed to be here in the first place.

Once again over tending to his plants until they died,

Smothering them with care the same exact way the prisoner paired with him smothered others with her affection. Showing no regard for how her feelings and the way she expressed them impacted those around her,

"My emotions are out of control, that’s inconvenient? I don’t care! Tell me, oh tell me why, won’t you just accept me?"

Somehow creating what could possibly be most the fitting end for both of these characters their interaction leading to their mutual destruction.

Though that's just what I believe happened. Hell maybe he had nothing to do with it. I have no attachment to any of these characters leaving here with a stellar reputation regardless of how they leave if at all. But what does this have to do with Mahiru being innocent trial one?

I'm building a bit of a case study on how the innocent verdicts have impacted the prisoners in order to attempt t to deduce what trial one innocent would look like for Mahiru.

Given the hints from Mahiru's first voice drama and the focus on reciprocity. I've stated in that same server that she would have more than likely become more open about her behavior in order to reciprocate Es' kindness. She says it herself in This Is How To Be In Love With You,

"I’m going to start relying on you if you’re kind to me, so please forgive me, thanks!”

In her second voice drama Mahiru would have more than likely begun venting to Es about her relationships. We would have heard contradictory factors about the person she's been with. This would have alluded to what This Is How To Be In Love With You and I Love You alludes to that Mahiru was seeing multiple people.

This is alluded to in This Is How To Be In Love With You through her myriad of outfit changes, the changes in the interests of the people she's going to see, the fact that out of all those pictures we only see this guy once and it's his arm.

These statements,

Q.03 Have you ever cheated on someone? Mahiru: Of course not! How could you ever cheat on someone!? Right!? Q.05 Who do you dislike most out of the other prisoners? Mahiru: Futa-kun is a bully, so definitely out! Also Mikoto is pretty flippant, he kinda seems like the type who’d cheat~

There is no reason for anyone to bring up cheating this often or for these questions to be chosen if they didn't show tell us something about the characters being asked the question. Then in I Love You,

"Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin."

We'd probably get to see when she began to have relationships like that. She'd start trying to give Es love advice, tips on how to better communicate with the other prisoners, start asking if their was anyone they'd fallen in love with yet. Probably assume it was Mu since she was innocent.

Her second trial song would have probably focused on finally getting the acceptance she felt she deserved and finding understanding. The stalker thing would still be mentioned and she would possibly be confused or brush it off like well of course you want to know everything about the people you're with it's the same as how you are with all of us right. You want to know us in and out because you care about all of us right that's love too?

Ultimately Mahiru as a character embodies the states of love. So, we'd probably shift to another form of love like with agape, eros, storge, philia as she would try to teach Es the concept in hopes of them better understanding and accepting her. Due to being rejected she cranked things up to a hundred jumping straight into saying I love you to get her point across. Because those three words can have a bit of stun effect especially when said out of nowhere and so much like that.

She ultimately used the phrase so much it lost its meaning. Well it still had its meaning but it became really doubtful that Mahiru understood what it was. Because of that she was mostly labelled as too delusional to understand what she had done was wrong despite blatantly admitting she was informed by the person that her behavior was making them uncomfortable multiple times.

"I know it's not the type of question you want to be asked I can’t help myself because I want to see your cute confused face, I’m sorry."

Mahiru's response to being rejected is to pursue harder. Is to come on stronger until the other party gives in. Her response to being accepted seems to be to lose interest. To back off, stay leveled, and look for other things that would be more exciting than the monotony of a regular relationship. Including just sewing chaos in the relationship she currently has just to do it. So much so that she notes it's a pattern to the extent of being considered a ritual by her,

"Even when I test you, even the times we do the breakup ritual- Is because I love you."

Ultimately she would have ended up guilty trial two because she would have blamed everything on others in her life for not being accepting enough. Or not,

"Do you really think you know what love is?"

Really knowing what love was like she does. She would become the resident love expert and start pursuing the object of her affection heavily which is implied to be Kazui,

20/06/19

Kazui: By the way…… thanks, Shina-chan. You keep going around and talking to people to make sure the mood never gets too sour, right? It’s a big help. We’re all in here together, after all. If a fight broke out the whole group could fall apart. Mahiru: ……eh? Huh~? Ah, no, I’m just talking to people because I personally want to talk. All the kids are so cute, so I can’t help but want to fuss over them! A fight, huh… But if that ever happened, then you’ll definitely be a big help, right~? Since you’re so big! And buff! Kazui: Ahh, no. I mean, I’ll do what I can. Based on appearance, as long as nobody has a weapon, I think I can probably get everyone under control…… No, we should just hope that nothing like that ever happens. Mahiru: You know, I quite like watching martial arts, actually. I don’t really get it, but it looks super cool. Hi-yah! Hi-yah!

Day. 5

point: watch Left: Today I started talking to him by chance, and he told me that his hobby is running. Without thinking I took a chance where I saw it and told him “I’m interested too!” so now we’re going to go running together. Even though I’m really bad at exercise…… I’ve never run so much in my life. Totally exhausted. Don’t lose focus even when exercising! The pastel tones mean not only do you look ready to go but also give off a cute oneesan appeal. Hoodie, T-shirt, shorts, leggings, cap, sneakers, wristwatch ／ All personal possessions

20/08/02

Mahiru: Yeah, I’m asking for what you like in the opposite sex! I mean, with a lifestyle like this we have a lot of free time, right? So earlier when I was talking with all the other girls we got onto the topic! It’s not often you get a chance like this to live with a mix of men and women together, so I thought it might be nice to use the chance to talk about stuff like this in preparation for when we leave. Kazui: Ah…… Haha, I understand. I can see that’d be the sort of thing girls your age would be interested in, huh. How peaceful. What I like in the opposite sex… I don’t know if what I say will really be a good reference for you…… Ah, you know, since I’m at this age. I like a girl who can just smile free of worries. Seeing that’d make my old, tired heart feel young again. Yuno: Uh-huh, I see, I see. ……that’s a total lie, right? Kazui: Haha…… Give me a break here. You sure don’t make things easy for people, Kashiki-chan.

