#terms i have to use cause my hands starting to hurt from all the typing owie ow ow ow（；´x｀）

[todayisafridaynight]

SO!

Pretty good show honestly. I think it may perhaps come off a little underwhelming compared to last time because they released the full trailers early, so it was chiefly just talking, but I was still pleased.

The only thing I really wanted out of it was one (1) of my predictions coming true and one (1) surprise, and well, between the Watase Family and Nishitani...... THREE!!!!!, that's exactly what I got. Kiryu looking up at the sky like he's struggling to remember who he (allegedly) proposed to is hilarious though same energy as Jo not remembering Ikumi's name ghdshgkdhf the exchange kind of reminded me of Ichi talking to Arakawa as well... the "don't say it in the past tense" one you know the one...

Also next summit in September so that'll be a lovely birthday present :) For Me :)

Also x2 I love seeing which of my asks you decide to reblog. Whether it's because of the actual ask or because of my commentary it always feels like a win (<- normal to want and possible to achieve)

even if Considerably underwhelming, what information's been given IS causin a lotta buzz right now so !!! pretty successful summit in some regards ( ❁´◡`❁;;)

i just wish we got to see LAD8 gameplay, that's probably the only thing i really wanted but i guess there is still the fall summit (and for your birthday's sake i hope it's a real banger one)!

[itsmemuffy]

I can make you feel better...

If you let me

Contents: Original Trilogy! Logan x fem reader, naive reader, obsessive and touch starved Logan, friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, non-sexual physical intimacy, sexual fantasies (real smut in pt. 2), mentions of Charles, Ororo, Jean, Scott and Rogue

Summary: You keep everything running as smooth as possible in the background while Professor Xavier keeps a very full plate of locating mutants, running the school, and leading the X-Men. A steady stream of mutants come and go through the mansion, but a certain one in particular makes it his mission to nestle his way into your life.

The past few days had been a whirlwind for Logan. He's the type of man that goes where he wants to go- and waking up in an infirmary on a small hospital cot after being round up like some sort of animal was not on his list of things to do that week, to say the least.

For all intents and purposes, his next plan of action was to get away from here as soon as he possibly could and get back to the life he lived on his own terms. His only home and form of transportation was totalled somewhere in the Alberta wilderness, sure, but he already had experience starting over from nothing.

Oh, but was one man ever persuasive: Charles Xavier. Not many people had an edge over Logan like he did. If his ego permitted, he would be thankful that the man that held upper hand had noble intentions.

When he first met you, a cute little thing diligently running errands to what was perhaps the one man who could have his answers, you immediately piqued Logan's interest. So sweet and so kind, and Charles put his trust in you?

He had barged in like he owned the place on you and the professor scheduling out the upcoming semester in his office. Charles appeared to have already gotten used to this type behavior from him. "This, my dear, is Logan. He will hopefully be joining us now."

Oh... so is he planning to stick around? You ponder as you bite the inside of your cheek, leaning onto Charles' desk with your hip. Logan immediately came off as brooding and dismissive, and he didn't seem like the type to settle into a place beaming with so much activity. Regardless, you extended your hand out to him as you told him your name.

It took him a second to register the gesture. He only now noticed how lost in thought he was, eyes caught below your neckline. With a clearing of his throat, Logan reached a hand back to you to shake it. The most formal of ways to greet someone, yet the feeling of your delicate fingers grasping his rough palm caused his mind to wander again. He forced himself back to reality.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around," Logan remained aloof in speech, hoping you didn't notice the way he devoured you with his gaze. He decided to promptly remove himself from the room, searching for the privacy to be alone with his thoughts.

A few interactions after your initial introduction, Logan started to feel something beyond sexual curiosity. You made his heart race, you made him nervous.

Not a single detail went unnoticed by Logan. The way your hips would sway, how you parted your hair, the shade of lipstick you wore, the softness in your voice whenever you greeted him, your scent.

Life kept throwing change in Logan's way, morphing his way of living into something unrecognizable to him. For the last however many years (boy, is he ever bad at keeping track of time) he had filled them with isolation and taking whatever cheap pleasures he could find. Now he finds himself surrendering the space in his mind to a woman he barely knew. You brought warmth and light into a cold, dark place.

No, this won't fly, he thought to himself. The fact that he was losing control over the dynamic between you made him very uncomfortable. Logan made it his mission to learn more about you. If he could just figure you out, he could take the reins over again.

The two of you would always acknowledge eachother in a group setting. The tiny smile Logan would throw your way whenever you caught eyes made you weak. You couldn't help but to want to know more about him, too. A rugged man who was a stranger not too long ago was showing you consideration? A man who nobody knows where he's been, what he's done, how old he is? It kind of racked your brain, but you tried not to let it trip you up.

Oh, but he would catch you trip up. It wasn't lost on Logan the times you entered a space with him in it, seemingly to forget what you came in there for. Maybe you were a little ditzy- your mind often racing too fast that you couldn't catch up with yourself, but it had happened too many times for it to be a coincidence. At least, that's what he told himself.

He replicated your behavior, scouting you out amongst the mansion. It wasn't hard for him to find you. Your trail had become so much bolder to his senses, overshadowing anybody else that could be in vicinity.

Logan always found what he was looking for. Excuse after excuse slipped easily from his lips. Obvious to everyone else what he was doing, you earnestly took the bait every time without fail. He marked the first time he had a conversation with you alone as a significant victory.

"Hey, didn't see you there. Have you seen Charles around? I need to talk to him." He had cornered you in the library, watching you read for a minute or two before making his presence known.

You flinched up in your chair, "Jesus Logan, don't sneak up on me like that!" The yelp that initially left your lips was definitely a sound he would remember next time he's alone.

"Sorry, doll. Didn't mean to scare ya," he chuckled.

The upset you felt towards him for breaking your flow state lasted but half a second. You couldn't be mad. After all, whatever he needed Charles for must of been important.

"No, Jean and him are off chaperoning a field trip in the city. He should be back sometime this evening."

Logan let out a little "hmph", trying his best sound to sound disappointed. Inside he was estatic he finally caught up to you again. Now with no one else around, his mind flooded with possibilities on how this could go. The odds of you immediately throwing yourself at him weren't zero, were they? If he were to take you and bend you over the table right this very second, there was a possiblility you'd let him... right? God, am I really this desperate? he thought.

After letting a moment hang in the air, he sat down next to you in the ajacet seat. "So, what are you doing here all by yourself? Got nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon, huh?" Good idea, Logan, change the subject.

"You're one to talk," your focus was now one hundred percent on him. Thighs spread as he lazily leaned back in the chair, rolling his head to the side. To say he wasn't beautiful like this would be a lie. You've rarely seen him this relaxed. "Aren't you here too?"

"Huh." Logan did not anticipate you to call him out like that, "I guess you've got a point, there."

An awkward silence sat between the two of you. You pretended to divert your attention back to your book, not letting him escape the corner of your eye. Logan lit up a cigar he fished from his pocket. He desperately needed something to do with his hands.

"This is a library, you know that right?" You chide him after an annoyed sigh.

"Oh, is it now? I thought all these books were just for decoration." His lips sucked in another drag.

"Very expensive books, Logan. There's plenty of perfecly fine places to smoke around here if you just look."

He got up from his seat, "Then why don't you show me around, darlin'? Open my eyes a little." You couldn't quite tell if the pet name was to belittle you or to be affectionate. A hand reached out to bring you to stand. "I'll let you lead the way."

You lead him outside to the back of the mansion, a secluded area with an old stone bench shaded by the surrounding trees. It was your favorite place on the property, and it soon became his as well.

After that day, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the two of you to catch eachother in that very spot on a warm day. You would watch the kids play in the field, discussing all the antics the students got into that week. Bright afternoon sun would peak through the trees as cigar smoke wafted in the air- everything felt so perfect when you were with him.

Logan often found himself falling asleep thinking of you. He would linger on any time you spent together in the previous hours of the day, overanalyzing the interaction. Any amount he got of you was never enough. He always needed more. More time with you, more closeness, more, more, more.

If he was lucky, you would visit him in his dreams. It was rare but whenever it happened, it was a blessing. You would appear to him as vivid and real as if he was awake. There, he was finally able to close the gap between you two. His hands would finally meet every inch of your plush skin.

However, Logan's mind loved to torture him. As much as your companionship has brought him peace, no amount of feelings for you could change the fact that he was a broken man. Most nights consisted of horrific images; an incomprehensible collage of blood and bodies that he desperately tried to make sense of. All he knew is that it was all real. It happened. The pain was too prevalent to be fantasy.

Tonight he had awoke in terror yet again. A cold, uncomfortable sweat coated his body, chest heaving up and down like a piston. Logan's eyes were blown wide, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to convince himself he was safe in his room. When did four walls around you ever mean you were safe? His intrusive thoughts were keen on keeping him in a state of anxiety. When did four walls ever make someone safe from you?

That was enough. Logan knew all too well how his mind could go on and on like this if he let it. He needed to get some air. The bed creaked under his shifting weight as he sat up. His entire body felt sore. It was if he fought off an entire army in the hours he was asleep.

After finally getting up, he made his way past his bedroom door and down the hall towards the nearest exit. The kitchen was along that route. He figured he might as well grab something to drink. Anything, as long as it was cold.

As he turned the corner, the narrow hallway met the open space of the kitchen. Logan was surprised to find the room already illuminated with light. His eyes lit up when he saw who was sitting at the counter.

Logan stumbled before you a dishelveled mess. His hair was matted, sticking up every which way. The white tank he wore was half tucked into sweatpants he haphazardly put on before leaving his bedroom, drawstrings not even tied as they sat low on his hips. His demeanor was one of a wild animal, cautious and running on instinct.

A wave of awareness washed over Logan. He combed his fingers through his dark locks and straightened his back as he approached you further. Once he got himself to think in actual words again, he greeted you.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" His voice was hoarse and deep. Logan just now realized how sore his throat was. He hoped to god that he wasn't screaming in his slumber- at least not loud enough for anybody to hear.

"I just woke up not too long ago. Was hoping a snack would help me get back to sleep." You sat before a plate filled with a random assortment of food you scavenged from the cupboards, "Want some?"

"No thanks, sweetheart," the way he spoke sweetly to you through his gravelly tone made your heart skip a beat. He didn't need to ask to know that you had a rough night as well. It was written all over your face. A gentleness Logan typically pushed down and tried to ignore was bubbling to the surface. Something in him was relieved he was no longer alone with himself tonight.

You watch him make the journey past you to the fridge, scanning the contents of the shelves like it was the hardest decision he had to make in a long time. Rootbeer or ginger ale... Ginger ale or rootbeer...

"You didn't hear it from me, but Scott keeps a few beers in the vegetable drawer underneath the celery."

"That sneaky little bastard," he smirks. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Logan was delighted. Not only by the sudden promise of alcohol, but by the thought that you might share other secrets with him, too. He had a boyish urge to stay up the entire night with you and see if he could get you to spill all the other secrets you must have.

Two beers clanked together as Logan grasped them with a single hand. He took a seat across from you and slid a bottle over to your side of the countertop. Your eyes locked and held on to that contact for probably way too long. Time felt like it has stopped. The moment he walked into the kitchen and saw you, the clock might as well never ticked a single second past 1:37 AM.

"I don't know... Scott will probably notice if we take more than one," you say as you bite your lip.

"I'll run to the store in the morning, he won't even know they were gone," he was all too ready to combat your excuse. Logan wanted to see you come undone. You worked so hard, did everything you're told and were so diligent. Such a good girl. A beer in your hand looked terribly out of place and that made his heart swell.

"Guess it can't hurt, can it?" You opened the bottle and sipped as the frosty glass numbed the tips of your fingers.

He drank much slower than his usual pace, taking the tiniest of mouthfuls like the time with you would run out with the beer. Silence draped over the two of you like a warm blanket, both too exhausted to put on any sort of show to entertain the other. The satisfaction of just being in eachother's company was enough. It came all too easy when you were together. After witnessing all those horrors earlier in the night, Logan finally felt content.

You notice he rubs his neck, a strained noise rumbled in his chest. The stool you sat in screeches against the tile floor as you get up and make your way over to him on the other side of the island. Logan's eyes followed you with every step you took

"May I?" you ask as you now stand behind him, hands hovering over his shoulders, waiting for permission. It wasn't a big deal. You always help out Ororo and Jean when they have stiffness or a knot. That's what friends do for eachother, right?

Logan did his best to hide his signs of exitement. He couldn't let you know how often he thinks of your touch. If he had only one ounce less of pride, he would be begging you for the simplest of contact all hours of the day. "That's real sweet of you, but you really don't have to," he said with the slightest quiver in is voice.

"But I want to." That's it. Those four words just shattered him into a million pieces. If you only knew what you were doing to him.

Your digits grip the dip in his shoulder as your thumbs dig between his shoulder blades. You tried not to gasp when you felt the all knots going up his back. It has just occurred to you how little mind he must pay to taking care of himself for it to get this bad. Pain was a staple of his everyday life, why waste time to try and remedy it? Despite the ability to heal, the constant state of tension still took an immense toll on his body.

Logan leaned into your touch and practically melted under your fingers as he tentatively sipped his beer. If he were to turn around and look at your face, he'd see your complexion flushed bright red. Maybe you were enjoying this a little too much, and you chastised yourself for thinking that way. Little did you know all the scandalous thoughts Logan let his mind run away with on a daily basis when he was around you.

Your hands quickly grew weary working into the solid muscle, but you pushed through it for him. You know he needed this by the way his eyes were now closed and soft hums that left his lips. After working across his shoulders, you finally made your way to his neck. Logan let his head fall forward completely as your knuckles broke up the bundled-up nerves beneath his skin. The tightness in him was able to come loose a bit for the first time in a long, long time.

"Whew," you withdrew your hands and shook them out, "hopefully it feels a bit better now."

"It does," a smile crept up on his face that he tried to supress with each word. "That really was somethin', thank you."

You sat back down across from him and remained mostly silent after that apart from the occasional yawn. A single beer not quite enough to offer a buzz, but enough to lull you out of your wired state.

"Think I'm going to call it a night. You should, too. Danger room is on the itinerary first thing in the morning."

"Yeah, well you can tell Charles where to stick his itinerary." Logan was determined to make you smile one last time before you parted ways- and he succeeded.

He walked behind you on your way back down the hall, wishing the journey was not as quick as it was. Your room came up a few doors before his. Logan almost followed you into your bedroom before he shook himself out of auto pilot. It was like a habit that hadn't been formed yet. He belonged next to you in that bed, he knew because he felt it in every fibre of his being.

"Goodnight, Logan. Sleep well."

"I definetly will now. Goodnight, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. There it was again. You convince yourself it couldn't of meant anything.

When you gently shut the door behind you, time had resumed yet again. That little bubble wherein only the two of you existed had been popped.

He lied about going back to sleep, holding on to the delusion that he didn't need it. Besides, he didn't want to say goodbye to your essence. You still filled his senses, if only just barely. A deep inhale could capture your scent, and your breathing could faintly be heard if he really listened. Logan stood outside your door until the sun started to rise before he snuck back into his room.

He never ended up replacing Scott's beers.

As time went by, your encounters with eachother became more and more frequent. Excuses to talk were no longer required. You enjoyed Logan's company, as he did yours. There was no reason to pretend, you were just two friends growing closer by the day.

You gradually opened up to one another and Logan started to confide in you. Any insight on himself or his past was kept brief, giving carefully worded and vague details. You knew better than to push him for more than he was wiling to give and he liked that about you. Whenever the confusion, the regret, or the pain would get too much, he turned the conversation back to you. The more he learned about you as a person, the more his mind circled all his thoughts back to you.

Neither side knew, however, what things the other was keeping to themselves. You couldn't tell him how the casual touches felt different from him than how it felt with your other male friends. You couldn't tell him how hard it was to think when you would run into him all sweaty after an intense training session. You couldn't tell him that when you held onto your pillow at night, you wish it had his warmth.

And he couldn't tell you that you were the first thing he thought of in the morning. He couldn't tell you how he had a favorite pair of jeans that your ass looked best in. He couldn't tell you that he committed every detail about you to memory- from the curve of your lips to the way you say his name.

Anyone who saw the way Logan looked at you could deduce there was something more going on beneath the surface. Scott would tease him about it and he would swiftly shut it down. Jean and Ororo would pry you for details, only for you to tell them there was nothing going on between you and him. They didn't buy it. No one bought it.

All the words unsaid eventually built up so high it was suffocating. It was getting harder and harder to behave like normal around eachother, not knowing where the boundaries were and if it was okay to cross them. Something had to give.

It started out as a regular Friday evening with the team gathered together, watching movies and playing cards. Your initial plan was to work late into the night. Small, tedious tasks has accumulated as you had focused on more pressing matters throughout the week. Charles was having the X-Men find mutants at a pace more efficient than ever before which corresponded with an increased workload on your front.

You were leaving in the morning on a trip for the long weekend and you were determined to finish everything before you left. Ororo was always the one to break you out of your paperwork prison and get you to live a little. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you to come down before we put on the next movie."

"Storm, if I don't do this now, it will never get done."

"Oh, please. You worked so hard all week. Everything here can wait until you get back," your friend watches you as you roll your eyes and continue sorting files. Good thing she had a little trick up her sleeve, "...and Logan wants to see you before you leave."

"He said that...?" you inquire in an almost pathetic manner. She nodded but truthfully, he didn't have say it. She knew it was true all the same.

After dragging you downstairs you scanned the common room, everyone talking amongst themselves with a glass in hand. Everyone except Logan. Ororo had pulled a similar scheme to get him to come out of his self isolation, but when he saw you weren't there earlier, he decided to skip the socializing and retire to his room.

Jean, ever the fast thinker, was in on the plan, "Hey, we were thinking about ordering takeout. Can you do me a favor and see if Logan wants anything?" She hands you a menu knowing you wouldn't pass up a chance to be helpful to a friend.

Logan sat in darkness on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples and groaning. He truly didn't mean to blow everybody else off. In actuality, he enjoyed shooting the shit with the mutants he was slowly starting to recognize as his family. Tonight was different, however.

Frustration was pushing him to his limit. He still wasn't any closer to finding the missing pieces to his puzzle. Charles told him these kind of things take time. He was sick of hearing that, he needed answers now. His sanity depended on it.

