#who else am i going to tell about my fanfic goings on?

[comfortlesshurt]

annnnnddddd, 40k in 42 days is officially finished at 67k in 42 days!

shoutout to today's piece for seven songs of suffering for pushing out that last 1.8k, but also my god, I was not meant to draft and edit same day. so if you spot anything stupid in this fic, you have got to tell me

[lonely--seeker]

I think I'm going insane. Lately my dreams have been so mundane, it wouldn't be weird if I wasn't just a person that has nightmares 80% of the time, so I now my dreams are so hard to distinguish from reality.

I wouldn't be able tell what was real from what not if it wasn't because last night I went to my doctor's appointment and I was handed new glasses by Harvey just to go back home and find out Laois was cooking something in my backyard.

[thebibliosphere]

Listen, if you’re messaging me to tell me you hate how slow I am at making “content” (i.e. 120k novels) and you wish I was less sick so you can get more “content” you can just go ahead and unfollow me now.

You’re being neither kind nor supportive by telling me you hate my disabilities because they prevent you from having fun.

“so-and-so has X disability too and that doesn’t stop them—“

I’m so pleased for them, but disabilities are not a monolith. We don’t even experience the same conditions the same way. Please never ever use one disabled person’s experiences or capabilities to negate the life experiences of another.

Also, the “if you have time to write fanfic you have time to work” comment was super shitty.

I have been exceptionally open with my struggles with mental health over the last few years. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to find enjoyment in anything since 2020?

Do you know what it means to me to finally have something that’s fun and just for me again that I’m not beating myself up over because I “Should” be working?

Obviously not, or you wouldn’t send messages like that. You can just kick rocks, as far as I’m concerned.

To everyone else who sends me sweet messages telling me they love Hunger Pangs and can’t wait for more but also to work at my own pace: thank you. I don’t get to reply to as many of you as I’d like, but it means a lot to me to know you care about my health and mental wellbeing.

Have a Holly Mop watching over me. (Feat Mothman)

[genshinluvr]

Dating App

Pairings: Various Love&Deepspace Men x reader

Summary: Tara approaches your cubicle one day at the Hunters Association, asking about your relationship status. Of course, that is a complicated question to answer. Little did you know, you're matched with some familiar faces who are friends, coworkers, and lackeys to the men you're interested in.

Note: I had to delay this fanfic because I was dealing with some personal conflict, and it kept my thoughts occupied, so I could barely type anything for this fic. This is my first Love&Deepspace fanfic! Please be kind because some of these characters may or may not be out of character. Hopefully, the more I write Love&Deepspace fanfics, the more I will get the hang of it and capture their personalities just fine :'> Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of

Word Count: 6.3k

It’s a slow day at the Hunters Association, and you’re in your cubicle typing away on your computer. Usually, you’re killing Wanderers and are assigned to countless perilous missions, but this week, you’re working in the cubicle doing paperwork. Your eyes feel strained from staring at the monitor for so long that you have to look away, or else you’ll get a pounding headache. That is something you don’t want to deal with alongside Zayne’s lectures if you end up having to visit Akso Hospital. 

Footsteps approaching your cubicle pull you out of your thoughts. You see Tara’s head peeking from behind your cubicle. A big smile plasters on her face as she rests her arm on top of your cubicle. 

“Hey, [Y/N],” Tara says, her brown eyes twinkling with mischief as she lays on her arm. “Working hard as always?” She teases.

You stop typing on your computer, smiling at your dear friend and coworker. “Hi, Tara! Yes, I’m trying to get these documents completed and turned in to Captain Jenna before the deadline. Is there anything you need?”

Tara hums, shaking her head. “Not really, but I am curious about something…” She trails off, tapping on her chin, her eyes wandering around while trying to look nonchalant.

“Oh? Then it must be really important for you to approach me in the middle of work.” You joke before continuing typing away on your computer. 

Tara lets out a long, wistful sigh. You continue your work, only for Tara to let out a frustrated huff. She releases another sigh, but louder this time to get your attention away from your computer. “I’m worried if I ask, you wouldn’t answer because of how personal it is,” Tara says, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting out her bottom lip.

You quickly save your documents before pushing your chair back, turning to give Tara your full undivided attention. You lean in your chair, curious about what Tara wants to ask you— something personal, of course, but her comment piqued your interest. “Tara, we’re friends. You can ask me anything you like! I’m more than happy to answer your pressing questions.” 

Tara’s eyes light up, but she quickly fixes her composure, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. “It’s… about your relationship status and whether you’re seeing anyone,” Tara says, pretending to check her nails while occasionally looking at you from the corner of her eyes.

Your eyes widen at Tara’s response. Your relationship status? While you don’t mind telling Tara about your relationship status, you wonder why she asked all of a sudden. She’s not planning on setting you up on a blind date, is she? 

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure how to answer her. You’re technically not dating anyone as of now, but there are four people in particular who have been occupying your thoughts 24/7. Is Tara going to ask you about your relations with any of them? Tara taps her nails on the cubicle as she waits for your response.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “If I have to be honest, I’m not sure,” you reply.

Tara stares at you, her mouth agape. Tara knows that you’re quite close with Xavier, your mission partner. But she’s also aware of Rafayel’s feelings for you, as you are his bodyguard. Then there’s your primary care physician— a cardiologist named Zayne. He’s a nice guy— a little dry, but nice nonetheless! Oh! Let’s not forget this mysterious man you once brought to karaoke with your coworkers. He’s definitely not the best singer, but he is quite the looker! What’s his name again?

“What are your thoughts on dating apps?” 

You blink at Tara, letting her question slowly sink in. Dating apps? You turn to your computer and scratch the back of your neck. What are your thoughts on dating apps? You’ve never been on one before, nor do you plan on registering for one. Who knows how many weirdos there are on those dating apps?

You visibly shudder. “I don’t plan on being on dating apps, Tara. Besides, as a Deepspace Hunter, I don’t have time for dating apps. I’m always going on missions,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“But the great thing about dating apps is that you don’t even have to meet the people you match with! Who knows, maybe you’ll meet the love of your life on a dating app,” Tara shrugs her shoulders, wiggling her eyebrows at you. 

You turn to your computer, shaking your head at her suggestion and comment. You’re not against dating apps, but it’s not for you. Besides, you have a bigger fish to fry, and that is getting the paperwork and documents completed before the deadline. You briefly tell Tara that you’ll think about it just to get her off your back about your dating life. Semi-satisfied with your response, Tara walks away. How do hunters have time to go on dates? Especially if you’re a higher rank and constantly go on dangerous missions? Your schedule is unpredictable, and you don’t have as much time as you wish you did.

You slump forward in your seat and rest your head on your hand. The quiet sound of your coworkers tapping away on their computers isn’t loud enough to drown out the questions running through your mind. While the suggestion of going on a dating app is tempting, you’re not interested in meeting anyone, especially if they’re from the internet. 

☃︎⋆꙳•❅*ִ  Zayne ☃︎⋆꙳•❅*ִ

Zayne looks up from his computer to see Dr. Greyson entering his office. Zayne sighs and adjusts the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he continues to type away. Footsteps approach Zayne’s desk as he continues to type away on his computer, too busy to see what Dr. Greyson is up to.

Dr. Greyson clears his throat, trying to get Zayne’s attention, only for the cardiologist to briefly look up at the anxious man before continuing what he’s doing. Zayne slowly turns his head, his eyes still glued to the monitor.

“Is there something you need, Dr. Greyson?” Zayne says, finally looking away from his monitor and at Dr. Greyson.

Dr. Greyson clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are things going with you and Miss Hunter?” Dr. Greyson asks suddenly.

Zayne stares at Dr. Greyson quizzically, raising his eyebrows at the brown-haired cardiac surgeon. Things are going fine with you, but why does Dr. Greyson want to know how things are going between you and him? Dr. Greyson continues to almost anxiously stare at Zayne, waiting to hear Zayne’s response. 

Zayne sighs, takes his glasses off, and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Everything is going fine between us, Dr. Greyson. Why are you suddenly interested in my relationship with her?” Zayne questions, putting his glasses back on.

A look of surprise flashes across Dr. Greyson’s face, almost like he’s caught off guard— his cheeks and ears turning dark red. That doesn’t look good. Zayne raises his eyebrows at Dr. Greyson’s reaction and crosses his arms over his chest. Dr. Greyson briefly looks down at his phone, then back at Zayne, visibly flustered. Dr. Greyson’s strange reaction and action causes Zayne’s eyes to swiftly dart down to the phone in Dr. Greyson’s hands. 

Zayne clears his throat, grabbing Dr. Greyson’s attention. “Is there something I need to be aware of?”

Dr. Greyson presses his lips into a thin line, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand while glancing down at his phone again. For some reason, Dr. Greyson’s strange behavior and his constant looking down at his phone bothers Zayne. Zayne gets up from his seat and walks over to where Dr. Greyson is standing with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Without saying a word, Dr. Greyson shows Zayne the screen of his phone. Zayne takes Dr. Greyson’s phone from his hands and inspects the screen. Dr. Greyson has an app opened on his phone; it’s a dating app… huh, Zayne never thought that Dr. Greyson would be on a dating app.

“What am I supposed to look at aside from your being on a dating app?” Zayne asks Dr. Greyson, raising his eyebrows at the brown-haired cardiac surgeon.

Dr. Greyson’s eyes widen before quickly snatching the phone from Zayne’s hand, tapping away on the screen before returning the phone to Zayne. Zayne raises his eyebrows at Dr. Greyson’s strange behavior before proceeding to look at Dr. Greyson’s phone. On the phone’s screen shows a text conversation between Dr. Greyson and you. Zayne furrows his eyebrows, scrolling through the text message between you and Dr. Greyson. Why are you on a dating app? Zayne hesitantly clicks on your icon, opening a small window to your dating profile.

The profile contains a lot of your personal information, from your name to your age to various selfies. Some information provided on your dating profile is a little bit strange, and there are some things Zayne isn’t even aware of. Wait a minute, why did Dr. Greyson swipe right on you?

Zayne slowly looks at Dr. Greyson from the corner of his eyes, almost glaring at his assistant. “You swiped right on [Y/N], I see,” Zayne says nonchalantly.

Dr. Greyson’s eyes widen. “O-Oh, I wasn’t the first one to swipe, actually. You see, she swiped right on me first, and when I swiped, we ended up matching,” Dr. Greyson sputters, rubbing the back of his neck while his face turns a few shades redder than it already is. 

“You still swiped on her, Dr. Greyson. It doesn’t matter who swiped first; you still swiped right when you saw [Y/N]’s dating profile,” Zayne comments, his grip slightly tightening around Dr. Greyson’s phone.