Q.05 Who do you dislike most out of the other prisoners?

"Futa-kun is a bully, so definitely out! Also Mikoto is pretty flippant, he kinda seems like the type who’d cheat~"

20/06/08

Mahiru: Shidou-san…… you’re really good-looking. Personally I think you’d be better if you ate a bit more, but you’re slim and tall, and well put together to boot…… You must’ve been super popular up until now, right? Shidou: ……yeah, that’s true…… I did my share of fooling around in the past. Mahiru: Oh~? That’s not the sort of answer I’d expect from you. I’ve got it! Somebody told you that if you replied like that people wouldn’t resent you so much, right? Shidou: Haha, I’m surprised you guessed. ……it seems that no matter what guise I put on, it’s meaningless against a woman’s insight.

Q.20 What do you think about smoking?

Mahiru: I’ve never smoked myself- But if the person I like did, then I might start to be like them.

21/08/05   (Kazui’s Birthday)

Kazui: Oh, Shina-chan? How scandalous, coming to a man’s room in the middle of the night like this. Well, not that it’s really a room, just a cell. ……just kidding, since you brought some drinks with you, I’m assuming you’ve come to wish me a happy birthday, right? Thank you. Mahiru: Yep! Happy birthday Kazui-san~ Clap clap clap! But as well as that~ ……I also just maybe wanted to use it as an excuse so I could ask you for some advice over drinks, I suppose? Kazui: Advice, huh. Well, you’re more than welcome, but I don’t really know what advice an old man like me could give you. I haven’t got the first clue about what love is like for a young girl nowadays. Mahiru: Ahaha…… Don’t worry, much as I’d love to talk about that too, um…… er, Kazui-san. You know, recently I’ve been having the same dream every day. Lots of people were denying my actions…… Denying my thoughts…… that sort of dream.

"Ring ring, I’m calling you in the middle of the night."/ "

Q.05  If you went to an amusement park, what ride would you choose to go on? Kazui: Not gonna lie, I kinda want to go on the merry-go-round.

With Shidou, Mahiru and Kazui all innocent round one I feel like Mahiru would start smoking as an excuse to get closer to Kazui. Then that would in turn bring her closer to Shidou who was already showing an interest in Mahiru due to the many ways she resembles his wife. Being good at cooking, cleaning, communication, and with kids like Amane.

This would open up the love triangle route. Where Mahiru is interested in Kazui, Kazui is annoyed or put off by her advances (not really interested in anyone), Shidou is interested in Mahiru and worried about how the verdict has been impacting her because she just started smoking seems to be changing a great deal and in a very insignificant amount of time at that.

She'd basically start annoying Kazui the same way that Mu began annoying Yuno. She'd then be more guilty trial two for getting in the of a lot of people's favorite ships. People would react worse to Mahiru even trying to fuck Kazui then they did to Mu and Haruka's relationship where no one was fucking. There wasn't even much inclination that was going on with them and both their fans wanted to burn the other character at the stake for daring to be near their precious child.

People would be calling for Mahiru to be killed out of jealousy. Because she dared to even make one advance at Kazui. Not me though girl you pursue your dreams.

Shidou was like there's still time you can get out of here and do that while Mahiru was laid up and bed like yeah out of here and do it. Kazui off patrolling the prison as this woman is sat in bed with two attendants. Kazui and Mahiru were stopped from doing the funniest thing due to those first trial verdicts.

It would have been amazing to see her pursue that harder. Because she was pursuing it. She never asked any other man what their type was. That was a Kazui specific question. We didn't see that conversation with the girls she was talking about. Plus we know the other girls here who the fuck was really asking that question at that time?

Mu was afraid and requesting deserts. Kotoko is Kotoko. Do you think she asked. Yuno is there and could have corroborated her story but instead was like let me point out how this man is lying.

Just him and she quickly dismissed any other man here as not good enough for arbitrary reasons or just based of vibes.

She knew she is twenty-three she navigated that well but she knew. Her coming in their trial two and being like thanks to Milgram I found my true love and Kazui coming in trial two like you need to do something about this woman before I do. While Shidou is over here getting Mahiru's help tending to Amane after she inevitably gets wounded because Kotoko would then attack in this order,

Futa

Amane

Mikoto- (intervenes)

This would be wild. It would logically be what would happen. Like it's logistically Kotoko's best bet to attack the most people. However it going this way relies on the idea that Kazui would still intervene during the attack with Futa which would leave Amane tto get really messed up by Kotoko's attack.

Now hear me out.

In this circumstance Futa might get fucked up more and Kazui would have probably intervened with Amane instead. Because in the first attack he choose the younger of the two prisoners Kotoko attempted to attack to step in on. So in this scenario he may do that again.

Protecting the kids like Mahiru asked him to.

This of course only makes Mahiru want him more. He's a protector she thinks. He's so strong and did the best he could she says. She just wants to be a little more like him it's not weird to want to be like the person you like Es and she can stop smoking any time. She started and she can quit!

Mahiru on that Gilbert Nightray behavior if you know then you know. I love how I said this was short but I actually have so many thoughts on this because it's a hilarious setup. Man it would have been hilarious if she was innocent trial one because the staff didn't expect her to be guilty. So her innocent scenario must have been so much worse.

Like there are a lot of ways it could have went if she was innocent trial one but given statements within canon this is something I see as being incredibly likely. Yeah so that's all I've got on that sorry for like accidentally posting the answer before it was complete and hope you can see this.

