#post-canon doesn't have the same ring to it

[girlsworldillusion]

I'll fake it until you give up (or will it be me?)

Ravenclaw!Barty - Gryffindor!Reader

Summary: The five times Barty tried to hint at a relationship with you, being actively blocked in the process, and the one time you were the one who did it.

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Ella's Notes: This was supposed to be a one shot, yes I know. But it got out of hand and it was so ridiculously long that no one would have the patience to read something like that. So I split it into two parts - but before you kill me, the second part is practically ready, so I'll post it very soon. Let me know what you think of this first part!

In this story I didn't go into any details about the Slytherins mentioned and Barty himself having any association with Voldemort, nor anything about Death Eaters. In fact, you can even pretend that this scenario doesn't exist in this fic, because that was my intention. I wanted to create something independent, an alternative and lighter version of the events. Maybe in a future opportunity I'll write something within this canonical reality, but that's not the case this time.

Happy reading!

Word count: 6,5k

Lovely tags: @just-here-for-ff @amel1ee

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

i.

You felt bad for the blonde girl next to you in History of Magic class, having to put up with your frustrated huffs every few minutes, born of a complete and utter lack of understanding of the subject. Each class made you feel more confused than the last. Which, honestly, was understandable considering who was teaching.

Professor Binns, oblivious to the students dozing off and openly drooling during his lecture, continued to float tediously around the room with his hands clasped behind his transparent body, reciting every tiny and unnecessary detail about the Goblin Rebellion, his favorite topic to lecture on, with the energy of an old and broken vacuum cleaner.

You glance with some irritation at the nearly blank parchment on the table, your meager notes consisting only of dates and names fished here and there throughout the ghost's monotonous and endless speech - nothing that would guarantee you a good score in the upcoming N.E.W.T.s.

You hate with all your might that your impeccable grade record in all other classes is constantly tarnished by this one hellish subject, year after year.

How was it possible that after so much time listening to the same long and exhausting lectures about the damned rebellion, you still hadn't learned anything substantial about it?

It was clear that this was all Professor Binns' fault and his innate ability to put anyone to sleep in ten minutes of class - five if the day was particularly hot.

"And with that, I conclude today's class." The old ghost's dull, drawling voice rings out and for the first time since class began you feel excited by something he says, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "For the next class I expect from each of you a detailed essay on how Urg the Unclean went from a simple goblin to a renowned leader of the XVIII Rebellion, even having his own image on a Chocolate Frog Card."

The smile dies as quickly as it appears and you slam your forehead against the tabletop with an exasperated groan between your teeth, hearing Pandora chuckle beside you, though she’s certainly as bored with the task as you are.

You turn your face away from the cold surface of the table, cheek pressed against the wood and a defeated look on eyes as you glide disinterestedly across the classroom — which looks as ready to kill themselves as you do. Your expression, however, sharpens immediately when you notice him.

Unlike the other students, who are either openly drooling over their desks as they take the best nap of the school year, or rolling their eyes so hard they might as well end up in the back of their heads in exasperation over this class, he remains irritatingly unfazed.

At first you wouldn’t think he was paying attention in class, not with the nonchalant way he rests his face on his hand, elbow propped on the table. His gaze isn't even on the boring Professor Binns, who's still talking (detailing the damned assignment about Urg the Unclean). His face is tilted over his palm, a sly, soft smile on his lips. And he's looking at you.

You keep the side of your face flat on the table as squint at him suspiciously.

You couldn't say when you first became aware of his stares. And even after you noticed it, for a long time you wondered if you were just imagining it. Of course it could only be your imagination. Why, after all, would he be staring at you at every opportunity he got? There was no apparent reason for it in your mind.

But time passed and what was apparently just imagination changed into an irrefutable certainty. You couldn't pretend not to notice his stares, especially since he never tried to be subtle about it; whether it was over the steamy cauldrons in Potions Class, or from the Ravenclaw table during meals, or the piercing gaze he gave you as he skilfully glided through the air on his broom during a Quidditch match, or even from a strategically positioned spot on the table in front of you as you tried to concentrate and study in the library...

Whatever it was, he was always looking.

And it was already disturbing you. Because, no matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't understand why.

Of course, your mind always ran to the worst possibility of all. Some cruel little game orchestrated with his friends.

Although he was a Ravenclaw, you knew that most of his friendships was centered around Slytherin. Somewhat questionable friendships, such as; Evan Rosier, Regulus Black, Bellatrix, Rabastan Lestrange, Lucious Malfoy, Severus Snape, Wilkes...

Regulus Black and Evan Rosier seemed to be the most 'normal' of the dysfunctional group nicknamed by the other students as the Slytherin Gang; Regulus with his usual superior and disinterested attitude and Evan with the restless and endless energy of a Cornish Pixie. The others, however, were much more openly unpleasant and frightening.

It was not uncommon for you to have to give detentions to Rabastan Lestrange and Bellatrix Black on your nights of patrol as a Head Girl. You would constantly find them doing something they definitely shouldn't, like sneaking out of the dungeons after bedtime to make out indecently in the castle corridors in plain sight, or even cornering some poor younger student to torture with their cruel psychological games - and sometimes physically.

In any case, Barty Crouch's constant association with this group made you automatically label him as one of them, making you wary and suspicious, especially after noticing his stares at you.

Maybe Bellatrix and Rabastan were using him as a channel for revenge on you after all those detentions?

Although, knowing the sadistic and selfish streak of the duo, you doubted they would plan to inflict any torture methods on you through anyone other than themselves.

But anything was possible and the longer he stared, the more paranoid you became.

He smiled a little wider and his stupid crystal blue gaze slowly blinked at you, almost as if he could read your mind.

You blushed, widening your eyes slightly. Could he be a legilimens?

You knew he had the intelligence for it. He was intelligent enough that you were absolutely certain that, even though he didn't seem to hear a single word Professor Binns was saying, he already knew every annoying detail of this subject by heart.

Merlin, he had managed to perform and do ridiculously well in TWELVE O.W.L.s during the fifth year! Which is almost impossible to do, unless you're a damned time traveler, or someone with a level of intelligence and academic commitment that is destined for creatures of superhuman level.

You had your suspicions, and envy, thinking that perhaps he had access to a Time-Turner. But, since Time-Turners were only granted through a direct request from the Head of House to the Ministry, who fully trusted that the student would not use it recklessly, you ruled that possibility out almost immediately. No one in their right mind would trust that Barty Crouch Jr. would not use a Time-Turner to open rifts in space-time and permanently alter events of the past and future for purely selfish reasons, least of all the very sensible and intelligent Head of Ravenclaw House.

Which, of course, didn't help with the question of how he did it.

You yourself had fought tooth and nail, basically living like a living dead person throughout the school year to fit as many classes as possible into your free time during the day, and still managed to complete ten out of twelve O.W.L.s. Of course, at the time, you felt incredibly proud of this, since the standard was for a student, even the smartest, to only complete around seven or eight. Your pride, however, deflated considerably when you discovered that Barty Crouch, a guy with a questionable sense of humor and a worrying level of disinterest in seemingly anything that didn't have a pair of nice legs and a skirt, had surpassed you.

Indignation and envy aside, you felt like you were being pushed to the limit with these constant stares.

Pandora thought he was in love with you. An opinion that, respectfully, you laughed in her face when you heard. There was no way in hell that something like that would happen. Not only was Barty stupidly attractive and therefore completely out of your league - but the mere idea of ​​someone being romantically interested in you made you feel...well, weird would almost be a descriptive enough word.

You didn’t want romance. You never really understood the appeal of it, not at such a young age. Love distracts, it makes people lose sight of the goal, it makes them silly and vulnerable. And you didn’t have time to be silly and vulnerable, not with the weight of so many responsibilities on your shoulders, with dreams and grand ambitions waiting for you in the future. And surely no guy who had trouble keeping himself from cumming as soon as he got in your pants would understand that well enough. You were used to keeping yourself apart, it was almost a defense mechanism at this point. While other girls your age were collecting love, you were collecting good grades in the classes. And that was okay.

Don’t get me wrong, you weren’t necessarily a pessimist (but you certainly weren’t someone who believed in anything; your mother always told you that there was more wisdom in proving it for yourself than in believing in mere whispered words here and there). You just didn’t really understand how this whole love thing could be remotely interesting at your age.

And anyone with half a functioning brain cell knows that Crouch is chaos incarnate: loud, mischievous, and impossible to ignore. He's determined to break every rule ever made by man, but somehow still manages to be absurdly endearing while doing it. It just makes you want to run — to hide. He's definitely the kind of trouble you try to avoid as much as possible in your life.

And that's why the possibility of him being in love with you was definitely not encouraged. In fact, you vehemently refused to even acknowledge it. Simply because it wasn't possible — by any means. Neither would he be interested in you in that way, and much less could you afford to accept any soft feelings from him, on the off chance that they were real. So you cling to the only coherent explanation for all this supposed interest of his: cruel intentions.

Yes, that had to be it.

And it's with that thought in mind that you hurriedly gather your things as soon as Professor Binns finally finishes his almost endless speech and dismisses the class.

You don't look to the side as leave the classroom with brisk steps, but feel his gaze following you anyway.

ii.

Regulus Black was very handsome.

Like, unfairly handsome.

You stare at the Slytherin with a fair amount of jealousy oozing from your pores, a pout on your lips and a furrowed brow. The guy, for his part, doesn’t even seem to be aware of your spiteful gaze upon him, taking elegant, measured bites of the chocolate pudding on his plate, nodding discreetly every now and then to agree with whatever his chatterbox neighbor is saying.

He clearly doesn’t want to engage in any conversation with the boy, but he’s too courteous and polite to make any rude comments about it. Because of course, he’s Regulus Black.

With his aristocratic nose elongated in an undeniably masculine way, but maintaining a delicate curve and a pert tip in a disturbingly cute way - the soft dusting of freckles over the bridge only intensifying the cuteness. His thick, dark eyebrows, drawn in a perfectly symmetrical arch. His pale, smooth skin like the most flawless marble sculpture. His beautiful, onyx curls, framing the sides of his face like he was some ethereal creature from a fairy tale. His eyes, deep-set and beautifully flickering between green and blue, surrounded by the most ridiculously thick curtain of dark lashes you’d ever seen on anyone. And that was just Regulus Black’s face. It was taking absolutely everything in you not to start a detailed analysis of his damn tall, ripped Seeker body.

Now, you hadn’t planned on spending the night cataloging how many unfair ways Regulus Black managed to be more pretty than any other boy you’d ever seen in your life — by Merlin, he was prettier than most GIRLS you’d ever seen, too. You definitely didn't plan on feeling completely humiliated by his appearance that night, as if you looked like you'd been beaten by a Whomping Willow and never recovered from it.

None of that was in the plan, but at some point during Professor Slughorn's endless ramblings and the pretentious comments from the students of this small and select club of supposedly exceptional young people, you found your mind wandering to unwanted places. Unfortunately, Regulus Black was the one sitting right in your line of sight, on the other side of the table - and the poor guy was the victim of your mental fixation to escape boredom.

At first, you saw Slughorn's invitation as an invaluable honor. After all, you had been included in the extremely selective list of the most promising students at Hogwarts. Your body practically vibrated with excitement in the days leading up to the meeting. You picked out a cute dress for the occasion, fixed your hair and even applied a light layer of makeup. Your expectations were admittedly high and you planned to leave the meeting with some good friends and a lot of extra knowledge in your pocket.

But the meeting was nothing like you imagined.

Yes, the students present were all exceptionally talented in one way or another, and the food was quite good too. But the whole thing proved to be nothing more than a parade of superiority and arrogance, so dull and unsatisfying that it drained your energy within the first few minutes.

Slughorn was genuinely proud of having assembled such a group of model young minds, but the students were only concerned with proving who was better than the other. There was no stimulating conversation and extra knowledge as you had imagined - it was just an irritating and inconvenient contest of who had the best and most absurd lived experiences (most of them made up, you were sure) and who, in fact, stood out with it. 

You wanted to leave within the first fifteen minutes of this verbal ordeal, but forced yourself to stay for the sake of Professor Slughorn, who was genuinely elated by the whole thing.

Black and you were the only ones who hadn't shared any stories with the others, resigning yourselves to discreet and scattered comments here and there, just enough to let them know you were present.

To escape the absolute boredom, you let your mind wander. And that's how you ended up hyper-fixated on Regulus Black and his immaculate beauty. The Slytherin proved to be a very effective source of distraction, although his flawless face showed no emotion, remaining as expressionless as a doll - it was clear that the guy also wanted to get rid of this meeting urgently.

Your attention is only broken when a dramatic noise sounds at the entrance of the room, announcing someone's arrival.

Your eyes widen when you see none other than Barty Crouch Junior stumble into the room, spectacularly late. He smiles broadly at the alarmed looks at his indiscreet entrance, walking calmly with his hands in his pants pocket.

There must have been some mistake, you think in bewilderment as you watch him walk over to the table as if he belonged there.

Maybe he was just here to deliver a message?

Your hunch is proven wrong when he seems to notice your presence with a surprised look, his arrogant smile softening immediately to give way to a more natural, more sincere one. Even with a few options open, you sigh in no surprise when you hear him sit down in the empty chair next to yours, sliding in with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, as if he was destined from the start to end up sitting next to you tonight.

You refuse to look at him, turning your face downwards as you busy yourself with sinking the spoon into your own half-eaten chocolate pudding. His audacity to sit next to you only makes you more frustrated - it's not like you're sending out the least bit receptive vibes to his company.

"It's very good to have you with us, Crouch. Even if you arrived later than agreed. It's a shame, I'm afraid you missed some very interesting experiences from your colleagues."

