#which to be clear I did NOT mean to do at all.

[ghostmothkin]

The minute anyone I considered close enough to do me actual harm tries to hit my insecurities I immediately hit full throttle.

By this I mean the one time someone made any mean comment targeting my insecurities I pulled out the side of me that my dad has carved out of my soft psyche and analyzed exactly why they felt the need to make such a comment and why they were never gonna make said comment ever again.

And this old friend was a little sociopath who tried to get other people to either target or abandon me, and it took two hours for people to realize (without me because I muted messages and or ditched plans after snapping) that firstly, I make fun of myself constantly and without dragging others into my commentary. This idiot tried to say I believed myself better than my friends. And second, the fact I wasn't responding at all despite the fact I usually kept myself open to make sure everyone was okay meant I had either snapped (as I did) or I was not able to be in contact (which only happens in extreme circumstances like the time I got a fever bad enough I slept for almost three days).

It got cleared up the next day because I sent a screenshot and then proceeded to be backed by others who had also received targeted commentary. The person was blocked, and the group chat was a lot lighter for it.

The point to all this is thus- be harsh. Be honest. And cut them down at the root so that behavior has no place to grow in your life. It doesn't always have to mean getting rid of said person, but sometimes living happily and healthily means tugging out the weeds you once thought were pretty.

if your man sends you an evil ass text message and you don’t know how to respond, come to me. I will ghost write your response.

[kiyoomiee]

one. two. three. four.

After that pool party incident, Sukuna tried his best to stay away from you. But how could he when you're literally everywhere?

Walking into the kitchen in the morning to find you cooking breakfast in one of his oversized shirts that Yuuji must've mistook as his and let you borrow it. The way it barely covered your thighs had him gripping his coffee mug too tight. Fucking sinful.

Running into you in the hallway after your shower, hair wet and skin flushed from the hot water. The scent of your shampoo and body wash lingering in the air long enough for him to get addicted to it even after you're gone.

Sukuna can sense that you're trying to avoid him too.

You started waiting until you hear his bedroom door close before going out of your room. You would sometimes eat your meals alone just to avoid him in the kitchen.

It was driving him insane. He wanted to avoid you, yet he can't stop seeking you out when you're gone from his sight.

He couldn't stop thinking about you, and he hated it. Hated how his body reacted every time you were near. Hated how his eyes followed you whenever you entered a room.

But most of all, he hated how you made him feel things he never felt before.

“You've been spacing out a lot lately. Everything okay?” Yuuji's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Shut up.” Sukuna grunts. They were watching Yuuji's favorite movie, yet Sukuna's focus was anywhere but the screen in front of him.

His brother was more perceptive around others, contrary to other people's thoughts. Yuuji noticed his lingering eyes whenever you're around.

Where are you? You aren't home yet.

“She's sleeping over Nobara's dorm tonight, if that's what you're worried about.” Yuuji mentioned as if he can read thoughts, and watched as his brother's expression darken.

“Not worried.” Liar. Just the mention of you had his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He needed to get his shit together. You were his brother's best friend, for fuck's sake. Off limits. Forbidden. Young. Not his type.

Lies. lies. lies.

One night, Sukuna came home late from work, pissed over a client who tried to lowball him about their tattoo design which he spent fucking hours on.

He found you in the kitchen, humming softly while washing dishes. He went straight for the cupboard, he desperately needs a drink tonight.

“Oh, you're home. I saved some food for you in the fridge. Have you eaten dinner yet? I'll heat it up for you.” You turned the faucet off and faced him when a gentle smile on your face.

Even after being rude to you in countless occasions, you still manage to spare him that smile of yours. Fuck, you're too good for him. Add that to the fucking list of reasons why he can't have you.

“Are you looking for liquor? I moved it over the next shelf.”

The sight of you in his space, looking so comfortable and domestic, made something snap inside him.

“Can you stop moving my fucking things around?” he growled.

“I was just cleaning-”

“I don't care what you were doing. This is my house, I want my shit exactly where I left it.” You flinched at his harsh and spiteful tone.

Why did he have to be so mean?

“What the fuck is your problem, Sukuna? Why do you hate me so much?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Sukuna froze, his jaw clenching. Hate you?

“I stayed out of your way. I avoid bumping into you everyday. I tried to do something nice yet you still look at me like I disgust you. I live like a fucking ghost in this house. So tell me what I've done to make you hate me so much?”Your lips quivered as you rambled on.

You were right. You're like a ghost that haunted him even in his dreams. In his dreams where he can touch you and own you freely, a beautiful nightmare that he doesn't want to end.

As he stares at you, his thoughts became more clear. If only he could actually hate you instead of wanting you so desperately that it made him feel like he was losing his mind.

“I don't hate you.” He said through gritted teeth. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “That's the fucking problem.”

—————————————————————

taglist: @emyyy007 @thebumbqueen @domainofmarie @cheriiepies @jumpinjaxx @mothstvrnz @grveyrd4 @tojisbabymommasblog @realalpacorn @starriesworlds @go-go-gadget-autism @ieathairs @oidloid @krispywhisperswhispers @satorupied @zeunys @chosos-prettyprincess

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Special Assistance

⚖Pairing(s)⚖→ Andy Barber x male reader ⚠CW⚠→ gay-sex, gay, bottom male reader, top Andy Barber, cockwarming, daddy kink, age difference (the reader is 25 and Andy is 43), breeding, creampie, anal play, anal fingering, bondage (he uses his tie.), anal sex, sort of friends to lovers, and marking (biting and kissing.).  ⚖Rating⚖→ Explicit ⚖Request⚖→ Yes

⚖Word Count⚖→ 3.2k

⚖Summary⚖→ Life was spiraling out of control for Andy. His son got accused of murder and is trying to clear his name while fighting with his wife, which escalated to a divorce. The only thing he can look forward to is seeing his legal assistant. He found solace in your presence, but these feelings transformed into a deeper meaning.

Read before continuing: IF YOU ARE YOUNGER THAN 18 OR ANY OF THE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! 

This fic does not follow the Defending Jacob series and stands on its own! I haven’t watched the show yet, so there might be some mistakes.

“You’re doing good, baby. Warming my cock like a good boy.” Andy purrs as he gives small thrusts into your tight heat. His hands roam your naked body as he licks and bites your nape area. His teeth grazing your skin, grip tightening as he starts thrusting faster into your ass. His heavy breathing brushes against your ear. 

“I’m the luckiest man to have an assistant like you. Taking my cock and finding everything I need. I love you so fucking much,” Andy said as he pulled your head back, smashing his lips against yours. You would return the gesture, but you weren’t listening to the older man's words. Your mind turned into mush from Andy’s cock hitting all the right places, his large and warm hands making contact with your skin, and the bites and kisses he marks on your skin. 

You gasped as Andy’s rough hand wrapped around your weeping cock. His thumb swirls around your cockhead, gathering the translucent precum and lathering your cock with it. The older man grins as he licks your neck, thrusting faster and encouraging you to hump his hand. 

It was euphoric to be in the hands of someone older and more experienced. His gentle touches, mixed with his roughness, were everything you wanted. Andy was loving and had some dominance in him. He was a lawyer, and the stress of the profession and having to find a way to clear his name was stressful. Thankfully, he had you, his young, loving, and submissive boyfriend. Sometimes, you remember the memories and moments that led to the scene you are in now. 

It’s been almost a year since it happened. 

One year ago

You had been friends with Andy for a long time. You first met him when you got your bachelor’s in paralegal studies and ended up as his assistant. The two of you became friends after a while. Something clicked when you met him. Andy didn’t notice, but you certainly did. However, you never engaged because the older man was married and had a kid. It was also unprofessional for an assistant to pin after their boss.

Everything was going great for the most part, although you couldn’t get your feelings to change. If anything, they only worsened as Andy always praised you or gave you a slight touch. His affirmations and physical touch made your cock ache– maybe touch starved - and being lonely best described you. You always craved his touch and the words of affirmation from Andy, who was dominant but loving towards you.  He saw you as a son, mainly due to the age difference. 

Then it happened. You heard the news that Andy’s son, Jacob, was accused of murder and was swiftly arrested, awaiting trial. You watched the older man going into overdrive as he tried to clear his son’s name of the accusation. He had you conduct research, draft the documents, collect the evidence, etc. He was stressed, but it only got worse. 

You didn’t know the full details, but Andy and his wife were getting divorced. You assumed it was because Jacob was accused and the older man worked so much that he neglected his wife. Andy now has to deal with Jacob, and a divorce is the final nail in the coffin. 

The divorce proceeding went swiftly and dividing the assets was quick, but the trial for Jacob’s innocence was still going. Andy turned to you for relief and comfort. You would sometimes wake up at odd hours of the night to loud banging outside. Opening the door, you were often met with a disheveled Andy, his hair and clothing messed up as he wobbled into your living room. He would blabber and cry as he laid on the couch, and being the good friend you were, you comforted and soothed the older man. 

Andy was grateful for your presence and comfort during the hardest time in his life. You even reprimanded him for overworking and drinking too much. You were a rock for him, a foundation on which he could stand. It was during a time like this that the older man began reevaluating his feelings for you. He knew he was bisexual but never had any attraction to you. He only saw it as a platonic relationship.

As time passed, the older man began to notice things he never did about you; little quirks and some physical attributes. He found it cute, sometimes catching himself checking you out. Andy would glance whenever you tripped, getting a good view of your ass. The way your tight dress pants would hug your ass was boner-popping. 

Whenever you would leave for lunch, Andy would sit back and unzip his pants, pulling his aching cock and stroking it, letting his imagination run wild. The older man would imagine you laid out on his desk, naked and heaving, your body covered with his marks and cum, and your eyes filled with want and lust as you beg for him. 

“Fucking hell.” Andy moans as he fucks his hand, imagining it's you beneath him and his hand is your ass. The older man’s groans bounced off the wall, precum oozed from his cockslit; spreading the liquidy substance all over his cock, making it easier to thrust into his hand. He imagines you moaning for him, crying for him to go faster.

“Of course, baby, anything for you.” Andy groans as he fucks his hand faster. His heavy balls slapping against his hands… plap, plap, plap, plap. He imagines you crying from his large cock hitting your bundle of nerves deep inside your ass. The older man licks his lips as he feels his balls tightening, cum rushing to erupt out of the cockslit. 

The older man’s imagination then flashed to him and you kissing as he gave one thrust and bred you. In the real world, Andy gave one thrust into his hand, ropes of pearly cum squirted out, painting his suit and beard with the thick white liquid. He was breathing hard from his most intense orgasm yet. 

Post-nut clarity set in: he had jerked off to his friend, whom he considered to be his son, and nothing else. Andy didn’t feel bad though, something in him was telling him that it was alright. The age difference was notable, he was eighteen years your senior. He should feel ashamed, but he didn’t– he felt thrilled. 

The next few days left Andy confused about his feelings. Everything you did for him, he liked it —no, he loves you! He enjoyed being around you and being in your presence. He loved you and lusted for you! Andy kept telling himself he wouldn’t jerk off to thoughts of you in compromised positions, but that was a lie. 

For every day, for the next few weeks, the older man would jerk his cock to you. He would have multiple orgasms a day, but no more how many times, his cock was still hard. It was like he was a teenager again, discovering the world of gay porn. Nothing worked, he needed the real thing, he needed you. 

A week later

It was another hang-out, like always, with Andy coming over for dinner and chilling while watching movies or doing random stuff in your room. You didn’t know what led to this moment, but you were pinned down on your bed by the older man, his calloused hands holding yours down. You could feel Andy’s scruffy beard grinding against yours as his lips pressed against yours. 

Andy’s body was grinding against yours. You could feel his large cock straining in his pants. “You taste delicious,” the older man says as he lets out a breathy groan before diving back into your mouth. His tongue pushes past your teeth and invades your oral cavity. It was easy for Andy to establish his dominance over you. 

It was hot. The sensation of Andy’s cock grinding against yours, the heated kiss, and the heavy breathing was making your cock painfully erect and throbbing. The older man pulled back and looked at you– it was everything he imagined. Your body is disheveled: your hair is messed up and tangled, your lips are swollen with drool coating around them, and your soft pants as you try to calm down. The sight served to make Andy’s cock harder. 

Without wasting any time, Andy began stripping. He hastily took off his clothes, fumbling with his zipper before his glorious body was fully exposed to you. Without fear of receiving backlash, you admired and gazed upon the older man’s body. Your delusional dreams before Andy’s divorce weren’t so delusional after all. 

Andy’s body was huge. The older man grinds as you admire his body. He started to flex his muscles, showing his large biceps. He had chiseled abs that looked sculpted by God himself, you just wanted to trace your tongue against them. His pectorals looked big too, most likely hard but soft to touch and grope. He’s also very hairy, especially around his pecs and abdomen area– a happy trail leading down to his crotch and pubic region.

Speaking of the crotch region, Andy’s cock was perfect: size, thickness, and eavy hanging balls, swollen with so much cum. You could tell that he likes keeping his groin groomed and not too hairy– just how you like it. 

“Come on, darling. Don’t leave me hanging.” Andy says as he pulls you closer to him. His hands roam your body as he removes your clothing until your naked divine body is revealed to him. The older man drinks in your appearance– magnificent and perfect. He doesn’t know why he was blind to you before, but it's better that he realized now than never. 

He held you closer to him, worshipping your body with his mouth and hands. One of his legs pushed between your legs as he laid you down on the bed. You gasp softly as Andy’s hands squeeze your hips and knead the flesh of your ass. His mouth sucks and bites around your neck, making sure he leaves his mark on your body. You start humping his thick thigh, grinding your throbbing cock and smearing precum all over Andy’s thigh. 

“Can I do this?” Andy says, pulling himself off of you and gesturing to his tie. You knew what the older man was thinking and agreed on the spot. Andy uses the tie and wraps it around your wrists, putting you in bondage. He tightens it but makes sure it wasn’t tight enough to hurt you. The fantasies the older man had about you were coming true. 

“There’s lube on the nightstand,” you said, moving your head in the direction. Andy nods and reaches out for it. He grabs the bottle and pops it open, squirting a generous amount of the substance on his fingers. One hand gripping your tied wrists while the other one went down to your ass. 