Zayne doesn’t know how to react. On one side, he’s almost angry that Dr. Greyson swiped right on you, and on the other side, he feels hurt. Almost betrayed in a way, but this dating profile of yours feels off. Without thinking, Zayne takes a screenshot (well, multiple screenshots) of your dating profile, from the information to the images and the conversation you and Dr. Greyson are currently having. 

He sends the screenshot to himself, ignoring the questioning gaze Dr. Greyson sends his way. After Zayne’s shift ends at Akso Hospital, he’s going to be stopping by your apartment to confront you about your dating profile and conversation with Dr. Greyson. Zayne laughs bitterly before handing the phone back to the flustered Dr. Greyson before returning to his desk. 

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ Xavier ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

At Philo, Xavier is watering the plants around the floral shop, assisting Jeremiah with his shop. It’s a slow day, and only a few customers pop in and out of the shop to buy flowers. Xavier’s supposed to be at the Hunters Association, but instead, he’s at Philo doing other tasks that have nothing to do with finding the Aether Core. Plus, Jeremiah dragged him out of bed, and he did not appreciate it at all. While Xavier’s watering the flowers and plants around the shop, Jeremiah enters the floral shop with his eyes glued to his phone, typing away. Jeremiah looks up from his phone, admiring the rearrangement of the floral shop.

“It’s looking good in here so far! You know, if you weren’t a Hunter, you would be a decent florist,” Jeremiah jokes, walking toward Xavier.

Xavier ignores Jeremiah’s comment and proceeds to walk to the front of the floral shop, placing the watering can on a nearby table. Xavier pulls out his phone and starts playing mobile games, completely disregarding Jeremiah’s presence as the curly-haired man walks toward Xavier. 

“So… how are things going between you and [Y/N]?” Jeremiah asks suddenly, leaning against the table beside Xavier.

Xavier continues to play on his phone, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Everything’s fine between us. I saw her two days ago at the Hunters Association,” Xavier replies, his eyebrows scrunching up as he tries to kill the monsters on his phone. 

Jeremiah slowly nods, crossing his arms over his chest while still holding onto his phone. After the brief pause between Xavier and Jeremiah, Xavier pauses his game and looks at Jeremiah, raising his eyebrows. Jeremiah taps his foot on the ground, fumbling with the phone in his hands, causing Xavier’s eyes to dart down to the device. 

“It’s good to hear that things are fine between you and [Y/N]...” Jeremiah trails off, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “There weren’t any arguments between you two, right? Everything is fine and dandy?” 

Xavier looks at Jeremiah weirdly, wondering why his friend has a sudden interest in your and Xavier’s relationship. Xavier slowly nods his head in response to Jeremiah’s strange question, still confused about Jeremiah’s interrogation and strange reaction. Silence hangs in the air between him and Jeremiah, and no one is saying anything. 

Xavier points at Jeremiah’s phone, “Why are you twirling your phone around like it’s a fidget toy? Are you okay? You’re acting strange— even more strange than usual,” Xavier says, tucking his phone into the pocket of his hoodie. 

Jeremiah presses his lips into a thin line, debating how to explain to Xavier what has popped up on the dating app he recently joined. “What would you do if the girl you’re interested in has a dating profile?” Jeremiah asks.

“I don’t know how to respond to that question. Does a girl you’re interested in have a dating profile or something? What is going on? I’m confused,” Xavier sighs, running his hands through his hair as he leans on the table behind him.

Jeremiah lets out a frustrated sigh before shoving his phone in Xavier’s face. Xavier takes a step back and grabs the phone from Jeremiah’s grasp, trying to look at what caused Jeremiah to be so frustrated (aside from Xavier’s obliviousness). Xavier looks at Jeremiah, confused. Jeremiah raises his eyebrows, wondering why Xavier had the opposite reaction from what he imagined.

Xavier holds up Jeremiah’s phone to show that he is on the home screen. Jeremiah snatches the phone from Xavier’s hands before clicking on a pink app. Jeremiah then places the phone back in Xavier’s hands, pointing to what he was implying about not long ago. 

Jeremiah scratches the back of his head, looking elsewhere because he does not want to see the reaction on Xavier’s face. “[Y/N] is on this dating app I recently registered on, and we matched. I wanted you to see that your… beloved… is on a dating app,” Jeremiah says, clearing his throat.

Dear god, the tension is so thick that he feels like he might suffocate. A million thoughts race in Xavier’s mind as he scrolls through the messages between you and Jeremiah— the conversation is flirty, needless to say. Xavier clicks on your profile picture, and your dating profile appears on the screen.

There is a lot of information provided on your dating profile, including what you look for in a man; there are eight pictures of you at the Hunters Association, selfies of you and your coworkers at the Hunters Association, and many other things that make Xavier’s head want to spin.

“Hey, Xavier, are you okay?” Jeremiah asks, placing his hand on the distraught man’s shoulders. “I understand you’re upset about [Y/N] being on a dating app, but—”

“You matched with her on the dating app?” Xavier interrupts, turning to Jeremiah with a glare.

Jeremiah looks at Xavier with wide eyes, his mouth agape, unsure how to respond. Yes, he indeed matched with you on the dating app. But does that really matter? You, Xavier’s lady, are on a dating app for fucks sake!

Jeremiah awkwardly clears his throat, “I matched with her because she swiped on me, alright? Besides, I wanted to investigate why she’s on a dating app when she’s with you— well, I assume you two were together.” 

Xavier continues to stare at Jeremiah, unamused. Jeremiah thought that Xavier was going to be upset over you being on a dating app, but apparently, he’s more upset over the fact that Jeremiah swiped right on you. Jeremiah sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while Xavier continues to not-so-subtly glare at him. 

Xavier looks at the screen before screen recording the conversation between you and Jeremiah, then your dating profile before sending it to himself. As much as he wants to confront you right now, you’re still working at the Hunters Association, and he’s going to talk Jeremiah’s ears off for matching with you on the dating app. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 Rafayel 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Rafayel stands in a corner, watching journalists, photographers, and art critics gravitate toward his newest piece. Many admiring and snapping photos of the art piece while murmuring among one another. A couple of journalists approached Rafayel for an interview, and he gladly answered a few questions and explained his inspiration for the art piece. However, the longer the exhibit drags on, the more Rafayel feels drained.

Thomas excuses himself from the conversation he’s having with journalists before walking over to where Rafayel has retreated. Rafayel has a visible pout on his face, his arms crossing over his chest, and he occasionally huffs and fixes his hair.

“Everyone is admiring your newest art piece, Rafayel. Shouldn’t you be happy?” Thomas asks, now standing beside him.

Rafayel drags out a sigh, shifting from one leg to another. “How much longer do I have to be here? I’m tired and hungry. I feel like a fish out of water,” Rafayel says, turning to Thomas with a pout.

Thomas looks at Rafayel amusingly, propping his hands on his hips. “We’ve been here for only three hours, Rafayel. You promised to do a few interviews with renowned art magazines, and you’ve only completed two,” Thomas replies.

“Only three hours? I could’ve spent those three hours with Miss Bodyguard at Twinkle Toys playing at the claw machine with her,” Rafayel huffs, kicking the ground before him. 

Thomas chuckles, shaking his head. There’s not a day where Rafayel doesn’t complain about being at an art exhibit without you. Usually, when you’re not busy, you accompany him and protect him from harm. But today is not that day, and Rafayel has been pouty ever since. Could it be because he’s upset over…

Should Thomas ask Rafayel about that? Thomas is going to do it; Rafayel either knows about it already, and that is the reason why he’s pouting, or he’ll eventually find out about it, and Thomas will never hear the end of it.

“Rafayel, are you upset because [Y/N] is on a dating app?” Thomas asks casually, turning to the pouting Lumerian.

The pout on Rafayel’s face quickly disappears after hearing Thomas’s question. Rafayel looks at Thomas, eyes wide with shock, horror, and confusion. Oh, okay, so maybe Rafayel isn’t aware that you’re on a dating app. Rafayel steps towards Thomas, almost glaring daggers into his friend’s soul.

“What did you say? Care to repeat that for me?”

Thomas clears his throat and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Thomas scrolls through his phone before showing Rafayel the screen. Rafayel takes Thomas’s phone from his hands and stares at your dating profile with keen eyes. Everything about your profile feels off; it doesn’t feel like it’s the real you. 

Rafayel has seen those images of you before because they’re on your social media. But the information about you does not feel authentic, if that makes sense. Why did you list your type in a man when he’s clearly your type? A man with a lot of money, a sense of humor, and will spoil you with luxury items? Rafayel can easily do that! Why would you be on that damn dating app!?

Wait a damn minute…

“Why does it say unmatch in the corner?” Rafayel asks, slowly turning to Thomas with a sharp glare.

Thomas holds his hands up in defense. “Calm down, Rafayel. I was making sure to see if the person behind the dating profile is actually [Y/N] or someone trying to impersonate her,” Thomas says.

“How does that justify any of this!? You matched with my bodyguard!” Rafayel exclaims, ignoring the looks people shoot in his and Thomas’s direction as they walk by. 

Even if Thomas matched with you to see “whether the person behind the profile is actually you,” Thomas continues to match with you on a dating app. While it’s interesting to see Thomas on a dating app, what bothers Rafayel is the fact that Thomas has the audacity to match with someone Rafayel is interested in.

Rafayel tightens his grip on Thomas’s phone, glaring at the screen. Rafayel’s inner monologue drowns out the noise of art critics, journalists, and photographers. His breathing starts to pick up, as does his heartbeat; the sound of his racing heart pounds in his ears. 

“Rafayel,” Thomas tries to grab his attention, placing a hand on Rafayel’s shoulders.

Rafayel brushes Thomas’s hands away as he continues to scroll through your dating profile to take in every information that’s provided. You’re allegedly not looking for anything serious despite stating that you want a rich boyfriend who will spoil you with materials (he’s already doing that; is that not enough?). The longer he lingers on your dating profile, the more he feels his sanity slips away. Without thinking, Rafayel walks away with Thomas’s phone still in his grasp, leaving his friend behind. 

“Rafayel! Where are you going?! The art exhibit isn’t even over yet!” Thomas calls out.

Rafayel ignores Thomas and continues to walk to the entrance of the art museum. Even if Rafayel is far from Linkon, Rafayel is determined to confront you about your dating profile on the dating app that Thomas has the audacity to match with you. Rafayel looks at the time, making a note that he will arrive at Linkon by nightfall. 

⋆.˚𓅆࿐ Sylus ⋆.˚𓅆࿐

Luke and Kieran stand behind Sylus, looking down at their phones while whispering to one another. Sylus ignores the loud whispering behind him as he continues to stare at the man before him, unamused. The man is one of the dealers of the military-grade weapon that Sylus has auctioned off the black market— it’s illegal to be owned by those who aren’t part of the military, but what the government doesn’t know won’t hurt them now, will it?