Only one thing was certain- another person had done this to him. There was no doubt the wiping of his memories was a deliberate effort on somebody's part. That wasn't the only thing. The recurring visions of being horrified at his own self, the sickening realization he was changed into something he hadn't been before haunted him on the daily. Is my body really my own?

All of this made worse by the multiple birthdays of a couple of students this past month. Simple things everyone knew about themselves- when and where they were born- was a luxury he was not afforded. Logan felt himself slipping, the feelings that were out of his control eating away at him.

A knock at the door stopped his thoughts in its tracks. "Logan? You there?" Only but a half hour earlier, you were the only person he wanted to see. But now that he has succumbed further down his spiral of self pity in that short amount of time, he didn't want you to see him like this.

"What do you want?" His uncharacteristically cold tone made you wince behind the door. As much as he needed you to pull him out of the hole he dug for himself, the dark recesses of his mind were commanding him to push you away.

"We're ordering takeout. Jean needs to know if you want anything."

"I'm not hungry." He was silently begging for you to walk away before he said something he would regret.

"Can I please come in?" You pleaded, hoping he'd recognize the worry in your voice. This wasn't like him.

"Fine," he grumbled. At the end of the day, Logan could never say no to you.

The door squeaked as you inched it open. You could barely makeout his silhouette in the dark. With a flick of a switch, the space was illuminated. "Is everything alright, Lo? You're scaring me."

Careful footsteps slowly brought you to stand before him. The air in the room was undoubtedly charged. Every action you now took was deliberate, as if trying not to startle a feral animal.

"You wouldn't be the first person that's ever been scared of me," he spat out his words like daggers.

As serious as the conversation felt, you couldn't help a scoff from escaping you. You sat down next to him on the bed mere inches apart, "that's not what I mean and you know it. Stop being so obtuse and tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on, believe me," Logan sighed. His demeanor immediately softened just from having you close. He buried his face in his palm- an insecure gesture you've rarely seem him perform. But when he did, you knew exactly what it meant.

"Bullshit. I know you better than this, Logan." Maybe you were getting through to him.

Something about what you said must have struck him the wrong way as he tensed back up again. "You don't know me at all, actually."

"How can you say that? We see eachother almost every single day! Come on, now... You can't be serious," you playfully nudge his knee against your own, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I am serious. How can you know me when I don't even know myself? You don't know what I've done and how many people I've had to do it to. I don't even know any of the fucking details but I know it ain't anything good, sweetheart." He watched outside himself as he was taking his inner frustration out on you.

Logan knew it wasn't right to speak to you this way when you were just trying to be there for him. As much as it stung in the moment, you tried not to take it personally. He was hurt and he needed you, that much was clear.

"Listen to me for just one second," you braced yourself, unsure how he would take what you were about to say. "I know what kind of man you are. And I don't need to know your entire damn history to be certain of that."

All he could do was stare blankly at your face as he processed your words. Without waiting for a response you continued, "How can I be so sure? Because I see it in everything you do, Logan. It's in the way you treat Rogue and the other kids, treat your teammates, treat me. I can't tell you that you've never had to hurt anyone, but you know what? I have faith in you. Faith that whatever may have happened in your past, you've learned from and are a better man for it."

A long period of silence sat between you. It wasn't exactly a comfortable silence, but the charge in the air had definetly diffused. You held his stare, now was not the time to back down. There was a chance you were finally getting through to him and you needed to make it clear you meant every word that you just said.

After a prolonged moment to properly think about what you were saying to him, the look on his face transformed into something you couldn't quite put your finger on. A look that was warm, and you could go as far to say it was a look that was loving.

Logan did indeed love you. He loved the way you didn't try to tame him, how you not only didn't shy away from the less savory aspects of his life- you met them head on with tenderness and understanding.

With this love came great guilt. You had a way of making Logan feel like the world had more to offer than just loss and suffering, for this he was grateful. Still, the feeling he deserved to suffer alone gnawed at him until his gut felt raw. If he were to send for you everytime he needed you, you would be a way busier woman than you already were. The fact that you always made time for him without the semblance of hesitation wasn't lost on him, either.

"How are you so sweet?" he croons as he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. Logan was always gentle with his touch when it came to you, but the softness of his actions in this moment shocked even yourself. "You're too sweet for me, darlin'. Wouldn't want anything to change that."

It almost made you sick to your stomach how just barely your bodies were connected in this moment. He kept his touch as light as a feather as he trailed his hand down your neck before it made it's temporary home on your shoulder. "Say something, sweetheart," he pleaded as a firm squeeze brought you back to reality. Logan needed more of your words to keep him grounded. "Please."

"Logan, I..." your brain scrambled as you tried to gather your thoughts. The way you felt for him was so foreign to you. You couldn't put it into words right now no matter how badly you wanted to. This feeling could only properly be put into actions- an action older than language itself.

Without thinking, you close the gap and press your lips to his- Logan's bottom lip captured between your own. In his wildest dreams, he never thought you would be the one to make the first move and initiate a kiss. The hand that wasn't on your shoulder now cupped your face. He held you there, afraid you'd slip away from him.

"I'm sorry... I know it probably isn't the right time for this," you whispered against his lips.

"Mmm," Logan emitted a small chuckle into your mouth as he went in for a deeper kiss this time. More intense, hungry. His beard burned deliciously when it scuffed your skin. "Never a wrong time to kiss ya, sweet girl."

Now that he has felt your velvety soft lips, he knew he would never be able to get enough. His desire for you overrided his shame. Logan got a taste of what it would be like if you were his. From this point on, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. The floodgates were now open and he couldn't wait to pour himself all over you.

He pulled his face away from yours, still holding your body close, "all this just for you to leave in the morning, huh?" Logan looked down at you through half-lidded eyes. His mind was in a daze, in such bliss now that the invisible barriers between you were finally being torn down.

"Oh please, I'll only be gone for a few days." Even though the trip you were about to go on was a long time coming, you wouldn't mind throwing all your plans away just to be in Logan's arms all weekend. "Why, you gonna miss me that bad?"

"I always miss my girl when she's gone," he couldn't help all the syrupy words from flowing from his mouth. Inhibitions were nonexistent to Logan in this moment and he couldn't say anything but exactly what was on his mind.

He was right. You were his girl. In every sense of the word. His girl whose face would light up everytime he walked into a room. His girl who would save him a plate whenever he was late to dinner. His girl who would always make sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed. His girl who would do absolutely anything for him- all he had to do was ask. Logan had owned your heart for a while now.

You fiddle with the seams at the bottom of his tank, fingers brushing his abdomen underneath. It was enough to make you both shiver. "Just do me a favor while I'm away, Lo."

Jesus, how his pulse quickened everytime you called that little nickname. I'm so fucked, he thought. What a fool he was to think he was ever in control. Since the moment the two of you met, his heart belonged to you as well. "And what is that you need me to do?"

"Try not to be so hard on yourself," you punctuate your request with a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek. You felt his face lift as a smile reached his eyes. "Shit... I haven't even finished packing," it has just now dawned on you.

The realization he couldn't keep you next to him in bed forever hit him like a brick- another bubble popped. It's a shame, but he told himself there will be plently of opportunities to conjure up the little worlds you built together. He had no other option but to placate his burning desire for the time being.

"Well, don't let me keep you any longer," Logan hesitatantly let go of his grip on you. He got up to escort you the few steps from the bed to the door. Excessive, yes. But so necessary all the same.

Just as your hand was reaching to turn the handle, turned your back to the door to embrace him. It took your entire wingspan to wrap your arms around his broad form. Logan's warmth was absolutely addictive. He held on to the back of your head with his face buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Just in case I don't catch you first thing in the morning..." you whispered as you caress up and down his back, "goodbye, Lo."

"Goodbye, sweetheart," he withdraws from his burrow within your hair to slip his lips between yours again. "Think of me while you're gone, will ya?"

"Always do."

And with that, you were apart again. As you were folding clothes to go into your suitcase, you couldn't help but think about how well the two of you clicked into place. He already had you longing to feel his body up against your own again. You fell asleep imagining all the places you'd let his hands explore when you got back. Logan laid in his bed doing the same.

Fin.

[cheriden]

˙ . ˚ ₊ 「 needy streamer overload 」 ꜝꜝ

“‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.”

── synopsis 。the boy from across the hall hired you to assist in his streaming and admits his feelings for you on his livestream

pairing 。streamer!beomgyu × moderator!reader

.ᐟ genre 。a bit of angst but it's sooo little and maybe i got sad thinking about the mental health of the streamer and the fan base

.ᐟ tags 。sub!idol (somewhat forced submission), switch!idol at the end, boss-worker relationship, co-workers, love confession, beomgyu is an attention seeker here (said lovingly), miscommunications and non-speaking terms, praise & degredation, name-calling, unprotected sex, creampie, a looot of dialogue, riding and missionary, an adequate amount of descriptive kissing

.ᐟ status & word count 。oneshot | 2.93k | masterlist

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。as always i did not proofread. reader is fem and uses she/her pronouns

The broadcast has barely started, yet thousands flood into the stream as Beomgyu fixes his headset. He stares at the chat box while hundreds of people send him praises and greetings, mouth curving upwards. You, on the other hand, are not having as great a time, mouse working double-time to ban and restrict hurtful profanities. 

“Hi Bamtoris! Today’s a great day, because we finally reached our sub goal!” He yells and shakes the camera, jostling onto his seat as his energy stabilizes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful for all my viewers! Just you watching is enough to keep me going. As promised, we will be starting our Q&A stream!” He cheers, swiveling around with his head against his hand. “Up until now I haven’t really answered any questions about myself; I know you guys are probably curious about a lot of things. It’s only right that we get to know each other better~” You scoff at his poor attempt at fan service, watching him do every type of cute pose at the camera. It’s not surprising when his poor fans pick up everything that he puts out, losing their minds as you barely keep up with the comments that move at lightspeed. You’re sure he loves his fans; though it’s a bit annoying when you have to be on the receiving end of cross checking every line they have to say before they get to him. Beomgyu, being who he is, tries to spot any and every comment before you try to take it down. 

The 30 minute mark rolls by smoothly, and right as you think about relaxing, you’re immediately jinxed as Beomgyu giggles, covering his mouth with his palm. “So you’re interested in my love life?” It catches you off guard, as you scramble to look for the user he’s pertaining to. Yet the damage is already done, unable to scroll back with the unceasing questions for follow up. “No, I’m not dating anyone right now.” You suppose it’s harmless in itself, riding on the hopes that you know what he’s doing. He’s allowed to see or date whoever he chooses, after all.

[right now?] 

[yo??????]

[this is my time to shine fr]

[sorry guys, it’s me.]

“Actually… I’ve had a crush on someone for a while now.” He starts, pout replacing the grin on his face as he looks down, toying with his fingers.

[wait we’re seriously doing this rn?]

[is this a bit?]

[chat…what is going on]

“I don’t even think she likes me back, to be honest. She’s really indifferent to me.”

[she broke ur heart?? My baby:((]

[im going to kill her] (deleted)

[how could she ?? ur so sweet!]

“No, no.” Beomgyu shakes his head, “It’s really professional of her to be honest. She knows how to separate work from personal business. She keeps me safe, and is always there for me, like you guys are!”

[does she know you like her lolll]

[confession stream?!]

[ain’t no way…]

[whooooooooooooooooo?!]

He grins, building suspense by drumming the table. “She’s been a great help to all of my streams. My savior, my guardian angel, my one and only mod!” 

You cough violently, reaching the far end of the table for your water bottle. What the fuck is he on? You fail to catch the rest of his confession, his words numbing your ears as you're frozen in place.

[LMFAO]

[BRUHHHHHH]

[don’t date her plz, i would actually shoot myself.] (deleted)

[fr is this a prank]

“Calling her “Mod” is a bit dehumanizing, you think?” He ponders, “I don’t think I should call her by her real name on stream, so what do we suggest, chat?”

[mod-nim? idk]

[angel! like you said earlier<3]

[bitch]

[you said we would get married. Fuck you stupid cheater choi beomgyu]  (deleted)

[anything you like!]

[u should ask her..]

“I like Angel!” He replies, clapping his hands. “I think it suits her—my Angel.” You’re barely functioning, on the edge of your seat as you try to predict what he says next. “That’s all the time I have today, bamtoris. What do you suggest we do for our next sub goal?”

[baking stream!]

[those 24 hour streams hehe]

[strip game lol] (deleted)

[house tour]

“Okay, I’ll host a poll for the most popular replies later! Stay tuned my babies~ See you–and thank you again for two thousand subs!” With that, he waves at the webcam, throwing kisses onto the camera as he clicks end livestream. You waste no time, exiting your apartment and knocking on his studio across from yours frantically.

The front door opens with a wide grin plastered on the other’s face. You sneer, shoving past him. “What the fuck was that?” He drops onto the couch, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “I take it you did not enjoy today’s work?” Your chest heaves rapidly, feet planted near the doorway as you try to string together a coherent (and professional) sentence. “Angel, I’m allowed to have my own life outside of work. That includes my love life, which does not concern you or my viewers.” He practices the nickname, turning his head to face you. “Does not concern me? You have a fucking crush on me! Your fans would go ballistic if you actually dated someone.” He scoffs, “Are you saying people only watch me not because I’m entertaining but because of my face?” You shake your head, leveling with him on the sofa. “Beomgyu, I would never say that.” The other’s eyebrow is raised, expecting a catch. You so desperately wish to shelter him on this topic, even if it’s a half-truth. “I’m saying your viewership is over 60% female. It wouldn’t hurt for you to–” The laugh that exits him is hollow and unamused. “You want my fans to delude themselves into thinking they could get with me?” You place your hands on top of his in an attempt to de-escalate his temperament. “No! But as long as you’re not taken—” They���re swatted away, and he recoils. “It’s implied!” You gulp. “Fine. Yes, it helps them hold on to the sliver of hope they have.”

“Then I’d be profiting off of their parasocial perception of me.” A hint of guilt makes its way to his expression, one that you mirror. You hadn’t hoped to be part of such a cycle that takes advantage of the emotions of an individual. “You could have worded it more nicely. They’re your fans.” The shame on his face stiffens up into annoyance. “You were the one who put the ideas in my head!” You turn away from him. “It’s what happens to all streamers, Beoms. You build rapport, a following and that’s how they come back.”

His face is buried in his palms, clicking his tongue as he ruffles his hands through his hair. “Get out.” Your face falls, “What?” He pushes past you, opening the door. “Get out. You’re not my boss, you work under me.” He hisses, nostrils flaring as opposed to the stiff composure he tries to put up. “You check my schedule, you clean my inbox, you edit my vods. You don’t get to tell me what I can’t do.” Through clenched fists, you take in a deep breath, trying your best to keep your own calm. Though perhaps your own anger and panic is laced with a bit of hurt. Beomgyu has never gotten pissed off at you, no matter the circumstance. “Fine. If that’s how you feel our workplace terms should be, then that’s the protocol I will follow” You reply. A lump gets caught up in your throat and nearly chokes you as you turn to him. “You’re right, you’re the boss.” You murmur, tight-lipped. The door slams behind you louder than you intended, but you shake it off and trudge back to your apartment.

A few streams have passed since your verbal altercation with Beomgyu, minimal contact held on both your ends. His last text was a screenshot of the poll results he promised his viewers and you gulp down at the landslide of votes asking him to do a strip game. Would this take a toll on his mental well being? The silent confirmation that he’s being looked at for his physical appearance and not for his content? Your fingers hovered over the keyboard overlay, drafting messages to ask if he’s fine, to tell him he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

But you’re neither his manager nor his PR team, and now you’re not even sure if you have the right to talk to him as a friend. You revisit the chat, texting a short “stream starts in 10” and he replies with a thumbs up emoji. 

You don’t know what game he’s playing, but you’re sure as hell not participating. Cross-armed, you slump back in your seat as he plays a first person shooter, with each death prompting him to take a piece of accessory or clothing off. He’s layered in a dramatic amount of jackets and coats, and you couldn’t help but crack a small smile at how comical he looks. But you pull yourself back to Earth, your screen indicating his next death. He clicks his tongue, taking off one of his coats. 

Beomgyu’s right. He’s smart, and he would never do anything to jeopardize what he has worked so hard to achieve. You watch him argue with the comments about cheating and how socks don’t count because nobody couldn’t see it anyway, simultaneously deleting serious comments about buying said garment. You reassure yourself that he’ll do what is in his best interest for him, even if you subconsciously note the change in his playstyle, a little more risky and miscalculated than it usually is.

However you hold out, arms glued to your sides and trying your best to bury yourself in your chair as he takes off his shirt. He’s in a top, thank goodness, and it seems to do wonders for his image as his viewers go crazy for his physique. You yourself have to admit that for someone who complains about putting in the effort to work out, his figure fairs prettily. You clutch the table in annoyance when he dies a pointless death right after respawning, opting him to be stripped bare for his chest area. How many deaths has he had in two games? Even the comments are questioning his skills, something that was previously glossed over as people assume it was from getting used to the mechanics.

“I really suck at this character.” Beomgyu pouts, shimmying what you assume are his shorts off camera. He looks over the chat while waiting to be revived, body facing away from his main screen. “Yeah, I’m only in my underwear now. Such a shame, on my last game too.” He snickers, resting his head on his palm. 

What the fuck was he doing? He’s not seriously thinking about getting naked live, is he? “You want to see? My chat is a bunch of perverts.” He says playfully, turning back to the game. “Oh shit. I lost.” The comments cheer as he closes the game, lightly swiveling in his chair. The camera is taken off the tripod and into the boy’s shaky hands. “Oh well, A promise is a promise!” He beams, and you lunge out of your seat, running over to his studio. All the doors are unlocked, and you’re not sure if it’s a blessing or a red flag, but you bust into the studio and pull the plug on all of his devices. “What is wrong with you?!” You bark, throwing the heavy coats on top of him. Your seething contrasts the smirk on his face as he pulls his shorts up. “I knew it, you care about me.” Your mouth falls agape, blinking and laughing like you’ve gone insane. “Are you genuinely stupid? You’re my boss. You would’ve ruined your life, Beomgyu.” He shrugs, slumping against his seat. “I never would’ve shown my dick, obviously.”