You start breathing heavily as you feel Andy’s thick fingers circling the rim of your hole. Biting your lips as this was the first time you’ve had sex. “I need you to calm down, baby boy. Breathe.” Andy says as he kisses your knee. Your body started to relax, allowing Andy to slowly push his thick fingers in. 

Air was kicked out of your lungs as you felt the older man’s thick digits push deeper into your tight heat. Your moans got louder with each time Andy thrust his fingers deeper. Arching your back as you felt yourself riding his thick digits.  Following what you were doing, Andy began thrusting them faster– each time you pushed down, Andy pushed up. 

Suddenly, one particular thrust caused you to ascend to a higher plane. You scream in pleasure and Andy correctly assumes that that must be your prostate. The older man began making sure to hit that same spot, memorizing it. You feel your cock was about to erupt, Andy was gonna give you an anal orgasm. However, the older man didn’t want that. He wanted you to cum from and on his dick. 

Andy pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his large cock. He slowly sinks in, groaning and biting his lips as his cock is swallowed by your tight and warm hole. The older man pushed until he was completely inside, his heavy balls pressing against your ass. This was better than any pussy Andy had had. It was tight but not tight enough to where it felt like his dick was being suffocated. He always wanted to try anal but his wife declined.  He never pushed the topic and just buried the thought of anal sex. 

Whatever level of ascension Andy set with his fingers paled in comparison to his cock. You were higher than ever before; on a different plane of existence. Your ass was filled to the brim with the older man’s cock. You could feel every vein and crevice of Andy’s cock. It felt like the puzzle piece you’ve been looking for all your life was found and connected with yours. Your moans could be heard throughout the apartment building, you are most likely gonna receive noise complaints tomorrow. 

Andy gave you time to adjust to his size. It felt like he was going to burst instantly. Your ass tightened around him with a vice grip. His breathing got heavier as he didn’t want to cum just yet and leave you unsatisfied. After a few minutes, you permit Andy to move. 

“J-Jesus Christ… fucking hell… you feel so good baby.” Andy moans as his hands grip your hips. He began giving slow thrusts, sliding his cock in and out your tight ass softly, his thickness stretching you perfectly and his cockhead teasing your prostate. Your cock was weeping, oozing precum over your abdomen as it twitched back to life. 

His thrust got faster as Andy felt himself being consumed by the pleasure. “My God… Oh fuck yes.” Andy’s eyes roll back as he slows down, giving slow but powerful thrusts. His grip tightens as he feels your hole becoming tighter around him and it feels like his cock is melting. Your hands grip the sheets during a short pause before your bundle of nerves are hit again but Andy’s cockhead. 

“Daddy!” you scream before covering your mouth and realizing what you said. You thought Andy would be turned off as he stopped midway. Your face was flustered as you tried to explain that it was mistaken, but the air was punched out as Andy started thrusting fast. “Call me daddy again, baby boy. Call me daddy.” Andy moans as he lost himself and fucks you like a wild beast. Ramming his cock deeper into your depths and abusing your prostate. You could feel your body becoming overstimulated.

“D-daddy! F-feels so good~ making me feel so good~” You cry as your back arches. You start to push back, meeting Andy’s thrusts. The older man’s groans grow louder, “I know, baby. You love daddy how is fucking this tight ass? This?” Andy said before slapping your thigh, grinning as he watches the flesh jiggle from the impact. “This ass belongs to me.”

You could hear the sounds of Andy’s heavy balls slapping against your ass, your groans and moans mixing with his to become a symphony of gay sex. Your cock was bobbing and slapping against your abdomen. “Yeah, you like that? You love daddy’s cock don’t you?” the older man growls as he leans down and starts sucking your neck, leaving marks to show that you belonged to him. 

“I love your cock, daddy~ So perfect! It fills me perfectly~” you cry as you wrap your arms around Andy, pulling the older man closer to you. Andy became deaf to everything, only hearing your moans and cries for him– calling him daddy as he fucks your ass, but more soppily. His cock was throbbing inside and balls were tightening as he was ready to bust his load. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Want me to cum inside this ass? Breed you till my cum oozes out this hole.” Andy growls as he bites and nimbles your neck softly. “Y-yes! Yes, p-please… oh god… inside! B-breed me, breed me, breed me!” You cried desperately, your hole tightening to milk Andy’s large cock of its cum, your fingers digging into the older man’s back. You move one of your hands from your side to jerk your weeping cock, wanting to cum with the older man. 

“Almost there baby… cum!” Andy growls as he sinks his teeth into your skin, digging them as he wants to leave a permanent mark. He gave one last thrust before a wave of cum floods your hole. Your velvet walls were painted white as the older man kept filling you with his thick cum. Your cock spurts its load after the feeling of being bred and marked was the breaking point. Your chest was painted with your thick pearly substance. 

You could feel Andy’s larger body collapsing on top of yours. It was quiet besides the heavy panting and breathing. You both bask in each other's presence. Andy slowly pulls out, a loud plop sound echoing with cum gushing out your gaping hole. You whimper at the feeling of being empty and hug the older man tighter. A moment of silence falls over the room before you speak.

“I love you, Andy– daddy~” you say, saying daddy in a teasing tone. Andy laughs before returning the same gesture. “I love you too, baby.”  

Ever since that day, you and Andy have been in a relationship. About 7 months into the relationship, the older man asked if you wanted to move in with him, and you gleefully accepted. He did have rules for you; you were to be naked at all times, only dressed whenever guests arrived. Andy wanted to have full access to you. He also wanted you to cockwarm him while he worked and did your research. For a man his age, Andy was certainly horny, fucking in every corner of his house. 

You didn’t mind at all, as long as you got to be with him. 

THE END

A/n: hello, my strawberries! I hope you enjoy this fic! Took me a while due to procrastination. Also had to watch a porn video of a guy humping a pillow and moaning… the things fanfiction writers look up and watch.  TAGLIST: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @geminiflanagan69 Very special thanks to my proofreader; @sagethegaywitch Join my taglist!

[emichanted]

➷ BAD HABITS ft. Sae Itoshi (MDNI)

Synopsis: Sae is your ex. But you somehow always end up back in his bed.

Contains: Sexual Content (MDNI), a little bit of angst.

Warning: NOT proof read (I apologise for any mistakes)

Word Count: 2.8k

You found yourself in Sae's bed again, your legs were wrapped around his waist as he slid in and out inside of you. God you missed this. You missed him.

Sae is your ex. You had closed that door month ago when he made it very clear he would always put soccer above you. Which you did understand. It was his career, his dream. But what about you? Where did you fit in? Because he surely never made the time or effort to show you that you meant anything to him.

But you never locked that door. And that was a mistake on your part. You were hoping, praying, he would come back and tell you how much he loved you. But instead, you somehow ended up finding yourself entangled in his bed, just like right now. It was a bad habit of yours. One that you loved and hated at the same time.

You were mad at yourself, but you also couldn't imagine letting any other man fuck you. Sae just did it sooo good.

But you were also mad at him. Why did he let this happen? A part of you was hoping that maybe, just maybe, he missed you, too.

You throw your head back as you feel your orgasm coming, you feel Sae's heavy breaths agains your neck, he was about to finish too. Both of you cling onto eachother as you reach your climaxes. Sae drops down beside you, relaxing his breath, your head spinning.

You feel Sae's hand come up and rest on your stomach. You turn your head to look at him and see him already staring at you.

"What?"

That annoying smirk of his appears on his face as he uses his finger to trace little circles on your stomach, sending shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. You're just very beautiful like this."

You roll your eyes at him and turn your head away from him. Because, what the fuck?

"Hey, Y/N?"

You don't look at him. You simply answer with an annoyed "what?" As you sit up from his bed, grabbing your clothes.

He grabs your wrist, stopping you. That's when you finally turn around and look at him again.

"Don't... Don't go just yet..."

Was the Sae Itoshi who doesn't give a fuck about anything literally asking you to not leave just yet? You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you.

"What?" Your words come out quieter than intended.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs, rolling onto his back. God, he was beautiful.

"I've just been thinking, Y/N... We've been broken up for months now."

Yeah, you have been. And yet, here you are, in his room, naked, sitting on his bed.

He turns his head to face you again.

"But yet, we always find ourselves back in each others arms."

Was that a smile you saw on his face? A genuine smile? You gulp, wondering what's coming next, not wanting to let your hopes up.

"I mean... I may just be hoping for too much but... Maybe, you still love me?"

Same props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. You feel so... Bare... Under his stare. Even though you are still naked, you feel like he's staring right into you.

You gulp. "And what would that change?"

"Everything."

Before you know what's going on, Sae grabs your arm and pulls you on top of him. You stare down at him underneath you, your hands on his chest. You feel like you're about to explode.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." Is all he says before he pulls your face to his and kisses you with more passion than ever. After a few seconds, he pulls away and stares at you again. "Can you give me another chance? I promise to do better this time..."

Andyou just couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you kissed him. Harder than ever before. The words you've been longing to hear. He finally said it. You felt like you could die right this moment.

Maybe this bad habit of always ending back up in his bed was not such a bad habit after all if it ended like this? You couldn't be more happier.

A/N: pls I love Sae sm I could write fics about his every day, all day 🤧

Masterlist

[ipushhimback]

rubber bands and weights

pairing: lando norris x reader warnings: none words: 800

summary: you ‘secretly’ worked out to show Lando you are able to keep up with him…

As soon as you had started dating Lando he told you he would love for you to do his workouts with him. And you agreed. Which you immediately regretted after the first workout. Or so you thought. Because actually, that had just been the “warm-up”. 

You had told Lando you would stop doing the workouts with him. You quit. You fell on the couch and just watched tv being frustrated. 

But of course you did the workout again. Though this time without Lando. His workout was jotted down in a notebook so you opened it and started. That went on for about two months. One day you went to Lando, flopping onto the couch, or more on him, and looked up at him.

”Landoooooo?”, you said as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“What do you want, baby? Huh? Food? Drink?”, he asked you as he wrapped his arms around you to hug you close- 

“Noo. Can we do the workout together tomorrow?”, you asked him with that pout that never fails to make Lando weak so he agreed to practically everything.

”Are you sure? Like a hundred percent sure? Because last time you quit after the warm up. And watched tv for the rest of the day. I mean we could also just go for a run or so?”

”A run, Lando? A fucking run? You want me to run around like a chicken? Nah. I won’t do that. No way”, you said as you tried to sit up again but Lando held you down. 

“Ok ok. I got it. No runs. So you really want to do that workout again?”

”Yes. I promise last time it was just too early or so, you know? I just didn’t have the energy for sports…”, you said trying to convince Lando. 

“Ok, then. Let’s do it tomorrow. 11 AM. And not a single second later. We’ll warm up, then do some strengthening exercises and then we’ll eat something with a lot of protein.”

You looked at Lando and decided it had been a bad idea to ask Lando to do the workout. You just ruined your plans to sleep until 1 PM the next day and go to a nice restaurant. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? You were the one proposing to do the workout with me!”, Lando complained as he caught you pouting. 

“Yeah all good. No I am really looking forward to doing the workout with you, Lan”, you said forcing a smile. 

***

The next morning you woke up tired as fuck. No. Setting an Alarm for 10:30 has definitely been a bad idea. 

You changed into your gym shorts, that you actually only chose because you hoped your ass would distract Lando from correcting every single mistake you were going to make, and went to the kitchen to drink a Red Bull to wake your body up.

And 10 more minutes later you were standing in the fitness room of your and Lando’s apartment. The problem - he pulled out some resistance bands and some weights and you were almost a hundred percent certain that those weren’t contained in the workout that was written down in Lando’s little notebook. 

“Uhm… Lan? Baby?”, you cleared your throat, “what… what are all those… rubber bands and weights?” 

Lando looked up and you saw a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. 

“Since you already practiced so much over the last months I figured it was time for you to try something different! It is not good to always do the same workout, baby. You also have to target other muscles and challenge them. So I decided to make a new workout plan extra for you”, he said grinning as he walked over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Me? Practice? Uhm… no? I… the last time I did the workout was with you”, you protested but you even felt how your cheeks flushed. 

“Yeah, sure, babe. You remember how we installed those cameras in the apartment for when we are not home to see that everything’s alright?”, he asked you, smirking. 

“OH MY GOD! I forgot those!”, you exclaimed as you facepalmed yourself. “I am such an idiot! Landoooo! Why didn’t you say something earlier?”, you whined. “I wouldn’t have tortured myself with those damn workouts!”

“Well, I didn’t say something because I was thinking it might actually help you so I don’t always have to be the one opening your water bottle because you are not strong enough. Now, let’s start. And I know what you are trying to do with those shorts. Not working. Now on the ground. We’ll start with sit-ups.”

You glared at Lando. “You are evil…”

Lando just smirked.

a/n: again just something small bc i have so much going on with school atm but i hope you like it <3

tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicqlivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 / @anayaverse 

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ this is me trying

chapter summary: You and Logan try IVF.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: another short chapter!? who am i? (also this gif is 😙🤌)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, angst, talks of fertility and pregnancy, smut, slight sub!logan unprotected piv, creampie, ghost hunting

series masterlist - chapter 7 → chapter 9

“—and we need to… Logan!” You exclaimed, breaking him out of whatever stupor he was in while staring at you.

You were explaining the new calendar you made that coincided with your IVF treatment, meaning no sex some days before retrieval and no sex some time after.

“Yeah, ‘m listening,” Logan repeated, his eyes flickering back to you like a magnet drawn to steel. He leaned lazily against the counter in your lab, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement—or distraction. Probably both.

You narrowed your eyes, tightening your grip on the whiteboard marker. "Then what did I just say?"

“You need to… no sex before, no sex after," he recited slowly, as if carefully testing each word to make sure it wouldn’t backfire.

“And?" You crossed your arms, one hand on your hip, the other holding the marker up like a teacher about to deliver a pop quiz. "Do you know why?"

Logan’s gaze swept over you, taking in the way you’d planted your feet and stuck a pen behind your ear in your 'professor mode.' “Because you’re ovulatin’ or somethin’? Or tryin’ not to? Hell, I don’t know what half this stuff means.”

You sighed, turning back to the giant whiteboard on the wall. It was cluttered with colorful timelines, reminders, and arrows pointing every which way, all carefully laid out for the IVF schedule. In hindsight, your meticulousness might have been a tad over the top, but you weren’t about to admit that now.