The man— Ashton Gray, also known as Mr. Gray— gestures to one of his lackeys to hand over the briefcase that contains the weapon. Mr. Gray’s lackey places the briefcase on the table and slides it toward Sylus’s direction. Sylus reaches forward and opens the metal briefcase, examining the carefully packed weapon.

“Hmph. It’s in perfect condition and looks lovely,” Sylus mutters. He pulls the weapon out from the briefcase, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hands. “It’s durable; the material doesn’t feel cheap or flimsy.”

Mr. Gray scoffs, rolling his eyes, and laughs bitterly. “Mr. Sylus, the weapons we sell to consumers are top-notch.”

Sylus ignores the man’s comment and continues to inspect every inch of the weapon. The weapon is made of rare metals that cannot be found anywhere. They’re mined in the deepest depths of a repository by a small group of people in a remote location that isn’t known to many people, or at least to the general public. 

“No way!” Luke gasps, grabbing attention from everyone else in the room.

Sylus turns to the twins behind him and raises his eyebrows at Luke and Kieran. Kieran quickly hides his phone behind his back while Luke rubs the back of his neck, apologizing to the annoyed Onychinus leader. 

Mr. Gray furrows his eyebrows at the twins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Mr. Sylus, do your lackeys have something to share with the rest of the room?” Mr. Gray asks, gesturing to the twenty-something people in the private room in an undisclosed area. 

Sylus looks at Mr. Gray, amused. “Mr. Gray, you seemed to be bothered by whatever is keeping Luke and Kieran occupied,” Sylus comments, placing the gun back in the metal briefcase. “Whatever they are up to is none of your business.” 

The metal briefcase closes with a click. Sylus stands up, grabs the briefcase, and begins making his way to the exit, nodding to Mr. Gray with Luke and Kieran following. Mr. Gray glares at the twins as they walk by, almost mockingly waving at him. Once the three are out of earshot, Sylus sighs and adjusts the sleeve of his shirt. 

The trio enters Sylus’s sports car, silence hanging in the air. Sylus hands the metal briefcase to Luke before turning on the car; the engine roars to life. The three sit in silence, watching the scenery go by as they leave the location. For once, Sylus didn’t blow the place up. Sylus glances in the rearview mirror to see the twins scrolling through their phones, completely occupied with whatever they’re seeing on the screen. Sylus sighs and shakes his head as he continues to drive the three of them back to the base in the N109 Zone.

“Care to explain to me what is keeping you two occupied on that phone of yours?” Sylus asks, breaking the silence in the car. “That outburst was unnecessary.”

Kieran and Luke glance at each other, unsure of what to say. Both Luke and Kieran recently joined a dating app (the N109 Zone is boring, and these two want to meet someone new when their service isn’t needed), and the twins received a match! Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong! Luke and Kieran share the same dating profile (they come in a pack; you can’t separate them. If you want one of them, you’ll get the other free), and they happen to match with little ole Miss Hunter (you).

While you and Sylus have this strange yet comical dynamic, it’s shocking to see you on a dating app despite being on Onychinus’s radar. They know every piece of information about you, and by “they,” Luke and Kieran are implying Sylus. Yes, there is information about you that both the twins know, but they don’t know every little thing about you. 

“Is it that dating app of yours?” Sylus asks, eyes gluing onto the road ahead of him. 

Luke clears his throat, nodding. “Yes! But we saw something that caught us off guard, that’s all. I apologize for my outburst, boss-man.”

Kieran continues to stare at your dating profile on his screen, rereading every information provided on your profile. It’s a good thing Sylus meets all of the requirements of what you want in a man. However, Sylus isn’t going to be happy if he hears that you’re on a dating app when you’ve been seeing him. Speaking of…

Kieran looks up from his phone, making eye contact with Sylus through the rearview mirror. “Hey, boss-man! How are things going between you and Miss Hunter?” Kieran asks, crossing his right leg over his left. 

“Things are going well. However, we haven’t been in contact for perhaps a few weeks. Why?” Sylus asks, raising his eyebrows at Kieran’s question. 

Luke and Kieran look at each other, not saying a word. Luke and Kieran press their lips into a thin line, unsure of how else to answer Sylus’s question. Sylus rolls his eyes and uses his Evol to snatch Kieran’s phone from his hands. Kieran opens his mouth to protest but stops when Luke nudges him with his elbow.

Sylus looks down at the phone, letting out a scoff, and a bitter laugh follows. “I see. So this is what caused you two to have an outburst moments ago,” Sylus mutters. “And you two are matched with Miss Hunter.”

Luke and Kieran stare at Sylus from the backseat, waiting to see what Sylus is going to do next. Sylus shakes his head, sighing before tossing the phone back to the twins. Luke quickly grabs the phone and hands it to Kieran, who checks to make sure the phone isn’t damaged. Instead of taking the usual route back to Onychinus’s base, Sylus decides to take a different route, causing Luke and Kieran to be confused.

“Where are we going, boss-man?” Luke asks, looking at Kieran from the corner of his eyes.

Sylus shrugs. “We’re taking a little field trip to visit a certain kitten in Linkon City,” Sylus replies.

˚୨୧⋆. Y/N ˚୨୧⋆.

You step into the elevator of your apartment, rubbing the back of your neck. You have been sitting in your cubicle for hours at the Hunters Association. Your back is hurting, and so is your neck and your butt. While the elevator takes you to the seventh floor of your apartment, you space out, wondering why Tara asked you about your relationship status. The elevator chimes, snapping you out of your thoughts. You step out of the elevator and walk towards your apartment, rummaging through your tote bag to search for your keys. 

“Found you,” you mutter, grabbing your keys hidden deep in your tote bag and pulling them out with a sigh of relief. “Now I can finally relax—”

Your eyes widen when you see four familiar men standing at the front door to your apartment. They’re glaring daggers at each other, on edge. The familiar twins stand to the side, shaking their heads with disapproval. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “Can I help you?”

“Why are you acting all innocent? You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss Bodyguard!” Rafayel exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest while pouting in your direction. 

You tilt your head to the side, confused about what Rafayel is implying. You rub your temples with a sigh, too exhausted to deal with whatever is happening between the four men standing at the door to your apartment. It is way too late for you to be dealing with any sort of conflict. 

You sigh for the umpteenth time. “Whatever is going on, you guys can tell me when I unlock the door to my apartment. I don’t want my neighbors to overhear our conversation,” you mutter, weaving through the crowd of men.

Even though you can get your fingerprint to unlock the door to your apartment, it does not work as of now. You’re going to have to call the front desk to inform them of the issue with the fingerprint lock. Until then, you’re using keys to get into your apartment. You enter your apartment with six men crowding into the comfort of your home while mumbling under their breaths.

You hang your tote bag on the rack along with your coat, toeing your shoes off before slipping on your house slippers. You turn to the four (technically six, but Luke and Kieran are making themselves home in your living room) men, waiting for one of them to explain why they’re all standing in front of your apartment.

Sylus sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Kitten, care to—”

“Why are you on a dating app!?” Rafayel exclaims, shoving Thomas’s phone towards your face. 

You back up and grab the phone from Rafayel’s hands, squinting at the screen. Oh great, more screens to look at. You hold the phone close to your face, blinking rapidly. You’re not on a dating app, and you never have a dating profile in the first place. Wait, could this be what Tara was trying to ask you about earlier today at the Hunters Association?

“I’m not on a dating app,” you reply, raising your eyebrows at the men before you.

You walk farther into your apartment, scrolling through your supposed dating profile. Whoever is posing as you on this dating app is very committed to being you. You sit on the armrest of the couch, reading through “your” dating profile.

“Are you three here for the same thing, or is Rafayel the only one interrogating me over something I didn’t know I had?” You ask.

Xavier and Zayne show their phones— screenshots of the same dating profile and messages between you and whoever “you” matched with on that app. Sylus grabs Kieran by the shoulders and nudges him to hand over his phone to you. You stare at Luke and Kieran, almost horrified that they are the ones who found this dating profile of “yours.”

You pull out your phone and hand it to Rafayel. “As I said earlier, I’m not on any dating apps. Whoever these people matched with, that person isn’t me.” 

Rafayel shoves your phone to your face for a second to unlock your phone before scrolling through your phone, skimming through every app you have installed. Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier join Rafayel in going through your phone.

You made a face. “I don’t remember taking this picture,” you mutter, zooming in on one particular photo. “And this information about myself isn’t remotely accurate. How did you four fall for this catfish?”

Luke coughs. “To be fair, we,” he gestures to him and Kieran, “assumed it was legitimate because “your” dating profile is a verified account. Meaning, whoever is running the account somehow managed to confirm that they are you.”

You stare at him blankly, then look at the four men, who are still glued to your phone. You sink into your couch and hand back the phone to Rafayel. Rafayel hands the phone to the closest person before stomping to you, sniffling. 

“Cutie~! How could you match with Thomas!? What’s so special about him?” Rafayel whines, plopping down beside you and resting his head on yours. 

You kiss your teeth and pinch Rafayel’s cheeks. “Rafayel! I told you already! I’m not on any dating apps!” Rafayel whines, grabbing your hands and ripping your hand from his cheek. 

Xavier hands you your phone, standing before you with his arms over his chest. Oh, he’s pouting as well. Zayne and Sylus look both relieved but also mildly miffed with the fact that they fell for a catfish. 

You stand up, stomping towards Sylus and poking his chest with your index finger. “You! You’re technologically advanced, yet you couldn’t tell that the dating profile is a catfish!?” You screech, repeatedly poking his chest over and over.

Sylus grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours. “Kitten, I had a long day. Luke and Kieran are the ones who showed me your supposed dating profile. I had to double-check with you, sweetie. Plus, it has been a while since we’ve seen each other. I wanted to take this opportunity to come and visit you.”

You glare at Sylus, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Damn him and his smooth talk! You look at Zayne and Xavier, waiting for one of them to explain— or give an excuse like the leader of Onychinus. 

Zayne closes his eyes and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long exhale. “I have no excuses, darling. However, Dr. Greyson was convinced that the person behind that dating profile was you,” Zayne says, gazing at you bashfully, the tips of his ears bright red.

You rub the bridge of your nose, trying to hold on to the last bits of your sanity. From what you’re gathering, you have matched with Dr. Greyson, Thomas, both Luke and Kieran because they share one profile for some reason, and… who else?

You look at Xavier. Xavier avoids your eyes, glaring at the ground with his jaws clenched. If you look closely, you can almost see steam coming from Xavier’s ears. His ears are so red, and you feel bad, but you can’t help but laugh at how adorably jealous he is of whoever “you” matched with on that damn dating app.