“You could’ve had like–whatever the nip slip equivalent is for this.” You shriek. “Calm down,” He says, acting as if you were the unreasonable one. “I had it under control, alright? If anything, you caused the commotion.” The air hangs in an uncomfortable silence, until you start laughing again. “Me?” He doesn’t find it funny. “Yes, you. People will think I have a girlfriend, and you were so against that idea before, right?” You’d like to punch that cocky grin off his lips, gaze narrowing at him. “Did you do this on purpose?” He shrugs again, pursing his lips. “Wanted to see if you would stop me.”

You shake your head, pivoting yourself out of the room. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He grabs at your wrist, eyes solemn and serious. “I care about you—can’t I want your care for me, even if it’s over something as stupid as this?” You do nothing but gape back at him, and he pulls you in closer, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Face it, you like me, even if it’s not like that.” You roll your eyes. “You’re such an egoist, Beomgyu.” He pays no mind to your insults, “What I want to know is why you only delete comments that talk shit about me, and you ignore the ones dog-piling on you.” Your brows pinch in confusion. “”Cause it’s my job to protect you, fuckface. My comments don’t matter.” He’s quick to dismiss you. “That’s not true, and it sucks when I see you put yourself down like you don’t matter. Even if you say you don’t like me, I like you. That shit affects me too.” You scoff, violently removing his grip on you. “That’s such bullshit. Those comments were for one live and don’t mean anything to me.” His face contorts into a mix of amusement and disbelief. “They don’t? Not the ones that called you a bitch and a user?” Your gaze is stuck on the floor, refusing to give him any satisfaction over the topic. “What about the ones who called you all those slurs and a nympho, they don’t even know you.” You clear your throat. “Well, it shouldn’t matter to you, because it’s none of your business.” 

His gaze softens, “You are my business.” “No—you’re my business, and I work for you. That’s all.” Your expression is sharp and blank, staring right into him. “Is that what’s keeping you from being with me?” He exclaims, gears turning in his head. “‘Cause I don’t need a fucking mod anyway. I’ll deal with whatever comment is thrown my way because I’m not a pussy that needs to be kept in the dark.” If his solution is to fire you then date you, he may be as foolish as you feared. “You think that shit is easy?” You hiss, pushing him off you and onto his seat. “You know what people say about you, Beomgyu?” His body is trapped in between your arms, gulping down as you get close to his face. “They think you’re a fame whore who’s desperate for a click, and you should just slut yourself out for cash.” You don’t miss the way his alarmed stare flickers to your lips. “I defend you from shit like that every time you open your camera, and you think it's as easy as ignoring a few trolls? Even your own fans joke about it.” 

“Though looking at you now, you’re just as dirty and trampy as they make you out to be.” You wedge your knee in between his crotch, and he falters at the contact. “If you’re a pervert who gets off shit like this? Maybe you’ll be just fine after all. Fuck, maybe you can even make a living out of it.” He slumps over your leg, resting his cheek on your thigh with heavy breaths. “Please—” He chokes out, and you tilt your head curiously. “Please what?”

“Please make it better.”

You snatch the waistband of his underwear and tug it down to his thighs, eyes screwed shut as his dick hits his stomach. Beomgyu groans at the cool air that hits his skin, replaced with the warm slick from  your cunt. He looks up at you panting over him, brows furrowed as you try to sink further on him. Without warning, he bucks his hips up into you, making you fall down onto his lap. Tugging his hair back, you glare at him. “Don’t. Move.” You hiss. The other whines in response, gripping on the arm rests and burying his face between your neck. You huff, digging your fingers into his shoulders as you sink deeper. “I can’t–you have to move, please move or else—” “Or else what?” You cut him off, “I’m the one doing you a fucking favor here. So you’ll take what I give you or I'll take it all away.”

He’s fully situated in you, but you still aren’t moving—and it’s driving the brunette insane. He starts rolling his hips slowly, and he was pretty sure you didn’t notice until a small whimper leaves you. His gaze locks in with your own—eyes watering and lips quivering as you try to remain calm. 

With one swift motion, Beomgyu hoists you up to his hips and drags the both of you onto the bed. He lets you down gently onto the mattress, planting a kiss on your forehead as he drives himself deeper into you. 

The both of you don’t say anything for a while–-the room filled with shaky breathing and whimpering, along with the squelching from where your bodies connect. His hips suddenly stutter and snap into you, causing you to moan loudly. His hands move from your thighs to take hold of your face, kissing you like his life depended on it. You yelp when he bites down, prying himself into your mouth. He starts thrusting faster, raking the sides of your torso with his tongue still lodged in your throat. Out of the blue, he pulls himself off you, watching the way your pussy sucks his cock in and out. “Angel, you’re so pretty…So pretty when you go dumb on my dick, that smart mouth of yours can’t keep up with me.” He sighs, pressing his thumb on your clit. Your legs try their best to close but he spreads them further apart, bending down so that his chest is sitting on yours. “So pretty, thinking about nothing but me. I wish you’d always think about me.” He mumbles mindlessly, “I love you.”Your cunt clenches at his words, and you’re sure he feels it by the way he arches his back into you. 

He picks up his pace again, whining and babbling incoherent phrases. He tells you he loves you over and over again, before cutting himself off. “I-I’m close, can I cum inside?” You nod feverishly and he smirks, kissing the tip of your nose. “So cute, eager for me to fill you up? I’m at your disposal, angel. I’ll give you anything and everything you want.” He rushes, kissing the sides of your face until you come around him, inducing his own orgasm as he rides both of your highs out, white strings overflowing to the base of his dick and the inners of your thighs.

“So...” He starts, drumming his fingers against your thigh. You turn to him, lips in a pursed line. “So… You’re actually in love with me.” 

Beomgyu makes a deadpan expression, dropping his shoulders. “I thought that was clear already from like, the million times I told you.” Trying to face away, you shuffle against the bed, but he holds your waist and pulls you close to him. Still, you refuse to meet his gaze. “Well, words are just—words.” Your phrases make him petulant, circling over the dip of your skin with his thumb. “Well, I do mean it.”

“I know I just— I don’t think—you’re a public figure, Beomgyu.” The sulk on his face deepens,  a successful attempt to make you pity him. “I’m still just me. Completely separate from whatever facade I choose to show the rest of the world.” He says, taking your hands in his. “I’ll be yours, as Beomgyu, not some mega-talented and skilled streamer.” You scoff at his never ending confidence, shoving him away from you. His face beams when he lightens the mood. “So?” You raise an eyebrow, “So?”

“Do you want to try,” He gestures between the two of you, “this?” He can visualize the gears turning in your head, and he has to admit to himself that he’s scared of your answer. You release your bottom lip from your teeth. “One date.” He flips over to rest on top of you, resting his face on your chest. “One date and a hotel.” 

You scoff. “One date until dinner.” Pouting, he mumbles, “I thought that was implied.” You giggle, combing your fingers through his hair. “One date with a dinner, and if it goes well we’ll see where that gets us.”

“Deal.”

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs, and tags for support towards the algorithm appreciated♡

sorry this took so long i totally forgot about it until i got a dm asking me about it xd

─── 〔 𝒎.𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 〕

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A/n: I wanna emphasize further headcanons for Sylus cause he got me in a chokehold, NSFW isn’t a lot cause I couldn’t think of much. I hope you like this one! Also, when I was writing this, Rafayel was on my screen saying “Babe don’t move, I wanna see if I can see myself in the reflection of your eyes” I am so sorry baby boy. Also, I apologize for the separated posts, I, once again, reached the Tumblr limit. <( •̀ᴖ•́)>

Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Reader

Not beta read!

Warning: Toxic! Relationship, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapping, Forced Drug Usage, Exhibitionism, BDSM, Sadistic! Sylus, Cussing, Blood, SYLUS! (He gets his own warning) If there are warnings that I didn’t notice, please let me know, thank you!

Masterlist Sylus SFW/NSFW Headcanons (Part One)

Sylus NSFW Headcanons

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

SFW:

✄ He wouldn’t forget about the men you keep in your life; they’re so obsessed with you that they all got impacted by your disappearance, especially Rafayel, who was the one that got you into the situation, he knows that the guy was the reason why you almost died, twice? Was it thrice? Anyways that’s too much for someone who says that they loved you for 800 years, (He’s a full-time stalker, do you think his raven wouldn’t hear your conversation when that man got hospitalized?)

✄ For his amusement... he usually tends to give them little trinkets of your possessions where they live or lets you send a message to them once in a while. Just to mess with them, after all, they're the ones who got to have plenty of time with you, and yet here you are, in his home. He considers himself the winner right now.

✄ Out of all the male leads, the one he considers to be a big threat was Lumiere, the number of times he almost got caught with you, that man is crazy. (as if he isn’t) so whenever he lets you out, he makes sure you’re not identifiable, it’s simple really, he uses a device that changes your appearance to look vastly different from your looks.

✄ In terms of Physical affection, he would do it when you still despise him, he’d force you to kiss him, planting his lips on yours while you squirm from your chains, try to bite his lips, he’ll slap your thighs with a baton, specifically your inner thighs mind you, since it hurts so much more there. Yeah, keep trying to hurt him, he’ll make sure to give it back tenfold.

✄ Does he hug you? He does, though the type of hugs he gives aren’t comfortable, it’s where you can’t move, can’t leave or squirm your way out of his hold, he’s strong enough to hold you down.

✄ Cry for him! He likes seeing your tears, angry tears, or pained tears, he doesn’t care, he just wants to see you sob. While he loves that you’re bratty, he also prefers obedient mutts as stated in the first headcanons. If he needs to punish you for that he’s very much willing.

✄ He does drug you often. He likes watching you turn into a mush, a pliant pet for him, he doesn’t take advantage of you in this state though, he just gets tired of your constant squirming when he wants your cuddle after a long day of work, he’d come back to his home, his bodyguards and servants greeting him enthusiastically (they’re forced to) while you on the other hand, just spat insult after insult to him. He would appreciate the feisty personality you have if he has the energy for it.

✄ He’d grab your cheeks in a bruising grip before he grabs a pill box, finding the right drug to put you in a state where you reciprocate his love for you, he forces your jaw open before pouring 3 pills into your mouth.

✄ “Drink” he’d ordered, you gasped, trying to push the pills out of your throat, “spit it out, you’ll regret it” his voice harsh, while he forces cold water down your throat, making sure that you drank it, the moment he lets your cheeks go, you’d be coughing and gasping for air, he drenched your shirt too cause of what he did, but he doesn’t care, you’re acting like a feral dog, be ready to be treated like one.

✄ The moment the drugs start to circulate in your system, making you tired and obedient, he’ll carry you to the bed, where you were supposed to be, but didn’t like being on since that bed reminded you that you were trapped.

✄ In times like this, he turns vulnerable, asking you to tell him how much you love him, he likes hearing it, you never told him those words, and he could only hear it when you’re drugged out.

✄ You cuddle him, breathing ragged while he traces his fingers on your back, causing you to shiver, it was cold and hot at the same time, and the only comfort you feel is when you’re pressed against his body, he is the only solace you feel when you’re in this state, and you hated it.

✄ When he tells you he loves you, you respond so eagerly, like a proper mutt.

✄ He'd plant kisses on your face, his hand gently holding your back to adjust your position on his lap. Your skin, warm from the effects of the drugs, pressed against his. Seizing the moment, he continued kissing you, his lips trailing down to your neck, where he left bites, he’d savor your whimpers.

✄ Oh, but if you mention any of the male lead’s name except for him while you’re in a dreamlike state,  he’d be fuming with jealousy, but it’s not obvious, his subtle hints would be on his body language, the way his kisses became rougher, he bites your bottom lip, breaking skin and making you bleed, if you wince in pain, he’d have a sneer on his face.  His grip on your back would go to your waist, chubby or not, he’d have you under his mercy, his hands tugging your cuffs and placing your wrists on top of your head.

“Even if your brain’s a mush you never fail to hit a nerve pretty”

✄ After you fall asleep under his “care”, he’ll take care of you, changing your outfit before he tucks you to bed, you’ll often wake up alone, but with a letter that says that he’ll be expecting proper etiquette from you next time.

✄ Does he say “I love you” to you? If you’re still mad at him, he would out of spite, He would infuse it with such sweetness that it’s guaranteed to make you angrier. Honestly, he loves seeing you try to piss him off. Keep going, love; you're at least one step closer.

✄ On the other hand, once you develop Stockholm syndrome, he won’t say it much, you didn’t become boring, he just likes seeing you desperate to please him, to get his love so he stops his affections just for you to beg for it.

✄ Is it hard to withhold loving you? Nope, it’s easy for him, he lived without your constant affection, even during the months he kept you in his home, you didn’t give him the privilege of your love, so he doesn’t mind not touching you at all, not giving you the attention you want, or the verbal affirmation if he still loved you.

✄ Once you start crying and begging, that’s where he’d hush you, petting your head before he kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry pretty, I’m here now, don’t cry” He’d coo before you hug him as if your life depended on it.

[missdaytonawrites]

want you back • a. anderson

summary - you agree to a lowkey, fuck-buddy type of arrangement with your ex after you split. until abby just can't seem to keep it exactly "lowkey" anymore.

WC - 2.4k

cw/tw - 18+ MDNI (as always.) explicit content/smut below the cut, cheating, talk of breakups, abby's a dick for just a little bit, talk of drinking, possible ellie slander?!?! light violence, mentions of injury/blood, some hurt/comfort kinda, heavy petting, teasing, ?? strap worship ?? vaginal fingering (r! receiving) use of "little girl" as nickname, talk of strap-ons/strap on usage, serious teasing, spit play, grotesque descriptions of abby's strap, little bit of rough/meanie abby, squirting, overstim, orgasm control, mating press oooo ✨, possesive abs, im sure there is way more wowie.

AN - hooooly cow. hi there, hello wow. first and foremost; this filth was 120% inspired by @shelbita111's request and is 130% for my babe!!! she sent such an amazing idea and i defintely ran with it lol, i hope you love this! sorry i got a lil' carried away!

"i'll take the fall and the fault in us. i'll give you all the love i never gave before i left you."

four months, roughly one-hundred and twenty-one fucking days. you had just finally started to feel clean, your system had been undoubtedly flushed of abigail fucking anderson. you had been sooo, so strong. your friends had implored you for stickin’ to your guns and letting her go.

..or so they thought.

all 121 days of those four months you had been unapologetically fucking abby behind everyones back, and it was good. good for you, abby could fuck and you happily accepted everything she gave you.

for abby? this was torture, pure torment being enflicted upon her at your disposal. in a way, she only had herself to blame. four months prior to whatever you could call your current arrangement, you had caught a very drunk abby with her hands (and mouth) all over some name-less broad at her birthday party. instead of causing a scene that night, you quietly left and sent abby a text making her aware of your new relationship status.

she let you be for a couple days or so, letting you be the one to decide if it was really over or not. when she hadn’t heard from you by then, guilt crept right up on her, took a couple swings… and won. so she took it upon herself to show up unannounced at your place with some vodka and blue gatorade. she was gonna end this problem the way she started it.

but when the door opened and you saw her.. you thought she was insane and gave her a 6 minute speech before you even let her over the threshold.

once she was in.. after a slightly pointless conversation and lots of apologies from her, you proposed to keep it on the down-low. you would agree to keep seeing her but no feelings attached, and on your own terms.

much to her dismay, abby agreed.

which meant when rare situations like this happened, she had to keep her lips fuckin’ sealed. it was not something she could describe as “easy.” in her eyes, you two never broke-up. you’re still hers, but she knows it isn't the truth.

so here she had to sit, fourth months of hooking-up and suppressed feeling later, while you danced all over some thin, auburn-haired girl. you both looked sweaty, and when the girls hands found your hips to shift you so you were facing her? abby almost lunged at the pair of you.

someone could bump into you two and your lips would meet, abby could feel the liquor she had been drinking start to swirl in her stomach. taking a large swallow and stepping forward, she didn't even notice her hands coming between you and the girl until she was the one facing you.

she eyed you and panted angrily, and if you didn't know your abby you maybe would have been scared. the girl you had been dancing with grabbed and tried to push abby away and you couldn't stop her before abby had pushed the girl to the ground.

abby raised her fist to throw a punch and she almost did.. but your hand reached to wrap around her bicep and she turned to face you, when your eyes met hers all she could do was scoop you up and out of the commotion. even if she had been at fault once again.

she hurried the two of you back to her place, and she swore she could feel the anger radiating off of you. when the two of you arrived, abby started pacing and trying to think of what she could say.. she didn't have long to think however before your lips were on hers.

abby kissed you back with fervor, she was scared it would be the last one. she couldn’t understand why you were kissing her. you pulled away from the kiss in attempts at talking with her but you noticed two long, bloody streaks on her arm. the brunette must have scratched her amidst the chaos.

you gasped and abby looked down, noticing the injury herself. “shit.” she said and turned away from you, almost walking away to handle it herself before you stop her. “abby. don’t play tough now and just let me help you..?” she turned back to you and followed you into the kitchen.

you made her sit at the dining room table while you fetched the first aid kit, returning with sympathy in your eyes.

as you clean her up, you offer her an explanation. “i shouldn’t have been so touchy with her ab, m’sorry you got hurt.” you finish dressing her wounds and she looks at you. it’s almost as if she's begging, “can we not do this anymore? please?”

you try to question her but you just simply can’t before she’s the one kissing you this time. tangling her hands in your hair and leaning into you. you can’t recall a time she’s ever kissed you like this, her hands fall from your hair to slide down into the back pockets of your denim skirt and she rolls her hips into yours. she’s impossibly close and she doesn’t make any effort to distance herself.

your hands go from loosely hanging around her neck to tapping, then banging on her chest as you try to get her off. she pulls away only to grumble out “i want you-” then you interject and stumble back slightly, hands never leaving her chest. “you have me, abs…” and then she’s moving closer, she finishes her thought and closes the distance between you two. “-back. i want you back.” then she's just as close as before and her lips are all over you again.

but it's so much more than a kiss this time, its teeth-clashing, lip biting, hands everywhere as she stumbles you both towards her bedroom. you feel as though this is getting far too good for you to interject anymore, so you just lazily follow abby until the back of your knees hit her mattress and you fall back onto it. abby immediately follows suit and climbs on top of you, rolling her hips into yours once again and this time you can feel that she's wearing her harness and strap. something she rarely does in public, it now becomes obvious that abby had some previous plans in mind for you before things took an unexpected turn. you gasp against her lips and your hands travel down to squeeze her through her sweats. she chuckles and removes your hands, then stands up and backs away from you.

abby snaps at you and her eyes gaze down at the floor and then back up into yours, she lets out a low growl. salivating as you drop to your knees in front of her, and then bury your face into her crotch. kissing her clothed strap. you look up at her and push some drool past your lips to fall to your tits, sticking your tongue out as it dribbles down.

abby sucks a sharp breath in and pulls her sweats and boxers down in one swift motion, letting her strap come out to bob up into your face. it’s crystal clear and painfully large, the same one she’s always used on you. roughly eight inches with a thick vein running the underside, the tip is prominent and bulbous. abby loved watching you pull off of her with a pop when she let you gag all over her.

your tongue instinctively swipes out to lick a long stripe up her cock but she doesn't let you get too far, because she’s pulling you up by your hair in no time. getting you to your feet, abby tugs at your tank top to snag and lift it off your body and she almost cums all over her harness right then and there at the sight of your tits. she pushes you back to the bed once again where you lay as she shimmies out of her bottoms and saunters over to you, eyeing you like prey.

she gets to you and tries, she really does give an honest try and nicely pulling your skirt down.. but to no avail, you’re far too squirmy and abby thinks out loud when she says “fuck it, i’m not being soft tonight.” before ripping your little skirt in two. you gasp at the sudden feeling of exposure and it's here when she can now see that you must’ve opted out of panties tonight. abby quite literally froths at the mouth when she sees your bare core, spread and ready for her.