[youcouldstartacult]

Is it weird to say that the way a lot of fans have been like oh poor niall i hope he's doing well or oh he must be so devastated or oh i hope he has a good support system is so weird to me? Like I know it comes from a good place of them wanting him to be happy and well and stuff but god does it sometimes feel like they're almost enjoying imagining him being sad about stuff. Does that sound horrible? Probably but that's the vibe some of it gives off, like it's so vicarious and rubberneck-y. Sorry, you don't have to post this, I just felt like you might get it (also I'm drunk) (also also I'm not sure if rubbernecking is a phrase in other places so sorry for that too lol)

hmmmm, i think a good amount of it comes from a good place. i think a lot of people really care about niall and it was hard to see him get papped & have his instagram comments flooded with horrible accusations.

i think in general though, directioners can often infantilize niall / use him as a sounding board for their angst. like he is a 31 year old man, he’s experienced everything under the sun, i trust that he can handle what life throws at him.

(i think it’s a really disturbing, voyeuristic thing where they want to see him outwardly sad and depressed so they can use it to push a liam redemption narrative/one direction together-forever yap but maybe i sound crazy)

[gumii-bearr]

❝ you hitting on me? ❞

summary: megumi doesn't like clubs, but then he sees you.

featuring… megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, piercings and tattoos, reader is a babe fr, pet names, car sex, rough sex, fingering, riding, dick piercing (what who said that??), teasing, edging, choking, crying (omg), spanking (a lil bit), unprotected sex (don’t do that!!!!!), bit of subspace??, alcohol mentioned, smoking mentioned (don’t smoke, it’s bad for you!), vaping mentioned, these two are so horny for each other like wtf

author’s note: this was a request by a lovely anon!!! ... also its 4k words

Megumi doesn’t like going out. It’s not his thing, really. He prefers to stay at home to play video games or be his own company, and if he has to be social he prefers a more intimate get together over… whatever the hell Yuji is dragging him along too. 

“Trust, it’ll be fun,” Yuji nudges Megumi’s shoulder lightly. Megumi keeps his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie, a resting annoyed expression plastered across his face. He’s not sure how Yuji roped him into coming to this gig, maybe it was because Megumi kind of owed Yuji for turning down hanging out with him for the past… many times. 

Megumi doesn’t respond, just wordlessly follows behind Yuji as he weaves through groups of people socialising, vaping and drinking outside the bar Megumi was conned into coming to.

Yuji mentioned something about his friend’s band playing at this bar tonight and there may have been mentions of meeting up with Nobara but Megumi kind of tuned him out after he started going on and on about how Megumi was being anti-social and bringing up the numerous times he cancelled on Yuji (it was a ploy to make him feel bad and it unfortunately worked).

The moment they walk down the graffitied hallway, Megumi is again reminded why he doesn’t like going out. The bar is packed with drunk people and it smells of alcohol and sweat. Megumi inwardly cringes at the whole atmosphere and nearly, nearly, spins on his heel and leaves when some drunk girl bumps into Megumi while giggling and slightly dry heaving.

Before Megumi can even make a comment, Yuji is grabbing his arm, “don’t be a party-pooper, Fushiguro, we haven’t even seen Nobara yet!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Megumi deadpans.

“Yeah, but your face said it all,” Yuji retorts, “come on!” Yuji tugs on his friend’s arm, dragging his friend toward the loud thumping music.

His head hurts already. The music is loud and the random LED lights flying over the crowd are bright and annoying. Megumi is annoyed, to be fair, he’s always slightly annoyed but right now it’s increased tenfold by the overstimulating nightmare that is this club.

Megumi doesn’t even know where Yuji is going. Yuji is staring at his phone, then looking around, then back at his phone again. He’s talking to Megumi but the music is so loud that Megumi doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. 

“There she is!” okay, he caught that.

Yuji walks a little faster, Megumi attempting to weave through the crowd of people without touching anyone (it’s not working, he’s very uncomfortable). The crowd seems to dissipate as they reach the back of the club by the bar, numerous tables dotting the back wall. Megumi spots Nobara as she leaps up from the table, waving her arm around obnoxiously.

“Itadori!” she’s yelling and if Megumi knows anything about Nobara, it’s that her voice really carries. “Fushiguro!”

Megumi raises his hand from his pocket as a slight wave, his lips forming a tight line. Nobara is already shoving a drink into Yuji’s hand then reaching over to give one to Megumi, “dunno what it is but it’s getting me drunk!”

Megumi tunes out whatever Nobara is saying the moment he sees you. 

You’re chuckling as you watch Nobara and Yuji feed off of each other’s excitement. You’re holding a drink in your hand, absentmindedly swirling the ice around with your straw. 

You’re also trying to remain super nonchalant at the fact you’re totally checking out Yuji’s friend.

He looks completely uninterested in what’s happening, his tired eyes glancing at anything other than the social situation in front of him. His hair is messy and framing his gorgeous face. His hoodie sleeves are rolled up and your eyes trace down his veiny arms adorned with pretty tattoos all the way to his hands. He’s got a couple of nose piercings and an eyebrow piercing, his whole vibe is dark and brooding and you’re so into it.

Where the fuck has this cutie been?

“Y/N, this is my friend Fushiguro,” you sit up a little straighter at the mention of your name. Nobara tugs on Megumi’s arm bringing him closer to the bar table, “say hi, you emo bitch.”

Megumi eyes you and you have no idea what he’s thinking. “Uh, hey,” he says awkwardly. Oh god, he’s a dork. You must have him.

He’s remaining as poker-faced as possible as his eyes glance over you, from the fishnet stocking adorning your legs to the subtle colour of your glossed lips. You’re smiling at him softly through mascaraed lashes and he finds himself peeking down at your lips.

Megumi thinks you’re really pretty.