“Let me guess, it’s Jeremiah, the owner of Philo?” Luke asks, giggling behind his hand.

Xavier’s head snapped toward Luke and Kieran’s direction, glaring at them while trying to remain as calm as possible. “[Y/N]  didn’t match with Jeremiah. The catfish matched with Jeremiah,” Xavier corrects Luke.

You rub your temples, too tired to handle the entire situation. If you had the energy, you would’ve been very upset over the fact that someone is pretending to be you and matching with men who are friends with the men you’re interested in. But right now, you just want to go shower and relax.

“I’m going to go shower. We can talk about this later, but for now, please give it a rest. It’s been a long day, and I’m exhausted,” You say.

The four men watch you walk to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Rafayel turns to Sylus, crossing his arms over his chest while continuing to pout. “Is there a way for you to check and see who’s behind this account?”

Sylus rubs his temples, shaking his head. “As of now, I cannot check to see who’s behind the account,” Sylus mutters. “But I will certainly look into it. It’s a crime to impersonate someone on the internet.”

Xavier shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “If we cannot find the person behind the account, we will need to lure them out somehow. It’s evident this person is close with [Y/N].”

“Oh? And what do you suggest?” Zayne mutters, raising his eyebrows at Xavier’s comment. “I’m sure the person behind the account will not reveal their identity easily. Who knows how long they had this account for.”

Rafayel rolls his eyes and walks to the couch, sitting on the armrest. “Whoever is impersonating as Miss Bodyguard is stupid. They don’t know what they’re getting themselves into.”

While you’re in the shower, the four men hatch a plan to lure the person behind the catfish account out. Will you be in on the plan? Perhaps. But for now, they need to find a way to meet the person behind the account. Well, whoever is matched with “you” on that dating app needs to plan a date to meet “you” in person. 

Note: Ehhh, I'm not really feeling the ending, if I have to be really honest. I might make a part two for this fic, but I'm not entirely sure if I should. This is my first Love&Deepspace fanfic, so, it's most likely ass. I was supposed to post this fic before Monday, but then I typed way too much, and here we are with a 6.3k word fanfic. For this brand new "series" of mine, I will be writing various men x reader and individual men x reader. Hopefully my future Love&Deepspace fanfic will improve as I continue to write for this game :) anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[melannen]

How To Make Your Own Fanfiction Archive, In Just Ten Easy Steps

As the go-to "person who knows about AO3" for quite a few people who read fanfic but aren't really linked-in to wider fandom culture, I've fielded a lot of questions about how to do certain things on AO3 to which my best answer is "you should really start your own archive!" I think, in general, more fans starting their own small archives would be a net good for fandom. AO3 was never meant to be the only archive for all fandom, or even the main archive, and the more spread out and backed up we are the more resilient we are.

But of course I have to be reminded that a lot of fans these days don't really have any idea how little "you should start your own archive!" really involves. (Also, that I should practice what I preach.) So I am now making my own fanfiction archive, and writing up this post as I do it to tell people how to make theirs!

Go to https://neocities.org/ and sign up for an account. It only needs a username (which will also be your website address), password, and email. Pick a username that will be related to your archive's title!

Choose the free account option (if you ever need more than what the free account offers for a text-only archive, you should probably look into graduating from neocities.) This should take you to a menu of "how to make a website" tutorials. You should do them! They're useful skills. But let's get your archive running first.

Hit the big red Edit Site button, or open the menu under your username and select "Edit Site".

Select the "Index.html" file to edit. You're now in an HTML Editor. Congrats, you're a web developer c. 1999!

Find where it has text between the < title> tags. Delete the filler text, and put in the title of your new archive. This text will be what shows on the tab when people go to your archive.

Find where it has text between the < h1 > tags. This will be big header text at the top of your page. Put the title of your archive here again. If you have no experience with HTML, you should read over the other sample text. It covers the basic basics very well! Once you've done that, you can delete everything else between the < /h1> tag and the < /body> tag. Save your index.html file.

Get an HTML file for a fanfic you would like to add to your archive. If it's on AO3, you can use the html download option built into AO3. If you have it as a word processor/google docs file, you should have the option to save as an html file. Save that html file to your computer.

Go back to Edit Site on Neocities and go to "upload". Find the html file you saved and upload it. (You can also drag and drop files to upload.)

The file you uploaded should now be showing with your other neocities files. Right-click on the title and select "copy link".

Go in to edit index.html again. Under where you put your header text, type < br> < a href=" . Then paste in the link you copied. Then type "> Then put in the title of the fic. Then type < /a> . Then save the index page again when you're done. You can do this for every fanfic you have.

Congratulations! You now have your very own personal private fanfiction archive that you are 100% in charge of and make all the rules for. It's at least as good as half the ones I was reading on when I started reading fanfiction and will serve its function well as a way to let people read your fic. You can link to it from anywhere you want! (Including your AO3 profile.)

Blogpost version, with FAQs and discussion

Anyway, here's my beautiful new fanfiction archive made using this tutorial:

Melannen's Fanfiction Archive

(I am honestly way more disproportionately proud of finally making that than I expected to be. It's nice to have your own archive.)

If you make one, share it here ! I want to see!

[zombiigrll]

──────────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

IMMUNE? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x immune!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort?, use of y/n, blood, zombie apocalypse stuff ofc, post-terminus era, references/slight spoilers to twd 5x2 ?? petname (angel - which also did we all collectively agree that carl would call his s/o angel? i see everyone use it i have before too its so cute .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you get bit, but nothing happens. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hey guys... its been a minute... (45 days COUGH COUGH) i am so sorry i have been SO BUSY and i didnt even realize i had this fic almost completely finished in my drafts so i decided why not finally finish it!! (which is also why the ending might be a bit weak because i also have no written anything for 45 days LMAO) my favorite thing about the whole science behind zombisim is all the theories of if you could or couldn't become immune so i wanted to write a little fic because i love... zombie science.. nerd alert!!! ☝️🤓 <- me but also whats a carl grimes/zombie fanfic writer without writing at least one immunity fic!! hope u guys enjoy!!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────────────────────────

everyone knew you were clumsy. you'd always have to be with someone, no matter what. that's how much people worried about you.

there had been plenty of times where you had been close to getting bit, and if you were alone, you would've been bit.

but now, you and your group were back on the road after the prison had fell. you all met up at a terrible place called terminus, and almost died if carol wouldn't have shown up. it was dangerous, and terrifying. but you had carl on your side, as always. he was the person who had saved you so many times. he was like your personal bodyguard.

you guys had eventually ended up at a church with a priest named gabriel. you felt uneasy being there. gabriel seemed, well, unstable. rick saw it too, telling carl to keep his guard up.

but after a while, everyone was inside the church, laughing and having fun.

you spot bob walking outside, which catches your attention instantly. no one else really seemed to notice, so you turned over to carl.

"i'm gonna go outside."

"do you want me to go with?" he asks, immediately sitting up.

"no, it's fine. i think i saw bob go out there. i wanna go check on him." you smile at him, standing up and walking over to where you saw bob go.

but when you stepped out, he was nowhere to be found.

"bob?" you called out, walking forward a bit more as you looked around for him. "where'd you go?"

you walked a bit further, leaning your arm on a tree as you looked past further into the distance, searching for any sight of bob.

but, to your luck, you were snuck up on. you heard a growl to your side, where your arm was leaning, and then a pain shot through your forearm.

you let out a loud shriek as you fumbled for your knife, stabbing the walker who was still attached to your arm in the head. you kicked him off, breathing heavily.

you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest.

you glanced down at the walker who was now laying dead on the ground, gripping tightly on your knife as you processed what had just happened. you lifted up your pained, bleeding arm.

"no... no, oh, my god." you dropped your knife and began wiping away the blood that was profusely leaking out of your fresh bite wound. "shit..."

you stared at your arm for a moment, attempting to catch your breath while watching your own blood drip onto the floor beneath you.

the doors to the church busted open, snapping you out of your daze. carl, rick, and michonne stood at the door, staring at you.

carl stepped a bit closer. "what happened? are you okay-" he stopped as he spotted your arm. his face fell flat and his eyes widened.

"it snuck up on me.." you quietly and breathlessly responded, tears falling from your agonized face. "i was looking for bob."

rick runs up to you as he realizes you had been bit. he grabs your arm, his face a bit panicked as he starts speaking. "we have to cut it off."

"no!" you tugged your arm away from his grip, holding your arm from him. "we don't have the stuff for that!"

"stop yelling." rick sternly ordered, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "let's go inside. i'm sure gabriel has the stuff for it."

you anxiously nodded, stepping toward the church with carl by your side.

"i'll get gabriel." michonne said, walking towards his office. "find somewhere for her to sit."

you take a seat in one of the rows, still holding your arm tightly.

"what the hell happened?" glenn asks, quickly walking over to the three of you with maggie by his side.

"she got bit." rick runs a hand through his hair. you look to your side and spot carl, just staring blankly, his expression the same as when he first saw your bite just moments before. he was speechless, and afraid.

you held your arm tighter as the pain increased, blood seeping through in between your fingers as you clenched your jaw. your breathing was progressively getting more and more ragged and uneven the more you panicked.

"i don't want you to cut my arm off.." you protested, your voice high pitched and wobbly. you closed your eyes tightly, a few tears falling from your eyes.

"we have to." rick shook his head. "otherwise you'll become one of them."

"i don't care." you sobbed, gripping tighter and tighter onto your arm. "i can't do it. i probably wouldn't survive either way, we don't have proper stuff for it." you could tell it was difficult for them to understand what you were saying through your sobs. "i just want to wait it out."

rick eyes widen, along with everyone else who were crowded around you.

carl finally steps closer, grabbing your other hand tightly. you could spot tears falling from his eyes. "please, y/n. i'll be with you, it'll be okay. please i.. i can't lose you."

you looked up at him through your lashes, pressing your lips together. "i can't, carl. i can't."

...

they had moved you to one of the rooms in the church that had something you could lay on. they tied your wrist to a pole and stood in the room with you.

you could barely keep track of what was happening. you genuinely felt fine, besides the side effects from losing blood.

"can you wrap my arm up..?" you requested. the tickling feeling of your blood dripping down your arm becoming too much, and you also wanted to test if that was what was making you feel sick.

being immune wasn't even a thought in your head yet. but you were just creeped out about not having any of the same side effects that anybody else had when they'd gotten bit. you were sweating, but you weren't feverish, that's just how the weather always was.

"yes, of course." glenn grabbed a thing of gauze out of his bag, going up to you and carefully but tightly wrapping it around the bite. he also grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the access blood that had been dripping off of your arm.