“s’better than a goddamned playboy..” she sighs and her fingers find your little swollen clit with a quickness. your mouth falls open in a lost moan and abby does the same thing, at the same time. she’s got this false aura of sympathy about her, shes fucking mocking you. you’re far too gone by now to even care, you honestly expect it out of her.

her middle and ring finger move down from your clit and into a “V” shape, separating your lips and then she pushes the same two fingers inside your weepy little hole. going knuckle deep and then pulling them out halfway, twisting them ever so slightly to the right, and then doing it all over again. she continues on like this for a moment before she gives you two steady pumps in and out, then pushes knuckle deep in you once again. she holds her fingers there and her lips come to yours again, barely ghosting your mouth, abby says in a hushed whisper “tell me you’re mine.”

you look at her the best you can, and bite your lip. “i, i’m yours..” you whisper. that makes her give you a little peck, with her fingers still buried inside you, not having moved a single centimeter, she raises her voice a little, “say it again, louder.”

you squeak and try to ration with her. “abby, please, mo-” she kisses you again as if to shut you up and repeats herself. “i said louder, little girl.”

you gulp and at least think that you raise your pitch when you say “yours! im you-” but apparently you must not have because there she is again, almost yelling, cutting you off to say “louder.” once again. so you practically scream this time when you give her a whiny “yooours, im so yours abby.” panting once you finish, abby slowly curls her fingers and you can feel the tears about to roll over.

“louder.” you hear from somewhere in the room, and so you do, you fucking need this. 100% screaming this time, “fuck! yours! i am yours abs!! you and only you get to have me like this, hnnng, abby puh-lease!” abby pulls her fingers out and shoves them in your mouth to quiet your whines. laughing when you choke around her thick digits, you cough as she pulls them out and wipes them off on your cheek. like you’re her little towel.

abby then lets her fingers drop back down to circle your clit, kissing you hard again and trying her best to not have it turn into a makeout. so she pulls away just for a half of a second and looks down while she catches her breath, she almost forgot her harness had been patiently hanging from her hips. so while abby's fingers are still toying with your clit, she presses her nose into your neck, takes a deep inhale and says “need to fuck you, right now little girl.”

there it was again, the nickname abby had affectionately titled you with when you two had first met. “little girrrl..” you hear and you’re pulled from your thoughts when you feel her begin to press into you, she quite literally impales you on her strap. giving you slow, deep strokes as she works herself all the way in. “snug little thing, huh?” she mutters as she bottoms out, but you can’t be bothered to react or respond. you are all-encompassed by the pleasure that was swallowing you whole.

you gulp because, holy shit, she’s just started to fuck you and you’re already teetering on that edge. this has never happened to you before, so you muster all the courage you have, and in hopes that she’ll maybe be nice.. you let a little “m’gonna cum already.” and of course she hears. however, whatever god you may have been praying to in that moment must’ve heard whatever prayer you said in your head because all abby does is bring your legs up and together, then pushes you into a mating press. groaning a low “oh, no you’re not…” out with her movements.

she keeps fucking you, harder actually, your ankles are up by your ears and she keeps you there. grinding her strap into you, chasing after her own release. you raise your hands to claw and squeeze at her hips, trying to stop her.

“no, really ab- huuuhhh..” you garble out while her pace never once falters, “abby fuck…” you hiss and this knot ties and unties in the lowest pits of your belly unlike ever before. its feels like your going to pee and your legs spasm like you’re seizing. “really, what?” she snarls, and then snickers at you, “what is it, little girl?” you wince and she spits down onto your face, letting the glob of saliva roll off your nose a little before bringing one of her hands to your face to rub her spit all around it. you’re sure it's quite the sight to behold.

there you lay, sweaty and now covered in abby’s spit. limbs weak and legs falling asleep under abby’s grip, you try only once more to warn her of what's to come before it’s just happening. “abby please, please abs.. i’m cum- gonna, i’m going to- hhaaaa…” then your orgasm is jumping out of you like a little fountain. completely soaking the lower half of abby’s top, a bit of your stomach and the sheets beneath you two. abby gasps as she watches it all happen, her gasp turns into a full blown laugh and as she fucks you even harder she says, “this pussy’s too fuckin’ good to me.”

shaking her head at you, you ride out your high as best as you can before you begin to fade out of consciousness, you look up at abby with hearts in your vision and manage to get a “so pretty abby..” said before you're completely out.

when you come to, abby’s lying next to you while she catches her breath. harness still wrapped around her hips, she looks over at you and winks. “remember what you said about being mine, little girl. you don’t just let me fuck you like that and expect me to keep it casual anymore, do ya’?”

hope everyone likes this!! still working on that surprise i've been droppin' hints about, maybe i'll start talking about it more, idk. all i know is i'm going to a paramore concert this sat. and i've been working on this for DAYSSS and i couldn't sleep tonight if i didn't get this the fuck done!!!! so! yaaay! snaps for novaaa!

[pinkcrocss]

Is A-Train "redeemable"?

I have been thinking about this discourse that people have been having, following A-train's actions so far in season 4. And I know we've watched A-train teeter on the edge of good and bad for the last 4 seasons (generally falling to bad more than good). But i think the revelations about Frenchie's character kinda add an interesting spin to this question.

We need to consider how much our personal bias towards the characters we have grown to know (their motivations, their trauma's, their back stories), is impacting moral judgments we pass on other characters across the board.

Atp, every member of the boys has crossed "the line" in terms of black and white morality, but we give them a pass because we are convinced that they are all truly good at heart, and that their cause is just.

However, when you actually break down the actions of said characters, it kind of paints a different picture.

What has A-train done, that we feel he has to atone for? (this is just going off my terrible memory, so forgive me if I miss some things)

He killed Hughie's girlfriend (through negligence)

He killed popclaw (at the behest of homelander)

He's generally pretty arrogant and doesn't care about the horrible actions of his comrades, until it affects him

He killed bluehawk (most people agree that was justified)

Since season 2, Frenchie's past as a hit-man was hinted at (with little Nina explicitly stating that he had also killed children in season 3). It's clear Frenchie never had a particular moral code when he was a hit-man (no women/children type limits). He was simply a hired gun.

We sympathize with Frenchie because we know he had a difficult upbringing with his abusive father, as well as his loyalty to his friends (Cherie and Jay), the boys and especially Kimiko. Him serving as a comic relief often, also adds to this empathy bridge.

But season 4 has actually shown us a glimpse of just how many lives Frenchie has taken in cold blood. A whole room full. Why are we rooting for Frenchie's peace of mind, while debating if A-train is redeemable?

Frenchie has killed more people than Atrain (supe or not) and as far as I know, A-train has never killed a child.

Would it be easier to understand the gravity of Frenchie's crimes if Ryan or MM's daughter was one of his victims? Because his victims are all nameless, we act like his crimes hold less weight.

And then he goes on to start a sexual relationship with one of his victims, while hiding the knowledge that he was perpetrator of his greatest trauma. I think maybe we overlook the sadistic nature of that act because we interpret Frenchie as a "lover at heart", a true romantic that was swayed by his feelings and couldn't help that he had fallen for someone he had wronged. Bruh. When Colin eventually calls Frenchie a psychopath, he's not wrong.

And what about starlight? Her hands aren't clean. Remember the civilian she killed in Season 2? How is that any different from the situation with A-train and Robin? Yeah, it was an accident. In other words, negligence on her part. She needed to save Hughie; but why does Hughie's life matter more than that man. Her and Butcher were trying to carjack him and he had offered to call for help. He had a right to try to defend himself, and that bullet wouldn't have hurt her. That man was a father.

By the logic of why the boys are doing what they do, why we justify their murders of supes who have harmed them and their loved ones; if the child of that man grows up and hunts starlight down, would we need to root for that child to kill her?

Not so different from the shining light girl that keeps trying to kill Kimiko. From what was revealed of their backstory, Kimiko was the one who lured the girl into shining light. That's actually a common tactic of human traffickers, to use their victims (usually women and children) to lure in more victims cuz they seem less threatening. And obviously we can't fully blame Kimiko. She was trapped, brainwashed, and a child trying to protect her younger brother.

However, that girl also has every right to hate her. From her view, her life was forever taken because Kimiko chose not spare her (kinda similar to Gamora and Nebula). When Hughie said to A-train, "everything started with you!" we side with Hughie and we agree. So everytime Kimiko faces against that girl, why are we rooting for Kimiko? Wouldn't kimiko be A-train in that instance?

At this point, the only member of the boys who is still maintaining some Moral code is MM, and it's no coincidence that the show has made him seem pretty useless so far this season.

Btw, this post isn't a defense of A-train nor is it truly an indictment of any of the characters I used as examples. It's just an inconsistency I've noticed with the general fan discourse of who's "good" and who's "bad" on this show. Who is worthy of "forgiveness". Who's "redeemable". Redeemable to whom tho?

P.s. I'm not here to argue. Don't come for me cuz I critiqued your fave. I'm just thinking out loud. Feel free to respond/disagree, but if you're rude I'll just block you.

[starlightsuffered]

When It Happens

Warnings - break up, unwanted child by father, not accepting child, DNA test, mentions of abortion

Once he'd been the type to bring me flowers weekly. I'd kept a journal of the sweet things he said because I needed to remember his love and creativity. We'd said I love you ten days after we started dating. He said it just felt right, and I agreed. He had showed me a fairytale love I'd stopped believing in.

Now, it was all gone. We hadn't kissed in two weeks, making love was even les frequent. He was always coming home late. The other night he'd even rolled out of my arms when I'd tried to cuddle. I'd muffled my sobs, or at least I hope I had because it would break my heart if he had heard and done nothing. Because of all this, I wasn't surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

"I'm just so young, I need to be free. You want me home all the time and I want to take on new projects," he explained, using his hands in a way that had once mesmerized me.

"You said you wanted a family with me," I cried.

"I know, I did then, I wasn't lying, but it kinda hit me just how young I am," he explained.

"Yes, and you've done amazing things!" I pleaded. "Let this be another amazing thing that you don't give up on."

"I'm sorry," he shook his head.

I moved out and purged him from my life, except one thing didn't get purged. I realized a few months later that I was pregnant. I couldn't abort the baby, I just couldn't. I still loved Timothée, and though he'd ghosted me as I had him, having this one part of him may not be so bad. I'd always wanted kids anyway, this was a headstart.

Soon I had a beautiful baby girl. I named her Anne. Anne was a bubbly child and looked like Timothée had contributed all her genes instead of half. I got compliments on her all the time, so that's what I expected when I got a tap on my shoulder when I took her on a walk.

"Y/n?" The voice said in disbelief. There he was, messy curls, sunglasses, sweat pants, looking no different one painful year later. I had intended never to tell Anne about her father. How bad it would hurt that he'd left so fast he didn't know she existed, and that he wouldn't want her anyhow.

"Timothée," I smiled and he gave me a friendly hug.

"You get a job as a babysitter?" He chuckled, pointing to the stroller that held my lightly cooing 5 month old.

"No, she's mine," I smiled.

"You move on fast," he said, with a small amount of pain in his voice.

"Um, Timmy," I said, and I pulled back the hood. His jaw dropped, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Didn't move on," I said softly.

"There's no way, you would've told me," he said.

"You ghosted me, I didn't know until later and I had no way to get ahold of you," I said.

"It's just not possible," he said, running a hand over his face. "Here I was coming to tell you I regret what I did, and now this?

"You were?" I asked gently.

"Yeah, I've missed you like crazy," he chuckled.

"I never slept with anyone else, she's yours," I swore.

"I, I need a DNA test, if it's positive, we should try again, even if I didn't want to be a dad, I am now. I'm not going to be a absent one," he swore.

Of course, the DNA test came back positive. Timothée moved us into his huge house. I'd forgotten the luxury he lived in.

I watched him try to parent. I'd always thought he'd be a natural, but he wasn't. He always held her away from him. He handled her like she might crack like an egg. He got frustrated when she cried or threw something she wanted. I told him babies like cause and effect and can't think long term. She's going to drop her soother, because she wants to see what happens, but then she wants it back, so she cries.

"What do you want?" He asked desperately one day as she sobbed. Her identical eyes were welled with tears and her tiny face was red as he offered her toy after toy. She didn't stop.

"I can't do this," he slapped his thighs and got up.

"Because you don't want to," I said with a sigh. He still hadn't accepted her as his child.

"I'm trying my best," he gritted out.

"With actions, not with your heart," I said, rubbing his shoulder. We'd tentatively gotten back together, and our relationship was great, but if we fought, it was about this.

"You always say that," he said, and let me fold him into my arms.

"Timmy," I said, kissing his chest. "You treat her like a child, but not your child."

His head lowered onto my shoulder in shame. He took a couple deep breaths.

"I know," he finally said in a whisper. "Please don't give up on me, I'm trying to get there."

"Promise you'll tell me when it locks in?" I begged.

"You'll be the first to know," he smiled, and kissed my nose.

That night Anne was inconsolable. She was screaming so hard I worried about her throat. I'd tried absolutely everything I could think of, and nothing helped. I was absolutely exhausted. Finally, I did what I tried never to do. I laid down the screaming infant and went into mine and Timothée's room.

"Baby," I rubbed his arm to wake him up.

"Mmm?" He asked groggily.

"I'm really sorry, but Anne won't settle and I've been up for so long. Can you please try?" I begged.

"Only for you," he pecked a kiss onto my lips. "Because you know she hates me."

"She does not," I yawned, and climbed back into bed. To my utter surprise, the crying stopped. I waited, and waited, but no more noise. Then there were thundering footsteps as Timothée slid into the room and bolted to the bed with Anne in his arms. His eyes looked like a starry night, and tears streaked his cheeks now, a familiar scene since Anne was his twin.

"It happened," he said in a voice strained with emotion. "She likes me, and I adore her. She's the most precious thing in this world."

"I don't think I've ever been happier than this moment," I said, crying now too. Timothée pulled me to him, kissing me thoroughly on the mouth, but making sure to not crush Anne who was drifting to sleep.

"She looks so much like me," he said with joy.

"I've been saying so," I chuckled.

"I didn't see it fully until now. Holy shit I love her so much," he said and then looked terrified. "Sorry baby Anne, daddy didn't mean to say a bad word."

This was the first time I'd heard him refer to himself as daddy and my heart soared. He was caressing every part of her, her tiny fingers, her bushy eyebrows, her nose, her lips.

"She's beyond perfect, thank you for giving us her," he said to me, and kissed me again.

"You're welcome," I smiled, overjoyed at this turn of events.

"You can put her in the crib if you want, she's fast asleep," I offered.

"Could I... Could I maybe sit on the bed and hold her and look at her? I want to make up for lost time," he asked sheepishly.

"Yes of course," I said. As I cuddled under the covers I heard Timothée telling whispered stories to Anne. Some were fairytales, some were about his movies, a couple we about us and her. I fell asleep to his happy murmurs and knew he'd never doubt again.

[hugmekenobi]

Wardrobe Change

A Bad Batch Series interlude oneshot

Image from the Popverse courtesy of Lucasfilm (my gif searches were being very uncooperative)

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: Times change, uniforms change and this new design has its fair share of admirations.

Warnings: No use of y/n, pet names (sweetheart), Cid being Cid, I make up a timeline, affectionate possessiveness, fluff and feelings, Force communication working how I say it does, PDA in the form of making out and affectionate biting, spicy/suggestive dialogue, getting caught/interrupted, awkwardness

Masterlist for Season 1 chapters

Word Count: 4.7K

Rating: 18+

Author’s notes: It’s the last of the oneshots before we get into S2! This was purely because I wanted to start S2 off with the armour changes being understood and so I didn’t have to describe them lol but I hope there’s more substance for y’all to enjoy! Big shout out to @hugmedin who helped me when I got hit with a bad bit of writer’s block and wrote a section of this, including my favourite line in this fic that had me freaking out when I read it, love you my guy!! 

“Okay! I have them! Ugh this is so heavy!”

You all turned your attention over to the loud thud and you smiled as you saw Lyra collapsed over the container she had previously been carrying. She’d only just managed to get it through the doorway. “You should’ve told us. We’d have helped you bring it over.” You said as you stood up and walked over to her.

“It’s part of the service.” Lyra panted as she stood up and smoothed down her top. “I think you guys will like what I’ve done.”

“Can you get that out the way? It’s blocking the entrance! We don’t have all day for this. I have my own business to run!” Cid said by way of greeting.

“You weren’t exaggerating.” Lyra muttered.

“Give it 6 months and you’ll be on mildly better terms.” You uttered back with grin.

“Oi! Either help her or get out of her way. It’s bad enough you’re using my place as your fitting rooms!” Cid barked over at you.

“Better terms?” Lyra said with a small laugh.

“I did say mildly.” You replied, grabbing the other side of the box, and lifting it over to where the rest of your squad had congregated in the corner.

“Are they finally ready?” Omega asked excitedly as she gave Tech the datapad back.