“It’s because we want to maximize the egg retrieval,” you explained, your tone firm but not unkind. “No sex three days before stimulation so it doesn’t mess with your—ugh, never mind. Just stick to the rules. I made this board so it’s clear.”

Behind you, Logan huffed, a warm, rumbling sound that made you turn sharply to find him grinning.

"What?" you asked, brow furrowing.

“You’re real cute when you’re like this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you. "Hands on your hips, pen behind your ear—looks like you’re about to lecture me ‘bout quantum somethin’."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, but you steadied yourself, standing taller. “That’s because you’re not listening,” you fired back. "And I have been over this calendar twice. Maybe I should give you a quiz.”

Logan’s grin widened, his teeth flashing. “You gonna give me detention if I fail?"

Ignoring the heat rising to your face, you tilted your head in mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Dunno.” He shrugged, clearly enjoying this far more than he should. “Guess we’ll find out if I get somethin’ wrong.”

“Fine.” You capped the marker and tapped it against your hand like a gavel. "What’s the first thing you have to remember?”

Logan straightened slightly, locking eyes with you. “No sex three days before retrieval.”

You nodded, reluctantly impressed. “And after retrieval?”

“No sex for a week.”

“Why?” you pressed, though your voice lost some of its sternness.

“‘Cause it’s somethin’ about keepin’ the process steady—don’t wanna screw up your hormones or somethin’. You didn’t get this doctorate for me to screw it all up.”

You stared at him, unable to mask your surprise.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered, although his smug grin didn’t waver. “Just ‘cause I’m lookin’ at you doesn’t mean I’m not payin’ attention.”

Taking a second to compose yourself, you finally nodded. “Fine, you passed.”

“But what about my detention?” His smirk turned wolfish, leaning just a fraction closer.

You stumbled over your words. “Is this—ugh, is this one of your… you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I don’t know, darlin’. What’re you talkin’ about?”

“You know!” you exclaimed, waving the pen for emphasis. “Your… fantasies or whatever it is you call them.”

His grin was practically sinful now. “Well, now it is.”

“Logan!”

“Relax, sweetheart.” His voice softened as he reached out to pluck the marker from your hand, setting it aside on the desk. His other hand slid to your hip, grounding you as he bent just low enough to kiss your forehead. "You’re doin’ great. And we’re gonna get through this—whiteboard rules and all."

You sighed, your tension easing slightly under his touch. “You’d better not fail me on this, Logan.”

“Never,” he said with an almost reverent sincerity, the teasing gleam in his eyes softened by something deeper. "You’re the one thing I’ve always been real good at keepin’ up with."

And damn it if he didn’t mean it.

---

Since today was the last day you could have sex before your retrieval in 4 days, you decided to surprise Logan. Though you weren’t sure if this was going to backfire on you or not, you thought you’d give it a try.

You had put on something that was the most stereotypical ‘teacher like’ outfit, a white button-up blouse, a black pencil skirt, and some small heels, and went through the regular motions of the school day.

Then, once classes were over, Logan came to your classroom instead of your office like you told him to earlier in the day.

Logan pushed the classroom door open, his shoulders broad and his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. His gaze swept over the rows of empty desks before it landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, legs crossed, glasses perched on your nose, and a teasing little smile playing at your lips. The whiteboard still had the day’s lesson scrawled across it, but you weren’t thinking about teaching anymore.

“This where you wanted me?” Logan asked, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You adjusted your glasses, standing up slowly. “Yes, Mr. Howlett. You’re late.”

His eyebrows lifted, the faintest smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t know this was official business.”

“Sit down,” you instructed, gesturing toward your chair behind the desk. “You’ve got some rules to follow if you’re going to avoid detention.”

Logan chuckled under his breath but obeyed, sauntering over and lowering himself into the chair. He sprawled comfortably, his legs spread wide, making it look far too small for him. “Alright, darlin’. What’s next?”

You stepped around the desk, your heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. “First,” you began, fingers going to the buttons of your blouse, “you’re not allowed to touch me. At all.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his smirk growing into a full grin. “That so?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, undoing the top button of your blouse. His gaze tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey. “You’re here to listen and behave. Understand?”

“Guess I’ll behave,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You let the next few buttons fall open, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed, but he kept his hands firmly on the arms of the chair, his knuckles tightening as you slipped the blouse off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

“Good,” you said softly, stepping closer. “Stay just like that.”

You moved your hands to the zipper of your pencil skirt, tugging it down slowly. The fabric pooled at your feet, leaving you standing there in nothing but your bra, panties, and those heels. Logan’s jaw flexed, and you could see the restraint it was taking for him to stay still.

“You’re tryin’ to kill me,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“I told you, no touching,” you reminded him, leaning down just enough to place your hands on the arms of the chair, your face inches from his. “Think you can handle that?”

Logan’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze locked on yours. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

You straightened up, taking your time to slip onto his lap. His hands twitched against the armrests, but he didn’t move them, his breathing ragged as you settled yourself over him, the heat between your thighs pressing against the denim of his jeans.

“See? You’re doing great,” you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. He let out a low growl, but his hands stayed put.

“You’re evil,” he said, his voice thick with want.

“Maybe,” you replied, reaching between your bodies to undo his belt. His hips jerked slightly, but he stayed obedient, watching as you unzipped his jeans and pushed them down just enough to free him. He was already hard, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Not so evil now, huh?” Logan quipped, but his breath hitched as you slid your panties to the side, positioning yourself over him.

“Remember,” you whispered, lowering yourself slowly. “No touching.”

Logan let out a low curse, his head falling back against the chair as you took him in. His hands clenched the armrests tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the effort of keeping them there.

“Darlin’, you’re killin’ me here,” he rasped, his voice rough and shaky.

You started to move, your hips rolling slowly against his. The friction sent shivers through your body, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. Logan’s eyes were locked on yours, dark and hungry, but his hands didn’t budge.

“You’re so good at this,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. He growled low in his throat, his self-control hanging by a thread.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, his hips bucking up into you. “How’m I supposed to just sit here?”

“Discipline,” you teased, your breath warm against his ear. “Isn’t that what detention’s all about?”

Logan let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained and desperate. “You’re enjoyin’ this way too much.”

You didn’t answer, your movements quickening as heat coiled low in your stomach. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the room, mingling with your own gasps. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut with tension as he fought the urge to touch you.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered, your voice catching as your rhythm faltered. Logan’s eyes softened briefly, the teasing gleam replaced with something deeper.

“So are you,” he managed, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly you thought they might snap. “But I’m about to lose it here.”

You reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Not yet,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him softly. He groaned into your mouth, his restraint finally breaking as his hands left the armrests and gripped your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“That’s it,” he growled, guiding your movements now, his strength taking over. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he set a brutal pace, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was all heat and desperation.

The classroom faded away, the only thing that mattered was him—the way he filled you, the way he moved, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. And when you finally tumbled over the edge together, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you knew this was worth every moment of waiting.

Breathless and trembling, you rested your forehead against his, your glasses askew. “So much for following the rules,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Rules are overrated anyway.”

---

“Honey, if you can’t do it, I can. It’s just a little needle.” You said, holding your hand out for the needle, a simple hormone injection that has to be done before the embryo transfer.

Logan stood a few feet away, the needle in his hand looking laughably small against his thick fingers. His jaw was tight, and his brows knitted together in a way that made him look like he was contemplating defusing a bomb instead of giving you a hormone injection.

“I can do it,” he said gruffly, though his eyes darted between the syringe and your exposed stomach like he didn’t quite believe himself.

You softened at his hesitation, lowering your hand. “It’s okay if you’re nervous. I can just—”

“I’m not nervous,” Logan interrupted quickly, his voice firm but not unkind. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the situation. “Logan, I get stabbed with needles all the time. This is nothing.”

He shot you a look. “Not the same.”

You tilted your head, watching him as his eyes lingered on the syringe. His hands didn’t tremble—Logan was steady, always—but there was a vulnerability in his posture that made your heart ache. This was the same man who had faced armies, wars, and unimaginable pain, yet here he was, worried about causing you the smallest discomfort.

“Logan,” you said softly, reaching for his free hand. He let you take it, his rough palm engulfing yours. “You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.”

His gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, with a deep breath, he nodded. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s do this.”

You leaned back slightly on the edge of the couch, pulling up your shirt to expose your stomach. Logan crouched down in front of you, the syringe still in his hand. He studied the instructions you’d written out earlier—meticulous as always—before glancing back at you.

“This the spot?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You nodded, resting a hand on his shoulder for support. “Right there.”

Logan’s hand hovered over your skin for a moment before he finally pressed the needle in with careful precision. It stung, but not enough to make you flinch. His gaze stayed fixed on the syringe, his focus unshakable as he slowly pushed the medication in.

“All done,” he murmured after a moment, pulling the needle away. He pressed a cotton ball gently against your skin, his hand lingering just a little longer than necessary. “That okay?”

“Perfect,” you assured him, your smile warm. “See? Told you it was nothing.”

Logan scoffed lightly as he stood, disposing of the syringe. “Didn’t feel like nothin’ to me.”

You reached for his hand again, pulling him back toward you. He let himself be guided, standing between your knees as you looked up at him. “You did great.”

His lips twitched into a small smile, but his eyes were still searching yours, as if looking for any sign that he might have done something wrong. When he found nothing but sincerity, he finally relaxed.

“You’re a hell of a lot braver than me, you know that?” he said, his voice soft.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “I don’t know about that. You’ve done way scarier things.”

“Not like this,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “This is new.”

You leaned into his touch, your hand covering his. “We’re in it together, Logan. Every step.”

He nodded, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Together,” he echoed. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the last few years lifted, leaving just the two of you in the quiet. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t easy, but it was enough. And that was all you needed.

---

“I think the mansion is haunted.” Rogue said. “There is no way ya haven’t heard the creakin’ in the night!”

Bobby rolled his eyes, “it’s probably just the AC or someone walking in the hallways.”

Kitty looked over at you as you graded things in your classroom. Though the three of them weren’t technically students anymore and had ‘graduated high school’, they still lived at the mansion because they were X-Men.

“Y/N, do you believe in ghosts?” Kitty asked.

You looked up from your papers, a red pen twirling idly in your fingers, as Kitty’s question hung in the air. The corners of your mouth twitched with curiosity at the way all three of them had their eyes fixed on you—Kitty looking earnest, Rogue mildly skeptical, and Bobby wearing his usual mask of rationality.

“Ghosts?” you echoed, tilting your head. “I don’t know if I’d call them ghosts, exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Kitty pointed out, leaning forward on her desk as if your opinion held the weight of undeniable truth.

You tapped the pen against your chin thoughtfully. “There’s a theory,” you began, slipping into your natural cadence as a teacher, “about residual energy in spaces where intense events have happened. That energy could, in theory, manifest in ways that we interpret as paranormal.”

Kitty nodded enthusiastically while Rogue crossed her arms, clearly unsure. “What about creakin’ floorboards? That doesn’t sound like ‘residual energy.’”

“Well,” you conceded with a small smile, “this mansion is over a century old, and wood expands and contracts with changes in temperature.”

Bobby smirked. “Told you.”

Kitty huffed. “Yeah, but what about the piano playing by itself? Bobby doesn’t even believe me about that!”

“Probably one of the students pulling a prank,” Bobby retorted with a shrug.

“Or an actual ghost,” Kitty shot back, lifting her chin defiantly.

The sound of Logan clearing his throat from the doorway drew everyone’s attention. “What’re we talkin’ about?” he asked, stepping inside with his usual lazy saunter, his eyes cutting to you instinctively.

“Ghosts,” Rogue said flatly. “Kitty thinks the mansion’s haunted.”

Logan chuckled low in his chest, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Haunted, huh? Sounds like you kids’ve been watchin’ too many movies.”

“It’s not just movies!” Kitty protested, turning to him. “Y/N agrees there could be something! Residual energy or whatever.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, one eyebrow raising in question. You shrugged lightly, “how ‘bout this. We meet here at midnight and go ‘ghost hunting’. I’ll prove that it’s just residual energy so Rogue doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

“Ghost hunting, huh?” Logan drawled.

You shrugged lightly, capping your red pen. “Why not? Might as well settle this once and for all so Rogue can sleep without thinking she’ll get haunted.”

“Hey, I never said I was scared!” Rogue interjected quickly, her Southern drawl edging her words. “I just think there’s somethin’ weird goin’ on.”

Kitty grinned, nudging her playfully. “Sure, you’re not scared.”

Bobby leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “This is gonna be a waste of time. But fine, I’ll come. Someone’s gotta keep you all from freaking out over creaky floorboards.”

You pushed your glasses up, a small smirk playing at your lips. “Alright, it’s settled. Midnight. Bring whatever you think you’ll need—flashlights, cameras, whatever—and I’ll bring some equipment from the lab.”

Kitty’s eyes lit up. “Like an EMF detector? And maybe a thermometer?”

“Exactly,” you confirmed. “We’ll keep it scientific, not superstitious.”

Logan snorted softly, pushing off the doorway. “You’ve got this whole thing planned, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said simply, already mentally organizing the tools you’d need. “And you’re coming too.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t,” Logan replied with a shrug. “Just think it’s funny how serious you’re takin’ this.”

Rogue shot him a look. “You’re not gonna ruin it for us, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Logan said with a smirk, but his eyes flicked back to you, his expression softening.

---

At exactly midnight, the group gathered in the classroom, flashlights in hand. Kitty and Rogue had brought a handheld camera and an audio recorder, while Bobby carried what looked like an oversized camping flashlight. You walked in with a small case of lab equipment, Logan trailing behind you like your ever-present shadow.

“Alright,” you said, setting the case on your desk and opening it. “We’ve got an EMF detector, a digital thermometer, and a few other tools to measure environmental changes. If there’s anything abnormal, we’ll catch it.”

Kitty practically bounced on her toes. “This is so cool. I feel like we’re in a movie.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk. “Let’s hope it’s not the kind where everyone dies.”

“Logan,” you warned, giving him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just sayin’.”

You divided the equipment among the group, handing the thermometer to Kitty and the EMF detector to Rogue. “We’ll start in the east wing,” you said, adjusting your glasses. “That’s where Kitty said she heard the piano, right?”