You want to roll your eyes at what Slughorn says from the head of the table, hardly classifying any of those made-up nonsense as remotely interesting, but his presence beside you makes you too tense to do so.

"I'm sorry about that, Professor, I had to finish some important work before I came. I promise I'll be here on time next time."

There's not much sincere regret in Ravenclaw's voice, in fact you swear you can hear something mischievous in his words, which almost makes you want to lift your head to look at his expression.

But, determined as you are to ignore anything Barty would no doubt say to start a conversation, you tilt your head down a little more so that your hair partially hides your face, still showing great interest in the pudding. Crouch, breathing beside you, makes a small sound of confusion at the obvious walls you’ve been putting up, before the sound turns into something akin to amusement.

“You know, ignoring me isn’t going to make me leave,” he says cheerfully — far too cheerfully for someone who’s supposedly (and rightly so) being ignored on purpose.

His recognition of your intentions means you can’t keep up your charade any longer. So, with a heavy sigh, you peer through your hair, already knowing what to expect.

There, right next to you, casually sitting like he was the male protagonist of some clichéd, cheesy romance novel, Batry Crouch smiles.

You feel your eye twitch.

Unlike Regulus, with his ebony curls elegantly arranged around his face, Barty always had that look of someone who tossed and turned all night in bed and didn't even bother to use a comb when he woke up. Locks of light brown hair stuck out in every direction, a mess of strands as chaotic as absolutely everything about him. A few lighter strands stood out among the brown mess, oscillating in a rich shade of gold and honey. And oh Merlin, did the look suit him.

"You look so beautiful tonight. I like that dress on you." He comments, seemingly oblivious to what his words spoken out of absolute nothingness could do to you. Or perhaps very purposefully aware of them. "By the way, you always look beautiful so..."

He's waving his hand in the air as if to emphasize the point that those supposed good looks were normal for you. And of course you get really nervous. It's true, no matter how much you try to deny it to yourself. No matter how much you deny the reasons for being nervous either. You're just not used to compliments, from anyone. Yet you appreciate them very much. Not that you're ever going to admit it, especially to someone as unruly as Crouch.

But you're worried that ravenclaw will notice how nervous you really are anyway, Merlin knows that would only boost his ego and further intensify his apparent commitment to poking you in the most annoying ways. It's a colossal effort to try to calm yourself down while simultaneously trying to stop the blush that was forming on your face. But by heavens, it's really challenging to do so when he's staring at you so openly and intently - oh my, he really doesn't have any respect for the boundaries of proper social behavior, did he?

Your eyes sparkle, cheeks turning pinker as you stare at him with a mixture of shyness and a violent session of anger daggers from beneath your lashes. You’re visibly flustered the longer he stares at you (and unlike you, he’s very comfortable with it), your hands fidgeting with each other on the table in a nervous gesture, having long since given up on poking at the poor chocolate pudding.

Barty blinks briefly at your nervous gesture before returning his eyes to yours. “You know you look so cute when you’re all blushing like that,” he teases playfully. “You look like a little strawberry or something.”

You let out a low, uncomfortable meow in your throat, feeling like you could burst into a ball of flames at any moment. What kind of dysfunctional compliment is that? He’s so horrible at it!

“But then again, I’ve never seen you blush that much,” Barty continues as if the observation wasn’t completely humiliating and unnecessary, his head tilted closer to your flaming face with genuine interest. Your gut churns and protests, seemingly trying to eat itself. What’s with that damn look on his face anyway? “Wait…do I make you shy, princess?”

You hate him. You hate him so much, You swear to Merlin, Barty is the worst. He can’t let a girl blush without drawing undue attention to it?! Sure, it’s a little like baking in your dress from how hard your body is blushing, and yeah, maybe you’ve never reacted like that to anyone else — but that’s no big deal!

Except Barty’s looking at you like it is. Like he wants to cut you open, dissect your insides and see for himself just how deep your supposed secrets are, and it’s doing things to you.

Your face won’t stop burning. “What a stupid ideia, of course you don’t — of course I don’t…” Your sudden, complete inability to form a coherent sentence only makes you more frustrated. “Just shut up, Crouch.”

But he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. This is Barty.

“If you’re going to lie about this, at least be convincing,” he smiles wider, a sickly sweet humming sound in his throat, as if the whole situation pleases him beyond words.

You frown, hissing through your teeth as you ball your hands into fists, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Stop smiling, idiot. This isn’t funny.”

The teasing glint in his blue eyes softens to something gentler at your discomfort.

“I’m not smiling to make fun of you little lion, believe me.”

Barty hums, lifting his hand from the table to reach out towards what appears to be, to your complete horror and shock, your face. Any naughty joke dies in your throat, your eyes widening in response, a blush creeping across your skin. A sharp gasp escapes your parted lips and you blink owlishly at those fingers so close to reaching your cheeks.

The boy freezes along with you, surprised by your reaction, his fingers frozen in midair as if he had been struck by a Glacius. You barely notice, though. All you can hear is the anxious beating of your own heart, the electricity that seems to crackle from the fingertips that threaten to brush against your skin.

He’s not…he shouldn’t be touching you. And he’s not, in fact. But then why does that make you feel suddenly dazed and pliable like long-whipped cream? It’s almost a disappointment that he hasn’t extinguished those last few inches and touched your flaming cheeks. You almost regret not knowing what his fingers would feel like on your skin.

What?

The thought comes so quickly, so naturally, that it almost makes you jump.

“Huh...” He breathes and you blink pathetically, coming back to the present with a startled expression and hands strangely damp with cold, nervous sweat. His eyes grow curiously darker, and he realizes, you know he does, you know the exact moment he understands something that not even you are willing to acknowledge, and holy shit, no. Just—no. No.

And when you turn your face away to escape that undesirably intense eye contact (and the equally undesirably feelings that come with it), you realize that damn Regulus Black has finally gotten tired of pretending to pay attention to what the boy next to him is saying. Because now his attention is completely focused on you and Barty and the strange exchange that just happened.

He’s wearing what you’d initially think is a completely neutral expression, but a closer look reveals the slight lift of his eyebrow as he slowly, appraisingly slides his eyes between you and Barty, as if silently contemplating something. For some stupid reason, as he stares at you like that, you feel a lot like a child caught by mom doing something their shouldn’t. He seems to find whatever he’s looking for when he allows a small, almost imperceptible smirk to lift the left corner of his lip, his sharp gaze shining with far more mischief than you’d expect from someone as emotionally distant as him.

You silently wish the ground would open up and swallow you right there, taking you to the deepest abyss - or any fucking place where you can just forget this whole thing ever happened. Your face is so heated with humiliation that you can literally feel your cheeks tingling with red, which only makes Regulus’s smirk grow a little wider.

Your resentment towards Barty Crouch Jr and his colossal guilt in this unspeakable situation grows along with that stupid grin.

“I’m leaving,” you announce abruptly, much louder than necessary, glad that Slughorn is now too engrossed in a conversation with a Hufflepuff in the far corner of the room to notice your cowardly and untimely exit. Before you do, however, you narrow your gaze at Barty while practically hissing through your teeth. “And, by Merlin, you better forget this whole thing ever happened or I swear I’ll spell you and make you vomit slugs all weekend, Crouch. I’m just going to — damn, just...bye.”

And then you’re off, without even allowing the ravenclaw to answer you — he’s already said too much, anyway.

Your stubborn gryffindor streak is trying too hard to sugarcoat the situation and convince you that this was a brave and completely strategic exit, to avoid more trouble. But the truth is, it's just you running, shamelessly running away with your tail between your legs while you can still feel Barty Crouch's gaze burning into the back of your neck and Regulus Black's annoyingly knowing smirk etched into your mind the entire way.

iii.

You never neglected your duties as Head Girl, ever.

So it was extremely unusual that you, on your patrol night, would be hiding in a dark, secluded alcove with a gray cat curled up on your lap while you cried everything you hadn’t cried in longer than you could remember.

You supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later, given the circumstances. But it was really inconvenient that it was on the night of your patrol.

A few days ago you received an owl from your parents with the news that your aunt, probably the person you loved most in the world, had passed away. Despite your intense feelings for her and the absolute shock of reading the letter, you didn’t shed a single tear. Not that night and not in the nights that followed. You grieved, of course; silently and internally. But for a moment you truly believed that this was it - this was all the grief you would ever feel.

Maybe you felt things differently than other people. Maybe you didn’t need to wallow in grief and tears like most people tended to do during their mourning.

And then, as you were patrolling the halls earlier that night, you spotted a cat approaching. At first, there was nothing special about it; cats were everywhere in the castle. Except this cat, furry and gray and with the smug air of someone who was countless miles above you in the social hierarchy, was almost identical to the cat your beloved aunt had kept. The same cat you spent the summers teasing, fluffing its soft, well-groomed fur while the animal gave you its best utter scornful glare — your aunt’s laughter ringing in the background, amused and affectionate.

And that was it.

Before you even realized what was happening, you felt the first tears roll down your cheeks, chest shaking with a shaky sob that fought to escape your lips. Like a burst dam, you felt something break inside you, intense and abrupt. There was no way to control the torrent of emotions that threatened to suffocate you, all you could do was run to find a place where no one could witness your collapse.

The cat, surprisingly, followed your hurried steps all the way, settling between your ankles as soon as you found a safe alcove, wrapping its long tail around your legs as you slid down the wall until you fell to the floor. You cried and sobbed and it purred the whole time; its soft, furry little body rubbing against your skin in a strangely comforting way. It made you feel a little better with its presence, the way it went out of its way to keep you company - as it knew it would do you good at that moment.

Small sobs escape your lips and the weight on your chest threatens to suffocate you for a moment and you choke, covering your mouth.

It's clear that this is undoubtedly a dramatic and unfortunate consequence of trying to internalize your feelings as you always do. But the worst thing is knowing that, when this sudden storm of emotions passes, you'll do it again. Because that's what you always do with your feelings. Run and hide.

The only consolation is knowing that no one other than the poor cat who had the misfortune of crossing your path (or would it be the opposite?) is witnessing this embarrassing moment. You're alone.

At least you think you're alone — until you're not anymore.

The flames in the braziers arranged on the stone walls cast shadows on the floor as someone approaches. And you don't need to look up to know who it is. There's no need to, because you feel the weight of his gaze, the same impossible-to-ignore gaze as always. You know it's Crouch without a doubt and you don't want to be seen like this. Not by anyone, but certainly not by him.

This seems to be enough of a motivator for the cry to die in your throat and suddenly your focus is solely on getting away of here. Get away from him. You need air, space, something.

You stand on shaky legs so fast you feel dizzy, your balance already precarious from the headache from crying so much, and the impact makes you stumble. For a split second, you think you might fall — your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts — and then a strong hand grabs your wrist, another braces on your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground. The cat running away during the confusion.

You don’t process what happens immediately, the abrupt turn and your own reeling mind making it hard to form a coherent judgment. Your mind is still stuck on running away and I can’t breathe, and it takes a second to realize that Barty is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful on your body, his expression wavering between amusement and concern.

“Hey hey little lion, what’s the rush?” He teases as always, but his voice loses its careless tone as he seems to get a better look at your face. And you can only imagine the shitty visual you’re giving off. The flames on the walls highlighting the wet trail of tears on your flushed cheeks, your eyes puffy and red from crying, teeth sinking into a quivering bottom lip, hair messy around your face. You look like hell, and you know it.

It doesn’t help that Barty is still examining your face, his eyes narrowing beneath heavy brows that furrow together.

You pull away from him, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly.

“I’m fine.” You spit before he can elaborate on whatever it is that’s on his mind.

Crouch doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?Because honestly, princess, It's not what it seems.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. "Did someone hurt you? Tell me who made you feel like this, please, I swear I-"

"I said I'm fine." You cut off the endless stream of words, looking down as you adjust your shirt against your body, shifting the weight to your other foot, ignoring the new wave of tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. In the same way that you purposefully ignore how his readiness to solve whatever it is that made you feel so bad makes you feel...things. "Go bother someone else, Crouch."

Barty exhales, something heavy in the sound. You look up at the sound, almost uncomfortable with the change. For the first time, his blue eyes aren't filled with that same joy or mischief its always had. Just something inquisitive, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don't have the strength to deal with right now.

"Why...why do you do this?" he asks, softer now, but no less intense. Your brows furrow in confusion at the question, eyes still bright with unshed tears. He sighs, giving you a look that is nothing short of wistful. “Why do you try so hard to pretend that you don’t need anyone to care? You always act like you carry the whole world on your own and you’re doing just fine.”

Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips tighten. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge how close his words are to the truth. Your throat tightens.

“Why do you care?”

Barty lets out a sigh, tilting his head slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if you’re something he’s trying very hard to decipher. Then he laughs, low and humorless.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice is lower now, something dangerously close to vulnerability. Your fists clench to the point of pain at your sides. “I care because it’s you.”

You blink at him, unable to understand, unable to accept whatever it is he’s trying to tell you. In fact, something inside you whispers that you do. But it feels like too much, like more than you can handle, more than you can comprehend. You feel impossible, a being made of knots and thorns, too tight in your own skin.

“Please,” you sigh then, tired and tearful, the next wave of tears finally spilling over your waterline to run down your wet cheeks, “let’s not do this now…I just, please—”

“Shhh,” he silences your incoherent protest as he pulls you closer with a firm but still gentle tug on your wrist. Your head sinks into the hard planes of his chest as you follow the pull with the naturalness of a wooden doll, your eyes wide and still leaking water — because, Merlin, he’s hugging you.