“Omega, we haven’t finished-”

“Come on, Tech! I can do it later!” Omega griped.

Tech sighed in defeat.

“A quick break won’t hurt Tech.” You appeased.

“Let me see!” Omega said.

“Okay kid, hang on.��� Lyra said with a smile. She opened the box and began the process of handing the updated armour out. “I played around a bit with them.”

“How much?” Hunter and Echo asked warily as they took theirs from her.

“Don’t stress. It’ll all look perfect. I changed the colours and symbols as requested but I got rid of a couple things that weren’t really necessary. You guys have more civilian type clothing to wear underneath now, rather than just those blacks you’d handed over. And that means you don’t have to always change into these clothes you’re wearing now if you want to take your armour off. Oh, and your codpieces are gone.”

“You took away a whole section of our armour?” Tech asked sceptically as he took his.

“They were annoying me.” She replied simply. “And I don’t think you’re in a position to act like it’s a super crucial piece you’re missing. You don’t have any thigh armour. That wasn’t a change I made, that was all you.” She added pointedly.

Tech opened his mouth to protest but he couldn’t think of a rebuttal fast enough.

You chuckled as you watched Tech walk away, mumbling something under his breath about how it suits his needs just fine.

“Where’s mine?” Omega asked eagerly.

“Alright kid. Here you go.” Lyra passed the pile of clothes over to Omega who grabbed them keenly and dashed off to change.

“Did I see a hat?” You asked as you watched her turn the corner.

“It makes the outfit.” Lyra replied with a smile.

You laughed. “I won’t question your style.”

“Good. Cause now it’s your turn.”

“You only changed the colour, right?”

“In a way…”

“Lyra…”

“Calm down. It’s nothing crazy. I still kept the hood and mask element you like. I just started from scratch. The top you bought from me before isn’t really suitable for what you do. I didn’t realise you operated with no armour at all. If I gave you the original one back, it would only be a matter of time before you had rips in it. I’m surprised it was in one piece for so long.”

“Okay… so?”

“So, I got my hands on this new material that is generally just sturdier so that’ll help, and you have some armour of your own.”

“Armour?” You said sceptically as you watched her reach down.

“Not a lot.” She reassured you. “I figured you liked the freedom of movement, it’s just a couple of things. Here’s the top.”

You took it from her, and you could already tell that it was better quality. The black fabric was thick but when you put it over your head, it fit snugly but still allowed for flexible movement. The mask and hood were indeed still there and where your previous top had red lining on the outside, this one now had a turquoise. Your eyes also noted the small white half skull that seemed to have been another element that was carried over. “And this was an essential thing you needed to keep?” You said, pointing to the sign.

Lyra grinned. “You both like it and don’t try to deny it.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled with her. “This is perfect though, thanks!”

“I’m not done.” She handed over the additional pieces to your ensemble.

You took the small parts of armour she’d give you. They were black and decorated with a mix of white and turquoise stripes. You also realised they were like the ones Hunter wore on his forearms. She’d also added a pair of black gloves.

“This means you’re also getting rid of that horrendous thing keeping that vibroblade on your thigh.” Lyra ordered.

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” You said defensively, glancing down to your thigh where your vibroblade was encased. Sure, the strap was fraying, and it was no longer the same colour as it was when you had first got it and some of the leather was showing cracks, but it served its purpose just fine. Plus, it had been with you through a lot of highs and lows and although a mantra throughout your life had been ‘no attachments,’ you had found that both Hunter and this strap were exceptions to the rule and you were rather fond of it.

Lyra just gave you a sad look. “Look at it. It’s disgusting. Throw it in here and never think about it again.” She insisted, turning the box towards you.

You sighed and chucked your vibroblade on the table before you threw your old strap into the empty container. You attached the new pieces to your forearms before you sheathed your vibroblade into the one on your left arm. You then put the next pieces that ran from your shoulders to the end of your upper arm. You were annoyed to find that Lyra was right, and you didn’t feel restricted by having them there.

“And you told me yourself your blaster holster is a hand-me-down from Tech. Put that one away too.”

“You were just waiting for a chance to upgrade my stuff weren’t you?” You grumbled as you took your blaster out and removed your holster. It joined your old vibroblade strap.

“Oh yeah.” Lyra said with a smug smile.

You attached the new holster to your thigh and put your blaster in it. “Happy now?” You asked, gesturing up and down your body.  

“You look hot!” Lyra said as she circled you, studying how you looked with the new parts on.

“Shut up.” You laughed, slightly flustered.

“Your sergeant is a lucky guy. How’d your secret project got by the way?”

Before you could reply, a shout got both of your attention.

“We’re ready! I love it!”

You turned to the sound of Omega’s voice, and you grinned as you saw her delighted expression. It had been a while since Kamino and Omega had definitely grown so it was about time she had something that fit with that, and she did now. She had grey bottoms and a red top which was worn underneath a light blue layer, and she had red fabric wrapped around her right wrist. The hat was a cute touch as well. The rest of your squad also looked pretty good. It was odd though, seeing them in colours that weren’t the signature ones they used wear and any insignia illustrating them being Clone Force 99 being gone.

Lyra clapped her hands together. “I truly outdid myself! You guys look fabulous!”

“Yeah, you guys look great!” You added.

Wrecker and Omega beamed, whilst Tech and Echo merely gave small nods.

“You look great too!” Omega said as she walked over to you.

“Yeah, Hunter’s got colours like that too. You guys’ll look good!” Wrecker added.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Speaking of that, where is our fearless leader?” You asked.

“He wanted to rearrange the scarf.” Echo replied.

“Scarf?” You repeated, your throat going dry. You looked over to Lyra.

She shrugged. “I like accessories. Sue me.”

You turned your head over to the sound of Hunter coming back into the main area and it took everything in you not to stare at him for an abnormal amount of time. His armour, like the rest of theirs had maintained most of its original structure-minus the codpiece- and his colours were indeed similar to the ones you had. He had the more civilian looking clothes underneath with the rest of his armour donning a mix of black, white, and turquoise. He had the same bit of orange running down the centre of his chest plate like his brothers had and his helmet still had half of it painted white to match the skull tattoo on his face. The red wrappings around his wrists mirrored the one Omega had and the red scarf… well the scarf was definitely a nice added feature.

Hunter nearly did a double take as he saw you. You looked… well you looked powerful, capable. Not that you didn’t look like that already but there was something about seeing you with actual armour that accentuated that part of you. Plus, the fact he was wearing colours that matched with yours was an added bonus.

“Well, my work here is done!” Lyra said cheerily as she bent down to grab the now empty case.

Hunter tore his eyes away from you and nodded his thanks to her before he saw that you were still looking at him. “What?” He asked as he joined the others and grabbed a drink. He brought his cup to his lips.

“Nothing. Looks good.” You said casually, turning away to follow Lyra out. Just thinking of all the things a scarf can do that a bandana can’t.

The choked splutter that followed had you smirking to yourself as you walked out the door.

--

“You sure we don’t owe you anything for this?” You double checked as you both stood outside the entrance to Cid’s.

Lyra shook her head. “You guys helped me out when I was being harassed by Marco and his goons. We’re even now.”

“Yeah, but getting to beat up Marco and Co is fun.” You said lightly. “You don’t need to repay us for that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, it was actually kinda fun. I haven’t had a project like that to work on in a while. Just point people in my direction if they ask who did this fabulous work and we’re all good.”

You huffed out a laugh. “You got it. I’ll see you around, Lyra. Thank you.”

“Yeah, see you around!” She grabbed her stuff and walked away.

You fished the necklace out your pocket and studied the small symbol on the end of the black leather cord.  It wouldn’t be noticeable under his clothes and armour. You just hoped he would like it.

--

You and Hunter seemed to find any excuse to gravitate towards one another and touch each other, even if it was nothing more than a simple touch that lasted a matter of seconds. Yes, you’d started it with your comment about the scarf, but he really wasn’t helping with things. The air between the two of you had been charged ever since you’d walked back down those steps and now every touch sent warmth flooding through you, and you were sure it was the same for him. To the others, the hand wrapped around your shoulder seemed completely innocent since you were all engaged in casual conversations, but it sent a thrumming through your veins you couldn’t control. And, judging by the way he’d tensed up when you’d laid your hand on his thigh, you weren’t the only one. You all had shed your armour since Cid didn’t have a mission so that definitely wasn’t making things any easier for you.

It felt like a test. Who was going to be the one to give in first? You really didn’t want it to be you and you think you had a way to do that. As Wrecker and Omega got up to go play a game of Dejarik, with Tech and Echo going to watch, you turned to face him. “Can I talk to you outside?”

Hunter looked at you quizzically but nodded and followed you as you stood up.

You made your way to the exit.

“Where are you going?” Omega asked as she waited for Wrecker to make his move.

“We’ll be back.” You replied.

--

“Everything okay?” Hunter asked as you began to pace in front of him.

“Yes. I just- Look I’m- What I’m trying-.” You stopped with an aggravated huff. You’d rehearsed this countless times in your head, and it wasn’t a big deal, worst he could say was no.

“Sweetheart.” Hunter grabbed your wrist to get you to stop walking. “Take a breath, look at me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t call me that.”

Hunter tilted his head. “Why not? You usually don’t mind it. In fact, you tend to quite enjoy it.” He added with a smirk.

You shot him a playful glare and removed his hand which had worked its way to your waist. “Yes, exactly. You’re distracting me and I have a plan here. You’re not going to ruin it with your-” You didn’t finish your sentence, you just gestured to him.

Hunter held his hands up in mock surrender and leaned against the edge of the entry way.

You inhaled deeply and started pacing again. “I consider myself a pretty independent person, you know? Not one to be dependent on much, certainly not a man in my life. But then you come along, and suddenly I’m finding particular things I thought I would hate, quite, well, quite attractive. Take this for example.” You pointed to the half skull on your top. “I was convinced I would hate it, but I don’t. I don’t mind the message it sends.” You stopped and faced him. “However, I can’t just be what this suggests. You’re a part of me, the whole squad is, but I don’t want to be seen as someone whose only purpose is to belong to you.”

Hunter straightened up as he addressed you. “I know that. If I’ve given you reason to believe otherwise, I’m sorry. I’m sure Lyra could change it. I didn’t mean-”

“Hunter, I know.” You reassured him. “That’s not what I’m saying. I only mean I thought it would be nice if you maybe had something that- uh.” You broke off with an awkward cough before you continued, “Represented me.”  You brought the necklace out and handed it to him.

“Where’d you make that?” Hunter asked quietly as he studied the necklace which had attached to it a tiny metallic symbol. A symbol he’d seen many times during the Clone Wars. It was the symbol for the Jedi Order.

“Lyra gave me access to her stuff. Don’t worry, she didn’t know exactly what I was doing.” You added quickly as you saw the concern that flashed across his face. You looked down at the ground and scuffed the toe of your boot through the dirt. “Do you like it? I know it’s a bit risky but figured you could conceal it easily enough and I-” The strong hands on your waist that guided you backwards to the wall cut you off. You glanced up but before you could take your next breath, Hunter’s lips met yours and what little resistance you had left crumbled, but hey, technically he kissed you first, so you counted it as a win. You let him press his body tight to yours and you kissed him eagerly. You like it then?

Hunter didn’t answer directly. He just kissed along your jaw and nipped the skin by the spot behind your ear that he knew would elicit a moan from you and you didn’t disappoint. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He said, still out of breath and his voice even lower than what it usually was.

You released a sigh and your head fell back against the wall as he continued to leave marks on the skin of your neck. I have a pretty good idea.

“I’m serious.” He slid his hand on your cheek, so you were forced to look at him and he very nearly lost it. Your eyes were wide, and your breathing was still uneven, and he wanted nothing more than to continue but he needed to say this first. “From the minute you showed up on Devaron to help, I was enthralled by you. You took out a line of droids with nothing more than a slightly longer vibroblade on your back and acted like it was a regular day. Sure, later on we discovered there was a bit more reason behind that.”

You smiled slightly but your eyes dipped down as a wave of guilt washed over you at the memory of your dishonesty.

“Hey.” Hunter said softly as he saw your mind leave the current moment. He tucked his finger under your chin and angled your face back up. “That’s not why I brought it up. Don’t go back there. Stick with me here cause there’s a point to all this, I promise.”

You sighed and nodded.

Hunter breathed deeply. “You were incredible and there was no hesitation from me, or the others quite frankly, when it came to offering a place with us. I just underestimated the impact you were going to have on my life. It didn’t take long for my brothers to start giving me a hard time, but I was too stubborn to listen.”

Join the club.

He smiled at you before he continued. “Remember, when there was that stampede of Reeks and I got hurt. It was about two months after you’d joined us?” When he saw you nod, he carried on, “You remember how I got injured?”

“The last dregs of the Separatist droids sent a final charge our way. The blast meant I slipped and fell into the cavern where they were running. You came after me and pushed me out the way.” You said softly.

“Yeah, I did. I- I was in love with you then.”

“Well, then we were on very similar timelines.” You revealed with a smile.

Hunter huffed out a laugh. “So, fast forward to now. You’re wearing something that ties you to me and I don’t think you realise exactly the effect that has on me. And then I come out to see I’m wearing the same the colours you are. And to top it off, you’re asking me to wear something that ties me to you? I can say with no hesitation that you’re a part of me too.” With that, he looped it over his neck.

You took a shaky breath as you watched him put it on and you understood why the half skull on your top had meant so much to him. “You think the colours thing only mattered to you? Why do you think I had to give it to you now?” You murmured. “You were killing me in there.”

Hunter nuzzled into your neck. “That why you dragged me out here? Couldn’t wait?” He muttered into your skin and began to place light kisses on your neck, altering what side had his attention.   

“That why you followed me out here?” You countered as you struggled to keep your composure. 

“I thought you wanted to talk.” Hunter replied, his eyes lifting to yours, an unspoken challenge behind them. 

“I-I did talk.” You maintained. 

“And now?”

“And now I’m done.” You grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him with fervour. And I’m counting this as a win. You broke first.  

Hunter chuckled and moved so his lips brushed against your jawline again as his hand trailed from your cheek down to your neck where it stopped for a moment before he continued, and his palm came to rest on the left side of your chest. Your heartbeat pounded beneath his fingertips.

You didn’t let him linger there too long. Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, you pulled him in even closer and bucked your hips forward into him in an attempt to banish the remaining space between the two of you. As you did so Hunter let out a moan into the crook of your neck and the resulting vibrations sent your mind to mush. Your hands frantically grabbed at his shirt, the fabric bunching in between your fingers as you tried to bring him even closer. You let out a frustrated moan, you felt like he was holding back, and you were losing patience. 

Hunter let out a soft chuckle and you could feel his smile against your skin, genuine and unfiltered. “Relax.”  he whispered into your ear. “I’m right here.” 

Your hands slid from his waist up the length of his back, his muscles rigid but warm against your palm. You nipped at his ear, your hips still bucking into him, and you’d never been more thankful that Lyra had gotten rid of the cod pieces, but it also meant you became more and more desperate.  

“I need you closer.” Your voice came out strained as you looked up at him and you made no attempt to disguise your desire as you continued to press yourself against him.   

“That can be arranged.” 

The lights in the alleyway were dim but you could have sworn you saw a glimmer form in his eyes, the kind that only appeared when the two of you were alone. Upon seeing that, all sensible thoughts about the risks of doing this in public left your head completely. 

Bending down ever so slightly he brought both his hands to the back of your thighs lifting you up against the wall in one swift movement. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he held you in position against the wall. Your fingers found themselves wrapped up in Hunter’s hair which you used to gently tug his face away from where he was placing deep kisses along your collarbone. He let out a deep sigh which caught in his throat and resembled something close to a growl. As you held his head there you allowed yourself a moment to admire the way his eyes had grown darker, and his chest and shoulders heaved as he caught his breath. His lips remained parted as he patiently waited for instructions from you. Removing your hand from his hair you brought it back to caress his tattooed cheek, this time allowing your thumb to softly trail his lower lip.

He drew you into a deep kiss, the kind that left your lips raw and your lungs begging for oxygen that you swore you could definitely live without - but eventually you had to give into your reflex and come up for air. 

Hunter broke away first, bringing his forehead to rest tenderly against yours. His hands reached under your top; his gloved hands caressed your skin. “You sure about doing this here? I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once-”  

Yes. You nodded eagerly but before you were able to continue, a horrified shout got both of your attention. 

“Ugh are you kidding me! You two really couldn’t wait?! Ugh my eyes!” Wrecker complained as he instantly turned away from the scene in front of him.

Hunter quickly let you down and he was sure your mortified expression matched his and you both turned to face the backs of Wrecker and Echo. 

“Oh, uh, hey boys. What, eh, what brings you out here?” You winced out as you adjusted your top.

At the sound of your feet hitting the ground, Echo turned to face you both and gave a disapproving stare. “Omega is about to play Tech and wanted to see if any of you wanted the next round so, we came out to ask. She nearly left to ask herself, but I figured based on past experience-”

“Okay.” Hunter interrupted him before he went any further.

You can turn around, Wrecker.

Wrecker took you at your word. “What happened to talking?”

“I mean… we did talk. Just got a bit carried away.” Your eyes focused on fiddling with the end of your sleeve.

“I’ll say.” Wrecker griped. 

“That’s the third time this month. We’ve talked about this. It was bad enough when Tech interrupted you guys in the cockpit.” Echo chastised you both.

Hunter couldn’t find any words. He just kept his eyes on the ground. 

“Hey, you didn’t have to listen to the lecture he gave afterwards on the importance of hygiene and sanitation.” You grumbled. 

“You’ve been lucky it hasn’t been Omega yet.” Echo continued, paying little attention to your words.

You knew he was right. The two of you had been pretty reckless lately and the very fact Omega hadn’t been one of the unfortunates to witness said reckless moments is something you thanked the Force for. “I’m sorry, we’ll be better.”

“Yeah, sorry boys. It won’t happen again.” Hunter said firmly.

A few beats of uncomfortable silence passed.

“You guys aren’t coming back down any time soon, are you?” Echo asked reluctantly as he nodded to where both of your hands were.

The two of you hadn’t noticed the new places your hands had found themselves in. Your fingers were lightly tracing up and down Hunter’s arm whilst his had found itself around your waist again and his thumb rubbed up and down your side. Upon hearing Echo’s words, you both glanced at each other. Tell Omega I owe her a game. We’ll be back later tonight. You said in a way of reply, your brain slowly starting to block the presence of the other two out.