He mostly just listens as you, Nobara and Yuji talk about college and work, opting for tapping his finger against the glass in front of him. He likes the way you talk, hand gestures accompanying your enthusiastic ramble about your college degree. He also likes the way you laugh, though he finds himself becoming slightly annoyed by the fact that Yuji’s the one making you laugh. 

He decides he needs a smoke, his head is pounding from the loud music and the flashing lights; he needs a break.

Megumi gets up from his seat, nudging Yuji’s arm, “‘m just going out for a smoke.”

Yuji waves him off and Megumi sets off toward the smoking area outside the bar. It’s colder outside but god, it’s so much quieter, just the bustling of cars down the street and the occasional police siren. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, flicking his lighter and holding it to the end until the smoke fills his mouth. 

He leans against the wall, cigarette perched between his lips as he scrolls on his phone. He debates it for a while, but eventually gives in and searches your name up on instagram. He finds your account, noticing you’re already friends with Itadori. He scrolls through your posts, feeling like a fucking teenager stalking your social media–

“Fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes snap to you, now with an oversized leather jacket pulled around your shoulders as you rifle through your purse. There’s an unlit cigarette pressed between your glossy lips and your brows are furrowed.

Megumi fishes his lighter back out of his pocket, he walks over to you and nudges your arm, holding the lighter out for you.

You look up at him with your pretty eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, “thanks, Fushiguro.”

You take the lighter from his hand, attempting to flick the lighter to life to light your cigarette. You try a couple more times before Megumi chuckles softly, taking it from your smaller hands and lighting it the first try.

He wordlessly cups the end of your cigarette, shielding it from the wind as he lights your cigarette for you, his darker eyes flickering up to yours briefly. 

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you speak.

“I like your tattoos,” you say sweetly.

“Hm?”

“Your tattoos, they’re cool,” you repeat with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, thank you,” Megumi replies, absentmindedly running a hand along his inked arm. He feels his heart race a little when you reach a manicured hand out and run your finger along the dragon twisting around his forearm.

“Nobara told me you weren’t much of a talker,” you say, your smaller hand still fiddling with his larger more angular hands as you admire his tattoos. It’s strangely intimate of you to touch him in such a way.

“You talked about me?” Megumi teases, taking another drag from his cigarette with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“All good things, don’t worry,” you retort, finally letting go of his arm to bring your cigarette back up to your lips.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“Trying to quit, just smoke when I drink,” you shrug. You sigh then turn your head to face him, you look him up and down, “you got a girlfriend?”

Megumi lets out a laugh, coughing slightly on the smoke still swirling around in his chest, “no, why?”

You grin, “‘m hitting on you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Megumi presses.

“You’re pretty cute,” you shrug.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Megumi asks, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“No, no boyfriend… why? Are you hitting on me?” You ask curiously with a shit-eating grin plastered across your pretty glossy lips. 

Megumi looks at you and the two of you hold eye contact for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips briefly before he squashes out the rest of his cigarette, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“So you are hitting on me,” you tease.

Megumi takes the cigarette from your fingers, stealing your last puff and inwardly beaming at the cherry flavour of your lip gloss before squashing it out for you, “I’m buying you a drink.”

Megumi does indeed buy you a drink, bringing it back to the table for you, even getting you a straw.

“Thank you, Fushiguro,” you smile sweetly.

“Megumi is fine,” he says, pulling his chair out to sit next to you.

You suppress a smile, “okay, Megumi.”

The both of you miss as Yuji reluctantly slips Nobara some cash. 

The two of you talk all night. Megumi is a little more laid back after you manage to get two drinks into him. The time slips away from you and you find yourself not even interested in what Nobara and Yuji are talking about as you talk to Megumi. 

Megumi lets you toy with his fingers, your nails dragging along his tattooed hand and up his arm. You suddenly grow curious, wondering if he’s got any other tattoos underneath his clothes, you feel like a bit of a perv coming onto this guy you just met, but you’re so drawn to him and he seems to be just as into you.

You catch Megumi’s eyes drifting down to your tits before he quickly clears his throat to answer whatever question you asked him. You think it’s cute and you decide to tease him a little by wriggling a little closer to him, your fishnet-clad thigh pressing against his. 

He knows what you’re doing and he’s not even mad about it. He lets you laugh and hang off him, lets you toy with the hem of his hoodie sleeves and lets you bump shoulders with him. In all honesty, he lets you because you’re hot and you’re into him.

“God, it’s so late,” Nobara sighs, wincing at the brightness of her phone.

Megumi checks his own phone; 12:54am. God, it is late.

“Open your phone,” you mutter, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Just open your phone,” you giggle.

He does as you say and he nearly has a fucking heart attack when his phone opens to your Instagram that he was totally not stalking just a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he knows he’s caught red-handed when you start to laugh softly, his hand falling slack in his lap.

“Aw, you’re stalking me, Gumi?” 

Megumi feels his chest tighten at the little nickname and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer any kind of explanation as he hands you his phone to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

You scroll to his contacts, quickly putting your name and number in his phone (you also make sure to follow your Instagram from his phone) before clicking it shut and handing it back to him. 

“Don’t forget to call me, kay?” you give him the prettiest doe eyes and quickly stand up, grabbing your jacket to join Nobara as she leaves. “It was nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He sits there dumbfounded as you and Nobara leave, he watches your back, watching your little skirt ride up over your ass a bit as you walk away. Fucking hell.

“Dude!” Yuji nudges his arm, “you got her number!”

“Shut up,” Megumi retorts.

“Told you you’d have fun.”

“Shut up!”

Megumi shoves a laughing Yuji away as he reaches for his own stuff to leave. The club is mostly empty by now, Megumi not realising how much time they’d spent here because he was so fucking distracted by you.

He and Yuji go to leave when Megumi notices your purse is still hanging over your chair. He quickly grabs it, scanning the crowd with his tall frame in hopes you’re still hanging around. You’re not, so he quickly pulls on Yuji to catch you before you go. Not that you’ll get far without your keys.