Kitty nodded vigorously. “I swear, it was playing by itself.”

Logan’s lips twitched, but he said nothing, letting you take the lead as the group headed down the dimly lit hallway.

---

The east wing was quiet—eerily so. The air felt heavier, the old wood creaking beneath your feet as you moved through the corridor. Kitty had her camera rolling, and Rogue was carefully monitoring the EMF detector, though so far, it hadn’t picked up anything unusual.

“So, what’s this ‘residual energy’ thing you mentioned earlier?” Bobby asked, his voice cutting through the silence.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. “It’s the idea that strong emotions or events can leave an imprint on a place. It’s not a ghost in the traditional sense, but more like… a recording of something that happened before.”

“Like an echo,” Kitty added, her eyes wide.

“Exactly,” you said with a nod. “It’s one explanation for paranormal activity.”

“Or it’s just people imaginin’ things,” Logan muttered.

“Not helping,” you shot back, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

The group reached the end of the hallway, where a grand piano sat in the corner of an old parlor. The room was bathed in shadows, the faint moonlight streaming through the large windows.

“This is it,” Kitty whispered, her camera trained on the piano.

Rogue glanced at the EMF detector, which remained stubbornly still. “Nothin’ so far.”

You stepped closer to the piano, pulling the thermometer from your pocket. The temperature was steady, no sudden drops or spikes that might indicate something unusual.

“Well?” Logan asked, his voice low.

“No signs of residual energy,” you said, your tone thoughtful. “But let’s—”

A sudden noise interrupted you—a faint, melodic note from the piano.

Everyone froze.

“What the hell?” Bobby muttered, his flashlight beam darting around the room.

Kitty clutched her camera tightly. “I told you! I told you it plays by itself!”

Logan straightened, his eyes narrowing as he stepped in front of you instinctively. “Alright, what’s goin’ on here?”

You moved closer to the piano, studying it carefully. “It could be the strings,” you murmured, leaning down to inspect the inner workings. “If they’re loose, they might vibrate on their own.”

“Or it’s a ghost,” Kitty said, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

You glanced at her, adjusting your glasses. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.”

Another note echoed through the room, this one softer, almost mournful.

Rogue’s grip on the EMF detector tightened. “It’s doin’ it again.”

Logan’s eyes darted around the room, his posture tense. “Alright, fun’s over. Let’s wrap this up before someone gets spooked.”

Kitty frowned. “But we just—”

“Logan’s right,” you said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got enough data to analyze. Let’s head back.”

Reluctantly, the group agreed, though Kitty and Rogue exchanged skeptical looks as you packed up the equipment. Logan stayed close to you, his protective instincts clearly on high alert.

As you walked back down the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to hear another note. But the mansion remained silent, the mystery of the piano lingering in the air like an unsolved equation.

“Ghosts or not,” Logan murmured as the two of you trailed behind the others, “you’re braver than me for stickin’ your nose in somethin’ like this.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his. “It’s just science, Logan.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’,” he said, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. “But if that piano starts chasin’ us, I’m not stickin’ around to fight it.”

---

Two weeks after the embryo transfer your pregnancy test came back negative.

You stared at the single line on the stick, your throat tight as the bathroom tile seemed to blur and shift under your feet. The tiny piece of plastic felt unbearably heavy in your hand. You’d tried so hard not to get your hopes up this time, to remind yourself that IVF wasn’t a guarantee. But after years of trying—after Clomid, after IUI, after the miscarriage—it had been nearly impossible not to hope.

Logan’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Sweetheart?” His knock was soft but insistent against the bathroom door. “You alright in there?”

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah,” you managed, though your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

He didn’t push, but you knew he wouldn’t leave either. Logan never did when he thought you needed him.

You took a shaky breath and forced yourself to move. You wrapped the test in some tissue and tossed it into the trash, then splashed cold water on your face. When you opened the door, Logan was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as steady as it always was—but there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped closer and waited. You shook your head slightly, and that was all he needed. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you close as you buried your face in his chest. The tears came then, hot and fast, and he let you cry, his hand moving gently over your back.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“Don’t,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “Don’t you dare apologize for this.”

You tried to say something else, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Logan didn’t press, just pulled you back into his arms and held you tighter, as if he could shield you from the weight of the disappointment pressing down on you both.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Logan stayed close, finding small ways to comfort you without making it obvious. He brewed your favorite tea, even though he always grumbled about the smell of chamomile. He didn’t say a word when you spent an hour re-organizing the bookshelf in the living room, one of your favorite ways to distract yourself when you didn’t want to think too hard. And when the two of you finally went to bed that night, he wrapped himself around you like he was trying to hold all the broken pieces together.

---

The next morning, Jean found you in the kitchen, staring blankly into your coffee mug. She didn’t need to ask how it went—your face told her everything she needed to know.

“Oh, Y/N,” she said softly, pulling out the chair next to you. “I’m so sorry.”

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her tone gentle but never pitying. It was one of the things you appreciated most about her—she never treated you like you were fragile, even when you felt like you might shatter.

You hesitated, then shrugged. “There’s not much to say. It didn’t work. Again.”

Jean reached across the table and squeezed your hand. “I know how hard this is,” she said. “But you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. You don’t have to hold it together all the time.”

Her words broke something loose in you, and before you knew it, you were spilling everything—the years of trying, the heartbreak of the miscarriage, the hope you’d tried so hard to suppress this time. Jean listened without interrupting, her hand a steady anchor in yours.

When you finally stopped, she gave your hand one last squeeze. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” she said. “And you’re not alone in this. Logan, me, everyone—we’re here for you.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Thanks, Jean.”

“Anytime,” she said with a small smile. “Now, how about I make us some breakfast? You look like you could use something other than coffee.”

You let her bustle around the kitchen, the simple, familiar act grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

---

That evening, Logan found you in your shared office, your glasses perched on your nose as you stared at a stack of papers you weren’t really grading. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” he said.

You looked up, frowning slightly. “Do what?”

“Act like everything’s fine,” he said, his voice low but steady. “It’s okay to feel like shit, darlin’. Hell, I feel like shit too.”

His honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Then, with a sigh, you took off your glasses and set them on the desk. “I just don’t know what else to do, Logan,” you admitted. “If I stop moving, I feel like I’ll fall apart.”

He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of your chair so he could look you in the eye. “Then let me catch you,” he said simply.

You blinked, the tears welling up again despite your best efforts. “Logan—”

“I mean it,” he said, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out, one way or another. But right now, you don’t gotta be strong. Just let me be strong enough for the both of us, alright?”

You nodded, your voice too thick with emotion to respond. Logan stood, pulling you into his arms, and for the first time that day, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d get through this. Together.

---

You and Jean had gone to see your fertility doctor, mostly for the two week check up since the embryo transfer.

When Jean drove the two of you back to the mansion, Dr. Harper’s words rang in your head, over and over.

“We can try again, but I’m going to be honest. My medical opinion is that continuing down this path may yield diminishing returns. That’s not to say there’s no hope—we absolutely could continue to try—but I want to make sure we’re balancing hope with your overall well-being. I know you are a person based on facts, and I’m sure you know that once you hit your early 30’s, your fertility starts to slowly decline. Given that you’re already having a hard time… the choice is yours.”

The truth was, you were getting older. Everything Dr. Harper said was true, and you hated that you couldn’t argue with her. If you hadn’t been able to get pregnant at 28, why would anything be different now? You stared out the car window, watching the trees blur together as Jean drove back to the mansion. Her presence was steady, calm, just like always, but you could feel her glancing at you every so often, as though trying to gauge whether you were on the verge of breaking.

“You’re quiet,” Jean said softly, breaking the silence.

You adjusted your glasses, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m just… processing.”

Jean nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. “Take your time.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the engine. Then you sighed, resting your forehead against the window. “It’s just—what if it doesn’t happen, Jean? What if this is it? We’ve tried everything.”

Jean pulled into the driveway and put the car in park before turning to face you. “I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling, Y/N. But you’re not alone in this. Logan loves you, and no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Her words should have been comforting, and maybe they were, but they didn’t erase the ache in your chest. You gave her a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Jean.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand. “You’re stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, I’m here for you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the car. The mansion loomed in front of you, its familiar silhouette both a comfort and a reminder of all the life happening inside its walls—life that felt so out of reach for you.

---

The evening was unusually quiet, with the kind of stillness that felt heavy rather than comforting. You sat in your office, papers scattered in front of you, though your focus was anywhere but on them. You twirled your pen absently, watching the slow circles it traced on the desktop.

Logan leaned in the doorway, his usual casual stance—arms crossed, shoulders slightly slouched—but his eyes were sharp, locked on you like he could see through the calm façade you were trying to maintain.

"You’ve been quiet all day, sweetheart," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Somethin’s eating at you."

You hesitated, chewing on your lower lip as you adjusted your glasses. "Logan, I…" You set the pen down, unable to meet his gaze. "I need to talk to you about something. It’s… it’s important."

That got him moving. He crossed the room in a few strides, crouching in front of you like he often did when he wanted your full attention. His hands settled gently on your knees, his thumbs brushing idle circles.

"Whatever it is," he said, his voice low and reassuring, "just tell me. You don’t have to go through it alone."

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage you didn’t feel. "I went to see Dr. Harper today," you began, forcing your eyes to meet his. "She said… she said we could keep trying if we want to, but the odds are getting lower. IVF isn’t working. She was honest with me—she said my chances aren’t great. And I know she’s right, Logan. I feel it every time."

His expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. Not at you, but at the situation. He stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.

"I’m tired," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how much more I can take—physically or emotionally. But if you want to keep trying, we can. I… I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Logan was quiet for a moment, his hands still on your knees, grounding you. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Darlin’, you’ve done more than anyone could ever expect. You’ve put yourself through hell tryin’ to make this work—for us. And if you’re sayin’ you’re ready to stop… then we stop."

Tears welled in your eyes, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "You’re sure?"

He smiled softly, the kind of smile that was rare from him but filled with nothing but love. "I’m sure. What I want more than anything is for you to be okay. You’re all that matters to me—you always have been. Kids or no kids, that ain’t ever gonna change."

You broke then, leaning forward as he wrapped his arms around you. The tears came fast, but they weren’t all from sadness. There was relief, too—a heavy weight lifted from your shoulders after years of carrying it alone.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice breaking.

"I love you too," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And no matter what, we’ll get through this. Together."

The papers on your desk went forgotten as Logan pulled you closer, holding you in the kind of embrace that told you, without words, that you would always have him—and that was enough.

that is 2009!

i felt like after so many years of trying for a baby, it would get tiring with no progress. and even as a writer, i knew there was only so much i could write about them trying. but of course, we know they have gabby in the future, so don't worry about that!

[ptej1980]

It’s oh so quiet 🤫

It so peaceful until……

Our two faves are quiet. I am taken this as a beautiful sign of them working and living there life happy together.

As for the adjacent, they are also very quiet. Ant 🐜 is cleaning her IG more reducing even more tags and JD is promoting his play. Nothing special nothing crazy.

The only crazy is straitjacket wearing happenings of Jakolas. OmG! I can understand why there has been a reduction of Lukola social media presence.

The main issue is they tag Jake and Nicola in their bullshit and it is just straight up lies.

And to top it all off you get crazy blind items from who I assume are Antlukes spewing hate to DM about Nicola about the frequency of SM likes. I mean cmon…..FFS

We as a fandom follow our faves because it brings us joy and gives us connection and a place to chat about a common interest.

Perception….the last year was crazy namely last 9 months. Before we knew who A or JD were (I am not sure about you) but I did not follow or look at any of Nic or Luke’s friends profiles.

Until the media labeled, tabloid pushed certain narrative that little sub fandom groups dropped and ran with them, starting to creep, investigate and twist the perception of the real story.

We are fed what we are meant to. But then anyone can write ✍️ a blind item, knowing that it is 💯 inaccurate just to cause chaos. Look at the two recently, one from the SAGs and from DM.

Netflix posted this today

To true….you can destroy the world with your quill. The question is are you willing to believe everything you read or place some faith on common sense and evidence.

I am a common sense evidence kind of gal… my common sense comes to body language and clear signs, that A & JD have just been friends, we are getting fed so many different lines of stimulus from all over the place that it should all just come back to

Our two faves have been consistent in each other’s lives as BFFs for 6 years. They post together and on each other’s grid, you can see and hear the connection in their words and actions.

I hope things stay quiet for there’s and our sake while I love content I prefer them to be at peace.

Things on the horizon…March 27th is when they announce other BAFTAs awards. Manifesting hardcore for Lukola, and if you haven’t voted and can please do.

To finish just a small PSA…..

When I first came on tumblr I had no idea what I was doing. I followed heaps of blogs….mostly those with the names Lukola and Polin in the name. Now as I started blogging my self, and got a bit more savvy, I put notifications on the blogs who I read every day and followed and sometimes scrolled through my FYP. I became complacent and did not know about content on some of the blogs I was following. Nor did interact with them, unfortunately one particular blog which was a big problem was quite rude, and I had no idea.

I guess what I am getting at is if you do not want to be blocked by association or mistaken identity check who you are following before just clicking the button. Just because it says Lukola4evs, does not mean they are kind.

Have a good day 💛🐝

[artstennisracket]

Cult of Sluts i will add the disclaimer that i by no means represent alpha kappa alpha inc. and this is purely fiction. also want to thank @lvrrgirlll for adding to my inspo and @asheepinfrance for always being a lovely beta reader <3

patrick x fem reader

cw: nsfw (18+), verbal abuse, toxicity

You already knew it was coming. It was in the back of your mind the entire pledging process. The frequent missed calls and texts from Patrick were becoming your new normal. Playing an endless game of phone tag. But you couldn’t tell him anything. You couldn’t tell him where you were or what you were doing until the process was complete, you didn’t want to be disqualified before you even reached the finish line. As soon as you finally crossed line for the Illustrious Iota Gamma chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha, you knew you had to tell him.

You knew how Patrick felt about sororities. He thought they were cults specifically designed to supply fraternities with drunk party girls (aka he just thinks they’re all whores).

But you weren’t going to let your boyfriend’s opinion stop you. You’ve always wanted to be a part of a bigger community during and after college so it was a no brainer.

You decided to break the news over facetime one night after Patrick had actually won his match earlier in the day. So he was in a good mood. Perfect.