Echo sighed tiredly. “Just get out of here. Come on, Wrecker. We probably don’t want to linger here much longer.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Wrecker hastily turned on his heels and walked back down the steps to Cid’s, with Echo following close behind.

“Well… that could’ve been worse.” You mumbled into his shoulder after they left before you trailed a line of kisses along his neck, your teeth lightly grazed his skin.

“I can’t say I can see how. That was- that was pretty awkward.” Hunter managed to stammer out.

“I could’ve been in a more compromising position.” You purred as your hand trailed down his chest and you made to kneel in front of him. You knew he was feeling more sensible, and you definitely knew it was better to head back to the Marauder but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have your fun.

He swiftly tugged you back up and shook his head at you as he saw the cat-like grin on your face. “Careful, or I’ll have to continue this here anyway.” Hunter groaned as you slowly ground your hips against him.

“Promises, promises.” You whispered back, tugging his lip between your teeth and you took pleasure in the low moan that left him. Your hands kept a tangled grip in the scarf as you kissed him and tugged him to you.

Before he really did get too carried away, Hunter pulled away, but he still kept you tight to him. “I believe you had some thoughts for the use of this scarf? I got some ideas.” Hunter rasped.

“Hmm, I’m much more of a practical learner.” You hummed against his lips.

Stifling a groan, Hunter kissed you once more before he wrapped an arm around your waist and the two of you hustled away to the Marauder.

Masterlist

Tagging@ @noeasyisnoisy, @tpwkcalli, @fuckoffthanos, @arctrooper69, @graciexmarvel, @flyingkangaroo, @nightmonkeysstuff, @a-streakofazure​, @ladytano420​, @dragonrider9905​, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf​, @yyourmotherr​, @xxeiraxx​ 

[allastoredeer]

I read the new chapter of Holy Suffering as soon as it came out and I love the way u write Lucifer. For the past few days I have been reading Radio apple fanfic and I hate how lucifer is portrayed in most of them, shy , innocent with Alastor after the fight, and kinda out of character for the both of them, cause they suddenly like each other, and I don’t see it in them. They like to piss each other off, that’s the whole ship point.

Ur Lucifer is so sassy, Hits all the Good Characterization checks in my brain, he’s such a delight to read, same for Alastor. U had me going speechless most of the time Alastor spoke, cause I honestly didn’t know what he was gonna say next. Writing Alastor it’s probably hard, cause he is misterious and always hides his emotions but You totally nailed it. Right now he is probably angry at Lucifer cause he ratted him out lol

Al be like the audacity of this man after he forced him to do this.🙄

Anywhizzle I just wanted to ask, for the overload meeting, is Charlie gonna send Lucifer with Alastor? Maybe as a snake or something, to make sure is he okay. Cause she really sounded mortified that she didn’t notice that Alastor was suffering and man Al definitely didn’t like that, but it’s not like he can say no to Charlie so

A nd is there like a schedule for next updates? I am really invested in this story and I honestly can’t wait to read more of it.

Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Hahah Lucifer's got bite to him, for sure. He doesn't come off as the shy type to me. Awkward as hell, certainly. In the throes of depression, absolutely. And he cares about Charlie's opinion of him to a fault. But when it comes to someone throwing their weight around--or, more accurately, getting involved with Charlie (cough Alastor helping Charlie with the hotel, couch Adam fighting/hurting Charlie cough) he isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Alastor is hard to write ಥ_ಥ I love him so much, but sometimes, I want to cut open his head and properly study his brain because f;knslnjsbj out of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to pin down, in terms of both dialogue and actions. He has such a way of talking, and such a distinct voice (his radio filter) that it's simultaneously easy to imagine his voice, but hard to put it to dialogue. So, I really appreciate hearing that I nailed it (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Seriously, it's so appreciated to hear.

Nah, Alastor is going to be going to that one alone :3 It's going to be set in his POV, so we'll get some insight in his thoughts on the whole thing, and how he's handling his current affliction. I'm both excited to and nervous to get into it, because writing him in someone else's POV is hard, so writing him in his OWN POV is a little intimidating, but I'm mostly excited. I have a lot of thoughts for this series, and it's gonna be fun to explore them.

As for a schedule, I used to try to keep myself to one, and I've found that I have both a love/hate relationship with it. One the one hand, keeping a writing schedule is nice because it gives me a clear view of what I want to work on and an goal date to get it done, which is very nice for my ADHD brain.

BUT, on the other hand, when I start putting that pressure on myself to get it down, and I fail to actually reach that goal, it hits me pretty hard and it can take away my motivation and joy in writing the fic. It starts to feel more like a chore than a fun hobby I can do in my downtime.

Thankfully, I am DEEP in Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation, and the amazing feedback I've gotten from my fic's is certainly fueling my motivation. So thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It's seriously so helpful and I cherish ever single one of them.

If I had to give an estimate for when the next installment of the series will drop, I'd say either at the end of this week, or the beginning/middle of next week. I have an unrelated AppleRadio one-shot I want to bust out before I work on the next installment, and that one I'm going to try and post by Thursday or Friday.

To quote out favorite Radio Demon,

~Stay Tuned

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Sweet Jane Part One — Campbell Bain x Reader

Summary: Y/n was admitted to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasglow soon after her eighteenth birthday when she developed a case of psychogenic/traumatic mutism; there she meets a talkative, optimistic, idealistic, hyperactive nineteen-year-old boy with Manic depression who dreams of becoming a DJ, follow them through their story and learn what happened to Y/n.

Series Warnings: Past Toxic Relationship, Manipulative Ex, Mentions of Past Rape, Mental Health, Discrimination against the Mentally Ill/Neroudivergent, Traumatized Reader, Abusive Parents, Mentions of deceased family members, Stalking, Suicide, Reader doesn't handle men touching her well, Mentions of Sex, Bad Caretakers, Implied Non-Scottish Reader, Implied Short Reader, Campbell Bain's Dad is Terrible

Chapter Warnings: Reader refuses to speak; Loving Campbell Bain, Traumatized Reader, Selectively Mute Reader, PTSD Reader, Psychogenic Mute Reader, Traumatic Mute Reader, Manic Depressant Campbell Bain, Bipolar Campbell Bain, Schizophrenic Furgus, OCD Rosalie, Reader Developed Selective Mutism as a Coping Mechanism, Reader may have an intense type of anxiety caused by trauma, Reader is implied to not be Scottish or at least from Scotland (I am American but just add where you're from), Reader is implied to be shorter than the six-foot Campbell Bain

“You are a mystery to me, yet so familiar. Like a song I’ve never heard before, and a tune I’ve known my entire life.”

Y/N hadn't spoken a word since she was eighteen and long before that something had changed. Her parents finally decided enough was enough and sent her to Saint Jude's hospital in Glasgow.

Campbell had literally crashed into the new girl during his excitement at hearing that the Saint Jude's radio station would be reopened.

The girl screamed as he collided with her and she started screaming and kicking due to his body weight on her.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He said, hurriedly, getting off of her and holding a hand out to help her up but she just stared at him, terrified, "I'm sorry. Uh..." He realized he didn't recognize her, as far as he knew he was the youngest patient at Saint Jude's and this girl was around his age. This was exciting! "Are you new? I'm Campbell Bain, I'll be the bane of your life until one of us is discharged." He chortled at his own joke before he realized she was still of the floor, "Oh, let me help you up." He crouched down and took her hand, helped her up.

She stared at him with a confused look on her face but she didn't pull her hand away yet more out of shock than anything. Campbell offered her a smile before she ripped her hand out of his grip and ran off, leaving Campbell very confused.

He asked the nurses about the girl but none would give him proper answers, until he got to Stuart the orderlie, who should've been a patient instead but... you know, life.

"She's a looney." He said, blankly.

"Ai, yes. Yes. Yes. I know that much but what's her name? What's her deal?" Campbell prodded.

"Y/N." Was all he said.

--

A few days later, Eddie McKenna arrived to be the DJ for Saint Jude's, with assumption that he'd be able to tell the difference between the staff and the patients.

He had an interaction with Stuart and assumed he was a patient but found out that he was a nursing assistant. Well, that couldn't be good.

Then he met Campbell, who seemed perfectly friendly and nice before realizing he was a patient himself.

Campbell and Y/N were on better terms, now that she had stopped bolting on the other direction when he tried to talk to her. And they listened to Eddie's show as Y/N read Narnia.

Soon after the show, Eddie heard Campbell playing and singing, Summertime Blues on his guitar which was only slightly out of tune, which Eddie had played on his show. He saw Y/N correcting Campbell's finger placement on the guitar as he whined that it hurt his hand.

Campbell enthusiastically praised Eddie and explained on his poor timing and the patient’s dependence of television.

Y/N caught sight of something moving outside the window and she threw a guitar pick at Campbell, making him pout in her direction before seeing her pointing and they ran to window as he said, “Hang on, you’re not boring me or that, but I’ve just seen a friend of mine flying past the window.”

Y/N and Campbell leaned out the window to see the hospital’s Schizophrenic who despite the schtick his disorder stereotyped him as he was just the most gentle soul you’d ever meet, if a little eccentric, grappling down the side of the building.

“Fergus! What’re you doing!?” Campbell shouted after him as Eddie joined them, “you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

“Shall I get a nurse?” Eddie asked and Y/N shook her head.

“Fergus! You’re gonna miss your cocoa, you know!”

“I know.” Fergus told him.

“Can Y/N and I have it, then?” He asked.

“Help yourselves.” He told them.

“He’s escaping.” Eddie said, surprised how calm both of them were being so calm about this

“He’ll be knocking on the door in an hour or so. He always does.” Campbell reassured Eddie, “annoys the hell out of the staff but makes this one smile.” He nodded at Y/N as she sat on Campbell’s bed with his guitar, the look of fascination in Campbell's eyes was not lost on Eddie.

Campbell returned to his enthusiastic and impulsive idea-planning, the first being to bring up a story when a student nurse accidently gave everyone in the ward a laxative, making Eddie and Y/N look at him oddly and the only problem he saw with it was where he’d get that many laxatives.

“What about a request show?” He asked Eddie.

“I already thought of that. I haven’t enough records.” Eddie shot down that idea… well, he’s never disagreed with Campbell Bain before.

“So?”

“So? When folk request something, they usually like to be able to play it.”

“We just make them keep requesting until they hit something we actually have.” Campbell said, “‘if you can guess a record that we actually have in our library, then we will play it for you with a special dedication’.” He did a playful punch in the air, “who could resist?”

“It’ll never work.”

Y/N who had been playing with Campbell’s guitar, then played a jingly tune.

“You’re right, Y/N!” He declared, enthusiastically with an enthusiastic pointed finger at her and then he ran his hand through his light auburn-brown floppy hair, “We’ll need some jingles.” Y/N looked up when Campbell sang a jingle, “Hospital radio, Saint Juuuuude’s.” He smiled at Eddie, “that sort of thing.”

“You need singers to record jingles.”

Campbell picked up his guitar from Y/N and sat next to her, “and what exactly is sitting here before you?”

“A lunatic!” Eddie declared, making Y/N softly giggle.

“Aye, a singing lunatic!” Campbell agreed, enthusiastically. “We could record them in the station, aye?”

“Aye…” Eddie submitted.

“Brilliant!” Campbell exclaimed, going back to Eddie, “Now give me the key.” He held out his hand.

“What key?” Eddie asked.

“To the station.” Campbell said and ran to the door, looking out, “look, I’ve gotta start. Writing the jingles, rehearsing the singers, cataloging the albums.”

Eddie looked at Y/N as she looked back down and realized he hadn’t gotten her name, having been distracted Campbell’s… Campbell-ness and Fergus escaping. “Uh, ma’am… what’s your name again?” Eddie asked, making Y/N look up from a piece of paper she was now writing on, she gave him with a blank deadpan look at being called “ma’am”. She was only eighteen.

“That’s Y/N.” Campbell said.

“What’s your favorite album?” Nothing. She just looked at him, “can you sing?” She blinked twice and he turned back to Campbell, “what’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t said a word since she got here.” Campbell said, “and there’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just looney like me!”

Eddie walked closer to him and asked as gently as he could, “Campbell, how exactly are you here?”

Campbell paused in which he faltered, knowing how his own father felt about his disorder before smiling, “Can you not guess? I’m manic.” Y/N looked up and smiled at him, making his eyes dart to her and a more genuine smile appeared on his lips before he reassured Eddie, “but don’t worry. The drugs I take make me completely stable. Except for headaches, of course.” He blinked in pain as he focused back on the painful headaches and he squeezed his eyes shut before blindly grabbing onto Eddie’s shirt who could sense a scene coming up as could Y/N who looked up to be amused by Campbell, “I get these headaches. I just comes over me and I cannae…” He flopped on his bed, next to Y/N and shouted out in pain, “ah, the bells! The bells!”

Y/N reached over and went to place her hand on Campbell’s back before stopping, hesitating to do so, not sure if they were close enough or if she wanted to admit that they were close enough and then suddenly Campbell’s mood shifted back to near manic and he shot himself up to look at Eddie, making Y/N pull her hand away, blinking briefly in surprise, “And I want my own show, by the way.”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Well, after all this work, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He questioned.

“Campbell, I cannae just give you your own show.” Eddie protested, “you need training on the equipment.”

“So? Train me!” Campbell pleaded, eagerly. “I’ll take Friday nights.”

“Will that not clash with Brookside?” Eddie questioned.

Y/N looked at the window where they had gone to to shout after Fergus.

—

The next day, Campbell and Eddie were in the common room with Eddie standing shyly while Campbell did the opposite and shouted through a party megaphone while Y/N sat with Fergus, writing down something for him to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have an important announcement to make!” He spotted Fergus and Y/N and narrowed his eyes, “Fergus, stop flirting with Y/N.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and went to the couch rather bored now and put her headphones on.

Campbell and Eddie had announced the request show, while admitting that they had limited records. Eddie went to talk to Nana while Campbell stared at Y/N, feeling nervous to approach her since he worried she hated him with how scared she got when he interacted with her.

Then Fergus clapped him on the back, making him stumble and look at him, unamused before approaching the silent H/C-haired girl.

"Hey, Y/N," Campbell said, kindly, walking up to the silent girl but she didn't seem to hear him as she was listening to her Walkman. He tapped her shoulder, making her jump and stare at him with wide eyes just as she had when they first met. He gestured to her headphones, silently asking if he could take them off and she slowly nodded and he gently slid them off and could vaguely hear Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover by Sophie B. Hawkins.

"Hey, we're doing a request show. You have any requests?"

She looked at him for a good while before getting up and leaving. Campbell frowned and his spirits were diminished before leaning forward and face planting his face into the couch cushion, groaning.

—

Campbell showed Eddie the radio station now cleaned and useable thanks to him, Y/N, and Rosalie and as he left Eddie questioned Campbell about Nana and Campbell answered in his own hyperactive way before Eddie questioned him about his obvious crush on Y/N.

“The silent girl, uh… M/Y/N.” (Mispronunciation of Your Name)

“Y/N.” Campbell corrected, automatically in a slightly defensive tone.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Campbell’s cheeks burned as they reddened and his heartrate quickened, “No. No. No. She’s new actually. Been here about a week. She… she’s a mystery.” He gave out a dreamy smile, “One I’d like to solve but…” He shrugged like, what can you do? —

Campbell was snoring when he was awoken by a friendly smack in the head. He woke up, groaning with confusion before turning on his light, illuminating Y/N who smile sweetly at him as she held something behind her back.

"Jesus, Y/N." He groaned, "what you do that for?" She just looked at him and he nodded, remembering who je was talking to, "right. Uh, what is it?"

Y/N brought a custom record sleeve out from behind her back and he slowly began to realize what she was trying tell him.

"Oh, you want me to play one of these songs during the show tomorrow, er… today?" He asked.

She nodded and sat on the edge of his bed, making him kick around spazzily and awkwardly before sitting up, trying to make room for her as his heart pounded and he looked down at her, feeling her body heat up against his but forced himself not to think about that as it was a bit of a creepy thought to have at two in the morning as she showed him the songs on the back of the vinyl which was also handmade, she pointed at the first song: a cover of The Velvet Underground's Sweet Jane by Cowboy Junkies.

"Is that your favorite song?" He asked and she nodded. "Wait, these are all from different bands, how'd you get this?"

She pointed to herself, "you made it?" He gathered, "Who made the record?" She pointed to herself again and he just smiled at her impressed and enamored by her. "You are one mystery, Y/N L/N. You may be my favorite mystery.”

She smiled, telling him that she liked the idea of being a mystery to him and kissed his cheek, near the corner of his lip, nearly making him melt with a loud dreamy sigh before running off. He looked after he with a starstruck look of awe on his face before flopping back on his pillow, groaning.

—

The next day, Y/N shared a smile with Fergus before listening in on the radio to the show, standing and watching Campbell through the window.

“Good evening! This is Ready Eddie.” Eddie introduced, “and on my left is my right-hand man…”

“Campbell Bain.” Campbell introduced, not seeing Y/N watching him and the smile on her lips.

“And you’re listening to the first ever Ready Eddie Radio Request Road Show.” He gave Campbell a thumbs up and the nineteen-year-old pushed a button, making a jingle play.

“Ready Eddie’s road show. Ready, Eddie, go.”

“That’s right. This is the premiere. This is the first. And you can tell everyone that you were there. You heard it! You saw it!” Campbell said, enthusiastically before joking, “And they’ll tell you, it’s all part of your illness.”

Y/N giggled at his antics before realizing this and she zipped her leather jacket up over her shirt with the sarcastic quote on it.

“We’re playing requests from Ward Eleven this evening. This one is for Francine. I hope you’re listening, Francine.”

Campbell then teased, “I hope anyone’s listening.” He then saw Y/N watching him and let out an audible smile that melted his insides.

“Is anybody listening?” Eddie asked, “Is anybody out there?”

Then Help! By the Beatles started to play and soon the patients came out and Campbell ran out of the station to dance with some patients before more came out, including Fergus. He gave Y/N a smile and thumbs up as he flashed the part of the television he had removed.

Campbell ran back to Eddie and pulled his earphone off so he could talk to him, “the television’s broken, Eddie! There is a God!”