-

“Fuck,” you stand by your car and realise you left your purse in the club. You’re almost two blocks away from said club and Nobara has already left, leaving you somewhat stranded. You sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket to text Nobara and ask her to turn around and take you home because you’re too tired and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” you perk up at the sound of your name, spinning on your heel and watching as Megumi catches up to you, your purse slung over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck, thank you!” you sigh with relief as Megumi hands you back your purse. You fish through your purse for your keys, “did Yuji drive you?”

“Yeah, but he’s already left,” he says.

You give him a look, “he has, huh?”

“Thought I could drive you… since you’ve had a couple,” Megumi tilts his head at you and you grin knowingly.

“What a gentleman,” you tease. “My place or yours?” you joke.

Megumi just looks at you and there’s a thick tension hanging in the air. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your pretty glossy lips in a hard kiss.

You kiss him back almost instantly, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck. Even with heels on, Megumi is taller than you and you have to arch your back to catch his slightly chapped lips as he leans over you, his large hands landing on your waist to pull your hips against his.

“Here’s fine,” he mutters against your lips with a cheeky smirk, you can only laugh softly as one of his tattooed hands comes up to hold the back of your head, forcing you to deepen the kiss.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and you whine softly. He tastes of tobacco and spiced rum and it makes you fucking dizzy. You thread your fingers through his messy black hair, tugging on it as he moves you to press your back against the cold car window.

“You bring my purse all the way here just to kiss me?” You quirk a brow at him, panting slightly.

“Maybe,” he grins, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “You leave your purse on purpose so I’d bring it to you?”

“Maybe.” 

Megumi’s hands trail down your waist to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh over your tiny skirt. Your pretty nails push up the hem of his hoodie, feeling up his toned as fuck abs that tense slightly under your touch.

He kisses you again, his thumb coming to rest on your throat as his fingers squeeze slightly, god you really want him to choke you while he fucks you–

“Unlock the car, Y/N,” he says against your ear, his voice low and sexy. 

You pull your keys out of your purse and unlock your car (you’re lucky your car is parked in the dark at the back of the parking lot). 

You clamber over each other in the backseat until you’re straddling Megumi’s lap, your fingers in his hair once again while he kisses and sucks on your neck. His hands knead your ass, his fingers slipping down to lift your tiny skirt over your ass.

“Mm, touch me, Gumi,” you whine against his ear.

Megumi smiles against your neck before pulling away from you. You whine a little at the loss of contact but he quickly kisses you again, one of his hands snaking up the bottom of your top to grope your tits. You hold his hand over your top, forcing him to squeeze your soft skin.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cold rings nipping at your hot skin. You grind your hips down against his, feeling his bulge rub against your wet panties. He groans at the feeling, his free hand curling into the plush skin of your ass before he reels it back to deliver a smack! to your ass.

You moan at the slight sting, hands holding Megumi’s face to kiss him as he forces your hips to grind against his hard-on.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Megumi pants against your lips.

“I just wanted you t’fuck me,” you retort playfully.

“Such a slut,” he kneads your ass again before reaching his hand down further to run his middle finger across your slit over your panties. “Someone’s excited, hm?”

“Shut up,” you whine as he traces his finger over your clothed clit. You curl your fists into the fabric of his hoodie, moaning against his shoulder as he presses his finger a little harder against your clit.

He suddenly reaches both hands down, ripping apart your fishnets for better access. He pulls your pretty lacy panties aside, the pad of his finger prodding at your soaked hole. He traces his fingertip around the opening, chuckling as you whine and hump his lap looking for friction.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he teases. You pout and he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as he plunges his finger into your awaiting heat. 

You moan at the feeling, pressing your face into his shoulder as he pumps his middle finger into your tight cunt. You’re so fucking tight and you’re only taking a finger– he can only imagine how heavenly you would feel wrapped around his cock.

Your little hand presses against the buckle of his belt and Megumi delivers another hard smack! to your reddened ass. You moan out again, your trembling hands clutching his hoodie.

“So fucking impatient,” Megumi presses a second finger into your cunt, peering over your shoulder and watching as your slick starts to coat his palm and probably his clothed thigh.

“Mm, hah–” you sigh, feeling as Megumi scissors your poor little cunt open, his fingers prodding and curling against the spongy spot inside you. Your pussy makes lewd squelches as Megumi fucks his fingers into you. You grind your hips against his hard cock in his boxers, the friction rubbing your poor neglected clit.

You feel your lower belly start to burn as you whine and hump against Megumi’s clothed cock, your hole beginning to tighten and spasm around his fingers.

Megumi suddenly pulls his fingers from your soaked little pussy. You let out a frustrated whine as the burn in your belly subsides and you pant against Megumi’s neck. 

His fingers prod at your lips without warning and you open your mouth just slightly and he forces his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your cute little tongue.

You suck on his fingers, your smaller hand curling around his wrist as you make cute little noises. Megumi kisses your temple before his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “I want you to cum on my cock… can you do that f’me, baby?”

You nod your head quickly.

“Words, baby,” he coos, his hand kneading over the harsh red welt blooming on your ass. 

“Mhm… I can do it,” you pant, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. “Please.”

Megumi’s hand reaches for his belt buckle, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. If he wasn’t so impatient, he would have taken you home and had you spread your legs for him to fuck you with his tongue and his fingers. Then he would have forced you onto your knees and fucked your face until you cried before he put his dick anywhere near your cunt.

But this is just as good.

Megumi pulls his cock from his boxers, groaning as he pumps himself a few times. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sheer size of him, but also the fact that underneath the pink head of his cock is a little silver barbell. 

“You got a condom, baby?

“N-No,... you have your dick pierced?”

Megumi almost forgets he has it half the time, “yeah… feels good, don’t worry.”