“Hey so I actually have to tell you something,” you start. You try to keep doing your makeup at the same time to keep your mind occupied.

“Does it have something to do with why you’re getting ready to go out tonight?”

You didn’t tell him you were going anywhere, you just said you were doing your makeup for fun because he doesn’t like when you go out partying without him.

“I never said I was going out tonig-“

“Do you think i’m fucking stupid or something? When you do your makeup for fun you always use fun colors on your eyes. That’s not what you're doing right now, that’s going out makeup.”

You let out a sigh. That good mood didn’t last long, but when does it ever? Okay maybe you shouldn’t have tried to lie but either way you were going to be berated.

“Yes I’m going out tonight and I joined a sorority,” no point in tip toeing around it anymore.

There’s silence for a moment. Somehow that’s worse than the reaction you expected, Patrick’s never silent. Quite the opposite actually.

You stop doing your makeup and look at where your phone is propped up against some text books, “Hello? Did you hear what I said?”

“What did you say?” He asks but not in the “I didn’t hear you” way but in the “What the fuck did you just say to me” way.

You clear your throat and say it again, “I joined a sorority.”

And then all hell breaks loose.

You’ve learned to tune him out whenever he gets like this because listening to him is exhausting. So you let him argue with himself essentially.

It’s a series of things like: “So that’s why you kept missing my calls for the last month”, “You lying fucking bitch,” “I knew I couldn’t fucking trust you,” “Now your gonna go parade yourself like a slut at all these frat parties huh,” “Only sluts join sororities.” And then he hung up.

You really didn’t want this to ruin your night and you didn’t have the energy to argue so you put on some music and finished getting ready.

The next couple of days don't get any better.

It’s the same tune, same song, whatever the saying is, but Patrick is still pissed. Anytime you call to talk about anything he always brings up that you joined a cult of sluts and he hopes you’re happy with your decision. Oh and that you better not be fucking any frat bros.

You try to bring up that his best friend Art is in a frat and he seems to have no problem with that, but Patrick dismisses the comment saying “It’s different, I’m not fucking Art.” Which is definitely questionable…

So you stop answering his calls. But eventually though he chills out, as you expected. Starts leaving you voicemails like “I’m really sorry baby. I was overreacting, please call me back. I miss you.”

So you decide to click accept when he facetimes you one night while you’re studying in your dorm.

“You look really good,” is the first thing he says.

You dead pan the camera, showing your unamusement.

So he cuts to the chase. He clears his throat, “I’m really sorry for acting like a dick, it’s wasn’t that big of a deal. I was overreacting.” He’s outside somewhere, smoking as always. It looks like he propped his phone up against a window sill.

You really wish you could hold your ground and stay mad. But it’s Patrick. You can never stay mad at him. And he looks really fucking good right now.

You nod, “It’s fine, let’s just move on.”

“I’m coming to see you next week.”

And there it is. That’s why he wanted to put his huge fucking ego to the side for one second. He didn’t want you to be mad at him when he came.

Fast forward to the week Patrick comes to visit. He’s been super lovey and a little clingy to be honest. He even brought you a flower that he picked on his way to your school. That was really fucking sweet and you couldn’t stay mad at him even if you tried.

You convinced him to come to a party your sorority was throwing together with your brother fraternity. Free booze was enough to convince him.

You guys are having a good time partying, drinking, dancing. Patrick is enjoying this party a lot for someone who “hates” greek life.

You two had split up a bit ago and now you were dancing with a few of your sorority sisters.

“Did you guys see the tennis guy here tonight? He’s kind of hot,” Shelby, one of the girls you’re dancing with, says.

You’re drunk but not that drunk. Maybe she just saw him. But how would she know he plays tennis from just looking at him?

“Oh my gosh yes! With the dark curly hair? He’s so fucking tall and he’s really funny! He asked for my number!” Ava adds, shouting over the music that’s blasting through the house.

“Me too! Well he actually asked for my instagram,” Lia laughs. They’re all drunk but also a tad fake, it seems like they’re kind of fighting over Patrick but little do they know.

You’ve only known these girls for a few months and you’ve mentioned Patrick in name but never in pictures.

“Hahaha…” You laugh and it’s the fakest laugh you’ve ever done, “I’ll be right back, wanna get another drink.” You leave to find your boyfriend.

Sure enough, there he is. Arm resting above his head to hold himself up, while another girl stands directly next to him, looking at him.

She’s giggling and blushing and Patrick is doing that stupid fucking smirk that made you fall for him in the first place.

Why can’t you guys ever have a good night?

You storm over there and without thinking you throw the rest of your drink in his face.

The girl yelps running away at the same time Patrick yells, “What the fuck?”

He pulls off his t-shirt, using it to dry his face.

“Don’t what the fuck me! You’re flirting with half the girls on campus, what the fuck Patrick!” You yell back.

He finishing wiping his face off and hangs his damp t-shirt around his neck, “You’re a crazy fucking bitch you know that? You’re the one that joined a cult of sluts. You all look the fucking same, how was I supposed to know that wasn’t you huh?”

“So you flirted with at least three different girls and you thought they were all me? Now you must think I’m fucking stupid,” You bite back, referencing the argument he made when you first told him you were in a sorority.

“You are fucking stupid, joined this dumbass club to fuck dumbass frat boys—“

You cut him off, you’re voice still raised, “I don’t want to fuck frat boys! Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull. I want to fuck you dumbass!”

Reassurance. Something you never thought he needed. Patrick had always been egotistical from the day you met him. His ego always walked into room before him. It never occurred to you that long distance was actually hard for him, maybe he was feeling a little insecure.

You assumed that he assumed he was the best you’ve ever had. Never needing that assurance from you because who would leave the best they’ve ever had?

So when this convoluted version of reassurance stumbles past your lips you don’t expect that hint of validation you see in Patrick’s eyes.

In a split second he pulls you in so you guys are making out. A drunk mess of tongue and teeth.

Onlookers disappointed seeing as they expected the fight to go on longer, maybe even witness a messy breakup but instead all they got was a messy makeout.

You stumble into the nearest bedroom which happens to be empty (thank god).

You don’t know whose clothes disappear faster, yours or Patrick’s. But it’s not long before you’re sat on his lap while he pushes into you.

“Fuck baby, so tight,” He moans out as he bottoms out.

“Missed you,” You draw in a breath. Taking Patrick with no prep is not easy, you’re sure you’ll feel it in the morning.

You pull him in for another make out session as you grind down on his cock, riding back and forth in quick motions.

Biting your bottom lip, he eventually pull away and starts fucking up into you, growing impatient, “Fuck I missed you so much, missed your pussy so much, shit.”

He’s fucking up into you while you’re matching his pace, slamming down to meet his thrusts. His hips starts stuttering which means, “I’m gonna cum baby, ‘m gonna cum, oh fuck—” He groans as he spills inside you and his movements come to a halt.

You didn’t expect to cum, drunk sex with Patrick is half and half. Sometimes he’s angry, like tonight, and just fucks you hard and fast. Other times, more infrequently, he’s super lovey and touchy and dopey. He eats you out for what feels like hours. Even once you finish, he keeps going. Maybe he’ll add some fingers too. Overstimulating you until you finish again and again and again.

So you’ll let him make it up so you in the morning. He pulled out and laid you down in the bed while he went to look for something to clean you up.

“That was quick,” You say mockingly as he approaches with a rag he found in the bathroom.

He stops his approach, “Okay well the you can clean yourself up then.” He tosses the rag lightly at your face.

You giggle cleaning yourself up, “But did I lie?”

He pulls his boxers back on before he lays next to you on the bed, “Fuck off. Go fuck one of the frat boys then,” He says while crossing his arms in from of chest.

You curl up next to him, uncrossing his arms so you can lay on his chest, “We’ve been over this, I only want you Patrick.”

He smirks, “I know, just wanted to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever you say Patrick.”

[skeletonh0e]

ohohoho… no writing blog can go without that one classic hc…

ahem–

the boys being…

JEALOUS!

please? :3

(idk if u already did it, pls say u don’t so i don’t get embarrassed by asking again lmfao)

Coming right up my dude, gender neutral reader per usual

Tw for some possessive and yandere-ish type behavior with Nightmare, Killer and to a lesser extent Dust & Axe

The boys are Jealous

Classic Sans:

Imma be real, this rarely happens

He wouldn't be dating you if he didn't trust you, and generally, he's such a chill guy that it's hard for anything to really rattle him (pun very much intended)

He's protective, yeah, but that's pretty subtle, and it's more fear of you getting hurt than you leaving or hooking up with someone else

Not to say it doesn't ever happen

Surprisingly, one way to get him jealous is to laugh at others' jokes. Like really laugh, especially if you laugh harder at them than you normally do at his puns

Hm, he suddenly does not care for you getting all buddy buddy with that person

He'll calmly place himself in the conversation, he doesn't seem to act any different but the vibes are off

Classic: "Hi yes, I'm Y/N's partner. Romantic partner. We're together. Hey, wanna tell 'em about that prank I pulled yesterday?" All said while putting an arm around your shoulder

He is trying so hard to be normal about it but it's clear something is bothering him, it's kind of cute

And yeah the person in question is getting his with the typical passive aggressiveness you'd expect from Sans lmao

By the time you two leave you'll cheekily ask if he's jealous and he'll deny it

Y/N: "That's a shame, he was really funny-"

Classic: "Watch it."

You two will go and have a few laughs over the situation, he also is gonna get you busting a gut laughing in one way or another

Underswap Sans:

The Magnificent Sans is never jealous!

According to him

See Blue has two sides to him, one that's extremely prideful and one that's extremely insecure

He's constantly flip flopping in-between "You'll never find someone as cool as me so you won't bother!" And big ole puppy dog eyes of "Why aren't you paying attention to meeeee" 🥺🥺🥺

The latter largely just comes out as him just being kinda whiney and bothering you, largely behind closed doors as he just kinda glomps onto you and pouts

The former? Well

Someone attempts to hit on you then he just swoops in, picks you up (regardless of how tall you are) then announces

"WHY HELLO YOU SEEM TO BE CONFUSED! THIS LOVELY HUMAN IS WITH ME! THE MAGNIFICENT SANS! MWEH HEH HEH!"

It causes a scene and is just as embarrassing as it looks

"I DON'T BLAME YOU FOR TRYING, LOOK AT HOW COOL MY PARTNER IS! LOOOOOOK!"

And he doesn't even put you down he just walks off with you

Deems it as "coming to your rescue" lmao

Don't give him too hard a time about it though, he means well

And you think he's just as magnificent as he says right? 👉👈

Underfell Sans:

This boy actually is EXTREMELY jealous

And if there's one benefit to having him as a boyfriend it's that his constant snarling and general vibes are good at keeping others away

Which is good, because you're HIS

There's a reason why even in most public places he'll happily let you sit on his lap or keep an arm tight around you, not only because he's a sucker for affection deep down but also so it makes others steer clear

Bro doesn't like when people simply look at you like they're getting ideas, so trust me when I say anyone that actively tries is verbally getting their head bit off

Might actually kick their ass too just for the hell of it, but usually is doesn't escalate that far

.....usually

Listen he's never been above kicking someone's ass just to prove a point alright?

And yes he has no problem reminding you just who you belong to either

He loves to cover you in hickeys and the marks definitely push the point in, even if you try to hide him. And him getting jealous is just an excuse to add more

Tells you just how good you're being while he proceeds to absolutely ruin you ❤️

Underlust Sans:

Man is a sex worker lmao, so you two aren't strictly 100% monogamous to begin with and it'd be pretty hypocritical for him to be jealous 9/10

If you have to deal with others gawking at him while on stage and behind closed doors, he can tolerate you getting some attention

And he doesn't blame others one bit, you are utterly delicious, he would know

Not to say it doesn't ever happen though, but his jealousy is usually pretty tame and subtle

Normally it's just being bigger on PDA than usual and calmly inserting himself into the situation

Especially makes the habit of deciding to show others just how well he can fluster you up, think whole

"That's a good chat up line, I'll give you that, but try something like this~" before he starts cooing in your ear and turning into a bright red tomato

If you left him might even go as far as to have a gross little public make out session with some heavy petting to push the point in

Others can look sure, they might even be a bit successful in wooing you, but he'll make it clear to everyone that he's the best you'll ever have in that regard

Also does seem like the type to just interrupt mid conversation to leave a painfully obvious lipstick mark on your cheek

And he will indeed be cheeky about (da dum tss)

Horrortale Sans:

Axe is a bit of a wild card I'll be real with you

He's very protective....but is he naturally jealous?

Yesn't

He knows he's an intimidating ass guy with a terrifying reputation, which while he's not yelling about your relationship from the rooftops it's pretty clear you two are a thing. So the number of people who'd be dumb enough to try and snag you? Pretty low

So he's surprisingly chill when you spend time with others, to an extent at least. Does this mean he likes it on the rare occasion when others just hit on you especially when he's like...right there? Hell no

The person in question is instantly grabbed by their shirt and hoisted up into the air, getting a very gruff "you must be confused 'bout something here" as he proceeds to scare the living shit out of the dumbass

You might be able to talk him out of outright killing the guy but even if he doesn't kill him, Axe will break their fucking legs to say the least

Jealousy is not a pretty sight when it comes to him and he's kinda clingy the rest of the day

Growls at anyone else that gets close, you know how to calm him down at this point and assure him that you're always going to be his

However, similar to Red, he's not afraid to give some love bites as a reminder

Fresh Sans:

Oh boy, he's about to be ANNOYING

Emotions are a bit of a mine field for him and I don't he even recognizes it as jealousy. Nor is he easily jealous by any means, but that doesn't mean he likes it when others steal your attention

Randomly just poofs in mid conversation, blows an airhorn and inserts himself like "Wazzzup homies!?"

Woe to the other person in question, who knows if their poor wittle ear drums will ever recover

You know how some cats get extremely loud and clingy when their owners pet other cats? Same energy here

I would say he wouldn't go as far as to sit on you while you're doing something important or knocking things over but uh

Don't put it past him!