Your nose is buried in the white dress shirt of his uniform, and the first thing you notice is how strangely good he feels. Warm and comfortable against the chilly wind that blows in through the hallway’s openings, smelling like the wood that fuels the flames of the many fireplaces around the castle’s many and the fresh mint of the tea you drink before bed. And you don’t know what to do with it, what you’re supposed to be doing here. Your body is stiff and trembling as he gently wraps his arms around you, as if you’re something priceless, leaning in so he can bury his nose in the roots of your hair.

“Relax.”

And as if that small, whispered ‘relax’ was all you needed to pull yourself out of your own mind, you slowly feel every muscle beneath your flesh give way and do exactly what he asked; your body relaxing against his, doe eyes blinking against the softness of his shirt, lips parted as you let his presence comfort you.

He feels safe, trustworthy. And it’s so rare that you feel this way that even though you know it would be over in an instant, you don’t want to, and it doesn’t matter, and…your fingers ache to touch him back. It feels like a lifetime before you allow yourself to and you’re returning it. You wrap your arms around his waist to hug his back, gripping the fabric under your hands so tightly it hurts, but you can’t bring yourself to let go, face sinking into his chest to sob some more. Please, don’t make him let go.

“It’s okay, we’ll have time to talk later,” he murmurs into your hair, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he doesn’t. He lets you cry and sob into his shirt, completely ruining it in the process. But Barty doesn’t care, not even when you sniffle and move to pull away after realizing how messy you’ve been. He just mumbles, 'It's okay, princess, I just want to help you feel better' - something that makes you blush and cry a little more. Because, good heavens, no one has ever said something like that to you.

At one point, you realize that you're both sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and you're half-sitting on the floor, between his legs, face still against his chest - feeling his deep, even breathing calm you down.

By the time tears stop falling, you're exhausted. You've been exhausted for so long, but this kind of exhaustion is different. Better. You realize that you're lighter now than you've felt in a long time, thanks to Barty Crouch Junior. And you...don't know how you feel about that.

And you're too exhausted to think about it.

But you do know one thing.

You don't hate this comfortable contact with him. You don't hate his fingers gently combing through your hair, untangling knots you didn't even know were there. You don't hate his whispers close to your ear, reciting the name of every constellation visible in the dark sky.

You certainly don't hate this moment of peace, a white flag you've raised to wave lazily between the two of you.

When you pull away some time later, struggling to smooth out your wrinkled skirt and shirt, you mumble a thank you to him with heated cheeks and shy eyes. And when he smiles back with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side, telling you not to mind, that it was nothing - and you freeze, feeling...

Disappointed?

It was nothing, really. This could never be anything other than 'nothing'. But for some reason, hearing that from him hits you in a completely unexpected and senseless way.

He notices the change in the shine in your eyes, rushing to rephrase what he said with a series of 'wait, that came out wrong' and 'please, I didn't mean it like that'. But you calm him down, assuring him that everything was fine and that it really was nothing, he’s more than right about it.

Before he can argue with that, you’re walking, smiling over your shoulder as you bid him a hasty goodnight before rushing off to your dorm.

Barty was right. This was nothing.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

This might be a question long overdue, but I just want to know something.

WHEN DID FÉLIX FALL IN LOVE WITH KAGAMI???

Isn't "Pretension" right after "Emotion"??? Am I just to assume that in-between episodes, Félix was just stalking Kagami (how he gets from London to Paris and vice versa is beyond me) and somewhere along the way, he fell in love?

He was chatting her up during the Diamonds' Dance, but weren't they talking about Adrienette and Kagami's ring? In what part of that conversation did Félix have his anime BA-DUMP moment?

And seriously? Kagami just vouches for Félix because what? He showed some humanity by not liking calling the sentimonsters monsters? How does that mean anything?

Kagami has shown thus far that she isn't a good judge of character (either that or I'm missing something), so how can she be sure Félix even meant a word?

Félix isn't just "someone who can't express himself". Sure, he was emotionally stunted, but that doesn't excuse anything he did as "someone who can't express himself".

He expressed himself very well. He expressed his beliefs, his backstory, the whole Doofenshmirtz monologue. And even if he was bad at expressing himself, I wouldn't trust Kagami to tell me that.

I've briefly talked about this before in a broader post on Félix's bad writing, but I'm not even sure if Felix loves Kagami. Nothing in Emotion sets up Félix falling for her. His crush just randomly shows up in Pretension which is indeed the episode after Emotion. According to the dialogue, it was love at first sight mixed with some actual stalking:

Kagami: What is it you want to tell me?! Félix: I... I don't know. But ever since I saw you, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've felt that... you and I... were the same. (Kagami looks surprised.) Félix: We have so much in common, and yet, you're also so different. I've never met someone like you. Kagami: We don't even know each other! Félix: I know you. I've been following you non-stop. Kagami: Even better! You follow me, you spy on me and now you've kidnapped me to get to know me?! Félix:(shyly) Uh... yes?

And Kagami just goes with it because this show has incredibly messed up ideas about romance. I think Juleka and Rose are the only couple I actually ship in canon and that's only because homophobia is keeping the writing from making them an official couple. I'm sure they'd have some major flaw that I'd hate if they became canon because none of the canon teen couples feel healthy. They all have at least one glaring issue. I think the only healthy adult couple is Tom and Sabine and even they aren't great because they fall uncomfortably close to the trope where the doting wife is just there to support the main character husband. You might even feel that they are that trope! If you do, I won't argue against you because they're right on the edge for me.

Circling back to the ask: If Félix is in love with Kagami, then I don't think that he's in love with her as a person. He clearly only went after her because she's a sentimonster and that's his only requirement for a love interest. If she was human, then he wouldn't give her the time of day.

My cynical explanation for why Kagami fell for him is that she was programed to love Adrien, but Félix looks the same so the programing was able to switch targets, trapping her in another bad relationship. I have no other explanation for why she'd be interested in Félix after all of the crap he pulled on her. Kidnapping her. Stalking her. Snapping her mother and friends out of existence. What does she even see in him? Get some standards!!!

I suppose Kagami could just be using him to learn about sentimonsters and ensure her own freedom, but I doubt it. While that would be a fun twist, it doesn't fit Kagami's more concerning season five behavior like her outing Ladybug's identity to Félix. I still can't believe canon had her do that. It was worse character assassination than what season five did to Nino and Nathalie, on par with what the final did to Marinette. No one is safe, no matter how minor their role!

Feligami would also be a great way to talk about love and/or lust blinding you to a person's glaring flaws, but I don't think canon is doing that either. The writers seem to genuinely believe that this is a cute couple and that Kagami blindly trusting Félix after everything he's done to her is totally fine.

[einsteinsugly]

Welcome to the Two Worlds Apart universe (and other T7S stuff)!

T9S got you down? Have no fear, my verse is here! A JH and KB endgame! Character development! Acknowledgment of canon, with Hyde and an accurately aged Betsy in tow! JK as besties! No ED daughters named Leia (Eric now fervently ships Luke with Mara)! And yes, Eric has found success beyond his hyperfixation on Star Wars (with a realistic career to boot), and tries to help others the best that he can.

A Brief Synopsis: The gang has ventured beyond Point Place, and after some notable years of drifting, they've all settled down in Chicago. Kids and all, of course.

With Donna and Jackie being print and broadcast journalists (the latter with her show Good Morning, Chicago), and with Eric being a history teacher on the South Side, what could possibly go wrong in the windy city?

My Verse Be Canon: archiveofourown.org/users/einsteinsugly/

Follow the tags below for more stuffies!

A Simple Note: I do not support many of the actors of T7S. Except for Topher. He's fine.

[luvcaleb]

ANYTHING FOR YOU.

bf!caleb headcanons with canon-typical caleb possessiveness levels.

bf!caleb who wears hair ties on his wrist and does your hair for you when you complain about feeling hot. he even adds a neat little braid because somehow, he's even better at it than you are.

bf!caleb who lets you steal all the clothes you want. he knows he's huge, and the way his oversized shirt drapes on you drives him a little crazier than he'd like to admit. if you say anything that remotely suggests you feel a bit cold, he's already shrugging out of his jacket.

bf!caleb who gives you a piggyback ride when your feet are sore from wearing heels. he doesn't let you get off until you've arrived at a clothing store and he picks out a new pair of comfortable shoes, kneeling down to slip them on your feet.

bf!caleb who holds his hand out whenever you go shopping for cosmetics so you can test the makeup on his skin. he gives comments on which color fits you better and slides out his card before you could pull out your wallet to pay.

bf!caleb who gives you a packed lunch whenever he has the time to cook. some pieces are cut into hearts, and every meal comes with a post-it note with a different message. “i cooked your favorite, pipsqueak. hope you won't be too full for dessert later ;)”

bf!caleb who wakes you up with kisses, gently cooing that breakfast is ready on the table. he picks you up when you whine about being too sleepy, carrying you all the way to the dining room.

bf!caleb who knows all of your favorite snacks and keeps stock of them at his apartment so you can eat whatever you want during movie nights.

bf!caleb who sends you pictures when he works out at the gym because he knows you have a thing about him flexing his arms.

bf!caleb who knows all your good angles and a good portion of the photos you post on social media are taken by him. “hm? i don't do anything special. i take good photos because you always look this pretty in my eyes, princess.”

bf!caleb who kisses every inch of your skin that another man touched. may it be a friendly pat on your shoulder or a tap on your waist, he erases all traces of them with his lips, watching the red marks bloom with deep satisfaction.

bf!caleb who's always touch-starved, no matter how much cuddling you do every night. he demands you to pat his head and shower his face with kisses, and even if you do as he requests, he says it'll never be enough and he needs a lifetime supply of affection.

bf!caleb who finds every opportunity to mention his cute girlfriend to his close peers to the point they're tired of his bragging. at the fleet, the colonel is normally freezing cold, but his eyes soften ever so slightly when he sees your picture set as his lockscreen. you're always his reason to go home early, too. “my partner is waiting at home. i'll be leaving now.”

bf!caleb who spoils you rotten so that you can't live without him anymore. he can't live without you, so it's only fair if the same goes for you, right?

bf!caleb who smiles when you say you're going out with a friend. he tells you to call him when you're done so he can pick you up, and he's always right on time so you don't have to wait. good thing he was nearby, huh?

bf!caleb who bought rings way too early into the relationship and is simply waiting for the perfect time to pop the question and make you truly his.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[narcjsistx]

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | sae, shidou, rin (part two)

— sae itoshi

✶ Sae seems like someone who actually likes to wear bracelets, rings or necklaces, but can't wear them often due to the matchs he plays, where he would risk breaking them. going back to the basic concept, his gifts would probably be matching jewelry, especially rings... so, in case you were someone who wears them and rarely takes them off, he would try to do the same thing. during matches he would hang the ring on a string that he would put in his pocket or around his neck, kissing it before starting the match or squeezing it after scoring a goal

✶ I don't know exactly why, but beyond the canonical fetish for the ass, I see him as someone who would aim to have a partner with well groomed hands, like nails with polish, smooth and without calluses. he's not a big fan of PDA, the only thing he would do is hold your hand and occasionally leave a prying kiss on the back. in private he is certainly more open, and one thing he loves is massaging his partner's hand; it's a gesture he now makes almost unconsciously

✶ Sae didn't have instagram until he met you, you practically forced him to create an account! he resisted his manager telling him to do the same for a long time, but for you it was only enough once. he just put a profile photo, you had to do it for him the bio and some highlights, about past or future matches. a few days later you opened instagram and noticed that his account had a highlights that you hadn't created, entitled "her": you opened it and there were some photos of you, the ones that Sae considered most important (even if he loves them all). needless to say, your heart was about to explode

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he may have thought about it a bit, but after joining ReAl he didn't have the time to think about it again. he wouldn't mind having a family sooner or later, but probably after winning the U-20 world cup. two children would be fine, possibly a boy and a girl. he just knows that in some way his children would remind him of him and Rin as lil kids

✶ jealosy level: 5/10

✶ flirtiness level: 7/10 (let's specify, ABSOLUTELY NOT in public, but in private maybe he would indulge in some jokes)

✶ pet names: "amor" / "y/n" / "pretty"

—————————————

— ryusei shidou

✶ even if it doesn't seem like it, Shidou is relatively a normal person as a boyfriend... is there a concept of personal space? not that, but otherwise it's normal. the only "flaw" he may have is that he must CONSTANTLY have his hand touching you when you're together, whether it's a hand on your thigh or an arm around your shoulders: he simply needs to feel you. PDA is no big deal for him: he want to kiss you in front of everyone? he will do it, whatever the cost. if you say he can kiss you after winning a game and it's live nationally, why can't he do it in front of his group of homies?

✶ Shidou seems like someone actually very deep, or at least that seems to be described in some parts of his character sheet. Late night chats are literally the level of mental intimacy he hopes to achieve with his partner... he's someone who doesn't sleep much, so he has a lot of energy and hardly gets tired even after hours of talking. You and him tightly hugging on his bed, lights off and just everything that goes through your head... doesn't everything seem perfect?