You bite your lip, suddenly a little jealous of how he exactly figured out his piercing felt good. Megumi notices your flushed face and the way you chew on your lip. His large hand gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him so he can press a soft kiss to your lips.

He reaches for your hand, bringing it down to wrap around his hard cock. It’s heavy in your hand and you gently squeeze, jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Megumi kisses at your skin, “promise ‘m gonna take you on a date tomorrow.”

You giggle at his attempt to make you feel better, “you better, cus if you’re gonna fuck me raw you better buy me dinner.”

Megumi chuckles through a low groan, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to stop squeezing and jerking him off because if you keep doing it he’s gonna cum like a teenager because you’re the prettiest fucking girl he’s ever seen and now you’re on top of him with your top pushed over your pretty tits and your pussy waiting for him.

Megumi kisses you again, his tongue pressing against yours as you lift yourself up a little, your hand wrapping around the base of Megumi’s big fucking cock to line him up with your sopping hole. 

Megumi’s hands land on your hips, his dark eyes meeting yours as his tip prods as your hole. You feel his piercing catch on the outside of your hole and you tip your head back and moan as you sink down, Megumi peppering kisses across your tits as he helps you lower yourself down on his cock.

You’re so fucking tight around him when he finally bottoms out, your pussy wrapped so snug, pulsing slightly as you pant and moan.

“S’big, Gumi,” you whine.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says as he lifts your hips, slowly pulling you back down on his cock. “You gotta help me out, princess.”

You pant, only just noticing how foggy your windows are. The two of you are coated in a thin sheen of sweat and you lean back, planting your hands on the tops of Megumi’s knees so you can bounce on his cock.

You start off slow before you get lost in the feeling of his cock and the piercing dragging against your tight walls. Megumi’s hands bruise your hips as he helps you bounce on his cock, his eyes unable to look away from where your pussy sucks in his cock.

Your slick is forming a white ring around the base of his cock, your wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs and down onto his pants. You’re fucked stupid on his dick as you babble and moan incoherently, unable to stop bouncing as you chase your orgasm.

You pull almost all the way off his dick before forcing yourself back down, your eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix. Megumi’s hand presses against the slight bulge in your tummy, the feeling making you fucking dizzy.

“Harder, please Gumi, fuck me harder,” you cry out, your finger sinking down between your thighs to rub circles on your clit. 

Megumi feels like he gets harder at the nickname, “fuck, baby,” he coos, his hands bruising your hips as he bullies your cunt, the tip of his cock bruising your poor cervix. One of Megumi’s hands wraps around your throat, squeezing on your pretty neck. You choke on your own moans as your orgasm nears.

“I’m gonna– Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, mixing with your mascara and slipping down your pretty cheeks.

You feel your belly start to burn and your nails scratch at Megumi’s forearms as he lets go of your neck to press his own thumb against your sensitive little clit, forcing your orgasm out of you.

You cry when you feel the coil in your belly snap, your cunt spasming around Megumi’s cock and gushing around him.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he eggs you on, your legs shaking at the feeling of your orgasm crashing into you. “You’re so tight, baby.”

You don’t respond, your vision turning white as your cunt clamps down on him. Megumi groans and grunts at the feeling, bouncing your hips on his lap and using your fucked out body to chase his own orgasm.

Megumi’s cock twitches inside you and you just whine and cry as he pumps you full of his cum, thick white ropes painting your insides. He forces your hips down onto his cock, finally ceasing his movements and just panting, attempting to catch his breath.

Your body shakes and you mewl softly, babbling incoherently. Megumi coos, pulling you against his chest and running a hand down your back to bring you back to earth, “shh, shh, you’re okay.”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Too much?” he asks, petting your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

You shake your head, “best sex of my life,” you sigh.

Megumi chuckles, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back, his other hand fixing your shirt back over your boobs. “I’ll take you home now, kay?”

“You gonna stay?” you ask, peering up at him with a fucked out expression and dried mascara stuck to your cheeks.

“You want me to?” he smiles.

You nod, “mhm… otherwise how will you make me breakfast?”

Megumi laughs, lifting your head to press kisses to your face. 

After a moment longer, Megumi lifts you off of his softening dick, his cum leaking from your abused little hole. You sigh at the empty feeling, your thighs aching from the stretch. Megumi fixes your panties back into place, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He manages to carry you and put you into the passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt for you before starting up your car and actually driving you home–

“Wait, where the hell am I going?”

You can only tiredly giggle from the passenger seat.

author's note: YEESH! i need a cold ass shower. dunno how i feel about it but!!! it’s here!!!

[dollfacefantasy]

caleb x fem!reader

you and caleb used to play fight a lot, but things are different now that you're older

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fauxcest, dry humping

a/n: um hehe just a small drabble cause i've been thinking... also i like the pipsqueak thing idgaf kiss me about it. imagine this takes place when she’s staying with him.

"isn't this around the time you'd usually cry mercy, pipsqueak?" he breathes, his smooth voice warming the air next to your ear.

a small grunt escapes you as you try to lift your arm to shove him off. your effort is pointless though. his grip tightens around your wrist, and he brings your limb back down to the floor without much effort.

“caleb, quit it!” you whine.

he just laughs at you. his body doesn’t move away an inch. he stays right where he his, hovering over your smaller frame.

the two of you used to play fight all the time as kids. you’d squabble over the remote or your toys. whiny arguments would morph into a small scuffle, a test of wills. so it felt natural today to lunge at him when he held the book you wanted to read just out of reach. getting physical made sense. you’d been so agitated with him keeping you here, you needed to blow off some steam. it just didn’t feel so good when reality set in as he wrestled you down to the floor like always.