"...thanks." you sighed, looking away from everyone.

they were all just staring, waiting for something to happen. but nothing was. the awkward silence and suspense was killing you. you saw the sun starting to come up through the window, which means it had been quite a few hours since you had gotten bit.

you've seen people last a day, maybe the tiniest bit over a day, but you noticed that they always had obvious symptoms by now. and you still didn't.

you blew a raspberry, looking around the room. ".. i don't feel anything."

"what?" carl squinted in confusion, his voice still a bit brittle from crying. "like, you're numb?"

"no, like.. i don't feel any symptoms of turning." you laughed at how idiotic your sentence probably sounded to everyone.

"so, you're saying you're immune?" carls voice changed from being upset to just pure confusion.

"i don't know." you shrugged, tapping your foot on the hardwood floors. "i seriously don't know what's going on. the only time i felt sick was when it first happened and i saw my blood dripping. i feel fine right now, a little lightheaded, but i think thats from the bloodloss."

"look, theres no such thing as being 'immune.'" rick shook his head at your statement. "it might just be.. taking a while to settle in."

"dad, can you have a little faith?" carl turned to rick, glaring slightly at him before turning back at you. "i believe you."

everyone else seemed really skeptical about what was happening, exchanging confused looks with one another.

"we'll keep her in here for a little while, alright? if she still doesn't feel anything by tonight, then we'll untie her." rick sighed, looking down at you. you had been with everyone since the start, being there when carl reunited with rick and everything, so you could sense everyones panic when they first saw you get bit. and now, you could sense their pure confusion. people in our group have gotten bit before, but they'd show signs almost immediately.

"i can stay with her if you guys want to leave." carl said, sitting down right next to you. "i'll let you know if anything happens."

everyone agreed and left the room.

you laughed to yourself, looking over at the door.

"are you okay?" carl asks, looking at you anxiously.

"i'm fine." you turned your head over to look at him. "this is just so fucking weird. and we don't even know where bob went. i'm so confused right now. nothing is making sense." you let out another light laugh, shaking your head in honestly disbelief.

"maybe you're the chosen one." carl laughs, smiling at you. "i really hope you're being honest. i.. i don't think i can handle losing you."

you look at him with a lopsided smile, happy to hear how much he cared. "i wouldn't lie to you about this. i genuinely don't feel sick at all. i mean, i feel gross, but not in a 'i'm dying' way. more in a 'i just got my arm bitten into' way." you tried to make light of the situation, despite being terrified. carls expression stayed a bit worried. "..sorry, not funny. i don't want to lose you either carl. you're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know?"

his concern turned into a smile at your words. he leaned forward and hugged you tightly. all you could do was put your hand on his back, due to your other hand being tied up still.

"i love you." he mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, leaning your head on top of his. "i love you too."

...

a while passed, yet you still felt perfectly fine. your arm felt odd though, of course. you had been bitten into after all.

carl stayed by your side, telling you stories and just conversing with you to keep your mind and his off of the whole situation while everyone was out searching for bob.

you moved your arm up to your tied up one, itching at your tight bandages. “i want these off…” you dramatically complained.

“we should probably check on your arm anyways. even if you feel fine, there could still be something messed up with your arm.” carl says as he rotates his body towards your arm, carefully untying your arm looking at you for permission.

you nod, and he proceeds to take the bandage off. the teeth marks had dark bruises and dried blood around them, and your veins were darker and more apparent around the bite. it looked unreal.

you quickly looked away from the wound, shuddering. “holy shit.” you closed your eyes tightly.

you could hear carl stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “i… it… is it supposed to- um.. look like that?” he let out a nervous laugh, moving his hand to comfort yours.

you returned the nervous laugh, looking back at the bite momentarily. "i don't- i don't think so?"

your body was violently shaking, unsure what to do or what was going on. would you still need to cut your arm off? or would it still be fine, despite looking like that? you knew that you'd have to hide your arm for.. well, ever, if you decided not to cut your arm off. it could cause so many different issues if people outside of your group found out.

carl proceeded to grab anything he could find to clean your wound, as well as new bandages. you two sat in silence as he carefully cleaned your arm, the only sound being your light winces of pain as he applied the antibacterial ointment he luckily found.

he wrapped your arm back up and planted a quick, soft kiss onto your bandaged wound, looking back up at your flustered face with a smile afterward.

your face was hot, and you quickly averted your eyes away from his out of embarrassment.

he put his hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead, then pulled you into a hug right after. "i'm so glad you're okay."

you were shocked, but let out a flustered giggle before returning the hug. "thank you.." your smile kept growing and growing. then, the words "i love you." finally left your mouth.

he broke the hug and looked at you shocked, but then his big smile came back. "i love you, too, angel."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[twstedreamweaver]

Missing Magazines

Octavinelle with a Fashion Model Reader

How would the Octavinelle boys react to you being a model? Based on the premise that you, the reader, are a model and are featured in a popular fashion magazine that Sam sells at the school - except when you go to buy one, you realize that someone bought out almost all the magazines. Who could it be?

Things to mention: Azul never stopped signing contracts with people and the Octotrio are still shady. Reader is slightly different from canon Yuu. Also, this is my first fanfic, so I apologize in advance for any inconsistencies with POV! Twisted Boys featured: Azul, Jade, Floyd

The warm sun was a welcome surprise after several dreary weeks of intermittent rains and grey skies. Throngs of students were happily milling about on the central lawn, some boys from Savanaclaw were throwing a Spelldrive Disc like a frisbee, and you spotted some Ignihyde students actually touching grass for once.

With the passing of the Spring rains, Night Raven College seemed to spring back to life with the touch of a little sunshine.

And just in time for the release of the summer edition of one of the top magazines in Twisted Wonderland, Fleurs de la mode. However, this edition was special - it was your first official modeling gig for a fashion magazine.

Admittedly, when you were first scouted by a modeling agent at the NRC's Song and Dance Championship, you were hesitant (I mean, after dealing with the outrageous amount of con artists at NRC, who wouldn't be skeptical), but the Fleur City Associates modeling agency turned out to be legitimate. After some back and forth with your agent, and several gigs later, you got the opportunity to model for a popular fashion magazine on account of your unique "otherworldly'" flair, which you assumed was a weird compliment from one of your managers. Regardless, your nerves had long since worn off with the first paycheck (thaumarks are hard to come by) and now you were excited to see your hard work in print.

"Welcome back, my little imp." Sam waved from behind the counter. "What can I conjure for you today?"

"Good morning, Sam!" You smiled, "I heard that you just got in the newest edition of Fleurs, could I buy one off you?"

Sam gave you a peculiar look, before smiling - wait, was that a trace of a smirk?

"I do apologize little imp, but I am fresh out of stock. Those magazines flew off the shelves this morning."

"Wait, but didn't you just open like thirty minutes ago?"

You were a bit disappointed. On one hand, you didn't really need the magazine, but on the other hand, it would've been nice to have at least some proof of your accomplishment in this strange world. At a school where magic was the highest priority, it was nice to finally be known for something that wasn't just your lack of magic ability.

"Yes but, eh hee hee, it seems the magazine was quite popular this time around." Sam snickered. You sighed.

"However," Sam continued, "You've lucked out this time little imp, For the same price as a magazine, I can tell you who bought out half my stock. I'm certain that you can get one from him for free!"

"Thanks Sam, for the, uh, considerate offer, but I think I'll pass!" You remarked, trying to think of who might have bought out such a large stock of magazines.

"Are you certain, my little imp?" Sam leaned over the counter, smiling, a bit too maliciously for your liking. "Don't you want to see your magazine debut firsthand?" Huh?

You were only featured on a few pages, so how did he even know you were in there? Did he actually read the fashion magazine? Looking at his attire, you find that highly doubtful.

"How'd you know about that?" You inquired, trying not to sound overtly suspicious.

"Why else would so many imps be standing in line outside my shop at seven in the morning?" Sam, for sure, was smirking this time.

No way. How did this get around? You felt your face go hot, suddenly embarrassed. Hold on, you reasoned with yourself. Vil is a model too, along with some other Pomefiore students, so students modeling shouldn't be a shock to anyone!

But if the reason the magazines sold out so quickly was - that is, if Sam's not tricking you - because of your shoot, then why would anyone buy half of the entire stock? Especially at Sam's ridiculous prices.

You sighed; you'll figure this out later.

"I'm good, Sam. Thanks for the offer, but I've got to get going to my next class." You quickly backed away from Sam and ducked out the front door before he could cut you off with another suspicious offer.

"Come back anytime little imp!" The door swinging shut behind you as Sam big you goodbye.

God, was there a single good person in this school??

Wait, a realization suddenly hit you. The guy who bought half the magazines, was it-

——-

You practically stomped across the school, through the mirror room, and into the Octavinelle dorm.

You didn't lie to Sam earlier; you really did have to go to class. And then after four classes and nearly eight hours, you had to go to club. So, now it was practically late afternoon, and you were only now on your mission to hunt down the buyer of some 60+ magazines.

The moment you stepped inside Mostro Lounge, two tall, ominous figures seemed to materialize directly beside you.

"Hello Jade. Hey Floyd."

"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, before wrapping his long arms around your torso and squeezing tightly.

"Now now, Floyd," Jade smirked, "Let's not squeeze the life out of our little Prefect."

"I'm here to discuss some things with Azul." You told the two 6-foot-tall eels.

You must have sounded agitated because Floyd and Jade quickly took the hit and grabbed onto each of your arms respectively and dragged walked me to the VIP room.

"Now then, who are we to interfere with your business affairs?" Jade let go of your left arm to open the large, ornate VIP room doors.

"Only VIP access for our Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, striding into the VIP room where some student was groveling on his hands and knees, begging Azul for something. I noticed that he had a small anemone sprouting from his head, looks like Azul got another freshman. Grinning, Floyd roughly grabbed the poor student by his shirt collar and unceremoniously threw him out the door.

Jade sinisterly smiled at the boy, before bending down to say something in a hushed tone, causing the boy to squeal and shuffle away frantically. Jade smirked, stood, and walked over to stand beside the seated and slightly flustered Azul, as Floyd slammed the doors.

For once, and to my astonishment, Azul, usually the pristine image of a savvy businessman, looked a little nervous.

You were surprised that he didn't even object to Floyd tossing his client (more likely his victim, given the anemone) out.

Azul pursued his lips and tented his fingers on the table, before taking a breath and seeming to regain his composure.

"Why, (Y/N), to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"

Azul typically spoke formally and eloquently, but given your and his relationship as friends, his behavior was a little, unusual. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't the fish swimming outside or the mermen in the room.

You chalked it up to your own misunderstanding of the situation, or to Azul already going into business mode to prepare for what was coming.

"I'm here about the Fleur magazines you bought."