Eddie nodded in the direction of Y/N and Campbell’s face lit up and he ran to Y/N and taking her hands, trying to ease her into dancing. She shook her head before starting to shuffle awkwardly to the music before Campbell took her hands and pulled her against him so she danced with him to the beat of the music. She then giggled up against him and he smiled, triumphally.

He was about to comment on how beautiful her laugh when there was a BANG! And the music stopped, making them all exclaim in disappointment before Campbell and Y/N ran back to the station to see what was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

“The mixing desk.” Eddie said, trying to fix it with his limited knowledge.

“Do something!” Campbell exclaimed.

“What can I do? I can’t even turn on the bathroom light without shocking myself.” Eddie remarked.

“Well, check the plug. Maybe it’s the fuse.” Campbell suggested as Y/N looked up at Fergus and gestured for him to come.

“It’s not the fuse.” Eddie sighed.

Campbell ran his hand through his floppy hair, “I cannae believe this. I’ve just had the world’s shortest career as a disk jockey.”

Fergus took out a screwdriver and headed inside to help and started to unscrew the screws of the mixing desk.

“Fergus, what are you doing?” Campbell asked.

“I’ll just have a look.” Fergus reassure him.

“No, don’t!” Eddie shouted, “don’t have a look there.”

Y/N helped Fergus lift the plate of the mixing desk as Eddie continued to try and stop Fergus and Y/N, “Fergus, Y/N, I’m asking you. Please, leave it alone”

“He’s gonna blow it up.” A patient said.

“He’s not!” Campbell protested.

“I think I know what the problem is.” Fergus told Eddie.

“He’s blowing it up.” Another patient said and the others started to chant Fergus’ name.

“Fergus, don’t, okay!? Just leave it alone. It’s all we’ve got.” Eddie pleaded and Y/N smacked Eddie’s shoulder when Stuart literally pushed her out of the way, making her squeak and stumble before Campbell caught her and glared at Stuart.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” He shouted.

Stuart aggressively grabbed Fergus holding him in a near chokehold and Y/N tried to go forth to help but Campbell held her back, knowing she’d just be pushed away again, if not sedated.

“He’s not causing trouble, is he?” He asked Eddie and Y/N shook her head, frantically at Eddie.

“No, he’s just helping me, get the mixing desk going again.” Eddie muttered.

“Him? He couldn’t get his brain going again.” Stuart spat and Y/N scoffed, implying that she felt that better described Stuart than Fergus.

“Leave it, Stuart.” Isabella, the more kind nurse said, “it’s all over.”

Stuart let Fergus go and sulked out of the room, clearly upset that he didn’t get to hurt someone as Y/N gave him the middle finger.

Fergus closed the plate of the mixing desk and Y/N flipped the switch, making the light come back on.

“You two are geniuses.” Campbell gasped.

Y/N shook her head and pointed at Fergus like, no, he’s the genius.

“YOU’RE GENIUSES!” Campbell shouted and he slammed the door shut and got back to the microphone, “Sorry about the technical problems, folks. We’re now back on the air and we hope to keep it that way. Our next request is for Y/N and dedicated to her by me.” He chortled as he looked at her and clicked his tongue as he winked.

The cover of Sweet Jane played, making Y/N smile as Eddie looked at Fergus, giving him an apologetic and thankful smile as Fergus perpetually scowled before his lips curved into a gentle smile.

Later, Y/N helped Campbell clean up the hallways before they bumped into each other.

“Uh… so how did you know how to help Fergus?” He asked.

She took out her wad of paper and wrote: Learned. Taught.

He nodded, taking what he could get, “I always knew you were smart.” He said, honestly and he hesitated before leaning towards her to kiss her cheek like she had done the night, she shifted, conflicted as she could see the pure gentless in Campbell's personality, in his actions, in his eyes, and she could feel it in his cheek kiss. He had hesitated, not wanting to overstep boundaries and he was still nervous about his decision but before she could react Eddie ran out of the room, making them break apart and move out of the way before he rammed into them.

*This is a series from my Wattpad, so I'm moving in to Tumblr and Archive of my Own. There is an entire subplot later on of stalking and the cause of the reader's muteness or mutism (which ever is the correct term). Am I the only one who feels like Campbell Bain might also have ADHD or is it just because of his Bipolar/Manic Depression. I'm usually good at this but I'm having a hard time differentiating the two or maybe it's just David Tennant.

[fictionfixations]

honestly so happy that its easier to grind in hsr then genshin cause im actually able to properly build my characters instead of whatever mess i had in that game (i got the right artifacts but trying to get materials for anything was a bit of a pain to me)

also that the resin (i dont know what its called in this game im using genshin terms) can like. overflow into this other thing??? is. so helpful. (i stopped playing at one point so i just came back to both being full. and then when i realized what it actually did it was a godsend because it made it so much easier to fully commit to grinding. i know in genshin you can make the resin this little thing? condensed?? but thats a thing you have to do yourself i think)

all im missing is leveling up the lightcones and traces

and im only missing the traces because i already used up weekly bosses. THATS IT.

robin and ratio have the same boss material so all i have to do then is get the other resources which isnt actually that hard (ill only have an issue if i cant material synthesis or exchange or whatever since i need to do it for the robin stuff that you get from enemies that can ambush you, i dont know what you refer to them as, but cause i havent unlocked penacony yet lol)

and the only lightcones that might give me issue is because highlighted is penacony material stuff

(yes i put final victor on ratio LMFAO)

so YEAHH i feel like im doing pretty good in that department. also ive caught up to penaconys story i just havent started in-game because i wanted to see where it all leads up to and then go back to see all the foreshadowing and get a better understanding of what happened since it also confused me, so im waiting for a time i can just sit there for countless hours and focus. i even switched to eng vas so i dont end up misreading something

(anyway i only got to trying to max out my characters as much as i can until i can level them higher because before i got stuck on so many quests that required a fight 😭, yanqing, argenti, i hate battling you oh my god)

actually on that topic everyones relics arent fully maxed out.

ive only been leveling this cause 5 star dan heng is my main damage dealer

and the healer because im fucked without them (its natasha, but im open to changing it if i find a better healer or shield 🙏)

on that topic:

i returned to honkai star rail because aventurine. i focused on the story because aventurine. (got spoiled his story, realized 'what the fuck hes cool i like him' and watched someone go through the story) i came back in time for his banner but you know what? i had like zero wishing stuff because id stopped playing so i missed out unfortunately

i have friends who have aventurine as like one of the support characteres thingy tho? like the the where you can get support from other peoples characters

so thats been fun. but also auto is kind of bad with aventurine. or maybe because it thinks 'oh theres already a shield, so i wont e' which is pain. on the other hand actually playing instead of having it on auto is fun with aventurine. i like planning around it and thinking of who to have use their skills while keeping in mind when i should have him refresh his shield. i cant explain to you how it hurts seeing hp missing with a shield around it because i cant do anything about it (im the type of person who likes to keep my characters hp full ngl)

probably not the best decision to want shield over a healer but. i can make it work. maybe. i just want aventurine ok. (except for phantylia who as far as im aware is the only one who can just TAKE hp like that? without even affecting shields???)

[channnel]

Okay, so- My drawing of Jules is nearly done BUT my hand hurts from drawing the flowers and my eyes hurt cause I've been staring at my tab for a week and my back's a banana now.

So, since I haven't posted some actual art in this blog- Here are my random headcanons of the brothers in My Dear hatchet man. This is purely fan-made, alright? I'm bored and this headcanons have been in my mind for months.

Claude

Claude fully knows that he looks good in dark colors and will not wear any other hues even if you paid him. Even if it's summer, he will still wear dark clothes.

The type of man that will glare down a kid in public if the kid is being a little shit (Same goes to the parent).

Claude would stare at wall for long minutes before answering a call from Jules.

Will judge Jules' healthy eating diet despite having the same exact diet.

The type of guy that hates being treated differently because he's handsome but also often uses the same treatment to get what he wants.

Nobody in his workplace know who he is. Nobody knows where he lives, nobody knows if he has any family- pretty sure that most of his ex-partners doesn't even know that he got younger brothers, and so on, and so forth. They just knew that Claude is a rich, good-looking photographer with a French accent.

Believes that Alan is probably working in an organized crime, he watches the news just in case Alan's name come out... Same goes to James.

Jules

Use filters, stickers and quotes in all of his social media post.

90% of what he says are all passive-aggressive and he genuinely thinks that he helps people.

Probably has a bit of a hoarding problem.

Would judge James' DIY hobby despite also doing it.

The type that would watch a kid being a little piece of shit and would promptly tell the nearest person where their parents at and judge their parenting style. same thing goes with noisy pets in public.

Would give Claude fruit bouquet everytime they meet cause Jules know damn well that Claude can't throw it out and will be force to appreciate and eat Jules' gift so it will not rot.

Would say to others that Alan simply move away and that they haven't talked for a long time. His neighbors and friends probably believed that Jules' younger brother is simply living in a cottage with a bunch of dogs and cats. Would also say made-up stories of Alan if his neighbors asked more before promptly shutting it down.

Alan (Honestly, I don't have much headcanons on the two younger bros)

Will recite the full script of any classic horror movie in rapid succession, filled with actions and diy sound effects. If it's night time, then get ready for him to shout out every words.

Still uses Canadian terms rather than the American one.

Sometimes wonder if he looks cool using other types of weapons instead of a hatchet. Knows a lot of trickshots with his hatchet.

Doesnt like statues.

knows every domestic dogs and cats in Doomsbury, he even has his own names for them and he probably knows the pets even more in a spiritual level.

is also the type that would glare down a kid if they're being an annoying piece of shit, and immediately disappear if the kid starts crying.

In college au, I like to headcanon that not only did the boss in that AU gave him a scholarship- but also hide an unfortunate event between Alan, a hatchet, and some guy.

James

⬆️That's him everytime he argued with someone, lost a friend, or had another break up.

Believes that Alan is now living in a forest away from society, which is somewhat accurate. Often thinks about Alan a lot, and wonder if he's doing okay after the incident- doesn't hide away the fact that Alan ran away and will tell what actually happened to very, very close friends of his.

The type of guy that would deliberately trip a kid in public without the parents noticing- especially if the kid is being a little shit.

"Shit, I accidentally have way too much fun solving those problems in my exam and now my brothers are gonna expect better from me" Got immediately accused of cheating.

Saw his two older brothers years after the incident but was disappointed to see that they haven't changed, so he doesn't talk to them nor accept Jules' multiple invites. Ended up changing his number after some time, did not regret about it.

Always give himself a pep talk everytime he woke up.

Can efficiently argue with someone in fluent sign language without pause, Style all of his clothes on his own, has wrote numerous songs in his guitar, very good at Parkour, and he can juggle three crowbars.

Dixon Dallas, Good lookin.

And that's all folks.

[randomshit657]

I’m going to be talking about OCD and Intrusive thoughts, and very briefly religious trauma. And maybe slight disordered eating. If that will bother you please skip.

Okay so I know that many people aren’t going to see this but if even one person sees this and maybe learns something I’ll be happy.

Okay so I have OCD, and that’s kind of what I want to talk about. I promise you I’m not trauma dumping just listen for a moment.

I’ve known I had OCD since I was in 4th grade but it never really felt like I actually had it because of all the stereotypes surrounding it.

I never needed to keep everything perfectly clean or check things multiple times or any of that. It took me years to actually accept I had it because of these stereotypes. Instead I just felt crazy or wrong or bad, and I don’t want anyone to feel that.

I thought that mine wasn’t that severe so it didn’t mean anything. Trust me it does. If you’ve been diagnosed or think you have it, I would highly recommend getting therapy because trust me you don’t want it to get bad.

Anyway I’m here to talk about some things about OCD. Starting with the intrusive thoughts.

I don’t think the intrusive thoughts that come with OCD are really discussed enough when in reality they are the reasons for the compulsions.

First things first intrusive thoughts aren’t “I want to dye my hair at 3 am.” That’s an impulsive thought there a huge difference, and I’m not trying to attack you for using intrusive thoughts in that context especially if you didn’t know the difference, but it’s important you know the difference and you the terms in the proper context.

And I say this because if people start believing intrusive thoughts are things you actually want to do but just do impulsively it’s going to cause a huge problem especially for people with OCD.

If you have OCD your intrusive thoughts can be terrible, awful things. That they don’t want to do. Let me repeat that people with OCD don’t want to do their intrusive thoughts hence the compulsions because their brain convinces them that whatever they do will stop the thoughts.

But those thoughts are just something impulsive you want to do they are a lot of the time truly disturbing things. Sometimes these thoughts will get so bad people with lock themselves in their houses because they are scared of hurting someone. When I’m actuality these people are the least likely to actually act on these thoughts.

Now let’s get onto compulsions. When most people think of compulsions they think of hand washing or having to do something a certain amount of times but we’ll that can be the case from some people those aren’t the only types of compulsions.

For example reassurance seeking can be a compulsion. Asking your friends things like “Am I a bad person?” Or “Do you still love me?” or whatever your intrusive thoughts are telling you.

I’m going to explain a few of mine because I would say mine aren’t as well known. For instance waking up every morning and the first thing I have to think being “Today is the day the world will end.” Because I was always told god would destroy it when I least expected it so now if I don’t repeat it every morning I’m on edge all day.

Or not being able to stomach anything that isn’t labeled gluten free or made by me, I also cant eat unless I know I can go home after on the off chance some gluten made it’s way into it and I get sick.

The last one I’m going to mention is being overly nice to everyone at school. I would have such vivid thoughts about someone hurting people at school that even if this person was a huge jerk I would be nice to them or go out of my way to complement them because that would somehow fix thing.

The point is compulsions come in all shapes and forms and OCD is rarely logical, but it doesn’t change the fact that it feels logical. Just because you don’t fit a the stereotype doesn’t mean you don’t have it. It’s important to know that because with everything else your probably going through with this disorder you don’t need denial on your plate aswell.

It’s important to try and get help for this disorder because honestly it can be scary, and can cause a hole pile of other issues. But if you can’t here are some pointers.

1. Do your best to not participate in the compulsions. Now this won’t be easy at all and that doesn’t mean they’ll go away but they’ll be easier to manage. Trust me. I was forced to break one from sheer in ability of not being able to do it and it sucked but I was happier than I had been in months after I got through that.

2. Remember the intrusive thoughts aren’t you, and tell your brain that to.

3. I know it sounds silly and might not help everyone it i know for me kind of talking to my brain like a child works. Like “I know what you are feeling is very real but why don’t we try watching tv for a bit and see if you still want to do it then. Okay?” And then just try and distract yourself. It’s not fool proof but you know.

4. Just remember you’re stronger than you think. I know it’s hard and some days are really going to suck. But as hard as it is you can work through it. It won’t go away but it will become easier.

Anyway that’s it. I know this is a little rambely but I hope it gets the point across.

[warlordess]

live and let live

My first (technically pre-)Steddie fic! Yay! Please share, maybe follow me, if you like it. I don't contribute a ton of original content but I do have, like, a dozen ideas for ST/Steddie/Stobin fics that I may work up the courage to type out and share.

TW: Vomiting (a couple times throughout), vaguely interpretable suicidal ideation (just Eddie thinking everyone's better off leaving him behind in the UD). Some mention of blood/injury to varying extents (to be expected considering the setting). I believe that's all for TWs but please inform me if you think there's anything else. I'm really new to this kind of tagging.

Tagging my ST fic bestie, @ataliagold (and hoping that using the term bestie is appropriate; if not then whoops, I take it back). They've been very supportive when it comes to my writing. They wanted to know when I finally posted my first fic.

---

Eddie Munson is jarred suddenly back to life not long after he initially left it behind. 

He shudders through one faint, ailing breath, then the next, staring blurrily up through half-lidded eyes at the black and red skies streaked with lighting strikes he can hardly discern. Whimpers and convulses at ricocheting shocks of the most intense pain he's ever felt. Absorbs the sight of the multitude of blurry shadows leaning over his bloody, broken corpse. 

It takes him far too long, or maybe not long at all, to realize he's being touched rather insistently, hands pressing against every open wound, which honestly feels like every inch of him, presumably hoping to cause him as much turmoil as possible. So focused on the agony lancing through his entire being, he doesn't notice the singular voice carrying into one of his ears and out the other before he starts sinking into darkness once more. 

"Hey! I just got you going again!" A hand taps adamantly (nearly slaps) against one of his cheeks, but what really does the job is the resounding series of shots ringing into the distance from what his barely functioning brain can only assume is a double-barreled shotgun. "So don't you fucking dare, Munson!" A brief weighted pause before the potentially disembodied voice continues their agitated muttering. "Christ's sake! I gave you both one fucking job, man!" 

Things are starting to come back to him despite the internal hope that he'll just be able to lay back and rest, finally. 

The shotgun. Nancy. 

The red skies. The Upside Down. 

His one job. 

The distraction. Not the hero. 

A bolt of alarm shoots across his brain. 

"H'rin… ton…" The slurred approximation of the surname barely makes it past his lips, has to gasp for breath after. 

Christ, even talking hurts to do. 

Despite that, he wills himself to continue. To come back to himself. To ask the all-important question in this moment. 

"Dus'n… okay?" 

He can just make out the familiar thick head of hair of the ousted king of Hawkins High through eyes still watering from his radiating pains, sees the slightly colored shadow slow in their harried movements as if to stare down at him. He dares to wonder if Steve's eyes soften at the question, knowing that even in death, Eddie's heart is in the right(?) place. 

Steve doesn't have the opportunity to speak before a loud throaty sniffle from Eddie’s other side catches their ears. 

"Y - you asshole, Eddie…" Dustin whispers. It likely would have been a wail if he hadn't spent a significant amount of time and energy a short time ago screaming for help. As it stands, his voice is about as hoarse as it can get without him losing it altogether. "Can't believe you… How could you do that to me?" 

Eddie doesn't have an answer, or maybe he does as far as his own question goes. If he'd been in a better state of mind he might have mocked Steve's position in the group by calling the boy out for his foul language, however it's clear the situation has offered their youngest party member a pass while they focus on more important things. 

"Steve, we have to go, I'm running low on ammo. And who knows how long the gates back to Hawkins will hold," a more distant voice informs them.