✶ you know very well that every time he has a match he makes comments that, let's say, put him in a "bad light", or in any case make him seem less interested in you. before being with you he didn't mind saying things like that on the field, and more or less the same thing has remained since you got together as a couple... BUT THERE IS A BUT! every time, once the game is over and above all won, he makes sure to run to you before even celebrating with his teammates: whether you are in the VIP area or not, he will come to you to kiss you with all the passion he has. let's say he uses his method to reconfirm to the people that he is happily taken

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ GET MARRIED AND HAVE MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE? YEAAAAH. no okay maybe not like that, but on the issue of children he doesn't lie... certainly with the career as a striker he has, he has no problems with money, and therefore with maintaining kids. let's say that for marriage it's different... he doesn't find any sense in it, in reality, he only sees it as something superficial: if he loves you and you know it, why have such a ceremony?. so let's say it's 50/50: he would do it if you asked him but at the same time he wouldn't mind not being married

✶ jealosy level: 1/10 (he trusts you too much to even think about it)

✶ flirtiness level: 10/10

✶ pet names: "doll" / "darling" / "love"

—————————————

— rin itoshi

✶ Rin hides under his serious and calculating gaze a boy who simply needs to vent after everything that happened with his older brother. Before being together as a couple he would never have expected to be able to cry in front of someone, but with you it was all quite natural: it took months and a lot of patience to show him that you really cared about him and that you wanted him to feel comfortable with you, but in the end he let himself go and was finally able to tell someone what not even he himself could explain. he'll never admit it but he believes that was the moment he realized how important you really were to him, and how much he simply wanted someone who could understand him

✶ He has a sort of fetish for seeing you in his clothes: it doesn't matter if the clothes are tight, big or the right size, just seeing you in that black sweatshirt of his or in his PxG uniform is enough to send him into crisis. he can't even explain to you why he likes it so much, but the fact that you're wearing something that smells like him is definitely a valid reason. you once surprised him by showing up at one of his matches wearing a jacket with "rin" written on the back, and we can say that he appreciated it to the point of having to prove it to you in some way: that time the match ended 9-0, goal all marked by him

✶ He may be one of the best if not the best, but after finishing the practice he simply needs to rest with you next to him, even more so if the coach was more unpleasant than usual or he simply did a lot of things wrong due to distraction (which is impossible considering it's Rin). Whether on the couch after cleaning himself or in the shower, while you rub shampoo into his hair it doesn't matter, he just needs to feel your presence

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he often saw other children playing at being married, but he was never actually interested, also because on the one hand it disgusted him to think of having to be tied to a person forever and kiss them on the mouth. as he's grown up he's changed his opinion, he's definitely the marriageable type and he'd actually like to get married as soon as possible: what's the point in leaving you legally free if you've stolen his heart?. let's say that he has a fairly positive opinion about children, he just knows that they arrive after a certain amount of time after marriage: he would like to have two girls... growing up as one of two brothers, both boys, he knows how boys are more problematic than girls

✶ jealosy level: 6/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10

✶ pet names: "y/n" / "love"

[onceinablueberrymoon]

stick to the plan | husband!salesman x mom!reader

the final parts are up! there are two possible endings: swan lake and nocturne no. 2. take your pick -- it's a 50-50 chance :) scenario: gi-hun and the loan shark group have been searching for the salesman for almost two years now. you and your son had occasionally come to help them in their search, but to no avail. one day, your husband gets an order to get rid of gi-hun because of his incessant probing. you have no choice but to obey, even against your will. setting: during the events of season 2, episode 1! ; set one year after the name game; you can find the other parts to the series in my masterlist! warnings: fem!reader; mom!reader; dad!salesman; deception; lots of guilt; is this angst? it’s definitely guilt tho; recruiter is called salesman; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 3.9k notes: thank you all for waiting! this took me much longer than expected, but it’s definitely my longest chapter for this series so far! as this takes place almost entirely within season 2, episode 1, i pulled quite a bit of dialogue from the show. however, this is all in second person POV, so it’s only what reader sees. i really enjoyed writing this part, and i sincerely hope you enjoy reading it! also, there will be two endings (and possibly a third) for this series. one which remains canon, and the other which… doesn’t, lol. i hope to release them at the same time, so please stay tuned! ik i don't post gifs usually but doesn't he look so soft in this gif i just had to use it (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) borders by @enchanthings-a and the gif is from @lenoirexv!

One year later.

“All packed?”

You asked your husband as you zipped up your purse. 

“Almost.” He called from across the bedroom. He was in front of his safe, grabbing piles of ddakji tiles and money and carefully placing them in a suitcase. The last few tiles and stacks of money went into his briefcase. 

Once you were finished organizing your belongings, you walked over to the crib in the corner of the room. Min-seok looked up at you, a shy smile on his face. You lifted him up, mentally checking off your list: he had already been fed, changed, and dressed. Looking around the bedroom, you saw all the packed suitcases and bags scattered on the floor and on the bed. Everything was ready.

A sigh escaped your lips. You had been planning this day for a while now. 

According to your husband, the Frontman had been somewhat concerned with Gi-hun’s persistent actions. As recruitment for the Games was almost finished, he had ordered your husband to eliminate Gi-hun. What “eliminate” meant, you weren’t exactly sure, but you knew it couldn’t be good. While you were close to Gi-hun, you knew this friendship couldn’t last forever, especially since it was built on lies. You were loyal to your job, your husband, and now your son too. You couldn’t throw that away for a friendship. Even so, the gnawing feeling of guilt clawed at your insides.

You kissed the top of your son’s head before tucking him in his stroller. He let out a small giggle. 

“Mini, have fun with your dad today, alright?” You said sweetly. 

Walking over to your husband, you patted him lightly on the chest. 

“Be safe. If you put my baby in danger, I’ll kill you.” You narrowed your eyes and your husband put his hands up in surrender. “I believe you.”

Your husband wrapped his arms around you before pecking you on the lips. 

“I’ll start loading the bags.” He turned to pick up his briefcase.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “You’re sure there’ll be someone that can take us to the island?” 

Your husband gave you a soft smile, placing the briefcase down before taking your hands in his. “We’ve been over this. Captain Park will meet us at the pier to escort us to the island.” He played with the wedding ring on your finger. “We’ll only be there for a short while. Just until the Frontman deems it safe to return.”  

You bit your lip. Even though you reviewed the plan dozens of times before, you couldn’t shake your anxiety.

“What if…” You paused, your voice choking suddenly. “What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to you? Or me? Or-” Your husband grabbed the sides of your arms roughly, almost making your body shake. 

“Nothing will go wrong.” His tone was harsh. “I won’t allow it.” He let go of you and rubbed his hands up and down your arms as if to apologize for hurting you.

He sighed and ran his hand through his neatly styled hair. “Everything will go according to plan. Play your role correctly and everything will return to normal soon.” He picked up his briefcase and one of the suitcases and left the bedroom.

You stood there in silence, your mind racing. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself. 

‘This will all be over soon,’ you thought. ‘Everything will return to normal soon...’

The problem: you didn’t even know what ‘normal’ looked like anymore.

"Jonggak. Jonggak Station."

The voiceover announced the name of the subway station. Checking your phone, you realized this was your stop.

You stepped off the train onto the platform, where you spotted two familiar figures.

“Hey!” You called, waving to Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who were seated on a bench. 

Upon seeing you, they waved back. As you approached them, you noticed them eating sandwiches and kimbap. You sat down next to Woo-seok and he held a sandwich out for you to take.

“Thank you, I’m starving,” you said as you unwrapped the packaging.

“No Min-seok?” Woo-seok asked, looking for any sign of your son who sometimes accompanied you. 

“His father’s taking care of him today,” you replied with a smile.

Gi-hun and the others had fallen in love with your little boy from the moment they met him. While your husband was skeptical of you introducing your son to literal loan sharks, you had assured him that everything would be fine. You and Min-seok had quickly befriended Mr. Kim after visiting Gi-hun at his hotel the day he happened to be visiting. Everyone was smitten once they saw your son, and Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were no exception. Min-seok was a sweetheart who loved to be held by everyone, and his laughter was infectious. 

You volunteered to help in the search for the salesman, which Gi-hun initially declined for your safety. But as the search continued for months with no progress, Gi-hun suggested you go with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who could protect you if things went awry.

“Anything exciting today?” You asked as you dug into your sandwich. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok shook their heads.

“I know Mr. Seong is your friend,” Woo-seok said, “But how much of his story do you actually believe?” He turned to Mr. Kim. “We’ve been searching every subway station in the city all summer, but no one’s ever seen the guy.”

Mr. Kim nodded his head. “Seong Gi-hun may be crazy, but he wouldn’t waste billions on looking for someone who doesn’t exist. He’s onto something.”

Woo-seok ran his hand over his face. “Boss, we’ve been searching these stations for the past two years. Not days, years! Two whole years.” He laughed, “My wife says I should find that salesman, go play those games myself, and win 45.6 billion won. If someone were playing ddakji down here, we would’ve found hi-”

Smack.

All three of you turned to look across the platform.

Stunned, the two men stood up in confusion. There the salesman was, playing ddakji against a man wearing a bucket hat. Next to them, away from the playing area, was Min-seok’s stroller. Once the salesman slapped the other man, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok looked at each other, eyes wide. All you could do was watch the spectacle as you ate your sandwich quietly. The man with the bucket hat won two rounds in a row. Before he forgot, Mr. Kim pulled out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“We’ve found the guy. It’s him,” Mr. Kim spoke. You couldn’t hear what Gi-hun said, but you were sure he was shocked too.

“The ddakji, slapping, and money. Just like you said.” You saw the salesman give the man with the bucket hat a business card. “He’s handing over the card now.”

A beat, then Mr. Kim said, “We’re at Jonggak Station.” He paused. “By the way, you never said the guy had a kid?”

You could faintly hear Gi-hun’s sound of confusion from your spot on the bench.

“He has a stroller with him. I’m not su- He’s leaving. Please hurry.” Mr. Kim hung up and gestured for you and Woo-seok to follow him. 

Even though the salesman took the elevator because of the stroller, he was still faster than you. You followed him out of the subway station and to a couple stores before finally arriving at Tapgol Park.

‘Ah,’ you thought. ‘One of his favourites.’

It was no surprise to you that your husband needed to release some pent-up stress from time-to-time. He liked to go to parks frequented by the homeless and play a game of bread or lottery. On the rare occasion that the majority of the people chose the buns, he would be satisfied, telling you that maybe there was some hope left in the world after all.

As the salesman started his rounds, you, Mr. Kim, and Woo-seok settled on a bench near the main gazebo, hiding your faces behind pages of a random newspaper you found. You laughed in your mind. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok were horrible stalkers. Even if you weren’t there, there’s no way your husband wouldn’t notice them. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

You noticed that some people were attracted to the stroller the salesman was pushing, peering into the bassinet to have a look at the baby. You supposed it made your husband seem more trustworthy. He had his usual smiling expression on his face. He moved from one person to the next, offering them a bun or a lottery scratcher.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Mr. Kim asked. “Maybe he’s a good guy.” Woo-seok said, confused. 

You all continued to watch the salesman as he went around and offered the same options to all the homeless people in the park. Once he had completed his rounds, he went to the centre of the park in front of the gazebo and placed his bags down.

“How come he’s not giving us one?” Mr. Kim looked slightly offended. 

‘Maybe cause you look so suspicious,’ you thought, but said nothing.

Everyone turned to look at the salesman as he dumped both bags of buns onto the ground. 

‘Here we go,’ you thought, bracing for people’s reactions.

Just as one man was about to pick up a bun, the salesman stepped on it, digging his heel in to squish the bread. Everyone’s faces dropped, including Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s. Then, he started jumping and stomping on all the buns. You had to stifle your laughter — sometimes your husband was just so funny! Everyone was too stunned to move. Mr. Kim whipped out his phone to record the incident, probably to show Gi-hun later. The salesman truly looked like a madman, slipping and sliding over the crushed packages of bread before kicking them. After he had finished his tantrum, he straightened his jacket and ran his hands over his face, before finally tucking his tie into his jacket like nothing had happened.

Everyone was still reeling from what they had just witnessed when a whine emerged from the stroller next to the salesman. Your heart sank. Min-seok started fussing, his whines quickly becoming cries. You tried to mask the pained look on your face as a pang of guilt hit you for not being able to soothe your baby. 

The salesman picked Min-seok up from the bassinet and started rocking him gently, much to the shock of everyone watching. With the exception of your son’s crying, the park was silent. You turned to look at Mr. Kim and Woo-seok who looked utterly dumbfounded at what they were witnessing. Thankfully, you were seated far away enough that they couldn’t tell that the baby was your son. 

After being comforted by his father, Min-seok’s cries quieted down and the salesman placed him back in his stroller. Wearing a polite smile on his face, the salesman picked up his briefcase and pushed the stroller out of the park. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok broke out of their trance and scrambled to follow him, with you not far behind. 

Ahead of you, the salesman hailed a taxi. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok hid behind one of the pillars of the park entrance, watching him as he carefully detached Min-seok’s bassinet from the stroller before loading the rest of the stroller in the trunk. 

As the taxi drove off, Woo-seok hurriedly ran out to the street to hail your own taxi. Jumping into the car, he gestured for the driver to follow the taxi the salesman took, even offering to pay him double. You sped away, the car weaving in and out of traffic.

Mr. Kim took out his phone to call Gi-hun.

“Where are you? Are you coming?” He asked once Gi-hun picked up. “This guy’s a total nutcase! He’s in a cab now, we’re following him. Hurry!” He hung up. 

“Is he on his way?” You asked Mr. Kim. He nodded, “I’m not sure where he is, but he should catch up soon.”

After driving for some time, the car turned onto a road in an industrial area. Woo-seok noticed that the salesman was getting out of his taxi, the driver helping him unload the stroller from the trunk.

“I’ll send Seong the address,” Mr. Kim told you as he keyed in the location. “Please drop us off here,” Woo-seok instructed your taxi driver. He took some money out of his wallet and handed it to the driver. You all jumped out of the taxi, moving to hide around the corner of the alleyway the salesman had gone down.

“Where is Mr. Seong?” Woo-seok whispered. “He’ll be here in 10 minutes,” Mr. Kim replied. You all watched the salesman walk down the alley at a leisurely pace. He didn’t seem to notice that he was being trailed. 

Mr. Kim seemed impatient. “We might lose him if we wait. Let’s just get him ourselves.” Woo-seok became nervous. Mr. Kim scoffed, “Are you scared? It’s three against one.” 