For a brief second, the three (well, more like two, Floyd just seemed slightly humored) seemed to go pale. Azul gave you a blank stare, mouth slightly open, and Jade turned away to focus intently on the wall with a trace of a grimace on his face. Floyd chuckled and looked at Azul.

Weirdos. What is up with them today?

"You're reselling those Fleur magazines for a profit, aren't you?" You continued on.

A brief moment passed. Jade turned back to look at you and Azul quickly snapped back to reality with a small laugh and a smirk.

"Yes! Why, you deduce correctly, Prefect, I did buy the remaining stock in order to resell them. They're quite in high demand, given your popularity amongst the student body."

"I apologize if you wanted to buy one, but I couldn't miss such a lucrative and perfectly legal business opportunity!" Azul cloyingly apologized, gesturing with his hands in a show of mock apology.

Floyd and Jade nodded along in fake sincerity. Seems you guessed right after all.

"Okay, seeing that you're admitting it, I'm not really that mad. But, also, seeing that you're going to profit off my face, I have a proposal."

The three leaned forward. "Do go on," Azul nodded.

"I can sign my picture in one of the magazines, so you can ramp up the price, and, in return, I can get a free magazine."

"Done!" Azul exclaimed, magically flying over a contract to you. You have no idea how he managed to write one so fast, because it seemingly materialized out of thin air.

The contract wasn't wordy and there were no terms and conditions. You suppose it makes sense given how simple the agreement is, but it still seemed quite hasty.

Regardless, after reading it over twice - it is Azul after all - you signed, and Azul magically lifted the contract and pen into his hands and swiftly slid them into some drawer.

While you were reading the contract, Jade quietly ducked out before returning with two magazines in hand. He hovered over your shoulder, before flipping one magazine open to reveal one of your swimsuit model pictures and setting it on the table for you to sign.

You signed, although it felt a little weird autographing something, but it was best 'business' proposal you could come up with.

Jade handed you the other magazine and Azul stood up. You still find the height difference between him and Tweels humorous, although Azul was still taller than you, so you didn't have much room to judge.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, (Y/N), as always." Azul smiled, fumbling with something out of view in his desk drawer. "Have a good night."

"Want a drink Shrimpy?" Floyd inquired, placing an arm on your shoulder, turning you away from Azul.

"I would be more than happy to make something to your liking." Jade agreed, leading me out of the room. "On the house." He quickly added.

"As much as I'd love to, I have a tutoring session with Riddle. He saw my grade on last week's midterm and almost exploded on the spot."

"Aah, I haven't seen Goldfishy in a while." Floyd wondered aloud. "Hey, Shrimpy," He smiled, "Let me come with ya."

"Absolutely not," Jade remarked with a cold smile that did not reach his eyes, "You have a shift to work Floyd." You have always found the difference between their personalities amusing.

Remembering your appointment, you whipped out your phone to look at the time. Oh no. You had five minutes.

"Shit, I got to go, see you guys later!" You waved and ran off, terrified that you might actually witness Riddle explode this time.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." "See ya, Shrimpy!"

Two sets of mismatched eyes intently followed you out the door.

------

"JADE." Azul practically screeched, slamming his hands on the table. "Do you know how BADLY that could have gone? Are you insane? You're lucky the prefect thought I was trying to resell them!"

"We're lucky." Jade corrected, carefully and meticulously removing pages from a Fleur magazine at a Mostro Lounge table. Azul threw his hands up in frustration.

"Hey, Azul, I never heard you objecting." Floyd rolled his eyes. "And why are you so embarrassed anyway; you're puffing up like a pufferfish."

"Well now, we have to sell the magazines." Azul huffed to himself and sat down besides Jade and the stack of magazines. "So, stop tearing the merchandise!"

"No." Jade snapped angrily. Realizing, Jade quickly collected himself and returned to his typical collected attitude, resuming his carefully removal of magazine pages, "There is a clear solution - we sell the magazines, just without certain pages featuring the prefect."

Azul stared, deadpan at Jade, clearly exasperated. "And just what are you going to do with half a hundred pictures of the prefect?"

"Remind me, who took one of the magazines after I bought them for 'personal use'?" Jade sneered, meeting Azul's stare, causing Azul to blush and begin stuttering excuses.

"I still don't get why we can't just tell Shrimpy." Floyd shrugged, leaning back in his chair, holding up one of the torn-out magazine pages of (Y/N) standing on a beach, hair blowing in the (fake) wind, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, with a chic cover-up.

"Absolutely not!" Jade and Azul shouted in unison.

Thankfully, the Mostro Lounge was closed, and no one could hear the three mermen squabbling late into the night.

[grapejollyrancher]

Noise Complaints (Pt. 1 (?))

Logan Howlett x Reader

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem! AFAB! Reader

Warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, dry humping, slight dacryphilia (only if you squint), desperate!logan, pet names, no use of y/n, knife use (not sexual, not knifeplay)

a/n: yall pls go easy on me this is my first time ever publishing a fanfic :O. if there are any errors or if i forgot to mention any warnings or triggers please LMK! constructive criticism is heavily encouraged as i mentioned this is my first fic. ALSO so sorry i am legit incapable of writing sexual tension/ buildup forgive me! Hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think :) (p.s. i have a part two drafted if anyone is interested i can edit it and post soon!)

It was a boring day at the X-Mansion…

You pass through the living room on the way to the kitchen to grab something to eat. Your eyes glance around the room and see Logan sitting on one of the armchairs with a cigar in his hand. Some random show is playing on the TV but you can tell he isn’t paying attention; his mind is somewhere else.

“Hey lo! Whatcha up to?”

He’s lost in thought, but his head snaps up when hears you. He looks up at you and gives you small smile, taking a drag from his cigar before responding.

“Just thinkin'. Nothin' important, Darlin'. What're you up to?”

You move across the room towards the entrance of the kitchen and point, your cheeks turning pink at his petname for you.

“Gonna make something to eat. You hungry?” You ask.

He stays silent for a moment, thinking about it, before nodding.

“Yeah, I could eat. What're you making?”

“Probably just a sandwich,” You shrug, “Nothin’ crazy”

He chuckles as he stands up and stretches a little, his shirt riding up slightly to show a sliver of his tanned stomach. He stubs out his cigar before nodding. Your eyes are glued to the small piece of tanned skin showing before his words snap your attention back to your task.

“Sure thing, Darlin'. Lead the way.”

You walk into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind you. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of you. You turn to him,

“Okay ill grab the stuff from the pantry if you wanna grab the stuff from the fridge?” He nods.

“Yeah, sure thing, Darlin’.”

He turns to the fridge and you turn towards the cabinets, searching for what you need when you notice the bread is on a high shelf out of reach

“Who the fuck put the bread up there?” You mutter under your breath and turn to ask Logan for help, leaning your back against the counter

.

“Hey Lo? Help a girl out, would you?” You ask with a fake pout making grabby hands at the bread that’s out of reach. He chuckles as you made grabby hands at it and strain to try to reach the shelf. He closes the fridge and walks over to you.

“Sure thing, Darlin'.”

Your breath hitches as you feel him pressed against you, caging you in against the counter with one of his hands resting on the counter near your hip. Looking up at him as he hands you the bread, you realize just how much taller he is than you, how much bigger.

“T-thanks, Lo,” you stutter. He smirks as he watches you flush, his eyes tracing every part of you.

“No problem, Darlin'.” He leans down so he was right next to your ear, his voice lowering as he spoke.

“You’re just a little too small, huh?” He teases. You playfully smack his arm and roll your eyes at his teasing words, blushing slightly.

“It’s not my fault I’m not freakishly tall like you,” you tease back.

“I think it’s cute,” he smirks as he leans even closer, his body pressed right against yours, your faces only inches apart. “Perfect jus’ the way ya are, Princess'.”

You feel your face getting even redder at his compliments. Your breath gets caught in your chest as he leans impossibly closer, embarrassed knowing he can probably hear your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Thanks, Logan.” You say averting your eyes and turning your back to him, trying to focus on what you were doing before.

You hear him chuckle softly behind you at your embarrassment. He pushes off the counter to lean back against the island a few steps away from you. You take in a shuddering breath now that he was no longer pressed up against you, trying to focus on the sandwich-in-progress on the counter in front of you. You glance back to where he’s leaning against the counter. He watches you carefully as you make your sandwich, his eyes never leaving you. He shifts his weight against the counter with his arms crossed, his muscles flexing slightly as he moves. Your eyes involuntarily widen at the sight of his arms bulging. You quickly turn back around, trying to force down the thoughts running through your mind at the sight.

Your hands shake a bit with nervousness as you try to steady your thoughts. The idea of him pressed up against you again flashes through your head and you gasp lightly. The knife in your hand clatters to the floor.

“Shit!” You yelp. You bend down to pick up the knife, still trying to steady your breathing. He immediately looks down as the knife drops to the floor, his gaze trained on you as you bent over to pick it up. He instantly tenses, his face becoming flushed almost instantly at the sight in front of him. He steps up closer behind you, his body almost completely pressed up against yours again. His voice is low as he speaks.

“Careful, hon. Don’t wanna hurt yourself.” You jump slightly at the sound of his deep voice, realizing just how close to you he was again. You straighten back up and toss the knife into the sink, giving up on making your sandwich.

“Im okay!”

He was still standing right behind you, his body pressed right up against yours. he leans down towards your ear and speaks in a low, gruff voice,

“Yer makin' me think naughty thoughts with you bendin’ over like that, Darlin’.” You suck in a breath at his words. His intoxicating scent surrounds you and you feel the stubble on his chin run against the sensitive skin of your neck

“O-oh.” You stutter, “what kind of naughty thoughts?” He smirks as you stutter at his words, his hand slowly running up the side of your hip. His hot breath ghosts across the skin of your neck and shoulder, giving you chills.

“Oh, just the things I want to do to you, Darlin'...” You whimper at his grip on your hips and his breath against your neck, leaving you breathless and wanting him. You feel his hard bulge press against your ass and moan softly at the contact

“Logan, I--“ you pant, “didn’t think you liked me like that.” He chuckles at your reaction and places a gentle kiss on the underside of your jaw, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he presses his body even tighter against yours. He hums softly,

“I've been wantin' ya for a while now, Darlin'. You’ve been drivin' me crazy since I first met ya,”

You sigh as he kisses your jaw and neck, moaning as you feel his sculpted chest and abs against your back and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Fuck Logan- I want you,” You say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

Hearing you moan like that sends a shiver down his spine. He growls softly and pushes his hips against you a bit, his body yearning for you.

“Mm, is that so, princess? Sounds like someone's getting excited...” He trails off as he continues his kisses down your jawline and your neck, the stubble of his chin scratching deliciously across your sensitive skin.