And don't try to ignore him it will only make him worse, just give him some proper attention and he'll be happy

Tbh depending on the situation might do what Blue does and just pick you up before breezing away on his skate board

His now/j

But honestly he's rarely if ever an angry jealous type just annoying, but he's not opposed to BONKING someone if need be

Killer Sans:

So anyway he started stabbing-

Okay maybe not that extreme right off the bat, but rest assured bro has NO PROBLEM killing someone who's flirting with or hitting on you

Even if they weren't being serious

He's a bit unhinged and a little shit, so unlike with Axe I would not place any bets on you being able to talk him out of it. If anything that might encourage him cuz why do you want them alive so much???

Honestly Killer has the energy of a person who insists that he's not jealous but actually really is despite how much he tries to play it off otherwise

Y/N: "You are the most jealous man I know!"

Killer: "You know other men?!"

Honestly the mentality also applies when you're around others even if they aren't flirting with you. Probably won't stab them but he's there, around, watching, making sure no one gets too close :)

Whatever you do not intentionally egg on this side of him

Man is fully willing to crave his name into your skin if it means you know who you belong to

Dust Sans:

Hoo boy

Also in the camp of "will murder anyone that actively tries to take you away" but can be talked down with the right words

But honestly him getting jealous is more sad than anything else, because he knows damn well he's a mess and he is already partly convinced you will just leave the moment you find someone else

Even after the person in question leaves, he is clinging onto with a vice grip one that almost hurts as he's repeatedly asking

"You are mine right? No, you are. You are! You will be! I'll do anything! Just....don't look at anyone else like that, please don't- I can't- MINE!-"

He is not mentally stable and his hallucinations in his case do NOT help in situations like this

He can get violent with you while like this, he'll always regret it after and you know how to avoid it from escalating like that but the risk is always there

He'll need some hugs and a lot of reassurance, you've probably all but mastered dealing with these type of episodes by now

Attached to you like glue for a bit, death glaring at anyone that comes too close and is silently just defensive for awhile

Things will go back to normal eventually, but lets hope no one pulls the stunt of hitting on you while your boyfriend is RIGHT there for awhile

Nightmare Sans:

Doesn't get jealous unless you give him a reason to

Nightmare is not the healthiest partner to have, he's already extremely possessive and controlling. He keeps a close eye on you, so encounters that trigger his jealous side don't happen often purely because he does not allow it

Sometimes you're lucky if you can leave the palace without a bodyguard, that's not mentioning how he forbids you from wearing anything too provocative strictly because your body is for his eyes only

And anyone that tries is getting killed, whether you're made aware of it or not

If you try to bring up any issue with it he'll pull some manipulative sight, ranging from straight up gas lighting to down play the severity of it or somehow convincing your that it was simply for the best

After all what if that person didn't have your best interest at heart?

He'll remind you just who you belong to in the end, he won't mark you necessarily, he's not a brute after all but you'll be begging for mercy by the end of it

The right words, the right touches, and soon you'll be happily saying just who you belong to then he'll be as happy as a peach

[fadebolt]

Oookkkaaayyy, this is a wild one.

It's pretty interesting to see the votes being this divided - because to me, the choice is very obviously either Monk or Survivor. I understand that gameplay-wise, they're the two most important slugcats, as Survivor is the one that delivers us the 'core RW experience' that made us all fall in love with the game, while Monk does the same, except with a lot of the game's more unforgiving elements being toned down, to make it more accessible for people who aren't into overly difficult games, or ones who are looking for a more 'chill' experience. However, in terms of 'lore and storyline', those two deliver us practically the same thing, meaning that we would loose basically nothing if we were to remove one slugcat, but keep the other. So this is basically up to whoose cutscenes and dialogue you prefer. And since Survivor gets the more interesting and memorable speech from Five Pebbles, my choice has ended up being Monk. (Not to mention, if you're looking at the base game, Monk doesn't get colored pearls. The Anon hasn't given a clear description on how this 'story removal' would work, but I'm guessing Survivor being gone would imply that a player who doesn't own Downpour could only do pearl readings on Hunter…… sooo yeah)

Now, to my surprise, neither Monk nor Survivor are the number 1 most voted (not even if you add up their votes, though they do get real close), as Monk got beaten by…. Saint and Artificer.

Which I never-ever would have guessed in a million years. Because to me, the two that would follow Monk are Gourmand (due to how little story they have, and how that doesn't really add much), and surprisingly, Spearmaster (which was honestly a very difficult choice, as I did like its story a lot, but I feel like the others add much more, while also being more compelling overall, especially with how much the new iterators failed to leave a mark on the community, in spite of them getting way more attention than Chasing Wind or Unparalleled Innocence… not saying they're bad or anything, but boy, they really didn't stick). But the thing is that… I actually sort of get where the voters are coming from. Because Saint's and Artificer's storylines kind of suffer from a very similiar thing that a lot of people disliked about Arcane's second season (especially you old Viktor fans, y'all got done dirty) - which is that heavily they explore/mess around with the supernatural elements of the story, that were very deliberately left to be ambiguous in the original material. And in doing so, they heavily recontextualize said original material, which was previously known to be very self-contained, cohesive, and really well put together, overall. (Oh, and it's done in a super confusing and abstract manner, for both RW and Arcane. Good luck figuring out what to make of them, if you don't follow the lore of these fictional universes very closely) Needless to say, this is a very risky thing for a writer to do, because if you screw up, you're also dragging down the original widely beloved masterpiece that you're making a continuation to. And then you better get off from the internet, because you're not going to enjoy what the thousands of fans got in store for ya.

What I find particularly interesting about this case, though, is that the developers of Downpour… didn't even really fail with the storylines of those two slugcats. I'd say they actually function really well, and it is clear that there's many RW fans who absolutely adore Artificer and Saint. Yet, there are also many people who just don't like the implications they bring to the world building of Rain World. And as much their dislike is valid… I still think it was worth it to add these two slugcats to the story. If anything, just to show the sheer uncaring cruelty of their world, and to act as much needed counterbalance to some of Downpour's more 'cutesy' bits.

…and yes, I'm aware that those two have likely garnered a couple votes due to other possible reasons. Such as the voters liking Scavengers, the voters disliking FP's characterization on Arti's campaign, the generally lackluster presentation of Artificer's backstory (…yeah, those janky playable dreams did fail to get across the sheer heaviness of their trauma, I will admit), the voters not being too much into things that are overly 'edgy', the general powercreep they present (especially compared to the humble Survivor and Hunter), possible process of elimination (and the voters love the general adorable-ness of Monk too much, to vote them out), aaaand the fandom's treatment of them, which is a rabbit hole I'd very much prefer not to get into. Oh, and there's the whole challenge 70 mess, too - presenting an idea that feels fitting, before getting its non-canonicity confirmed in a Discord message that many people likely won't see. That certainly didn't help Saint here, either. But overall, I'd still put most of the blame around the world building. Because what set Rain World apart from most other stories is that it specifically centered around its world, rather than its characters - hence why it got the name we know and love, instead of something like "Journey of a Slugcat". It gave the game a very unique feel, that made it very refreshing to dig into. Artificer's and Saint's campaigns not only break that approach, by being much more character-centric, but they also add in ideas that simply don't align with what people want to see from this game. And as much as that applies to every single DP campaign (save for Gourmand, maybe), the idea of becoming this 'unstoppable force of mass destruction that reshapes the world' is something that's very exclusive to those two, and when you consider just how much that goes against everything that RW stood for, the results of the poll start making a lot more sense.

Aaaaaand that's pretty much my reading on this. Funnily enough, I actually enjoy these kinds of situations a lot - when I don't agree with the majority, so I can look into where they're coming from, and how that relates to my perspective. And I especially love that there's so many comments and reblogs on this, and how I actually sort of agree with many of the takes that came from those, who chose to vote on slugcats I appreciate (such as Artificer and Saint). After all, it's a really difficult question, with no right or wrong answers. And the fact that everyone has such different feelings about these things, is what makes them so interesting to discuss.

I hope we'll get to see more questions like this! ^-^

if you had to choose one of the slugcats to completely remove from the rain world lore and storyline completely, which one would it be -- Monk, Survivor, Hunter, Gourmand, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, or Saint?

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 42. Without A Doubt

Summary: Someone unexpected pulls Dahlia aside for a chat to sus out her intentions.

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links | Tumblr Community

“You’re awfully hard to get alone now.” A deep familiar voice says from the shadows, causing me startle.

I turn to see Xaden leaning up against the wall, looking down into the empty rotunda. A spot I sometimes found Garrick in if he waited for me to be done in the library.

“You know you could just ask to talk to me alone if you needed to.” I tell him with a shrug.

He pushes off the wall and chuckles, walking towards the steps that lead down to the courtyard. “You and I both know if I asked to talk to you alone Garrick wouldn’t allow it.”

He wasn’t wrong. Garrick may trust Xaden, but alarm bells would raise if he asked to talk to me without him there. Xaden and I got along, but we weren’t friends. Had never hung out outside of classes or squad related events.

“So why do you want to talk to me?” I ask him as I follow him down the stairs and into the courtyard.

It’s deserted this time of night. Everyone meant to be in bed due to curfew. But Xaden and I were leadership. No one would raise an eye at us being out this late. But I can’t help but notice the shadows he conjures to conceal us in the darkness. Most people would get nervous, but not me.

“Want to tell me why Dain looked at you after he told Violet to run?” He asks, leaning up against a pillar as he stares at me.

I cock an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you can figure that one out Xaden. You know our families grew up together.”

He nods. “I do, but it’s almost like he blamed you for me coming towards her.”

“Why wouldn’t he? I essentially turned my back of my ‘family’ a few weeks ago. He probably thinks I’ve come to you told you everting about him and now Violet.” I tell hm as if it’s the most obvious thing. Because it is. It’s exactly what Dain would think I’d do. And it’s what I would assume if the roles were reversed.

“If I asked you for information on her, or your brother, would you give it to me?” He asks me, feeling his Onyx eyes pierce into the side of my face as I look out the gap in the wall, looking over the rest of Basgiath.

“There’s honestly nothing I could tell you that you can’t figure out for yourself. I haven’t been close with Dain or Violet in a very long time.” I say bluntly. I feel like his eyes are looking right through me. As if trying to figure out if there’s any hidden meaning behind my words. I turn my head, meeting his onyx eyes. “But… if they posed any threat towards Bodhi or Garrick, which by extension means you. I’d tell you whatever I thought was necessary. But I promise you I know nothing that would help if that situation ever arose.”

Surprisingly the corner of his mouth lifts slightly as he smirks at me. Almost looking at me like he’s proud of me.

“You really care for them, don’t you?” He asks, his words catching me off guard a little.

I turn my head, wanting to avoid his gaze. Bodhi and Garrick were his family. They’d been through so much together. They had a bond I doubt nothing could break. It almost felt wrong thinking of them like that in regards to me. But I did. And I know Xaden knew that. What they were to him, they were to me. There’s honestly not much I wouldn’t do to protect them. And I knew they would do the same for me. Gods, Garrick had even stood up to my father. Which probably wasn’t his smartest move. But he hadn’t blinked an eye while doing it. Hadn’t wavered while looking down at my father.

“I haven’t known what it’s like to be cared about or what it’s like to have a family for a long time. But those two… they do. They make me feel like I’m worthy of all that despite being told otherwise for a very long time.” I admit, feeling my chest tighten at the admission, causing me to clear my throat.

I’d never allowed my self to accept that, but here talking to Xaden. I could. Because he would understand. He’d also had his family ripped away from him. He knew what it was like to have no one. He knew what it was like to make a new family that wasn’t actually your family. Though Bodhi was an exception to that. But he knew how I felt even if our situations were different. He knew.

“So without a doubt, I would do anything to protect them. As would you.” I say as I turn my head back to him.

It’s small, but I note the small nod of his head. “Good. Because one day it may come to that. One day you might have to give up everything you know to protect them. No matter the cost.” He tells me as he pushes off the wall and heads back towards the barracks.

Something about his words makes me think he knows something’s coming, and I will have to make that choice. Everything I’ve been told should tell me to run and tell someone. But the only people I trusted were the ones he trusted. I didn’t trust leadership. Not the ones that would actually be able to do something about it. But I knew without a doubt, I would do it if it was the right thing to do. But what did he mean by everything I knew? What did he know?

“Why did you pick me?” I call out suddenly as Bodhi’s words from assessment day come into my mind, causing him to stop and look at me over his shoulder.

“Pick you for what?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“For your squad last year. Bodhi told me you asked for me. Why? I’m an Aetos. An Aetos you knew nothing about. And yet you picked me.”

He turns to face me fully. “Because you’re not like them. You made it clear on that parapet you had no ties or alliances to them. And it made me curious.”

“And what if your judgement had been wrong? What if I was like then and was just having a bad day?” I ask as I step towards him.

“Trust me, my judgement is never wrong. I’ve had my doubts, believe me. But as you’ve done to Garrick, you continue to prove me wrong. Tonight especially. So keep doing that and we won’t have an issue.” He tells me before turning and leaving me alone in the courtyard.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus @ohlookitsasinglepoeceofpopcorn

[lovebyhyun]

bad idea, right?

genre : idek what to call this, a blurb? ex!chan x gn!reader, inspired by olivia rodrigo’s “bad idea, right?”

synopsis : you were supposed to forget about you ex a while ago, but somehow life is more fun if you both have a secret to keep.

warnings : mentions of vomiting, very very slightly suggestive

a/n : i love olivia rodrigo so much i just had to do this, also i wrote this while watching jurassic park so excuse any typos lmao

masterlist

It all started when Chan was supposed to give you back the things that you left at his apartment before you two broke up. Some clothes, a phone charger, even a toothbrush. You practically lived there so it was big box of things. He couldn’t just leave it under your door for you to handle it yourself. No, he wasn’t that evil.

He had to carry it inside himself, and since he was already there, you welcomed him inside, it would just be rude not to serve him a cup of coffee. So you did.

It went downhill from that point. You wake up, your cheek glued to his bare chest, and as your body starts to wake up, you feel how badly tangled the limbs of you two are. It was not supposed to be like this. You get up from your bed, and you hear Chan groan.

“Stay, please” Chan mutters, still half asleep. “Just this one last time”

And oh my god. Those puppy eyes he gives you everytime he wants something, you just can’t resist but give in. Just this one last time.

The party is in full-swing, as always. Your friends always throw the best parties and you always end up blackout drunk, but not tonight.