You bit your lip. “Shouldn’t we wait for Gi-hun? He could be dangerous.” You suggested, fully knowing they wouldn’t be able to wait that long.

Woo-seok didn’t seem entirely convinced. “It’s just… Something seems off with that guy…” 

Mr. Kim turned to face Woo-seok. “But what if we lose him? What if Seong doesn’t give us the money? It’s a billion won!” Mr. Kim sighed, “Don’t you trust me? I officiated your wedding! Besides, he’s got a baby, he won’t be able to take us all.”

Woo-seok nodded in agreement. You looked unsure as the two men prepared to chase after the salesman, who had just turned a corner.

“Come on, let’s go,” Mr. Kim gestured to you both to follow. You trailed behind the two men as they scampered down the alleyway. 

“Gi-hun told us to wait here!” You whisper-yelled, but the two were long gone. They turned the corner, and you heard them yelling, “Hey, you! Stop!”

Just as you turned the corner, you heard thumps and saw Mr. Kim get launched into a nearby pile of trash. Woo-seok went to help him but was clearly at a disadvantage as he struggled to pull out his pocket knife to defend himself. The salesman entered your view, easily disarming him before using his briefcase to knock both men out.

Once you were sure both men were unconscious, you stepped towards your husband, slowly clapping your hands in applause. He turned in your direction, a smirk forming on his lips.

“I told them to wait for Gi-hun, but they wouldn’t listen.” You shook your head, looking down at the unconscious men. “We can’t just leave them here…” You sighed, then turning to your husband, you raised your eyebrows. “I admit I thought Min-seok would slow you down, but clearly I was mistaken.”

Your husband rested his hands on your hips, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After breaking away, you walked over to the stroller to see your son fast asleep, completely unaware of the commotion that just took place.

Turning back to your husband, you saw him lift Mr. Kim’s body from the pile of trash. He gestured for you to enter the rundown building in front of you. You picked up his briefcase and started pushing the stroller towards the entrance. 

“We should get moving,” you said. “Gi-hun’s on his way.”

A cry shook you from your light snooze. 

You stood up from the armchair you were resting in to soothe your son. Picking him up from the stroller’s bassinet, you rocked him gently, but he continued to whine. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” You tried to nurse him but he refused to latch. Sighing, you realized that he probably just wanted his father. Ironically, the man who frightened most people was the most comforting person to your son. 

You left your room and started making your way down to the other end of the hallway where your husband and the two men were. 

Once outside the room, you heard muffled gasps and screams from behind the door. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok must have finally regained consciousness. 

Pressing Min-seok closer to your chest in an attempt to block out the sounds, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. There the two men were, bound and tied to two chairs facing each other. They had even been gagged with bone-shaped gags. Your husband and the two men turned to face you at the doorway. Mr. Kim and Woo-seok’s eyes widened in shock at seeing you, while your husband seemed puzzled, his eyes softening upon seeing his son.

“Mini needed his dad.” You passed the fussy baby to his father. You avoided eye contact with Mr. Kim and Woo-seok, ignoring their muffled complaints. Looking down at the table in front of you, you saw a revolver and 5 bullets lined in a row. Your breath hitched, your mind suddenly dizzy. It was only then that you realized what game was about to begin. A game that would surely result in death. 

“Min-seok-ah, what’s wrong?” Your husband brought his son up to stare into his eyes, a playful expression on his face. “Did you miss me? Did you miss appa?”

The baby erupted into a fit of giggles. For a split second, you could see a crack in your husband’s façade — a trace of the gentle, loving smile that was only reserved for you and your son.

Even though you knew that Mr. Kim and Woo-seok couldn’t escape their bounds, you suddenly became nervous. They now knew your husband’s weakness: his son. Although there was a slim chance they would leave this room alive, you didn’t want to take any chances.

“I’ll take him back now, he needs to eat.” You opened your arms to receive your son. Before passing him back, your husband kissed the top of your son’s head. He picked up the revolver from the table. Your heart dropped. Soon, Mr. Kim and Woo-seok would be dead. 

“Be gentle with them,” you whispered to your husband. “They’ve been good to me and Min-seok.” You kissed his cheek, knowing your words wouldn’t make a difference.

As you turned to leave, your husband sent a small wave towards your son, his smiling expression betraying the act he was about to commit. You closed the door and retreated to your room. 

You sat back on the armchair and unfastened the buttons of your shirt in preparation to nurse your son. Distantly, you heard classical music and grimaced. Your husband loved to put on a show.

As you fed Min-seok, you gazed down at him lovingly. His eyes were closed as he suckled, a peaceful look on his face. For a moment, all felt right in the world.

Bang!

You tensed at the sound of a gunshot, your grip on Min-seok tightening slightly. Even though the men were at the other end of the hallway, the muffled noise was loud enough to make you flinch. 

Unsurprisingly, Min-seok unlatched himself from your breast and started crying. You let out a heavy sigh, lifting him up to soothe him and rub soft circles on his back. You wished things didn’t have to be this way.

After Min-seok had settled down, you buttoned your shirt up and began organizing your things to leave for Gi-hun’s motel.

The door of the room opened and your husband entered, specks of blood staining his cheek and the collar of his white shirt.

“Ready?” He asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just killed a man.

You nodded, holding Min-seok in one arm and your purse in the other. Your husband helped you pack the stroller and Min-seok’s bag into the car. While your husband went back into the building, you settled Min-seok into his car seat and got in the driver’s seat. To your surprise, your husband returned with a blindfolded and bound Woo-seok, who looked as if he was unconscious. Your husband threw him in the trunk before getting in the back seat with Min-seok to hide. If you somehow passed Gi-hun on the road, he would be looking for your husband, not you.

“Did you get any new information?” You asked as you started the car, hands clutching the steering wheel. 

“We knew most of it already,” your husband replied, “It was quite the exciting game, however. Almost as exciting as the games we play at home.” You groaned. Of course, nothing got him going like the fear of others.

Once you arrived at the motel, you noticed it was starting to rain. You and your husband quickly unloaded Min-seok and Woo-seok from the car. Your husband broke the shabby lock and you all shuffled into the hotel through the back exit. 

Your husband dropped Woo-seok off in a random room while you and Min-seok settled into a room near the back exit.

It was a drafty old motel, with broken furniture and faded wallpaper. You found a table that seemed sturdy enough and placed the bassinet on it. Min-seok stared at you with his big, round eyes that reminded you so much of your husband. At this point, he was truly what kept you going. You lifted him up and began rocking him against your chest. 

“We’re almost done here.” You said more to yourself than to the baby. “Then, we can go somewhere safe and relax.”

Your husband soon entered the room and went to wrap his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest, careful not to crush Min-seok. He rested his head on top of yours.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you whispered, “I don’t think I can face Gi-hun. Now that Mr. Kim is dead, I...” You trailed off. 

Your husband lifted your chin to make you look into his eyes, which showed no trace of fear or remorse. “It had to be done,” he stated plainly. “Unfortunate, yes, but we have to follow the plan. I will deal with 456.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your breathing becoming uneven. “But that game…” Your voice shook. “P-please give him a fair chance. I can’t lose you, but at the same time…” You paused, taking a breath. “…He’s a good man. They all were.” Your eyes fell to rest on your son. “They treated us well.”

Your husband tutted, bringing his lips to graze your ear. “I thought you said you were cut out for this?” You stayed silent, unable to speak. 

Noticing your apprehension, he whispered, “No matter what happens, know that I love you.” You looked back up at his face, the specks of blood adding to your feelings of uneasiness. 

For the first time in years, you were afraid. Afraid for your husband, your future, and yes, somehow even for Gi-hun. 

Letting out a shaky sigh, you swallowed the lump in your throat. You had to trust in your husband’s confidence. He believed in you, so you should believe in him. If Gi-hun had to die, so be it.

“Go get ready. Gi-hun should be here soon,” you said, turning to fish something out of your purse. You handed your husband a yakult drink. 

“You haven’t had much today, right? Drink this before he gets here.” He nodded.

He took your son from you and whispered a few words to him before kissing the top of his head. After handing Min-seok back to you, he pulled you in for a kiss. Not as intense as they usually were, but one that reminded you of the man you fell in love with. 

He turned to leave, shooting you a soft smile before clicking the door shut. You let out a sigh before returning your attention to your son.

It was only a matter of time before Gi-hun arrived, and your lie would finally be revealed.

tags: @muchwita; @beebeechaos; @preppyfella; @buckitostan

also i didn't say this before but the way gong yoo says appa in the show gets me every time, so i just had to include it😔

[tremendously-crazy]

Hilson post canon storyline will always be this to me:

House and Wilson's road trip lasts like a week or two. After that, Wilson has an epiphany in the middle of the night in some crummy hotel that he WANTS to live. 5 months isn't enough time to spend with his best friend, doing stupid stuff together and having fun. It's his own choice, and he realizes that he's willing to be in pain for House. (And maybe he also realizes he's gay and he doesn't want to be in denial anymore yada yada)

Wilson changes his mind (again) and the very next day decides to start treatment. House supports him completely and is both relieved and terrified. It's painful, it's scary, it's everything Wilson worried about, but House stays by his side unwaveringly the entire time. He's an honest, grounding force. After a year or two or three, Wilson finally declared cancer free, with House right alongside him ringing that bell.

House and Wilson don't "settle down" for the first few years after he gets better. they keep living their life the same way, traveling the country together and living life to the fullest, making up for all the time they lost during Wilson's treatment, and enjoying the time they've been given. Maybe one day, when they're both tired of life on the road, they buy a house together (Wilson buys the house because House is legally dead). They don't get married (that's against House's entire belief system), but all their neighbors assume they are. House somehow changes his identity and is known on all important and unimportant paperwork as "Steve McQueen."

Maybe they'll adopt a kid (a daughter because come on House and Wilson are girl dads) or get a dog, or maybe they'll just enjoy being together. Maybe Wilson and House will even find a way to reconcile with Cuddy.

And then, at some point in the now present (2024-2025 ish), they get a knock on the door. It's Foreman, who knew House was alive all along and tracked him down. There's a grave situation going on at PPTH, and he's run out of all options. He needs House to figure it out. House, at first, declines but eventually decides to help with Wilson's blessing. Boom. that's how you start the 9th season of House.

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons

As much as dear Lucy and reader enjoyed themselves in this headcanon post, I can't help but imagine such activities might lead to Charlie become a big sister, so I put some headcanons together for such a situation. I know that Sinners can't get pregnant as canon currently stands, so I typically employ either the Rules of Fanfic or I imagine reader is a living human that ended up in Hell through magic shenanigans (will elaborate with a prompt post once I've got the spoons), though of course you're free to imagine them as Hellborn or whatever suits your fancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He's insistent you see the Royal Physician as soon as you start experiencing symptoms, but he's not at all prepared for the diagnosis you bring back, and he might need you to repeat it a few dozen times. You're pregnant? With a baby? And it's his? He put a baby in you? You're going to have his baby? An actual baby? He's going to be a dad again?! So goes the conversation for a good ten or so minutes, and suffice to say he's far from calm once the news finally does sink in. Given that the two of you had assumed that an angel and a mortal couldn't reproduce, this is more than an unexpected surprise, and Lucifer knows all too well how much of a fuss this will create from Hell's lowest ring all the way up to Heaven. That's to say nothing of how Charlie might take the news...

- Once the initial panic fades, after a solid hour or so, he gathers himself and focuses on setting a course of action. A very important decision needs to be made. He says it's up to you, but upon being asked what he'd like to do, the King of Hell surprises himself and answers without hesitation that he'd love to have this baby with you. He's surprised because he knows better than anyone that it will be challenging, but he can't deny how much he wants it regardless. Having Charlie was the greatest thing he'd ever done, and the thought of another little bundle makes his heart swell in ways he can barely describe, but ultimately he'll support whatever decision you make. Carrying a half-Archangel is no easy feat... Hearing that you want the same and intend to carry through is enough to make him lift you clear off the ground in a spinning airborne embrace, wings fluttering like a hummingbird as he breaks out into a celebratory musical number or two. He can't wait to be a dad all over again!

- If you thought he pampered you before, you were wrong. He doubles the amount of servants at your call, ensures there's always a physician available at a moment's notice, and hires a full team of chefs to cook whatever you might crave at any hour of the day. From beginning to end, he doesn't want you to want for anything, and the man knows a thing or two about spoiling, and he goes all out to ensure you're surrounded by comfort at all times. That's to say nothing of his own personal dedication to more or less worshiping your existence. Even the tiniest indication of pain or discomfort has him leaping to your assistance. Backrub? Footrub? Full body massage? You name it, he's quite happy to provide. If it wasn't such a cliche he'd be rather happy to feed you grapes from a golden platter. His efforts are borne from the deep sense of pride he feels every time he looks at you and thinks of how incredible it is that he's with you, that you're carrying his child, and that the two of you are bringing something quite wonderful and unique into existence. Said pride fully extends to the public view, where he doesn't hesitate to show you off and humbly brag to anyone that will listen about the news.

- You'll also find that as protective as he was before, he doesn't even hesitate to get his fangs out now, not that many in Hell are stupid enough to mess with the King's beloved. He expects you to be treated with the highest levels of respect, and if he can't accompany you somewhere, he'll insist on an armed escort to keep you safe. This fear isn't completely unfounded, as there are some willing to risk everything for an upper hand on Lucifer, but he's got ample experience keeping the opportunists at bay. He did the same when Lilith was expecting Charlie.