You turn around in his grasp and wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You came onto me Lo… don’t blame me for getting all hot and bothered at you pressing up against me like that” He chuckles at your comment, his own arms wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly against him. He hums at the feel of your fingers in his hair and tilts his head back slightly.

“Can ya blame me for wanting you? You're so damn sexy like this...” His mouth goes back to your neck, slowly leaving a trail of kisses and occasionally a few hickies down your throat. You throw your head back and tug at the locks of his hair between your fingers. You groan as you feel his hands slip up under your shirt and squeeze your hips.

“F-fuck-“ you sigh. Hearing you moan and sigh at his touch sends waves of heat through him and he groans slightly. He continues to kiss and bite your neck, his hands moving up and downyour sides under your shirt, the calloused skin of his hands rough against your softer skin.

“Such a sweet little thing... I wonder how long you'll last...”

You whimper from his words and buck your hips to meet his. You place a hand under his chin to tilt him back towards your face, leaning in and slotting your lips against his. You gasp as you feel him slide his hands down your back to your ass and feel him squeeze. He slides them down further and grasps the back of your thighs firmly, lifting you up with ease so he can set you on the counter.

He groans against your lips as he feels you grind your hips against his. He eagerly returns the kiss, his lips moving in perfect sync with yours. Once he lifts you up onto the counter he immediately steps between your legs, parting them. His hands once again on your hips, holding you.

“Mmm,” he moans, “Darlin' you're gettin' me all worked up here...”

“Logan,” you whimper, head tilting back, hands still gripping his hair. You feel his bulge press against your clothed core. “Oh, there—"

His voice deep and gravelly in your ear, “Yeah, baby? Like this?”

He rolls his hips against you gently, his breath getting heavier in your ear. Your eyes roll back into your head in pleasure at the feeling of him rutting against you. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer.

“Holy shit—”

His breath hitches slightly at the sound of your soft moans. He grunts as he’s pulled closer, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“S-so damn needy... Sound so pretty for me, doll.”

You’re a moaning, whimpering mess as he thrusts against you, the feeling of his body engulfing you, driving you close to the edge. He continues to grind against you, nearly losing his mind with you being so needy against him. The thin material of your shorts leaves nothing to the imagination as the friction from the rough denim against your clit sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Logan,” you gasp. “So good—"

“Don't worry, Darlin'... “ He breathes back, “I've got you”

His hands start to slide up under your shirt, tracing his hands over your stomach and up towards your chest, kneading the soft skin with his large palms. You moan loudly against his shoulder, biting down to try to muffle the noises escaping you. You grip his shoulders with all your strength as your legs start to shake against him. His hands pinch and pull at your nipples and you throw your head back and a throaty groan escapes your lips at the euphoric sensation

“Logan��shit!” you whimper, “Don’t stop—” You say as he starts to slow his movements, like he was going to pull away. A wicked grin spreads across his face as he comes to a realization.

“Is this gonna get you baby? You’re a mess already and I’ve barely touched you.”

You blush at his words, his thrusts picking up speed again. The feeling of his clothed tip nudging your clit brings you closer and closer to your release. You clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds of your climax approaching. Tears well in the waterline of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling of him pleasuring you.

“Look at me doll,” he demands. You snap your head up to look at him, surely with a fucked-out expression on your face. “Look so pretty f’me darlin’. Look at you crying from my cock, feels too good, huh?”

Your eyes roll back and you whimper at his words, “God—Yes, Lo. Getting s-so close—"

He returns his lips to your neck to press wet, hot kisses over the skin again, trailing up your jawline to nip at your earlobe.

“That’s it, baby. C’mon” he encourages you as you buck your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Lo—” You whine, “Gonna come-! Don’t stop d-don’t stop, please” you whine tearfully, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in to ground yourself.

He groans into the crook of your neck, loving the painful pleasure of your nails biting into his skin. He starts to come undone from your begging, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you as close as he could, guiding your hips to meet his quick thrusts.

“Yeah, Darlin'... Need you to come for me. Be a good girl and let go”

He continues marking up your neck for the world to see, inhaling your sweet scent that he can’t seem to get enough of. His breathing becoming heavier and more uneven as his need for you increases.

“Logan! Feels so fucking good- oh god I’m so close—"

Hearing the sounds of you falling apart in his arms pushes him over the edge, his heaving breaths uneven and his muscles tensing from the feeling of you coming undone against him.

“Mmm, yes, Darlin'... Let go baby... Come for me, princess” he moans and licks a stripe up the shell of your ear. His deliciously large hands groping your chest and pinching your stiff peaks.

The feeling of his hands on you, all over you, send you over the edge. Your orgasm lighting you up and splitting you open from top to bottom. Your eyesight goes slightly blurry from the intensity of your release. You grip his hair and pull hard to ground yourself. You pull him towards you and crash your lips to his in a heated kiss. You could feel his thrusts become faster and shorter, knowing he was close

“Fuck princess... you're drivin' me crazy... gonna make me come—" His body trembles and his hips start to lose rhythm.

“Logan—” you pant against his ear, “Want you to come for me- please baby- need to feel you.” You press your lips to his jaw and kiss down the column of his throat, winding one of your hands in his hair to tug at it. You pull away for a second to whisper against him again

“I know you’re close Lo,” you nip at his lower lip and he whines into your mouth. “Wanna feel you. C’mon baby… let go for me Logan.”

He nearly loses it when he hears your throaty voice in his ear again, his name sounding like a prayer from your lips. He could only focus on your voice and your breath against his skin as you spoke, his control slipping more with every word. He could feel the pressure building and building almost to the breaking point, his body quivering with need and his hands gripping your hips with a bruising force.

“F-fuck Logan… so fucking good baby. Need you to come. Get it lo, come for me”

He groans loudly against your skin, barely able to think or speak as his climax rapidly approaches, all he could say was your name.

“Fuck—oh, fuck—I’m coming doll—shit!”

With one more desperate moan against your skin and a final roll of his hips against you, he completely unravels, his mind lost in a haze of lust from you. He groans your name in a low, gruff voice as he rides out his orgasm.

“So good baby… so fucking good for me Lo,” You scratch your nails against his scalp lightly to ground him, his clothed cock still throbbing against your core

Your words and the feel of your nails against his skin was the only thing he could focus on as he tried to regain his breathing and composure.

“Ah... mmm... Darlin'... You'll be the death of me...” He pants against your neck, pressing light kisses on your shoulder.

“Big words comin’ from a man who can’t die” You smirk at him teasingly. He chuckles softly at your words, taking a few more deep breaths to try to calm himself down

“Heh, Darlin', you know what I mean... You drive me crazy, gonna kill me one of these days...” he breathes.You lean into the weight of his against your neck, turning your head to place a gentle kiss against his, sliding your hands up and down his shoulders soothingly.

“I sure hope not,” You tease, “I’m gonna need you to stick around for a while now that I know what you’re capable of.” He hums softly as your hands slide across his shoulders gently gripping your hips with his hands, fingers tracing small patterns on your skin.

”Mmm, don’t you worry, Darlin'. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

“Good.” You sigh against his hair, “Let’s go get cleaned up honey.” You hop down from the counter as he releases your hips. You stumble slightly, legs shaky from the aftermath of your intense orgasm, and you wrap a hand around his bicep for stability.

He chuckles at your lack of balance and shaky legs, a sense of pride and satisfaction surging through his chest. He wraps his arms around you and steadies you against him.

“Easy there, princess. Looks like I did a number on ya, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk as he holds you close against his chest. You look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Is that all you got, Howlett?” Before he can react, you sprint out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He was caught off guard at first, his eyes widening in surprise as he watches you flee from him. He takes a moment to react, then smiles and lets out a huff in response. He could hear you laughing and the grin on his face only grew.

“Darlin'... you're playin’ a dangerous game with me right now,” He calls after you. You started giggling madly as you hear his heavy footsteps start behind you. He lets out a low chuckle as he chases after you up the stairs, slowly gaining on you as his legs were much longer than yours. You giggle and squeal as you feel his strong, muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground.

“Logan!” You shriek, as he lifts you higher to put one arm around your back and the other behind your legs, carrying you bridal style, holding you close against his solid chest.

“Heh, I gotcha now darlin’.” He ducks down to whisper huskily in your ear.

And have you he did.

[froggiewrites]

May I request some Luffy smut? Maybe including some aphrodisiac of some kind or influence from a devil fruit- I don't mind! I'd just love to see your ideas

I am SO sorry this has taken so long, thank you to everyone who's sent in requests for being so patient. Life has been kicking my ass this month so badly I haven't even been able to read any fanfic, let alone write it. Fingers crossed that the end of November is kinder than the beginning!

I'm really excited to have finally finished this request, I'm a big sucker for sex pollen/aphrodisiac stuff so this was really fun for me! Also, this was my first time writing for Luffy, so I hope I did him justice!

Need

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You find your Captain in dire need of a little help. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't provide? Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiac, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.8k

You should have known something was wrong when the ship was quiet. The Thousand Sunny is never quiet. There’s always the sound of clashing metal, of excited voices, of a song dancing its way across the deck. But you don’t hear a single noise outside of your door, nor do you see anyone as you pad your way outside. 

You knew that you were docking soon, that your crew would leave to explore the island, but you didn’t expect them to leave without waking you up. You had been on night watch last night, so you certainly needed the rest, but you’re not used to them not at least momentarily waking you to let you know where everyone’s going.

Your surprise and confusion only grows as you hear someone crashing through the brush, and you see your Captain emerge, sprinting precariously toward the ship as though he’s being chased.

“Luffy?”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to rush forward, launching himself up onto the Sunny. Luffy stumbles onto the deck, teetering dangerously towards the railing. Before you can rush to catch him, his back hits the wood, and he lowers himself to the ground, legs splayed out. You can’t even tell if he can see you until he murmurs your name. He’s dripping with sweat, his face red.

You kneel down between his legs, leaning forward to try to get a good look at him. You can’t see any visible injuries, but clearly something is horribly wrong. “Are you okay, Luff?”

“No.” His voice is nothing but a whine, his eyes glassy and unfocused. “Need…something.”

“Something?”

Luffy glances around, pout on his face. “Something. Dunno what.”

You reach out to rest your hand on his forehead, which is burning so hot you almost pull it back in shock. He leans into your touch, giving off a soft hum. “You have a fever. Do you know what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened. We were all exploring, and we split into groups, and then…hm…I ate that fruit Zoro picked.”

Oh god. Zoro’s not exactly a botanist, or a survivalist, and for a single moment you believe with every fiber of your being that your dear friend has accidentally poisoned your captain. “What kind of fruit was it?”

“I dunno. It was sweet. And red.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t narrow it down at all. God, you would think that eating one mystery fruit in your life would be enough for you.”