Sitting in the bathroom, rubbing your friend’s back as she’s throwing up terribly, you hear a faint ding from your phone. You immediately know who is texting you, because who else could it be, trying to reach you at 3.30 in the morning?

Naturally, you abandon your friend who’s now passed out in the bathroom. She won’t remember it anyway. You start gathering your belongings to leave the party, when suddenly your colleague stops you.

“Hey y/n, where are you going? I thought you always stayed till the end of the party?” He says while almost tripping over another passed out party animal on the floor.

“Not this time. I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna go home and get some rest. Sorry.” You say with a smile. Technically, you didn’t lie. You were going home and you were going to get some rest. Nobody said anything about who’s home you’re going to.

You leave right away before he starts being nosy like he always is.

Another ding.

“are you on ur way already?” the text says, and you can practically feel how impatient he was getting, which was quite unusual for him.

You quickly answer with a simple thumbs up emoji, and you start walking towards his apartment. It’s not that far away, so you might as well clear your head a bit while you’re on your way there.

As you continue to contemplate about if you actually should keep seeing Chan in secret, you feel a little raindrop on your forehead. The another one. Then another one. And before you know it, you’re drenched in rain water, leaving you shaking from the cold and in clothes so wet that you could squeeze water out of them

Public transport it is.

Once you get to the nearest bus stop, you sit down and finally have a moment to breathe. You pull out your phone and write a quick message to your ex, so he doesn’t worry about you

“sorry, got caught in the rain, it might take me a while to get to yours :(“

Perfect. Now you wait for the bus to arrive, get off at your stop, take the elevator to the top floor and you can rest in the arms you knew oh so well.

Despite the 13 minute delay, the bus arrives and you get in. It’s empty of course, I mean, who the fuck is out at 4 am on a random friday. You, turns out.

First stop, second stop, third… Fuck. You missed your stop. Seems like the universe really doesn’t want you seeing Chan.

“Whatever.” You think to yourself, as you start feeling how much your drenched clothes are actually sticking and clinging to your skin. Disgusting.

You get off at the next stop, surprisingly not that far away from Chan’s apartment. As you stand at the entrance to the building, you take a shaky breath in. This moment is always so exhaustingly nerve-wracking and for what reason? Well, you never quite know what to expect from these visits. Is he going to tell you that you’re the live of his live and that you need to get back together, is he going to fuck you until you think he’s the only man in the multiverse, or is he going to tell you that you two need to seriously stop with whatever the hell was happening between you?

You step out the elevator and walk towards the door of your beloved apartment. The one you knew so well, the one that you spent so much nights in, more than you can count.

Before you can even lift your hand up to knock, the door opens. A sleepy Chan appears in front of you, and all of a sudden, it feels like all of your worries and doubts have been physically removed from that little head of yours.

“Hey. Took you long enough.” he says as he smiles widely at the sight of you in your soaked clothes. “Come on, let’s get you changed. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

You wake up to the sound of your phone buzzing like the world is on fire.

“Where the fuck are you? Why did you leave me when I was in the middle of throwing up?”

Fuck. She did remember.

“Oh, um- I’m sorry I just went to- to uhhh-…”

“Who are you talking to baby?” Chan says in a sleepy voice. He must’ve woken up too.

“Y/n are you fucking kidding me? Is that Chan that I’m hearing? I swear to god if you-“

You hung up. You choose peace for now. You’re going to deal with that mess of your friend later. You have better things to do now. You think to yourself as you roll over to admire the boy beside you. The sight of his body laying so gracefully on the bed where you shared your most intimate moments together, it truly made you feel things.

Chan made you feel things.

So, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that you guys are done, you know you’ll always trip and fall into his bed.

He’s going to get you back every single time.

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ sam girls

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ horrified by becky’s actions, you stay away from sam.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. hii so i made this bc i just watched a becky episode and 👀 . anyways, i wrote this over a hundred times, so this might be v bad and i might go cry and disappear again :) will make a pt. 2 tho

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. fluff. set in or after season 8. self-insert coded. fem!reader. modern reader in spn. mentions of becky. im not good with dialogue. this is absolutely not proof read. sam-centric. might be very ooc (as always). 😭 2.1k words. 

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

You’re reserved. It's the best way that you could describe it. It's done in such a meticulous way that no one could really tell. And you’re fine with that. It's how you wanted it, anyways. You make sure that nothing seems out of place. You’re careful, even though you really don’t need to be. Because even though it's a fact that you are now friends with the brothers — you are also very close friends with Sam. And it's because of him that you can’t just let go. 

And that… sucks, to say the least. It sucks because you never thought that he would ever want to be your friend. You actually don’t know what you’ve done to have him be drawn to you so much. You think, maybe, it might be the universe testing you somehow. Because it isn’t just that Sam is nice, or that he’s still trying to make you feel welcome. Though, it could be that Sam is just restless from spending too much time around his brother, but you aren’t entirely sure. No, it's in the way Sam's eyes light up when he spots you. It’s in how he’s so quick to talk to you, almost like he’s eager. It’s in the way he gets you to ramble on and on about your passions or things you miss — the way it makes your heart feel full. It’s in the way he makes you laugh, where there’s a look in his eyes you can’t quite place — but it's a good look. How sometimes you both end up talking for hours about something that means absolutely nothing at all. It’s easy. Existing with Sam is just easy, and that's why you think it's too good to be true. And that's why you never let yourself get too comfortable. 

Because you aren't sure if you’re just seeing things; if you’re reading too much into the little stuff or if you’re just being paranoid. Because there is one thing that was very obvious and very clear to you, long before ever being in the presence of the Winchesters  — you would have never made Sam Winchester uncomfortable the way Becky had. It’s common sense, really, and it isn’t that hard to do; especially if you were someone who respected the bodily autonomy of another person. You would never do any of the things she did — but at the start, neither of the boys knew that. And after a while they got the hint that, yeah, you were not Becky and never would be.

So even now, months later, you still keep Sam at arms length in a weird attempt to keep things normal. Though, you aren’t actually sure it's doing anything — it isn’t — but to you it is, and that's all that matters. Because the truth is, you like him more than you should. You’ve had a crush on Sam Winchester since the first time you watched the show and that never changed. Except, maybe, for your arrival and the month following it. Any feelings completely vanished for the time being as you were in a constant state of panic the whole time. Though now, with you being more at ease and a little more settled in, the small romantic thoughts crept back into your head. And at this moment, you are not going to make any sudden movements that would indicate that fact. Because as smart as Sam was, you were hoping that he wasn’t smart enough to see through you.

And, while that's great for you, it’s actually a massive problem for Sam. It's a problem because Sam does, in fact, like you. He likes you and yet to him, it seemed like you were ignoring every possible sign of it. At first he’ll think that you just want to be friends, or maybe you really just don’t notice. Which is funny, because Dean definitely notices and won’t stop giving him shit about it. But then Sam will notice the way when you two talk — that the smile you have doesn’t really meet your eyes, or the way you give him space. The way you keep a good distance away from him like you’re afraid to crowd him; or the way you try too hard to not brush your fingers against his whenever he hands something over to you — which by the way, he totally does on purpose. God, he's so pathetic. 

Sam’s aware that it's never out of malice — he can see that. You’re always warm and thoughtful, and always just so considerate. And yet, there’s something behind your eyes, something just out of reach. Sam will never pry, though. At least not yet. He lets you keep your distance, lets you think he doesn’t notice the way you keep yourself contained. But he does. And maybe he should say something, maybe he should push. But he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps thinking about it until it boils over. It's the miniscule things that he obsesses over, because maybe it's just him. That he's just reading too much into it. But he doesn’t think so. Dean will think so. He thinks Sam should just ask you out and leave him alone about it. 

“I don’t know, man.” Dean will say, very unhelpfully. “Maybe she's scared of you thinking she's some type of freak or something.” It's an… odd thing to say. But Dean is drunk, and Sam really shouldn’t be surprised when he was the one that barged into Dean's room at this hour. “She does come from that other place…so…” And he’s waving Sam off, too wrapped up in his westerns to finish. 

However, it’s like a light bulb going off in his mind, and Sam suddenly gets it. And maybe he should feel a little stupid for not getting it sooner. But he gets it now. And he’s off to go find you, because this just can’t wait till morning — he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise. Not that he sleeps much anyways. 

He finds you in the bunkers library, reading, with your phone laying face down on the table. It's not unusual for you to be there, but he’s lucky to catch you before you’ve decided you can’t take being up anymore. He takes a moment to breathe in the sight of you though. You’re gorgeous, the way the dim lit of the room paints your features. The way your hair falls because your head is tilted a certain way, and all Sam wants to do is brush it behind your ear. He knows you're not actually paying attention to the book in your hands. He sees you fidget, your eyes shifting over to your phone; you look sad almost, and Sam can’t take it anymore. 

He doesn’t need to convince himself of anything before he's already on his way over to you. He offers a soft greeting to alert you of his presence and sees the way you light up just a bit. It makes him smile as he settles into the chair next to you, but no sooner does he take a seat, he notices the way you shift your body to look at him. It's nothing big, or at least, it shouldn’t be. Just a small adjustment — an inch, maybe two — like that tiny bit of space will make some kind of difference. Like you’re subconsciously trying not to be too close to him. Sure, maybe you just want to give him your full attention, which he knows is probably also true. But the way you move is careful and deliberate, as if you’re hyper aware of the space between you. It doesn’t take him by surprise though. 

What does take him by surprise, is the answer to his question. Not because it isn’t what he's expecting — it is, to some degree, anyways — but he can’t believe he was right. When he asks, he isn't mean or condescending, he isn’t bullying an answer out of you or being accusatory. No, he asks all nice, putting those puppy eyes to work. His voice is soft and calm, easing you into the conversation with clarity that you hadn’t done anything wrong; he just wants to know why you're so tense towards him. And for a moment, he expects you to deny deny deny. You don’t though. Instead, you let out this big strained sigh, wincing at your words before they even leave your mouth. It's like you’ve accepted defeat, like there was no use in trying to come up with some excuse. You felt you owed him the truth, and also you just couldn’t take it anymore. In doing that, however, it's the first time Sams seen you relax.

“I’m sorry. I… guess I’m still trying to get used to, you know, all this.” You apologize, and while it doesn’t seem like you’re that nervous, you are. But somehow that doesn’t convey itself through your words. Truthfully, to Sam you sound a bit shy, and it's cute. Sam nods along, understanding and a bit on edge for you to continue. You look like you have a lot on your mind and he’s ready to listen. “And I may have been a little worried about… making you uncomfortable.”

It takes a minute for your words to really register with him. As soon as they do though, Sam's expression softens as he watches you. He gets it — in fact, he appreciates it. That’s actually really sweet of you. In the midst of trying to find your footing in a world that shouldn’t even exist outside a screen, while you’re still trying to adjust to everything — you’re worried about him. It’s thoughtful, in a way that makes something warm settle in his chest. 

But as he thinks it over, turning your words around in his mind, something else clicks. You said him specifically — not anyone else in general, not Dean, just him. And the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes. You’re not just overthinking because you don’t want to be weird. You’re overthinking because of Becky. And Becky was his problem. Which means this — your carefulness, your nervous little hesitations — they’re all because of him. And then it dawns on Sam, confirming the sneaking suspicions he’s had already. That the way you speak, the way you worry, the way you care just a little too much. It isn’t just because you’re so kind and mindful. No, it all pieces itself together. You’re a Sam girl. You like him.

Before he even realizes it, Sam is already shaking his head, keen on reassuring you. You don’t need to apologize. You don’t need to worry about that — about him. He tells you as his voice is gentle but certain. He trusts you, in a way that he can’t explain, and there’s no way you could ever make him uncomfortable. And as he speaks, he watches the way you take in his words, the flicker of relief that crosses your face, the way your shoulders ease just the slightest bit. And something about it, about you, makes his chest feel strangely light.

Now there’s this quiet, new awareness that lingers between you both. It’s nice. Easy. The conversation continues deep into the night, shifting into something lighter, smoother — like an exhale after holding in a breath for too long. There’s something refreshing about it, about you, and it feels like a piece of something he hadn’t realized was missing just clicked into place. And maybe that’s why, as you keep talking, laughing softly at something he says, Sam lets himself settle into it. This new thing, whatever it is — is beautiful. 

And later, in the dark of his room, when it’s dangerously way too late for him to be up and you’re long retreated back into your room — Sam lets himself think back to your conversation. He replays it over and over. Because no, he’s not going to spill his guts any time soon. At least, not yet. First, he needs to ease you out of that careful tension, to get you to stop overthinking every little thing around him. It’s not just going to happen in a day, and Sam doesn’t expect it to. It’s not the time to lay it all out there, even if he’s almost certain you feel the same. He wants to take this slow — wants to do it right. The last thing he’d ever want is to make a mistake with you.

Still, that doesn’t stop the anticipation from drumming against his chest. He wants to tell you. Desperately. But he’ll wait, just a little longer. And maybe — just maybe — he’ll let himself take a little pride in it. In the fact that you’re a Sam girl. He lets the thought sit with him; lets a small, shy smile pull at his lips as he leans back against his pillows, staring at his ceiling and thinking about all the possibilities. Yeah. You’re a Sam girl. And he’s okay with that.

i think i yapped too much again, sorry chat ><

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙬! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

headcanons of mattheo with a ravenclaw! reader

warnings: mattheo being a simp, mentions taking off clothing, smut, oral (male receiving), mentions of brattiness and brat taming.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⟡ ݁₊ . love at first sight

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo had been moving through the narrow hallway of the Hogwarts Express as he was in search of the snack cart, two gold galleons held tightly in his fist as he rolls his eyes at a group of second years that push by.

⟡ ݁₊ .He was getting ready to give up on finding the cart that held the delicious treats. Convinced that it was too far down the train for him to go and venture to, but when he turned to head back to his compartment, he swears all time had stopped around him.

⟡ ݁₊ .In the compartment in front of him held three people. One being Luna Lovegood who had The Qibbler sprawled out in front of her. Ginny Weasley, who was preoccupied with turning her hair back to normal after one of the Weasley twins had given her a chocolate frog that was infused with some sort of potion to change her hair from red to green.

⟡ ݁₊ .And then, there was you. Pressed against the window that displayed the Scottish countryside, with the white, chunky sweater which made you look beautiful, and a large book of sorts settled in between your two delicate hands. Completely engrossed in whatever words were written in the parchment.