“it’s not funny,” you say and try to jam your knee up into his abs.

he dodges the move and continues to smirk at you. “maybe not to you. but it’s pretty funny from up here. pretty cute too,” he teases.

you scowl, squirming some more. in your younger years, you’d always been able to fight back a little. you’d lose in the end, sure, but victory had been in reach a few times. now, caleb is stronger. he’s bigger, and he doesn’t fight like a scrappy high school kid but rather someone with training. you’re starting to realize you have no chance now, and part of you wonders if you ever did. or maybe he’d been going easy on you.

as if to taunt you, he slides your arms up above your head and grabs both your wrists with one hand. even with his other one free, he keeps you pinned with the same amount of force. it’s fucking humiliating. you feel your cheeks starting to heat up as he drags the back of his fingers along your jaw, cooing at you.

“you always used to get so angry like this too. so frustrated. you’d think you would’ve learned not to start fights you can’t win,” he mocks.

his thumb comes to sweep along your cheekbone, back in forth in slow strokes. he stares into your eyes while he does, almost studying you. it gets you heated for a whole other reason you don’t even want to acknowledge.

“get off of me,” you squeak, your voice much less aggressive now.

“maybe i will if you beg enough,” he taunts, “if you use your manners and say please like a good girl, i’ll consider it.”

“shut up!” you say. you kick a few more times and buck your hips to try and get loose.

in response, he grabs your hip with his free hand and slams it back to the ground. you let out a little growl, assuming you’ll have to restrategize. but then he pushes his pelvis down on top of yours.

you gasp. all the fight leaves you in a harsh blow because now, unlike any of the other times you play fought with him, you feel a solid bulge pressing between your legs.

your eyes widen, and you sputter. you’re sure you look totally stupid right now. but you don’t know what else to do. there’s no question about it. he’s got a boner, and he’s rubbing it right up against you.

“i told you. you’re not gonna win. might as well surrender,” he says. he speaks in a completely even tone, as if nothing is different.

“c-caleb. what are you doing?” you start, “don’t be weird.”

“i’m not being weird,” he defends with feigned innocence, “we always used to mess around like this. what’s got you all shy now?”

you know why he’s asking. because he knows you won’t say it. the answer is so easy, yet you can’t bring the words to leave your lips.

“you know what,” you whine softly.

he chuckles and leans in even closer to your face. “maybe i do. but i don’t think that it’s weird. we’re not kids anymore. you can’t whine and wriggle around like that and expect me not to react,” he murmurs.

your heart beats harder in your chest. you can feel every thump. before you can say anything in return, he grinds his hips again, rolling his hardened length right up against you. and this time, it feels good.

“i- caleb- we can’t,” you whimper, biting your lip.

“we can’t? we can’t what? we’re not doing anything,” he says before grinning at you, “it doesn’t count if it’s over the clothes.”

you want to smack him, but both your arms are still immobile.

“it’s still weird. we’ve never- i don’t see you like this,” you insist, though the last statement is a complete lie.

he tsks and shakes his head before pushing his erection between your legs for another time. this one draws a whine out of you. his hips jump forward at the sound, but he doesn’t let his face show that burst of desire.

“what do you see me like then?” he whispers.

silence fills the air between the two of you as you fail to answer. you know what you see him as. you know your crush on him goes back years. you know what fantasies fill your head at night when you’re alone.

but you also know how you want to see him. what you’re supposed to see him as. what you’ve tried to limit his role to for so long.

“it’s ok,” he finally says, “i won’t make you say it if it’s that hard. but i know you like this. i know you, remember?”

he grinds against you again, but this time it’s not only once. now he sets himself into a rhythm, consistent swings of his hips against your center.

“i know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, when you’re ashamed,” he says, “i know when you want something, but you’re too scared to ask.”

ducking in, he kisses your neck. you moan in response, putting no effort into suppressing the noise now.

“that’s right, princess. your big brother knows you better than anyone, doesn’t he?” he coos mockingly.

“caleb!” you whine. you internally cringe at both titles, but outwardly, your face still contorts with pleasure.

“what?” he laughs, “that’s what you were gonna say before, wasn’t it?”

“but i didn’t,” you whimper.

“but you thought it, and it’s all the same to me,” he teases.

he refocuses his mouth on your neck again. his lips move over the column of your throat while his cock continues pressing right on your pussy. it feels better by the second. maybe it’s because he’s kissing your neck too, you’re not really sure. all you know is the hot, sparkling feeling in your stomach is building.

nipping at your pulse point, he then sucks on the skin like he wants to leave a mark. his tongue laves at it for a few moments before he pulls off.

“i’m gonna let go of your arms. you’re gonna behave, ok?” he mumbles against your skin.

“mhm,” you whimper and nod. the overt submission feels pathetic, but losing the feeling of him would be even worse.

“good girl,” he praises.

he keeps his word and releases his hold on your wrists. the air feels cool on your skin that’s all warmed up from his hands. now with his other arm in use, he can snake one around your ass and boost your hips. the new angle allows him to thrust against you harder.

“fuck, baby,” he grunts. you feel his lashes brush your neck as his eyes flutter.

your arms loop over his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. more little mewls spill from your lips. you can feel his stiff length sliding right up against your folds through your clothes. every swipe brings a blissful burst of friction to your poor throbbing clit.

“there you go. i got you. big brother’s got you,” he mumbles mindlessly. he chokes out a moan into your shoulder as his hips move like they have a mind of their own.

your body starts to squirm more. that hot feeling inside is reaching a boiling point. you clutch at his shirt, your nails digging in so hard they threaten to tear the fabric. the constant push and pull of his lower half is nearly hypnotic. it seems like you’ll be under him forever while also on the brink of letting go.

after a few moments more, he pulls back to look at you. his eyelids hang low, heavy with his desire for you.