Steve inhales a stuttering breath before his expression returns to firmly grim. There's more shuffling, maneuvering around, tying off what Eddie can only assume are the parts of his body that still attempt to form a whole and he screeches his agony to the thundering scarlet clouds above. Though it comes out more of a cough before he wrenches his head to the side and vomits right there. It lasts a fair few seconds before tapering off into a dry heave. 

"Ergh, Steve!" a fourth voice practically shouts, presumably in response to this event.

Eddie tries to blink his vision clear again, wondering what happened, but his action is waved off by their next step.

"It's fine, Robs. Like Nance says, we don't have time. We have to get going. I'll take Eddie; you help Dustin." 

“Wuss wr’ng ith Dus’n…?” Because he's coming up blank.

“Not now, don’t worry; he’s fine, Eddie.”

He's not sure if he fades away again or not, time seems to span far and wide beyond his comprehension at present. All he knows is that, some insurmountable length of it later, he feels the weight of his every pound of flesh tear away from him as he's turned and lifted up, one arm hoisted over a broad set of shoulders. The sound that claws and curdles its way from his grated and parched throat sounds so inhumane that he thinks the demobats must have returned to finish the job they somehow failed at the first time around. 

In such duress, in such intense suffering, with the stench of his own sick somehow following him around, it's impressive he doesn't puke a second time, even though he falls entirely limp, waters from his eyes and drools out of his open mouth. 

"Fuck, c'mon, man." Steve's voice murmurs softly into his ear before he grunts and tries to even out Eddie's dead weight distribution. "I know this isn't how you wanted to end your day but too bad." Another grunt, a prevailing exhale. "I need you to keep one leg a little sturdy so you don't immediately fall if I lose our balance. Just one, c’mon; help me out a little." 

The logic is sound, or it would be if Eddie was still a semi-functioning human. But every part of him is in tatters, nothing left untouched, so he ends up basically being dragged like luggage across the semi-familiar terrain. He blacks out momentarily once or twice, maybe expires again, but Steve is hyper-aware of his every lack of breath, jostling him just enough to reawaken him as needed.

“... Don’t have time for you to die, Munson, let’s go,” King Steve commands of him. Other voices are filtering in again too.

“Steve, you two are falling behind, you have to keep up!” Nancy.

“Doing our best!” Steve grunts in reply.

“Steve, your wounds…” Robin.

“It’s fine, I told you,” Eddie can hear the person closest to him - Who is it…? He knew this answer a short while ago, he’s certain - breathing a little more harshly now. “We all gotta make… sacrifices at the end of the world…”

“Mmm, you h'rt'ng for me, H’rington…?” The words leave Eddie’s mouth with a corner-lipped smirk.

“Yup, for you, man, whatever it takes. Just stay awake. We can’t stop to resuscitate you again until we’re outta the Upside Down.”

Holy shit; that’s it then. He really did die. It had been an abstract truth up until now. After all, how does one know when they've perished unless someone is there to inform them of the event? The cold, hard fact settles in his gut like a stone, rattling around and becoming the only thing he can focus on until he's forcibly distracted.

"Shit!" Steve curses with a harsh gasp, his grip on Eddie going momentarily lax as he stumbles.

Eddie can still barely make anything out of his surroundings but he knows two things instantly; one is that the ground is coming up on him faster than he can handle and two is that whatever standard throb of agony that had enveloped him before immediately increased tenfold.

His following shout escapes him despite his efforts to bite down and bear the burden of his misery. Somewhere in the middle of his latest howling episode, he feels another wave of bile rake its way up his esophagus and spew from between his lips just as Steve regains his hold and tries to right them. He has half a second to notice that he tastes more copper than he should before he's interrupted.

"Shit! Sorry… M'sorry, fuck; Eddie, y'okay?" Steve pushes them back into upright positions and Eddie does what he can to breathe through the oncoming spasms. He braces himself through the foreboding thought that his apparent savior appears to be slurring his words too. That's likely not a point in their favor.

"Steve, Eddie! Oh man, that's so much blo-!" Dustin blubbers. Doesn't appear to move any closer though.

"It's fine, m'fine, we're all 'kay," he says all in one rushed breath, "L'ess just keep g'ing, like I said before, Dusty, we're all gonna… make t'out." His grip on Eddie's wasted body grows ever tighter, as if doing so further impresses upon them all his oath.

But Eddie can't see it. Can't really see anything at present. All he knows is anguish. Empty words. The encroaching presence of Death's door beckoning him. This group of people already clearly struggling to survive but slowing their progress ever more just to try and see him out too. He can't let them. He can't let them waste their precious limited time on him.

Nancy falls back, grip on her shotgun slackening just so, inspects them both with furrowed brows and a tense line across her forehead. This close, he can actually make out some details, such as the very brief nibble of her bottom lip, a faint fracture in her emotional armor before she puts distance between them and offers a grim nod. 

It's clear that the prognosis isn't great but she's not giving up on them either.

"You're both fine so we keep moving. Make sure you keep up. We're close to the exit."

That leaves it all up to him then.

"J'st… leave'm." He hurtles through the statement so fast, he's unsure if they'll understand. But they need to so he'll say it however many times it takes. Even until his dying breath.

"... What?" Dustin practically whimpers in disbelief. "No!"

"M'done. Dying… dead… wh'tever… Can't let y'guys get… tr'pped here." His vision, what's left of it, wavers in and out and Steve notices, jostles him again, snapping him back to the present.

"Eddie, c'mon, we don't have time to fight over this, dumbass!" Robin reasons with him. "We don't leave our people behind so you're coming with us!"

"N'then what?" he asks, tone sharper than he expects of himself, certain that had been bled from him already. He does what he can to blink away the blurred, darkening edges of his vision because he needs them to understand. "S'a waste. J'st gonna wind up… in jail… Or strung up… 'n th'streets by some… vig'lante mob. S'not worth saving me… S'just leave me here."

The group appears to erupt into chaos at this point.

"We're not gonna-!" 

"Eddie, you moron, we didn't come this far-!"

"Y'r not… listening here…"

"You're one of us, okay? So you're sticking with us-!"

"We know people, they can help maybe, we'll figure it out-!"

"It's a waste of time fighting now. Steve, just keep carrying him out. It's not like he can stop us-!"

"F'ckin' listen to me, d'mmit…" he grumbles, short of breath again now, but perhaps that's the panic attack from his only likely future (or lack thereof) pressing down on him from all sides.

"Shut up!" Steve's tone carries a grave definition, and their entire party stills rather impressively in response. "We're not fighting about this now. Eddie, we just got you back from the fucking dead. You're coming with us. We'll handle the rest."

"But…"

"You do not get to die here. You don't. You don't get to hurt the rest of us that way." And then, after a brief pause, he twists the knife. "Unless you plan to run away like a coward."

Ice drips down to the base of Eddie's spine at that. After everything he'd endured, he deserved his rest, despite it being potentially eternal… but hadn't he already said he wouldn't be that guy anymore…? So then did he have a metaphorical leg to stand on in this argument?

"... S'not worth g'ing back."

"You don't know that, man. This is your first rodeo and, yeah, things weren't looking great before. But, like Dustin said, we know people and they've helped clean up after the Upside Down b'fore. If they can't work it out then we'll save you ourselves. We've 'lready done it up til now, haven't we?"

"Can't… ask that f'ya, man." He's practically suffocating from everything already and trying to think of anything beyond the here and now only exacerbates his condition. "S'is easier to j'st let me go. J'st--"

"Shut your mouth, dumbass, we're done talking about it. Nance, Robs, Dustin, let's move out."

"H'rington, wha' gives you th'right to-!"

"Because, asshole, we're in this shitstorm together until the end. You don't get to clock out early!" And then, as the final nail in the coffin, "If you die, then I die! We all die! It's all or none of us!"

A stark, stagnant silence weighs them all down instantaneously at that. Not to be deterred, Steve strengthens his grip on his apparently unwilling cohort and stalks forward toward their destination, casting a furtive glance at Dustin that Eddie doesn't understand as they pass him and the others.

And Eddie… What can he say to that kind of line? Especially coming from King Steve 'The Hair' Harrington himself? Once again, he's struck with the profound knowledge that this isn't the guy he remembered sharing the Hawkins High School halls with. 

All that being considered, he thinks such a declaration merits a response, and he can't help feeling moved - perhaps even tempered - by it. So he musters up his meager strength and delivers unto his savior his final decision.

"... Th'n I guess… we'll live."

---

I'm a huge fan of callbacks to earlier intense/emotional moments in canon so, when the thought came to me of having Steve use Dustin's line to urge Eddie to continue living, it wouldn't leave me alone.

This is the first thing I've written in a good year, and I only wrote maybe 15k words around then, and hadn't written for a good 5 or so years leading up to it. So, uh, please understand I tried my best for now, clearing the cobwebs. Hopefully it all came together fine.

I'm open to continuing in this "universe", maybe going from pre-Steddie vibes to full-on Steddie. This was just the original premise and I wanted to get it out there. I doubt anything else I write will feel all that "unique" in regards to this scenario (since lots of people have written Eddie-survives fics).

Like I said at the start, please like/reblog, let me know what you think, maybe follow me if you can manage to put up with my mess of a blog that is not 100% Steddie. It will all encourage me to continue my dumpster dive into this ship/fandom.

[sungbeam]

BIRB LORE TIME! (the last installment of yumi's uh idkwhatitis)

here's Lea. african grey parrot (did you know all african greys look exactly the same like there's no way i can recognise her if she's with another parrot sfkdjghdf)

we got her in 2016 when she was 11. her previous owners were moving and they wanted to give her to someone who would genuinely take care of her. they knew my dad and he went ahead and said his daughter (me) has a thing for the animal kingdom 💀 (true tho) and she is prob the right person

anyways we went to their place, met her and oh. i knew absolutely nothing about these parrots right. we took her to our home and they just told us what to feed her, how she plays, what she likes and dislikes, etc.

so african greys are very intelligent and bruh. this female sounds like an absolute MAN when she speaks the human tongue (i actually got scared when she first said something LOL). the previous owners were like a mom and two daughters and her daughters were babies when she got this parrot so they didn't train lea. bc of that, she does not really know how to fly/land and since she's spent basically all life in the cage, it's her safe territory now and she does not like to come out

she was also not used to men bc she lived with ladies and then here she is with my dad and big bro (my lil bro was like 10 so she was comfy around him) but she was the type to not speak in front of men AT ALL

anyways i did my research, we all did we've come a really, really long way. her comfy zone is very wide now. she's come from only sticking to certain foods (her fav chips, a few fruits and nuts) to basically eating and trying everything (she doesn't even look at her chips anymore) (the look on her face when she first tried a mango and loved it is sth i'll never forget). she now talks in front of everyone (parrots talk when they are happy so ig she's happy here :'))

from letting us barely pet her neck to now getting full body massages and letting me preen her (I FEEL LIKE HER MOTHER). from wanting to bite us to affectionately pretending to bite me now (im her fav human, no one else can try this). from getting sick every season bc she was used to a certain temperature to thriving in every season while we get sick LOL

i think it's time i start to get her to come out her cage. it's gonna be a very slow process since i'm not a professional and it's gonna be only her and me (and she might hurt my hands beyond repair lmao i need my hands to do my job man) anddd bc i'm the only person who can do this, yet...

i'm kind of allergic to her :)

but i love suffering, suffering is my middle name. so remember how i said i got cat allergies? that happened when we got this parrot. she used to stay in my room and these parrots have like this white powder thing on their skin that can cause allergies. so my nose being exposed to these allergens long term caused some damage alright (i got allergic to literally every other thing, flu all the time for years, got no quality sleep and constant headaches) andd i finally got surgery in 2022. my allergies are almost gone now but i still have to be careful around her (a tragic love story right there)

anyways i love her, she loves me, we understand each other pretty damn well (it's almost eerie lmao). we dance to kpop together. we sing together. her avg lifespan is 60+ so we have a bet going on on who lives longer :D (bet it's gonna be her-) also we were meant to be fr bc her prev owner has the same name as me so she never had to learn to say my name :D

BIRB LORE BIRB LORE!!! omg she's so pretty :'))) well ig in that case,,, all african grey parrots are pretty 😭😭 that's actually really interesting that every one looks alike to the next ... i wonder if there's like an evolutionary mechanism to that— ANYWAYS

no cuz u literally feel like ur the animal whisperer at this point LMAO like all the stray cats and now the parrot, but ig it's also a testament to the fact that ur a good person! i feel like u can almost always trust an animal's instincts when it comes to people vibes haha 😌 unless it's like cherry, that girl is so needy and moody w everyone i can't even be too sure that she likes me cuz i picked her up this morning and she was so good abt it, and then i put her down and she turned around and tried to eat my toe 🧍🏻‍♀️

awh im so glad she's gotten so much more comfortable now 😭 that's really sweet to hear abt this progression esp ur relationship with her :'))) tbh tho why am i not surprised that she was the one where ur allergies originated from 😭 you fr are just like defying death left and right skfndkfnfk idk man TT anyways . LOL UR BET W LEA ABT WHO'LL DIE FIRST IM YELLING SJFNEKFNJR im glad ur doing much better tho now after the surgery tho 😭

also wishing u luck w slowly getting her out of her cage :')) im sure you'll prevail w patience and lots of mangos!! omg aren't there specific gloves people use for birds? like so their talons don't scratch them or sumn?

thank u for sharing tho as always, i was very excited opening my inbox this morning !! ����

[mywheelieweirdlife]

Hello, I am alive.

I haven't used this blog, or tbh most of my blogs, in a while. Particularly since getting my current job because when you're disabled and teaching, you regularly have no spoons.

But I saw this tiktok: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSj6DAMkH/

And what it brought up for me was hella interesting in terms of disability advocacy and relying on (more) abled bodied friends.

I have one friend I trust with my wheelchair when I'm in it.

It's not the friend I live with. In fact I am incredibly stubborn and will put myself in pain and danger at times with a 'No, I've got it' to avoid him pushing my wheelchair.

And it turns out; Sunshine Coasts Aquarium is not independently wheelchair accessible and those ramps were way to steep to be safely navigated without help. (Despite the website saying it's accessible. It was not. SeaWorld is more independently accessible tbh)

And I only had one friend I was willing to let help out of the three who were there I could technically ask. (I realised afterwards I probably could have asked my cousin more, but I didn't at the time)

That friend had essentially paired off with my cousin and was not with me most of the trip.

I was also in my Karma wheelchair not my normal one bc my normal chair has tire problems.

*photo below bc it won't let me type under it*

It's a heavy wheelchair that is not easy to push from within it and fucked up my hands by the end of the day.

I didn't have walking spoons thanks to pain in the morning, but I was physically fucked by the end of the day in this.

And part of that is; I struggle to ask for help but also, when the only friend I can fully trust to ask for it is the friend who worked in disability services and ran wheelchairs around the airport for years as a job.... because that's the only person who won't cause me more pain or almost knock me out of my chair bc they don't understand cut curbs.... (My day started with almost falling out of my chair bc someone else didn't understand cut curbs). It's not a shock that I don't use my aids when I should (like at work) bc it's just too fucking hard.

I need my wheelchair at work, but I can't get it there. I literally can't get to work in it. Buses magically 'Don't see me', ubers and taxi's cancel, unless my coworker is picking me up (and I don't want to ask that of her if I don't have to), I'm not able to take my wheelchair to work so I take my cane and rollator.

And to an extent; that is a privilege that comes with being ambulatory.

But it also means I burn out so fucking hard because I'm so often in pain and I don't admit as often as I should the amount walking fucking hurts.

I stopped telling people that it still feels like lightening and glass when I walk bc most people don't care if I'm doing it all the time and they see it as dramatic… meanwhile I'm here like 'I feel it through my entire spine sometimes but I just ignore it now until it's time to take meds for the other kinds of pains and pray I get some extra relief.'

When you're disabled, sometimes 'I live with higher chronic pain' becomes part of the job description just so you have a job.

Meanwhile I'm working on teaching teens to 'Not do that bc it'll fuck up your body and brain and we will advocate for you to not have to do that if you need'. (I work with neurodivergent youth in employment services in my day job now, hence my lack of online presence for the last while)

Knowing fully well I'm a hypocrite who's burning out bc of chronic pain 99% of the time.

I don't have a lot of disability supports anymore.

I traded pain reduction for being further from toxic family and a hope of having a job history that isn't entirely self employment in sex work or sex worker adjacent categories that I don't put on my resume anyway.

But if I created anything educating truely on the hidden sides of my disability?

I would probably die inside a little acknowledging how much work it is to maintain living like this… while also having to actually confront how much help I don't have despite having lost friendships over how much work it feels like.

And a lot of it for people is the mental toll.

Because internalised ableism is a bitch to everyone. And I don't like how the way I'm looked at changes when I'm honest about how bad things are; because depending how the way I'm looked at changes tells me wether or not I'm about to lose someone.

I'm fully aware that despite knowing I don't need to at all, I still avoid telling my partner things about my disability and it's daily impacts on me because more than knowing they'd worry… and despite knowing no fucks would actually be given and the way they look at me wouldn't change bc they're one of the only people I fully trust wouldn't be weirded out by the full impact of FND on my life bc they've read some of my tumblr things about it before, he knows more than most tbh… I am terrified of that anxious feeling that is entirely trauma of 'Will I become too much after this one'.

I no longer ask things of my abled bodied friends.

I can actually pinpoint the exact interactions I stopped asking as much and I think my actual final straw was after my previous relationship ended and my ex (who is still one of my best friends) started dating someone who is also chronically ill but differently… and hearing the comments made by his family and friends about the 'Relief he was dating someone he didn't have to take care of'.

And he tried to shield me from a lot of the comments, but shit still makes its way back to me and fucked me up a little.

It's weird knowing the two reactions from abled bodied friends would be a mix of 'why didn't you tell me?' and 'I don't understand what you want, you seen fine.' if I ever opened up about how bad it is.

I actually miss living with my cousin bc it was the only place I didn't have to lie about the pain I was in and would get the help in the ways I needed it most without fighting for it.

And tbh; I don't really know if I have a point other than it's fucking hard and the people in my life who aren't disabled have actually made it terrifying to tell even my closest also chronically ill friends how bad it actually is.

Because it got easier to pretend I'm not struggling in pain than admit that I am and ask for help and feel unwanted/rejected.

And abled bodied discomfort is infuriating when it makes you feel so alone and impacts your relationships because they're uncomfortable.