⟡ ݁₊ .He had never felt this sort of attraction before. Mattheo knew he was good looking, despite his last name, girls did not hide the dreamy expressions when he walked by. But out of all of the pretty girls that he had ever encountered, none of them seemed to hold a candle to the witch who didn't even notice he was there.

⟡ ݁₊ .It was only when Ginny saw that Mattheo was staring into the compartment, when he realized what he was doing. He couldn't hear what Ginny was saying, but based on the scowl on her face, he knew it couldn't be good.

⟡ ݁₊ .But whatever it was, was enough to gain the attention from your book as you looked up to meet the gaze of the slytherin boy who stood outside of the train compartment. Ginny could have called him every bad word in the book, but he didn't care, all that he care about was that you saw him.

⟡ ݁₊ .He had made it his mission to talk to you once he arrived to school. He was determined to find out every little detail about you without it seeming like he was stalking you. By the third week of classes, Mattheo had your schedule memorized, you seating placements documented, and the paths that you took engrained into his brain.

⟡ ݁₊ .It had been a month at this point since Mattheo had first seen you on the train. It was now four o'clock on a Thursday, meaning you would be at your usual spot in the library. Probably curled up with another one of those large books you toted around or biting your lip as you worked on an assignment.

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo held himself with determination, he was finally going to talk to you. He carefully made his way across the library, his footsteps purposeful yet quiet as though he was trying not to scare a baby deer. When he finally made it to your table, you didn't look up. Too engrossed in whatever you were reading, so he cleared his throat.

⟡ ݁₊ .He had almost forgotten why he had come over here in the first place as you looked up at him with your big, curious eyes. Taking a moment to recompose himself before he made a fool of himself in front of this divine creature, he had made up some excuse that he needed a tutor.

⟡ ݁₊ . "um, I was actually wondering if you could help me in Astronomy. I keep getting my constellations confused."

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo didn't really need help in astronomy but he was knew it was your favorite subject (he had to thank blaise for asking luna). You were quiet with your answer, as if you words were a source that had limitations but yet you still said yes.

⟡ ݁₊ .For your first tutoring session, Mattheo had shown up an hour early due to his nerves, but when you made your way through the opening of the astronomy tower adorned in a dark blue sweater, he felt his nerves start to steady. As if just your presence enough was to ground him back to earth.

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo realized that you mainly kept to yourself. Your words were never an accident, every sentence was carefully thought out, every vowel had some sort of meaning. You words were a gift whenever you opened your soft lips, a gift that Mattheo would give anything to hear more of.

⟡ ݁₊ .By the third session, you had started to open up a little more to the slytherin boy. Talking about your day as you lean close enough to him to where your shoulders touch, making sure your astronomy book was placed between both of you.

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo was relishing on his progress every time you seemed to open up more. Every time that you smiled that sweet smile, or when you laugh at his stupid jokes, the ones that he spent all day preparing hoping they would make that angelic sound come from your mouth, he felt like he was getting to see the real you.

⟡ ݁₊ .By the tenth session, Mattheo had finally decided to confess his feelings for you. He took it slow that night, moving closer to you as the two of you sat on the bench. Listening to you ramble about one of the constellations that he should have been paying attention to, but he was too captivated by the stars that sparkled in your eyes whenever you got excited. He placed his hand on your cheek to make you turn to look at him, a soft smile of adoration gracing his lips.

⟡ ݁₊ ." there's no one like you nova"

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱

⟡ ݁₊ .Throughout the relationship, the nickname, nova, stuck like glue. Mattheo claimed it was because you were brighter than any lame star in the sky.

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo was sure to take the relationship thing slow with you after you had admitted that you had never been in a relationship before. Sure, you had kissed Ron Weasley during a game of spin the bottle your second year and you had lost your virginity to a fellow ravenclaw when you had decided that you wanted to get it over with, but you had never dated.

⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo wanted to prove how good a boyfriend he could be. He could be seen in the mornings carrying your books that you insisted you needed. Holding doors open for you, his hand around your waist, giving you a wink across the room when a professor would announce you had gotten the highest grade on an assignment.

⟡ ݁₊ ."that's my smart girl, i'm so proud of you nova."

⟡ ݁₊ . dates consisted of letting you read while he played with your hair for hours or taking you to the bookstore in Hogsmeade and letting you run loose through the aisles of old, enchanted texts that only you could love.

⟡ ݁₊ .The longer the two of you dated, the more he found out about you as your walls seemed to disappear. He learned that you hated peas because they reminded you of fish eggs, or that your feet were always cold so that's why you wore fuzzy socks, or how you took your coffee with equal parts coffee and the other half creamer as you claim that it gives you an energy burst with the caffeine and sugar rush.

⟡ ݁₊ ."i love you nova, but your coffee experiment is diabolical."

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹

⟡ ݁₊ .Almost with how Mattheo had broken down your walls when it came to getting to know you, he realized he was going to have to take the same approach when it came to being intimate.

⟡ ݁₊ .Every time his hands slipped under your shirt during a make out session or he started to kiss your neck, you would immediately shy away from his touch. He could see your brain overthinking every little step, the gears cranking behind your eyes.

⟡ ݁₊ .He had made sure that you actually wanted to do this, and that you weren't doing this just to please him. You reassured him that you did want this but you didn't want to mess anything up. You were terrified that if you messed up, the one person who had gotten to see the real you would leave. Of course that would never happen, Mattheo would happily say wedding vows with you now, but besides the point, he wanted to make you feel comfortable.

⟡ ݁₊ .The next time you and Mattheo had found yourselves in a steamy makeout session, he carefully laid you on the bed as he guided your hands over his to take off his clothes. When he was finally bare, you gave him a nod of approval for him to take your clothes off.

⟡ ݁₊ . "let me see you nova, i want to see what a fallen star looks like."

⟡ ݁₊ .The more you and Mattheo had sex, the more you opened up, just like he thought you would. Mattheo didn't rush you, he didn't need to as he felt like each moment he got with you was some sort of treasure.

⟡ ݁₊ .Eventually, you found yourself being quite the brat. Growing more confident with your body and your words over time. Though Mattheo didn't mind the brat that came out of you every so often. Gods he thought it was the hottest thing in the world when you talked back, because not only did it mean that you felt comfortable and safe with him, it also meant that he could put you in your place, something you both enjoyed.

⟡ ݁₊ ."not so bratty any more with my dick in your mouth, huh? that's it nova, such a good girl, even with your bad attitude."

⟡ ݁₊ .Although you had captured Mattheo's heart from the moment that he saw you on that train ride, he had completely changed your life. Opening you up in ways that you could have never imagined (dirty and not dirty). You could not fathom life without the curly haired slytherin who still tells bad jokes, and he couldn't imagine his life without his star.

⟡ ݁₊ ."every night, i look up at the sky and remember that no matter how dark the world gets, i have you- my nova, my brightest light. i don't just love you- i need you, i need you like the night needs its stars. without you, i'd be lost in the void."

[zivazivc]

How do you think Les would act toward Floyd older? After the third movie, I mean.

Calmer, and stable Floyd, who I'm guessing actually got some help in the village. Maybe Floyd got help by talking things out there with someone, like therapy-ish. Or, just his brothers helping him through it all, because that's probably what he needed.

Seeing him happier than when he last saw him.

And, his new hair! I mean, him learning of everything that happened.

Would they get together again, or rekindle whatever reasonship (staying just friends?)

Ohh my story has gone through so many changes and updates that I haven't really talked about on here so it's hard to answer this ask straightforwardly now. 😅

I have caved and decided Les and Floyd still end up together so... 🙈

"I thought you were dead..." | "'M sorry."

Here's an updated version of this old post:

The timeline right now is more or less the same with them having a nasty breakup when Floyd is 22. The cause for it is that until that point Floyd only has hypomanic episodes which raise some eyebrows but they aren't that concerning to anyone, not with the kind of lifestyle they are having anyway. But at the time of the breakup he suffers from full-blown mania with psychosis for the first time which hurts both him as well as Les and the other bandmates.

Then there's the 2 year period where they are apart and Floyd falls hard into substance abuse and bad habits. Then Les bumps into him at a party and gets them to talk outside. It's clear to both that they feel incredibly sorry about what happened when they broke up. Floyd quickly after coming down from his mania realized that what he believed was going was all a delusion his brain convinced him of. And Les feels responsible for the addicted and mentally unwell state Floyd has ended up in.

There's still love there but so much hurt and the trust they had is damaged to the point they're unsure if it's fixable. Neither of them knows how to even address what went down in those days leading up to the breakup.

Les decides to help Floyd get back on his feet but he doesn't want him near the band anymore. He's convinced that the band isn't good for him anyway. He finds him a place to stay and a job in a remote town where not much goes on so he has a chance to sober up. The band at this point is still trying to make it work by doing gigs, so Les visits him little by little in between to check on him during this time period.

They go back to being friends gradually and Floyd shows interest in getting back together romantically from early on while Les has trust issues he can't get past. Les is very reserved and non-confrontational when it comes to addressing his hurt so he doesn't bring it up. Floyd is usually the one who would make those conversations happen, but Floyd at this point isn't aware that he has bipolar and doesn't understand what happened (is happening) to him, and he is very uncomfortable addressing it too.

But eventually they can no longer tiptoe around the topic of their breakup. Les wants to know what happened and why Floyd accused him of the things he did - which to Les it felt like Floyd took everything Les had confided in him regarding his childhood abuse and throwing it back in his face. Floyd feels awful because the only explanation he has is that at the time he really thought they were true. He tells him that he knows they aren't true but that something was really really wrong with him. He tries to explain what he was going through the best he can and he also tells him that whenever he tried to address it back then he was accused of constantly getting high on worms behind their backs which is what caused his paranoia to spiral.

The conversation doesn't answer everything but it makes it clear to both that neither of them wanted to hurt the other person, especially not intentionally. Which is what allows them to make the step into getting back together.

But not long after this Floyd suffers another strong manic episode and messes up at his job and books it out of that town. Once Les finds him and sees him in that hyper and erratic state again but now with more understanding, he tries his hardest to bring it down and help, and he finally firmly tells him that he needs to get professional help. Floyd doesn't like the idea of going to therapy so he says he'll go only if Les goes too to work out his own trauma. Around this point it's also when the band officially breaks up (they just couldn't ever recover after losing Floyd and Liv) so Les has no excuses to give why he can't go and he eventually agrees.

Floyd finally gets his bipolar diagnosis (yay!) and gets "meds" for it, and this revelation also helps both of them to really put the breakup incident behind them.

After this point they're more or less together. I say "more or less" because they're not in a conventional relationship and they're not following the classic rules of being a couple. They know each other inside out and are both deeply and unconditionally in love with each other but whatever they have looks more like casual dating that's been going on for more than a decade. Sometimes they live together like an old married couple and sometimes they don't and they keep in touch through letters and scheduled calls in phone booths.

One day during their "apart time" Floyd stops answering those scheduled calls and Les gets worried and sets out to look for him, which turns into a desperate months-long search while tensions in the country are high, non Rock Trolls are getting arrested and disappearing left and right, and the Rock Kingdom is secretly planning their invasion of the other kingdoms.

.

.

.

[bromcommie]

(Look, I can’t even do the whole “list of sources” thing anymore. I’ve been livid for 10 hours now. I just need to vent.)

In addition to inciting fear and hiking up tensions in the past few weeks, organizing various paid goons to play at a counter-protest and to threaten students, blocking intercity and city public transport and rolling out special police forces and armored vehicles, last night in Belgrade the absolute cowards constituting the Serbian leadership apparently ordered the use of what seems to be a sound cannon on hundreds of thousands of people, in order to interrupt and break up an ENTIRELY SILENT, PEACEFUL 15-minute vigil. A vigil for victims of an “accident” that same leadership is still refusing to take any accountability for, systemically or individually, 4+ months later.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by MOJ - BEOGRAD (@moj_beo_grad_)

No incidents preceded this, by the way. This wasn’t a riot. Not that it should matter, since these tactics are never implemented to protect anyone anyway, but I feel compelled to say that. There was zero “justifiable cause”. There weren’t even any uniformed police in that area that anyone could see.

People were rightfully terrified because a) this has never happened before so they legitimately didn’t know if there’s something crashing down on their heads (which is how we got here in the first fucking place, isn’t it) or a bomb going off or what, and b) there was absolutely ZERO reason to expect it to happen then, other than the government getting pissy and taking issue with 300,000+ (at the most rigid estimate) people coming to protest peacefully.

And to be perfectly clear, I don’t think using an LRAD in this way is EVER justifiable, considering it’s almost guaranteed to cause mass injury as a result of stampedes as well as possibly hearing damage—but the sheer pathetic spinelessness of using it out of nowhere on a bunch of people, including the elderly and babies in fucking strollers, who are literally just standing still and silent for fifteen minutes to honor and grieve a deeply traumatic national tragedy is just…heinous.

As of right now I’m not sure how many people got hurt (in this incident as well as the subsequent physical attacks on the students from “random” hooligans and clashes with the cops) but I know it’s one too many, and there’s civil rights orgs offering free legal support to those who did.

And here’s the punchline: after all that, the fucking police had the gall to issue a statement saying “this wasn’t us, the use of sound cannons is illegal in Serbia.”

Oh, really? Who or what was it then, do you think? Maybe a particularly loud bicycle horn sent all those people ducking for cover? Somebody’s kid brother pulling out a portable speaker for shits and giggles? Or are you implying that somehow, some 19-yearold who’s studying film and works at the local coffeeshop or whatever is ordering American-grade sonic weapons off of Temu to use for the students’ nefarious government-toppling schemes?

“It wasn’t us, that’d be illegal 🥺” Give me a fucking break.

And maybe the question we should be asking is, “how in the world did we get to a point where the regime can afford to be so transparent? As if it’s normal for the police to even deny something like this. As if the alternative—which would be that we simply have rogue off-label weapons floating around, I guess, which are being used illegally on thousands of members of the public by some unknown force that the cops can supposedly neither predict nor control—even if it were true, is somehow fine and doesn’t make the govt look even more inept and culpable?”

I mean. I know how we got here. It’s painfully goddamn obvious how, and I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but Jesus Christ. Clown fucking state.