“god, you’re so pretty. so fuckin’ beautiful now,” he says and presses his forehead to yours. his eyes shut while your breaths mingle. “i knew you wanted this too. just look at you. almost falling apart, and i haven’t even really touched you. i knew no one else could do this better.”

all you can do is whimper softly and cling to him harder. you pull on him as if trying to pull him into your body, to meld your two beings into one. the pressure down below feels dull and muted, but it’s blooming nonetheless.

“yeah… you’re gonna cum all over your pretty panties,” he mutters, “get ‘em all nice and wet so i can have some fun with ‘em later.”

“caleb…” you whine, useful words falling out of your grasp in this moment. one of your hands flies up and laces in his hair. your fingers clench into a fist, giving the strands a sharp tug.

he groans and bucks his hips extra hard. “c’mon. cum for me, baby. let me make my sweet little angel cum,” he murmurs.

it really doesn’t take much to get you there. the friction burn he’s rutting you both into works, and you feel yourself hit the high. euphoria rushes through you. a little breathy whine erupts from your lips. your back arches off the floor, but he keeps you cradled against him securely.

the whole time you’re cumming, he’s still humping you like his life depends on it. it’s when you start to come down, that he finally explodes. he buries his face in your neck, letting out the loudest moan you’ve heard so far. his arms tighten up around your frame as his fingers dig into your malleable flesh.

his hips jolt forward in random twitches now, chasing the last remnants of release while he spills inside his pants.

when he’s done, his breaths are harsh and labored. he nuzzles the crook of your neck before kissing your cheek and receding off your body. his palm runs over his face lazily.

“fuck, i gotta change now,” he says, not bothering to look down at the dark patch at the front of his pants.

without even really thinking about it, you reach forward for the waistline. you’re already craving more of him. but before your hand can get there, he takes your wrist.

“not so fast, pipsqueak. i think you should actually beat me before i let you have the real thing,” he smirks.

[fakebwitch]

reader being obsessed with rafe’s biceps and he wants to please her

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

rafe is obviously aware of how fitnessed and perfect his body is, and he also knows how obsessed you are. when you two fuck your hands are always somehow on his body, from when you ride him, holding yourself on his muscular legs or placing your hands on his chest, or when y’all are doing missionary, your nails dig into the skin of his back as he thrust hard inside you or tighten around his biceps.

speaking of biceps, they were your favorite thing. I mean, you loved every single thing about his body, his back, his shoulders, his abs, his thigh but biceps would do it for you everytime. you would drool every time you see him wearing one of his short-sleeved polo shirts, putting his muscular arm in perfect view, your eyes would carefully observe every single contraction, asking him to open a simple bottle of water or fix something that you had voluntarily broken just to enjoy the sight of his arms at work.

you loved having his strong arms holding you close to him, there was nothing that made you happier when at night, after a long day, his arms wrapped around your figure pulling you towards him, his grip firm as the heat of his body began to expand to yours.

rafe wasn’t stupid, he noticed after a short time your continuous eyes on his biceps, how you somehow tried to always have a hand on them and how you wanted rafe’s arms always around you. he was always ready to tease you about it, you would laugh everytime trying to hide your flushes.

obviously this obsession of yours grows when we talk about sex. having him chocking you while pounding into you, watching at the way his biceps flexed made you clench around his length, or when his fingers were buried inside your tight hole, you would force yourself to keep your eyes open even though all you wanted to do was to throw you head back just to watch the way his arm was contracting at the speed he was using and his veins on full display.

one day he proposed you something that left you in disbelief, not like you have never thought about something like that before but hearing him say it to you was totally different. you had stopped from grinding onto his bulge, looking at him with wide eyes while he just looked at you with his usual cocky smirk, your pussy clenching around nothing just at the idea.

“you’re just so obsessed princess, bet you wouldn’t mind riding it instead of grinding on my dick, would you?” he had proposed to you, his gaze fell down indicating what he was referring to, your hand tight around his biceps. you stared at him for what seemed like hours not knowing what to answer, suddenly you felt like you wanted to disappear. “don’t get shy on me now baby, use your words mhm?” he incited you, his hand moved from your hip to rest on your cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb on the soft skin as you rested your head on it, enjoying his warm touch.

“yeah… i would- i would love that” you answered, you didn’t even know where you had found the courage to accept something so dirty but that you wanted at the same time so much. rafe’s grin widened even more noticing the shyness in your voice, he could feel that you were insecure about it, he was quick to put his lips on yours in a small kiss. “don’t worry baby I got you, just use me like you prefer” he whispered to you a few centimeters from your lips, you bit your lip hearing such words, your most perverse dream was coming true.

“uhh f-fuuck… rafeee” you gasped moving your hips quickly, your head thrown back while you fully enjoyed the pleasure of your clit in contact with his contracted muscle, your moisture scattered all over the area, sliding along the elbow. “I know baby I’m here, keep going” he incited you, he looked at you from below with eyes full of lust groping his cock in the pants, a mess of his own pre cum in his boxer while enjoying the scene of his pretty girl rubbing herself on his biceps.

“i’m gonna- gonna..” your voice broken as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to reaching the peak, your legs began to hurt and your movements slowed down, you felt tears forming at the corners of your eyes worried that you wouldn’t be able to reach your orgasm but rafe was right there, and without you being able to say anything else he put a hand on the back of your thigh, pushing you to continue rubbing yourself on his biceps.

“there you go baby… make a mess all over me”. In no time you reached your orgasm, an almost pornographic moan came out of your lips as your movements stopped abruptly, your cum began to drip on his skin. slimy sounds filled the room while rafe helped you ride your orgasm with some other small push, before you fell in the place next to him, your legs tingled from the effort you had subjected them to.

“that’s it princess, was it good?” he asked you observing your fucked-out expression then moving his gaze to his arm, completely covered with your wetness.

“the best fucking thing ever.”

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

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

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

SERIES IS DISCONTINUED- sorry y’all, just not inspired to write this anymore and don’t wanna force it.