- Speaking of Charlie, the only thing that gives him any kind of hesitation is his fear that she might take the news poorly. Though she took your relationship well, what if she isn't thrilled about a younger sibling? With their relationship so recently repaired, he fears she might worry about being replaced or pushed aside, and he doesn't know how to reassure her that nothing will ever make him love her less. Thankfully, with her boundless kindness and eternally upbeat personality, the Princess of Hell puts his worries to rest as soon as she gets the news. In fact, she reacts much the same way her father did; a massive hug and a delighted musical number, albeit with far more happy sobbing. She promises through tears that she'll be the best big sister Hell has ever seen, and that she simply can't wait.

[gothgoblinbabe]

Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You

(chapter 1/2)

(Logan Howlett x fem reader)

A/N: Yeah, the brain rot has reached a maximum and I've completely disregarded the consequences of a digital footprint! there's a couple descriptions of style of clothing/jewelry but you can imagine that as you please, also absolutely based off of "Babe Im Gonna Leave You" by Led Zeppelin bc idk somewhere in my delusions I think Logans a Zeppelin kinda guy and its what I've been listening to. For the sake of the plot, stick with me, you've got an imaginary ex bf and his random name I picked is gonna be Danny and he suuuucks real hard okay? okay and I need you to pretend dear lovely reader that you like led zeppelin if you don't 💔[holding your face ever so gently and smooching ur forehead] and I've seen only xmen origins, x-men, X2, and Deadpool x wolverine so pls pls forgive me if some stuff doesn't canonically fit. This is kind of cringe but I wrote too much of it to get rid of it just bare with me I beg of u and it was so long I had to split it into two parts

Summary: Meeting the infamous Wolverine got you roped into a liiiitle more than what you bargained for

Warnings: swearing, you have telekinesis and telepathy (cause that's cool, c'mon), mild angst, suggestive stuff kinda, mentions of cheating (Logan does not cheat on u I pinkie promise), Logan calls you kid but you're not actually a child lol, you're a good bit younger than him but also so is anyone else who isn't borderline immortal

Word Count: 4K

Pt 2!

[credit for text post dividers here and here]

There had been muttering here and there between the students at the academy that Wolverine was coming back after a few years on his own, confirmed when Marie recognized the motorcycle now parked in the driveway of the mansion.

"Logan!"

He was immediately wrapped into a hug by Marie at the door, dropping his bags to the floor.

"Hey, kid, miss me?"

"Maybe," she smiled sweetly, tucking the white strands of hair behind her ears.

"Long time no see, huh?" Ororo's voice interrupted from behind her, earning a hug from Logan.

"Any one else around?" he questioned, hoisting his bag up over his shoulder again.

"Scott and Jean are around here somewhere, Charles as well. Oh, and there's a couple new faces you haven't met," she responded, smiling at the way Marie's eyes lit up at the chance to mention what she had been meaning to tell Logan.

Marie gasped and said your name, grabbing Logan's arm in excitement, "you have got to meet her. She joined us a couple of months ago, I think you'll really like her. She's kind of been like...our you, when you've been gone."

He quirked an eyebrow at that, looking between the both of them for an explanation as to what that was supposed to mean.

"You'll see," Ororo chuckled lightly, "oh, you will see."

"She's here now, I think, you should go introduce yourself to her!"

Logan had swiftly caught onto Marie's adorable attempt to play cupid and gave her a nod, "maybe when I settle in, okay, kid?"

She nodded in agreement and both her and Ororo watched him walk off further down the corridor.

"How do you think it will go when they meet?" the later of the two asked earnestly once he was out of sight.

"Well," Marie paused for a moment, thinking, "they'll be inseparable or absolutely hate each other."

Ororo nodded in agreement almost immediately, holding in a small laugh.

Much later in the evening, Logan had been beckoned into the study along with Ororo, Marie, Bobby, you, Jean and Scott by Charles.

He had been the last to enter, eyes immediately settling on your unfamiliar frame stood next to Marie with your back against the wall. You had plenty of rings adorning your fingers and necklaces dangling in front of your chest in the same kind of fashion he'd seen in those magazines with the Harley biker girls. You looked a little like one of them too, in well fitting jeans adorned with a belt, a band shirt and some chunky boots, except you were very much real and not on glossy paper.

"Oh! Logan!" Marie exclaimed upon noticing his arrival, beckoning him over with her hand. That turned your attention to him and he felt like the wind may have been knocked out of him when your eyes met his. You were far prettier than any of the girls he'd seen in any magazine.

"This is her," Marie whispered to Logan when he approached and nudged his arm, referring to when she had told him about you earlier.

"This is Logan," Marie said to you, gesturing towards him and leaning a little closer to you to whisper something he wouldn't catch, "and he's single, by the way."

A grin was plastered on her face when she pulled away and you rolled your eyes, "Marie - "

"I know, I know, too soon, but I just thought that was very good information for you to know," she raised her hands and stepped away a little, still intent on watching how the two of you interact for the first time.

Logan extended a hand for you to shake and you did the same. Your hands were small in his and your skin soft to the touch. It was almost hard for him to drop your grip when he did, nervous that he'd hold it even a second too long.

Nervous. Women had rarely ever made him nervous in the hundred - something years he'd been alive, and yet he could feel his heart pounding in his ears when you ran your hands through your hair to push it out of your face.

"Nice to meet you," he finally spoke, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

This may have been a good opportunity to try out your powers a little, concentrate hard enough on the handsome stranger's face to know what exactly was playing out behind his staring gaze, but you resisted the urge to do what you considered a tad bit violating.

"Same here," you responded at last, averting your gaze for just a moment to avoid inadvertently doing exactly what you had just decided you wouldn't.

Marie and Ororo had studied the small interaction between the two of you - of course - waiting for something more to happen, only to be disappointed when the both of you nodded courtly and turned away from each other.

"Well, that's not good. He'd be on her like a dog already - " Ororo started under her breath.

"No, no, I just think..." Marie interrupted, narrowing her eyes between the two of you, "I think they just need to get to know each other."

"Honey..."

"I'm telling you, I just feel like they'd be good together, they just need a chance to get to know each other!"

"Do you really think she's ready to get with another guy?" Ororo nodded her head in your direction, lowering her voice, "after all that stuff Danny pulled?"

Marie grimaced at the mention of one of the professors names, shaking her head in mild disgust, "have you seen him lately? always coming up to her in the halls and stuff, it's sad - for him, I mean."

Before either of them could further debate the topic, Charles gained everyone's attention to discuss a series of tasks he'd assigned to you all. As he spoke, you only tuned in once you heard your name.

"You are the one I'd like to send out to complete that with Daniel."

"Could, uh, can I do it with someone else? or have him do it alone, or something?"

Logan caught the confused look Jean shot your way, tilting her head before she spoke, "You don't want to go with Danny? What happened, I thought the two of you -"

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, scowling, "uh-uh. Hell no. He...uh, I'll tell you about it later."

You had realized the sudden vulnerability you'd found yourself experiencing in a room full of eyes on you and cleared your throat, attempting to change the subject.

"I can hang back and keep an eye on the kids, I don't mind."

"They do love you," Ororo chimed in, "and we need someone to stay back to watch them anyway."

"They only like her so much because she allows them to break the rules," Scott remarked, earning a nudge in the arm from Jean.

You sighed, rolling your eyes, "Scott, the thing with the kids in your room was one time and it was an accident - "

"Was it? Because one of them wrote 'asshole' on my bathroom mirror with sharpie."

"They're kids, they do that kind of stuff!"

"was that really one of the kids?"

You tucked your lower lip under your teeth in an attempt to smother a laugh. Logan almost immediately did the same when you darted your eyes around the room in a guilty attempt to avoid eye contact.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me - " Scott started but Charles interrupted, holding up a hand.

"Alright, the both of you - enough. You," he continued, gesturing towards you, "may stay back with the children. Please do not allow them into anyone's personal quarters and I would advise you to hide the permanent markers for the time being, away from the children and perhaps yourself."

You nodded and hung your head low to hide the reappearing smile across your face. Logan stared inadvertently from then on, watching you twist your rings around your fingers and focusing on you intently when you spoke every now and then. When you were all dismissed by Charles and filed out of the room, you and Marie walked ahead of most of the group, almost out of ear shot.

Logan heard Jean's hushed voice behind him as she leaned into Scott, "so...what do you think happened? With Danny?"

"Who the hell is this Danny guy?" he finally asked, turning over his shoulder to interrogate the two of them.

"Well," Jean whispered your name, looking ahead to be sure you hadn't caught their conversation, "it's her boyfriend. Or was, I guess. They had a thing for awhile but they stopped hanging around each other all the sudden and she can't even stand to hear his name - she hasn't told me what it's about yet."

Logan simply hummed in acknowledgment, turning back ahead and finding his gaze caught on the sway of your hips as you walked.

"Oh no," he heard Ororo huff beside him, almost immediately following her gaze to see a guy he didn't recognize slip behind you and put an arm around your waist. Too far out of ear shot to hear the context, he watched you squirm out of the young mans grip and shake your head as you kept walking.

"Is it bad I want to get closer to hear what they're saying?" Ororo muttered, looking to the other three in her proximity.

"It's not our business," Jean reminded her.

"So, that's him?" Logan asked, gesturing to the guy still on your heels like a puppy.

"uh - huh," Ororo answered, frowning as she watched Danny make another pathetic attempt to put his arm around you.

When the two of you stopped at the far end of the hall and you told Marie it was okay to leave you, Logan, Ororo, Scott and Jean all turned the corner to the closest hallway.

"Oh, I know It's bad but I have got to know what lame excuse he's got this time," Ororo shook her head, stopping just around the corner to eavesdrop.

"Ororo - " Jean sighed, placing a gentle hand on her friend's arm, "come on."

"They're in the hallway! it's not like I'm standing outside a door," she reasoned, hushing them after so that the only voices hard were yours and Danny's.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm sorry - "

"Danny, many times do I have to tell you I don't care? Why won't you just leave me be?"

You sounded exasperated, your voice slightly muffled when you rubbed your face with your hands.

"What do you think he did?" Scott chimed in in a hushed town, now fully invested in the dialogue.

Logan was still stood there, though he wasn't too sure why. He could have and should have kept walking - let the three of them do their weird detective work - but instead found himself leaned against the wall with the rest of them.

"I love you, you know that, sweetheart, I - "

"ugh, don't call me that. You gross me the hell out, you know that?"

Both Jean and Ororo made almost the same shocked expression.

"oh, it has to be bad," Jean hissed, frowning at the venom in your tone.

"Tell me you're not still in love with me, you know you can't, we - " Danny's voice began again and yours cut him short with a sense of finality in your tone.

"Danny. I stopped being in love with you the day I walked in on you fucking another other girl."

Jean's hands flew to her mouth to muffle a shocked gasp. Scott stood with his arms crossed, his face in a grimace.

"ooh, that is bad," Ororo whispered just as a door slammed.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, following everyone else as they continued their path down the hall again. This Danny kid had to be a real idiot.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄ * ⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Weeks had passed and you shared small talk with Logan every now and then, sometimes making snarky comments here and there - though more often than not together and at Scott's expense. Funnily enough, the ability to piss Scott off so much made Logan like you even more. Maybe Marie was right, you kind of are like him.

You walked alongside him down the corridor one afternoon, intending to fulfill Ororo's request for the both of you to check in on some of the newer students.

"So, do you always do your hair like that?" you raised your eyebrows up at him, eyeing the peaks in his hair.

"Yeah. What, you don't like it?" He grinned, expecting you to make some smart remark about it.

"No, not that," you giggled, "it's like lil' cat ears, it's cute."

He looked down at you quizzically, stopping in his tracks.

"cat ears?"

"mm-hm. You're like a big kitty."

You bit down another giggle, reaching up boldly to touch his hair.

He gently swatted your hand away, still with a small grin on his face.

"Don't call me that."

"Big kitty?"

"Yes."

"Okay, kitty meow - meow."

He narrowed his eyes as you turned to continue walking in an attempt to hide the huge smile plastered on your cheeks that threatened to transform into a rather loud laugh.

"Uh-huh, whatever. You better not let anyone else hear you call me that," he huffed as he caught up to you rather easily.

As you were about to make another retort, your smile dropped at the sight of a familiar and unfriendly face that had come from around a corner.

"Christ," you squeezed your eyes shut in frustration, rubbing your forehead at the sight of your ex-boyfriend.

"Hey," Logan leaned down a little, nudging you gently, "I'm here, you're good. You're fine, don't worry about him. It's just us, alright? Walk past him like you don't even see him."

Though he'd be embarrassed to admit and absolutely deny it if anyone asked, he'd unfortunately (for himself) harbored a crush on you that only took a couple weeks to develop. He hadn't even really gotten the chance to know you yet, though that was precisely why he was glad about moments like these. He wanted to, even if he felt like a school kid with a playground crush.

You had simply nodded at his words, allowing him to place a gentle hand on your upper back to guide you down the hall with him. Even through the layer of a jacket and t-shirt, you could feel the warmth of his hand on you.

Logan remembered that moment in the hall on the first day you'd met, but never pestered you for details about what the hell went on before he got back. He figured when and if you wanted to tell him, that was up to you.

Keeping your eyes straight ahead, it took what felt like years to pass your ex-boyfriend. When you finally did, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, until his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"That's my shirt."

You whipped your head around, feeling Logan slip his arm a little further around you as a protective reflex.

"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows, looking down at your attire. The shirt, a tad oversized and well worn, was so familiar that you had completely forgotten it once did belong to him.

"I want it back," he spoke again, crossing his arms.

"Do you really want it back?"

You were beyond fed up with his pestering at this point, already having decided what may make the message clear.

"Yes."

"Okay. Fine."

You pulled away from Logan and slipped off your jacket, turning around to hand it to him. He gave you a confused look, hesitantly taking it out of your hands. In a matter of seconds, you turned back around and tugged the t-shirt up and over your head, tossing it directly at Danny's chest. You turned back and took your jacket from Logan's hands, zipping it far enough to cover your bra. In the few seconds you had stood facing him, he had done his best to keep his eyes away from your body and failed miserably, looking up after to see the asshole a few feet away already glaring at him.

"What, you're just gonna walk around like that? And what are you doing hanging out with him anyway, don't you know he - "

You groaned at the sound of Danny's voice again, gently tugging Logan by the hand in the opposite direction as you began to walk away, "yap, yap, yap - just shut the fuck up."

Logan couldn't help the smirk plastered across his face as you continued to walk, finally turning a corner. Before you could apologize to him for having to awkwardly stand witness to that, Scott's voice echoed from the stairway above you.

"Hey, Charles is looking for you two. He says he has something he needs you to take care of, he didn't say what."

"Thanks for the specifics, Scott," you replied sarcastically, "but we're supposed to check on - "

"I know," he interrupted, "I got Marie and Bobby to cover you. You're welcome, by the way."

You rolled your eyes and looked back to Logan, dreading what exactly it was Charles wanted from you.

That landed you where you were the next morning, heaving your bags into the back of Logan's truck.

"If we have to take the truck like two states over, can I at least drive?"

The plane being needed for another assignment that Jean, Scott and Ororo were assigned left the two of you with Logan's truck. You'd been asked to retrieve a rare mechanical piece needed for the construction of some new device; you'd only been half-listening when Charles started to explain the details, lost in thought after he'd mentioned it would require the two of you to sleep out overnight.

Man, that had made your chest feel tight. It had been almost physically painful trying to swallow down every tell that you really liked him for the past few weeks and now you had no choice than to be each others only company for nearly 2 days.

"Yeah, in your dreams, kid," Logan scoffed playfully and brought you back to reality, dangling the keys in his hand.

You narrowed your eyes at the keyring he began to spin around his finger. In a split second, the jangle of the metal could be heard as you snatched them from his hand with only a focused thought.

You caught them in your raised palm and tilted your head, a terribly smug smile across your cheeks.

"Looks like my dreams came true, huh?" you teased, walking past a still mildly distraught Logan to get into the drivers side.

"If you dent it, I'll kill ya," he warned as he finally slid into the passenger seat, watching your every move as you started the engine and carefully reversed out of the garage.

"Uh-huh, sure," you retorted sarcastically, "I'm terrified of the kitty claws."

"What did I say about calling me that?"

"Calling you what?" you feigned ignorance, fumbling with the knob on the stereo to change the station as your eyes stayed glued to the road.

"And don't mess with everything, kid, you'll end up breaking something. She's on old girl, you gotta - "

"Dude," you interrupted, simultaneously cranking down your window and fishing a pair of sunglasses out of his center console, "I know how to drive, chill out."

"Dude," he mocked, "this truck is probably almost as old as you, you gotta be careful."

You rolled your eyes under the shades of the worn aviators you had slipped onto your nose, simply nodding and continuing to flip through stations.

"Pick one and stick with it, will you?"

"Ooh, is someone mad I got the keys?"

Before he could say something in response, you gasped at sound of the song playing on the station you had just switched to, twisting the knob almost as far as it could go.

Logan recognized the familiar thump of "babe I'm gonna leave you" by Led Zeppelin, furrowing his eyebrows when you began to nod your head and sing along.

"You like Led Zeppelin?" he nearly had to shout over the music, leaning in to you a little further.

"Yeah," you responded, reaching over to turn the music down just enough for you to hear each other and glancing at him momentarily, "How come you're looking at me like that?"

He unfurrowed his eyebrows and shrugged, keeping his gaze on the road ahead as he spoke, " just never pegged you for a Zeppelin kind of girl, I guess."

"No? What's that supposed to mean?"

You were smiling again and it was excruciatingly difficult for him not to stare when you looked so good in the spot he usually sat with his old sunglasses on.

"Didn't think you had good taste in music."

That made you giggle and you shook your head, turning the stereo back up to a booming volume.

He watched you tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the drums as you continued to drive, occasionally moving to push your windswept hair out of your face. The morning sun shining through your open window highlighted your features perfectly and Logan sighed without a thought, unheard over the music. Jesus, he had it bad.

You could feel his stare in your peripheral vision every time he looked to you and it felt far warmer than the sun beating down on you from the opposite direction. You truly rarely ever used your developing skill of telepathy, feeling it was only justified when absolutely necessary to obtain information, but his burning gaze nearly had you veering off the road at times and his prior answer to the question of why he was looking at you that way wasn't too convincing.

With a deep breath, already wondering if it was a mistake, you kept your eyes focused to the road but gradually concentrated on the man beside you. Sometimes people's thoughts would appear as inner dialogue, other times as imagined scenarios, daydreams or visuals. You were confused, then, when you only saw an image of yourself as you were now. If you concentrated too hard, your own thoughts would transfer to Logan's mind and it would be humiliatingly obvious that you had been poking around in his consciousness and so you tried to clear your mind and try again, assuming your own mind was too preoccupied with yourself to concentrate properly.

Still, you could only see the image of yourself driving from the perspective of the passengers seat, one hand on the wheel and the other in your hair as you propped your elbow on the door. This time, though, you could hear the accompanying echo of Logan's voice over the hum of the music you had tuned out.

Is her hair always like that? I like it that way. Pretty.

You swallowed hard, fidgeting with the hair that was between your fingers. It's a compliment - innocent enough, and undeniably kind of sweet. You felt guilty then for probing his thoughts and nearly shook yourself out of it, only to realize the image in Logan's mind was no longer of just your profile. He was thinking about your legs, thighs squished against the seat of the truck.

Fuck

You nearly choked on your own saliva, clearing your throat at the echo of his voice again and immediately withdrawing yourself from his mind.

"You okay?" Logan spoke aloud, putting a gentle hand on your upper arm.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you lied, trying with every fiber of your being to just keep all focus on the road. You knew you shouldn't have done that. It was just a thought, though, nothing said aloud to change anything between the two of you, and so you pretended the best you could that you hadn't heard or seen a thing.

About eight hours, a handful of dad rock albums and a stop to switch seats later, you finally pulled into the parking lot of the nearest motel you had found didn't have a highlighted "no vacancy" sign.

"If there's fucking bed bugs in here, I will never let you hear the end of it," you warned from the passenger seat.

"I think you'd talk my ear off till the day I die anyway," he scoffed, shifting the truck into park and pulling the keys from the ignition.

"You won't die for another hundred-something years."

"Exactly my point, honey."

You rolled your eyes and slipped out of the truck as he did, pretending the nickname hadn't made your face burn. You both grabbed your belongings and once inside you looked around the small lobby as Logan checked you in, impressed with how surprisingly clean the place seemed to be.

"Hey, is that okay?"

Logan's voice took your attention from the painting on the wall you'd been inspecting and you raised your eyebrows.

"Huh?

"Uh, there's a room left but it's only got one bed."

Your face dropped and you looked between him and the poor kid behind the counter who already looked nervous as all hell.

"You're kidding."

"We can keep driving, but we've already been on the road all day and I don't think there's another place around here for a good few miles."

He was much more calm than you expected him to be and you exhaled, thinking of the literal pain in the ass caused by sitting in the car for so many hours.

"Ugh, fine."

A/N: I had to split this in two because it was so long but If anyone likes this at all I will post da other part cause I like spewing my brain rot on the internet <3

[pezinvests]

clinical trial spoilers because there is somewhat of a following now here on tumblr and i want to make my mark. long opinion post. if you're reading through the tag and haven't played, please play the game to the end first i beg of you

so obsessed with how limited our true knowledge is of lee. for what we all know lee has done this kind of thing before and how he just might be more dangerous than he seems. a man in his 20s who got his nursing license during the bush administration (2007-2008ish), ex-mormon/ex-christian/ex-catholic with a slightly strange upbringing and carries himself so seriously and does things so meticulously.

in the bedroom scene he says he just moved out a year ago into a house full of hand-me-downs and old stuff he has kept forever, followed with him saying "a lot of stuff in my life doesn't make sense."

man. that is by far the most vague yet perhaps suspicious thing you could say if you were in his shoes. of course, some have speculated this is just him having some form of autism (in which i welcome this theory and would make sense), but i do think he has just done this type of thing before.

of course, he has fantasized about dying in those hidden walls and has dreamt of studying heavily on orthopedia and pursuing this as his career path, this is canon. maybe in general has studied these kinds of ideas of murder, torture, etc. that relates to it as well.

however he was covering up everything so well by driving brandon's car in a lake. (and hopefully covering whatever tracks he made after driving into the ditch like footprints and maybe tiretracks of his own car to leave the scene??? he seemed to have thought so far ahead to bury his body anyway in there because no one will come looking so. there's also that animation from the dev themselves on twitter that show how angel & lee disposed of brandon. my god. it's so meticulous and careful)

he was also quick thinking on his feet getting a signal jammer to block angel's cellphone from pinging nearby towers. he was only so lucky that their phone died on the way to his house and probably was able to set up the cell jammer before he brought in groceries.

or worse yet, he already had a signal jammer with him. like he just had one already and he set that up really fast before he could even get a charger for angel. lee never mentioned the full circumstances of him having it and when he set it up. he just said he was lucky that angel's phone died on the way there. him being so vague as well as the game not telling us much on that front really sells it.

i get that we don't really see angel's day-to-day life outside of the clinic either (minus the home scenes where you see their art posts and texts on their phone) + it's an RPGMAKER game, can't be that detailed, so we don't usually see what happens in between those times anyway (masterful story technique i must say). but it really leans into the idea that whatever lee says, we really just have to take his word for it now especially with the amount of things he tried to hide.

looking at the bigger picture, yes, lee's actions are inexcusable and disgusting, who would trust someone like this afterwards? and that really rings true throughout the entire game's story. angel giving lee a third chance really is an act of mercy from a god. hell, them walking away on ending 1 was also merciful, especially at their expense if the authorities don't believe angel as to what happened.

so uhh. main takeaway? i love the way lee was written. i'm so glad homie went full send on his character being a little bit of a pathetic creep (lmao the cum-stained jacket being fully written in, really sold it for me) and on purpose him being very vague about his true nature. it plays on the idea that "when someone says who they are, believe them". we have the same amount of info angel has as the player and through it all? we just have to take lee's word for everything.

[thelien-art]

Melkor, Manwë & Varda; Most Powerful of the Valar 

Might also be my favorite Valar just need to add Nienna too design HC below↓

Melkor: This is obviously post Silmaril heist as he is already burnt and has white hair, which I HC him getting after fleeing Valinor, as he is said he took a foul form before being trapped in his body, yet when meeting the Edain, he has a fair form, which I explain by the importance of colour.

Colour is important for our welfare as it influences our moods, stimulates our brains, and decides how we experience the world, I find it exciting for Melkor, as a manipulator, to use colour to manipulate, which especially is seen in Angband, and also use it on his body, so when he gets stuck in a physical body, I interpret that as him being unable to fully shed a body, unable to roam simply as a power, and getting his crayons ability to use colour taken from him as punishment, so when the Ainur says he is trapped in a body, all elvers just assume that they mean only one body, and when asking into it the Ainur more or less confirm this as they have problems seeing the difference between being stuck in a body you can change, and being stuck in a body you CAN´T change.

And as always I like to think Melkor created a lot of pressure metal/gemstones, and as is canon in Morgoth´s ring, gold holds the biggest part of him after he poured himself into the world, so gold he shall be clad in😌

Manwë: I take great inspiration from the wedge-tailed and Golden eagle, as well as biblical angels, and peacocks for his clothes. I like the idea of his hair being a part of the sky, just like with Varda giving the "Lords of all Wind" a different sweet respect. He and Melkor, when first making bodies, took forms that looked alike, which he kept, so he looked closest to what Melkor looked like before his downfall.

I give him bronze as it has a warmer told, and I while I don´t doubt he can be cold, I always read him as someone who´s trying to cater to everyone even if it doesn't always go like he wants it to.

Varda: Rearely do I think she goes down to the Eldar, which also means she has a tendency to blend the light of the stars into her body a bit more than what might be safe for those who are not of the Ainur, making her almost transparent with inner light at times, and although she quickly corrects it when she accidentally does it the Eldar says that the reason it hurts looking at her is because of her beauty, much to her own amusement. And then, of course, the underside of her hair is the same night sky you can see closest to the door of night and the gates of morning where it is at its clearest.

I give Varda silver as that was one of the things Melkor couldn´t put his power in, including water, and a little headcanon of mine is she might have had a hand in the star metal being untainted...

Support me on Ko-Fi - get early access drawings + WIPs

[taeaura]

Thomas {Hewitt}'s Interests

From a gal who's hyper fixating on this franchise

So..I'd like to preface this by saying I do not live nor have ever lived in the Deep South or Midwest. BUT, I do visit the midwest often - which doesn't mean much but give me grace 😭🙏

____

Bone Collecting

I used to collect bones when I'd visit my grandparents up in the mountains - It was fun. I feel like he'd do the same {given his 'role'}. We already know he collects ears, teeth, eyeballs, even heads - and most definitely skin; So why not bones? He probably collected bones when he was younger - Maybe with Henrietta, if they happened to be close.

I like to imagine he has a box or shelf full of his 'collections'; He's got a whole museum in there I guarantee it. Some bugs, bones, bone fragments, hides, teeth, claws, rocks n' geodes, all sorts of naturally-occurring treasures.

General Foraging

In TCM 2003, Thomas is seen wearing rings which I doubt are his {though, they fit him pretty well}. He probably stole them from a victim - And he most definitely kept that engagement ring from Kemper. He'll take clothes, jewelry, books, photographs, toys, drawing utensils, wildflowers, bugs, abandoned artifacts, anything he likes really. He'd go HAM in a thrift shop, trust. I've been to thrift shops in the midwest - They are gold; Lots of old pictures, some racist things {which I do NOT thing are gold}, old jewelry, lots of gemstones, bones, license plates, clothes {obviously}, letters, toys, paintings / posters, vinyls, CDs, furniture, old guns, bullet shells, all kinds of forgotten treasures. I think Tommy would like it if the store was empty..

Sewing

This one's obvious - Thomas uses sewing as a form of catharsis; A way to transform himself just as he transforms the scraps of leather. We see his sewing machine in his room, along with mannequins and mannequin heads; Indicating sewing is something he does often. I doubt he only makes mask - Maybe casings, potential jewelry; He'd definitely make something for his partner or a close friend..not so much the family considering they aren't..the most grateful or encouraging.

His {The Family's} Animals

Despite his busy schedule, I'm sure Thomas likes to spend time with the animals on the Hewitt property. The canon animals {that we've seen so far} include Monty's dog {unnamed canonically}, three pigs, and a few chickens. Now, I know there's gonna be a crowd that spews "But Thomas worked in a slaughterhouse!! He wouldn't take kindly to animals!1!1!1!!" Just because I eat meat doesn't mean I don't adore animals - The meat I eat is from a dead animal. I'm quite literally eating its cooked carcass. Thomas is doing the same - Only he's doing the dirty work firsthand.

I don't know how connected he'd be to Monty's dog - considering that dog is with Monty all. the. time. - But he'd be really connected to the 'livestock'. The pigs don't seem too old - not piglets per se but not fully grown either. I assume Thomas or Luda Mae collect the eggs, meaning Thomas sees the animals quite a lot. He doesn't seem like the type to show too much physical {or verbal} affection - But his primary executions are through observation and care. {I headcanon his love languages as acts of service and quality time; Though he appreciates receiving words of affirmation.} He keeps the animals clean, well-fed, and healthy; Whilst occasionally spending time with them outside his daily chores.

Music

Okay, so ! I've been contemplating Thomas' music taste for a bit now, {previously posted about it} and I have a few inklings I'll try to share:

I've seen many people headcanon Thomas as a 'Kernel' {unofficial name for a Korn fan}; And while I love Korn myself, I don't see Thomas in the same light. Maybe he'd like some of their songs, but I envision him as an occasional nu-metal listener. Type O Negative reminds me of Tommy a lot - Don't know why. I don't think he'd listen to them a TON - But more often than Korn, maybe. If we look back to TCM 2003 from 37:10 to 37:20, Thomas plays something of the metal / rock genre. More heavy-metal than anything in MY opinion. Let's forget about timelines for a minute whilst we walk through this.

I previously stated that Thomas would potentially like bands such as Mortician, Alice In Chains, maybe SoundGarden, Metallica, Black Sabbath?, Pantera, Cannibal Corpse, Megadeth - Bands similar to these as well. This might be controversial but I don't think Thomas would mind country music. Hell, I think he'd listen to some Johnny Cash or The Highwaymen if it came on - Some classic, soulful country. It's not like his momma blasts it or anything...

Continuing on the family note; Skynyrd. That's all I have to say.

In all actuality; I'm sure Hoyt's music taste rubs off on Thomas a bit - I'm sure Thomas prefers metal, but he'll listen to rock just the same. Maybe a little Elvis, Skynyrd, AC/DC here and there; He's not too fussy.

____

Anway, ramble ramble, yappa yappa; This has gone on long enough - But I'd happily make more if the people want it {😈🙏}

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Take care 🫀

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hi Jonny, if you don't mind I have a question about the TMA TTRPG! So I noticed that on the player's guide there's this guy, who my friends and I assumed is probably Jon. If it is him, is this a canon design, or more like some of the non-canon stuff that's in the merch?

So, I hope you don't mind if i use this ask to go a bit off on one. I'm not specifically dragging you (I'm actualy glad you asked, as I've thinking about posting on the topic), but all the discussion around the RPG art and how "official" or "canon" it might be is, to my mind, slightly silly.

First up, is it "official" art? I mean, yeah, its art for the officially licenced Magnus Archives RPG. This means Monte Cook Games have commissioned someone to do a beatiful illustration broadly based on some aspect, episode or character from the podcast and it goes in the book. But that's kinda all it means. "Official" is a legal distinction, not an artistic one. The fact that it's in an official product doesn't make it any less one artist's cool interpretation of a character that has only been vaguely described in audio.

Second, is it Jonathan Sims the Archivist? I mean, it's probably based on the idea of him, but it's certainly not set in stone. When we were first discussing art with MCG, we advised that character pictures be more vibes-based and not explicitly tied to specific people (ie. a portrait inspired by Tim wouldn't be captioned "This is Tim" and wouldn't be placed opposite a profile for Tim Stoker, archival assistant.) This was mainly because we wanted the artists to have plenty of freedom to interpret and not feel too tied down by the need to know everything about the podcast. But, to be frank, it was also because we know that there are a few fans out there that are kinda Not Chill about what they've personally decided these characters look like and can get a bit defensive over depictions that differ.

It strikes me as particularly strange to be having this discussion about art that's for a roleplying game book. Something that's explicitly and solely designed to give you the ability to play in your version of the Magnus universe. The idea that this is the thing where we'd for some reason try to immutably establish unchangable appearances for these characters would be pretty funny if some folks weren't taking it so seriously. Similarly ridiculous is the idea we could reasonably have said to MCG "We'd love for you to make a huge beautiful RPG book of our setting... Just make sure you don't depict any of the iconic characters or events from it!"

But... is it "canon"? Now, to my mind, this highlights a real weakness in a lot of fandom thinking around "canon", which is that it generally has no idea what to do with adaptations. All adaptation is interpretation, and relies on taking a work and letting new creatives (and sometimes the same ones) have a different take on it. Are the appearances of the Fellowship of the Ring in the LOTR movies "canon"? How much, if at all, does that matter? Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere was originaly a 90s BBC series made with a budget of 50 pence; is anyone who makes fanart of Mr Croup that doesn't look like the actor Hywel Bennet breaking canon? What about the novel that describes the character differently? Or the officially licenced Neverwhere comic where he looks like neither of them? Which is his "canon appearance"?

Canon is an inherently messy concept, and while it is useful for a creative team trying to keep continuity and consistency within a creative work, for thinking about anything beyond that it tends to be more hinderance than help.

Anyway, all this is to say that the above picture and all the others in the RPG are exactly as canon as every other picture you've ever seen of the Archivist.

[doberbutts]

I'm pulling this out because this shit is funny as hell hold on

Merry and Pippin (2 in 1) actual hijinks and shenanigans of mutual stumbling over each other's first times. Bonus points if they are hours apart. Pippin finds Merry rolling in the hay in the morning, decides he wants in on this and doesn't want to be outdone, finds himself a willing partner, and Merry interrupts them by accident. Comedy gold.

I don't view Frodo as someone interested in sex (boos and hisses from the Sam/Frodo crowd) however Sam I think would similarly be Frodo opening the door to their shared living space after the quest and Sam's, err, "helping" Rosie in the kitchen. Sam stutters an apology, Rosie starts trying to explain, and meanwhile Frodo's just like "really? where we eat???"

Blink and you'll miss it moment between Legolas and Gimli OR the most intense, drawn out, intimate yet tasteful scene with a bonus at the end where Gimli goes "wait wym we're elf-married now". Probably in Rohan, after the drinking contest.

I'm choosing to believe that the scene between Arwen and Aragorn in Rivendell before he left, where she's wearing a mostly translucent shift and he is in a state of far more undress than we've seen him prior and ever seen him again, is a post-sex scene. So just put it there.

There is not a single person who will ever be able to convince me that Boromir did not get mad pussy in Gondor. The same goes for Faramir, who was loved by all except their father.

Gandalf, also, is not a sexual being to me. But with PJ's insistence on highlighting Gandalf's relationship to both Galadriel and Celeborn, I would believe him to be a third in whatever dynamic suits them.. Maybe he and Galadriel have telepathic elf magic ring sex and Celeborn is just like "yeah sure that's fine w/e". This is movie-canon only, of course.

Bilbo also- reclusive, kept to himself, constantly wandering the wilds alone or with Gandalf? Either he and Gandalf are regularly FWB adventure buddies or they're just plain uninterested in the whole deal.

I'm of two minds with Smeagol. On one hand there is great comedy gold with the little fucked up loincloth man and on the other hand there is so much tragedy to his character that I can't decide if it would be funnier to have him still have sexual desires or if it would be sadder to take him at his word when he states that he lost all desire and interest and pleasure in everything except the Ring. Perhaps he attempted to have sex with another Stoor early on in his possession of the Ring, before he was chased away. Maybe someone he had been trying to court, before the murder of Deagol and the subsequent chained events of consequences.

[8em-em-em8]

After that last chapter I've got an idea where Izuku and Katsuki ends up as acquaintance more that real friends over the years because post canon Katsuki tries to put distance in between them to try to move on. Izuku often thinks about him and what they had but thinks the fact that they fell apart is more because they are both busy with their jobs than anything else. Doesn't realise he broke Katsuki's heart and no one tells him (they know, they just don't want to get murdered by Bakugo/make it worse since Midorya apparently chose Ochaco).

Bakugo gets married 2 years later, his partner is a fellow hero, a man, and he becomes a bit of a queer icon because of course Bakugo takes no bullshit. But yeah, most informations Izuku gets about Bakugo are either on the news or second hand from their mutual friends (Dynamight's affiliated to high risks fights missions and Deku more of a rescue guy now, helping when he can, so they don't meet often on the field).

Until one day several years later, Izuku has been living alone for a year, since he broke up with Ochaco, and someone is at the door at 9pm.

Opening the door is like a punch in the face : Katsuki looks tired, and his eyes are red rimmed, and even if Izuku hasn't seen him do so often in his life, it's obvious he cried. He has a big bag thrown over one of his shoulder, and on the other is resting the head of a sleeping toddler.

Izuku's only seen the baby in pictures before but she has the same face as her father even though her hair are a strong black rather than an untameable blond mop.

''Kacchan?''

''Hey nerd.'' Katsuki sounds embarrassed, but maybe too tired to be angry about it. ''I know we- I know we're not really friends anymore but... Can we crash here tonight?''

You don't have to ask Izuku twice, and maybe he doesn't understand yet, but he doesn't hesitate one second before taking Katsuki to his room.

''You sure?'' Katsuki hesitates on the threshold. ''Were are you going to sleep?''

''I'm sure. There is not enough space on the futon for two person and I'm pretty sure you'll want to stay with her. Haru, right?''

For a second, Katsuki looks at him and it's maybe the first time Izuku gets to see such a heartbreaking emotion on his face. He looks thankful, maybe even fond, but also profoundly sad.

''... Yeah, her name is Haru.'' he confirms, kissing her little forehead- and isn't that a sight. ''Forgot you never seen her before.'' Katsuki adds before putting a knee to the bed and carefully bending down to put his daughter on the wall side of the bed. The little girl doesn't stir, and after making sure she's well tucked, Katsuki follows Izuku out.

He let the door half open, probably to be sure to hear if Haru wakes up before he goes to bed.

They end up on the couch, Katsuki with his head in his hand. And Izuku is struck by how much he doesn't know his childhood friend anymore when he goes to rub his back but holds back, not sure how it will be received.

''Do you want to talk about it?'' he asks.

For a second silence rings in the appartement, only broken by the sound of the fridge, but then Katsuki's shoulder start to tremble and just like that he is crying again.

''I made a mistake.'' He says, voice rough while he rubs furiously at his eyes. ''I made a huge fucking mistake. I should have known, we should have talked about it, I should have seen the signs-''

When Izuku sees Katsuki's fists starting to fizzle, little tendrils of smoke escaping from between his clenched fingers, it's like all caution flies out the window : he immediately grads them, trying to soothe his friend.

''Kacchan.''

''I'm divorcing my husband.'' Katsuki spits, and here is the anger. The hate is so clear in his tear soaked eyes that even tho Izuku himself never men him, he despites the man instantly.

''Did he... Did he cheat on you?'' Izuku tries, wanting to understand.

Katsuki's laugh is bitter and cold.

''If only.'' he rubs at his eyes again, but then he puts his hand back in Izuku's and Izuku is embarrassed to feel warmth at that gesture, to see that even after all these years, he can still be a source of comfort for Kacchan. ''This afternoon we... We learned that Haru is quirkless.''

Oh.

Oh.

Izuku feels like he was doused with an ice water bucket. Involuntarily his fingers clench on Katsuki's hand.

''What happened?'' he asks, not even sure he's ready for the answer.

''Ueda he- it's like I didn't know him anymore. He started to shout at everyone, he insulted the doctor, called our surrogate mother all the names he could think of, as if it was her fault. As there was any fault to have.'' Izuku can feel his eyes fill with tears, his eyes bored into Katsuki's panicked ones. ''I swear 'Zuku, I tried to talk to him about it, I fucking swear. But he didn't want to hear anything, he- he called Haru useless. I thought she was in her room, I didn't want her to hear all that shit but she came out to ask for a drink and he just pointed at her and said he wouldn't have an useless kid.'' another sob breaks Katsuki's voice and now they are both gripping at each other. Their clenched hands are uncomfortable with sweat but it's the last of Izuku's problems, because right now Katsuki needs him. ''I swear she's the only reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I just took her overnight bag and we left. You were the only person I could think of.''

Izuku nods, and hesitantly he lifts a hand, just a suggestion, but Katsuki doesn't seems to think about it long before Izuku is engulfed in a desperate hug. He can feel that Katsuki is still crying, he knows it's better not to say anything about it. Instead Izuku rocks his friend, just a little.

''You did good. The both of you can stay as long as you want.''