His indignation beats out his discomfort for just a moment. “The first one went really well.”

You guess you can’t argue with that. “Can you remember anything else about it? We can rule out any devil fruit since you haven’t…exploded.”

“It was warm. And it made me wanna come find you.”

That makes you pause. “It…made you want to find me? Like specifically me?”

“Yeah.”

You have a bad feeling about this. “Do you know why you wanted me?”

He squints in concentration. “To…make it better.”

“How?”

He grabs your hand and places it back on his face. The sound he makes is borderline erotic. “Like this. This helps.”

The warmth against your hand, the moan that escapes your captain, the tent you can see growing in his pants, it all starts painting a very troubling picture. A very tempting one, but troubling nonetheless. “Luffy, are you warm anywhere in particular?”

“My stomach. And lower.” He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you and burying his face in your neck. His nose nuzzles against you, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent and sighing. His hands gently massage against your hips, reveling in the feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips. “You’re soft,” he murmurs, lips brushing lightly against you. You clench your thighs involuntarily, a move you hope he doesn’t notice.

“You’re—ahh!” One of his hands moves up to your breast, squeezing your breast through your shirt, and he moans again at your squeak. “You’re not in your right mind, Luffy! I think that fruit was—ah!” His hand slides beneath your shirt, then your bra, and finally he pinches your nipple. 

“Come closer.” His voice is thick as he pulls you onto his lap. “I think this is fixing it. Feels nice.” He jerks his hips, and you can feel his hardness rub against you. You try to keep your moan inside of your mouth, but when you do, he huffs, and ruts into you harder.

“Luffy!”

He grins. “That’s better.” As his hand begins to slide down the front of your pants you finally come to your senses and grab it, stopping him in his tracks. He blinks at you, a little clarity coming back to his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You–you’re clearly under the influence of something, and I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want–”

“I want it.” The hand slides slowly down further. His voice grows hungrier, more desperate. “I need it.”

With the way he’s looking at you, pupils blown out and cheeks flushed, you believe him.

“Well if you really need it, I’d hate to deprive you, Captain.”

He grins, and before you know it, you’re pinned to the deck, your shirt and bra removed, Luffy’s teeth pressing insistently against your chest. He shoves his hand unceremoniously between your legs, making a small noise of satisfaction against you when you squeal. His fingers slide against your clothed clit, sending a shiver up your spine and slowly building the heat in your gut. He hums quietly, “It’s wet.” He looks up at you. “For me?”

You flush, before nodding quickly. You can’t bring yourself to look at him out of fear you’ll combust. You can see the sweat sliding down the muscles in his arms and chest, his tongue peeking out of his mouth as he pants. He looks even better than you’d ever dreamed, his eyes radiating a hunger than you never expected to be directed at you.

He quickly slides down your pants and underwear in a single motion, and in your surprise you press your thighs together, shielding yourself from him. He practically growls, “Stop that. Wanna taste.”

He pries your thighs apart, diving into you with the same enthusiasm he does everything else. His tongue laps at you with reckless abandon as he sloppily takes everything you’ll give him. His hands pull you impossibly closer, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth explores. When you moan, he laughs against you, the rumble of it spreading across your sensitive skin and making your thighs tense around his head. You worry you’ll suffocate him, drown him, but he doesn’t seem to mind losing to you.

You can feel the tension building in your body, your legs shaking as you come closer and closer to your peak. Your hands grip the grass beneath you, one second away from ripping it out of the deck entirely. Some part of you is hyper aware of the fact you are out in the open, where anybody could see or hear, but the rest of you is lost in the pleasure of the moment, in the feeling of your Captain’s tongue against you. So you don’t try to stop your back from arching as your climax grows nearer, nor do you make any attempt to hold back your cry as you cum on your Captain’s face.

He pulls away from you, his face dripping, his pupils blown out, and his lips upturned into a dazed smile. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he slowly licks his lips, savoring every drop of you. Without a word, his mouth crashes into yours, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands roughly force down his pants, exposing his weeping cock to the cold air. He lets out a borderline whimper of relief against your lips, before pulling back just long enough to whisper, “Get ready.”

“Lu–ah!” He thrusts into you in one smooth stroke as his lips once again insistently press against yours, stealing your breath away. You can feel every inch of him as your body welcomes him in, clenching around his length. He moans into your mouth, the sound deep and wanton. He gives both of you little time to adjust before his hips are rocking, chasing the release he’s been so desperate for. He’s moving so quickly you’re surprised he was patient enough to even wait this long. His hands are borderline bruising on your hips, his teeth clacking against yours as your kiss grows rougher and rougher, as your dear friend and Captain pounds into you with the fervor of an animal in heat. 

You can feel his muscles tense under your fingers as you pull him tighter. His breaths grow more ragged with every moment, and as he finally pulls away from your kiss you get to see the beautiful sight of the dam breaking as Luffy finally cums. His face is filled with a mix of relief, exhaustion, and affection as he gives a final few thrusts, your own climax coming not soon after. He collapses on top of you, and the weight is more comforting than crushing, though it steals your breath away anyway.

“I was right.” His voice is sleepy and slow, and you can’t help but picture the faces of your friends as they find you stripped bare and pinned to the deck below your Captain. Sanji might have a breakdown.

“Right about what?”

“I needed you. You fixed it.” His hand comes to rest on the back of your head affectionately, and he places a comically loud smooch on your forehead.

“So you’re all cured?”

“Ye–” He hums, and you can see an idea take him as his face scrunches up and his eyes shift away. “No. I think we’ll need to do this again.”

You can’t keep the smile out of your voice as you respond. “Oh yeah? How many more times, do you think?”

“I dunno. A lot. It could take a while.”

You laugh. “You know, I think we can do this as many times as it takes.”

He lets out an overjoyed laugh. “Awesome!”

“But first we should get inside before anyone else gets back. I don’t really want them to see me like this.”

He nods, quickly scooping you up and carrying you in the direction of his cabin. Before you can say anything else, you hear the voices of your crew coming closer, and you quietly urge him to rush.

You only get a moment of relief before you hear Zoro’s confused voice.

“Whose clothes are these?”

Your panic is quickly overshadowed by Luffy’s booming laugh rumbling through his chest, spreading the same infectious joy that he always does. The embarrassment is worth it, just to hear such a wonderful sound.

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[olderthannetfic]

I was reading a fic and genuinely enjoying myself up until the author decided to make a huge deal, in their AN, about how their protagonist is bi. As in ACTUALLY bi, not that stupid "straight with one exception" trash homophobic fujoshits write. I'm a cis man. I am heterosexual with exactly one exception. I don't know why. I went through years telling myself I was just confused. I heard from my queer friends at the time that only being interested in one other man wasn't a thing, that it was actually me being confused in the other direction, hiding all my crushes and desires from myself.

My family was convinced I was straight. My friends were convinced I was bi for a lot of men, I just wasn't admitting it. My now husband was the only one who told me it was fine. He's gay and he had a crush on one woman, once. Exceptions happen.

So at the risk of siding with the dreaded (presumed cis, presumed het, presumed white) enemy known as women, I... actually like the whole "if it's you, it's okay" thing. I don't assume an evil fetishizer who hates queers is writing it. It never reads that way. It reads as a story, just like any other story. A way to be queer just like any other valid option. Queerness is a spectrum. Not everyone is bi in the same way or gay or lesbian or anything else. The Kinsey Scale exists for a reason.

I spent five years in and out of therapy and church trying to fix myself. Being bi in any way was too much for my family. It was "get rid of the gay or get out" territory of panic. I could have a family or I could have my feelings for him. Choosing him involved giving up everyone I had grown up with. It involved years further of "so you can admit now that you had other male crushes, right?" no matter how many times I said no until I had to cut some queer friends out of my life, too.

And I'm not "ACTUALLY bi", apparently. I'm a trashy homophobic stereotype fujoshi came up with. I'm not actually bi. Real bi men have an equal number of women and men they're into. Bi is code for 50/50 or else you're, you know. Basically fictional. Definitely doing it wrong.

Upon some digging, I found out the writer is a lesbian woman. You would think with all the shit lesbians get she'd know better. I've seen people try to tell lesbians they aren't lesbians because "oh you dated a guy once" or "uh, you had sex with a man, you can't be" and all kind of shit that makes no sense whatsoever. So for her to turn around and go, "there is a single correct way to be a bi man" is just insane. Ma'am. Ma'am. You should know that's not how queerness works! You're queer!

This has annoyed me so much that for the first time in nine years I have pulled up a Microsoft Word document and I am writing fanfic. I am going to write so much It's Okay If It's You, one-exception-only queer fanfic.

Because it's fine to be queer even if it's this way, actually. It's fine to be queer, period! There are not rigid rules to it, that's one of the biggest joys of it!

I feel so old and tired and I'm only 40. Jesus Christ. "ACTUALLY bi". Fuck. The world is broken.

--

[f1fnatic]

LIAR ⤿ c. sainz 55

→ ( in which. . . ) you and carlos have been dating for three years. carlos started to grow distant. after charles shows you a picture of his infidelity, you catch him in the act after a day at work.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written

→ ( pairing. . . ) cheater!carlos sainz x longtime!girlfriend!reader

→ (content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) mentions of sex, language, yelling, cheating, alcohol consumption, angst

→ ( author's note. . . ) this was my first time writing angst/cheating. it was fun experimenting with this type of writing. i hope you enjoy! see end for more.

→ ( masterlist )

"you fucking liar!" echoed through the otherwise quiet apartment. hurried footsteps sounded from the hallway, another pair following the first close behind. was this what everything came to? walking out on your supposed soulmate after years together? how did you get here? and what did you do to deserve this?

one week prior ↴

you had noticed the distance growing. carlos was becoming closed off and almost secretive. he didn't confide in you as much as he used to. you didn't think twice about it and assumed it was something to do with work. ferrari had been going through a rough patch, both him and charles struggling to start or finish a race for the past three weeks.

you understood how stressful being a driver was. you had been around formula 1 for a while now, because of him. you and carlos met when he drove for redbull, in 2015. the two of you started dating shortly after in 2017.

you were always there for him, through thick and thin. through the blood, sweat, and tears. after every win, podium, loss, dnf, dns, etc. you understood how hard it was for him to perform well but not get the results wanted.

so, when you received a picture of carlos with another woman, a blond, on his lap, hands on his shoulders and lips touching, you were livid. charles had sent it to you, with a simple caption that read "i am sorry." it was the after-party of a not-so-successful qatar grand prix.

rage, confusion, sadness, and disgust coursed through your veins. the thought of him finding comfort in a woman who wasn't you made you sick. your hands shook, eyes blurred, and breath quickened.

you could not believe that carlos would ever cheat, especially on you. you had given him everything. love, attention, comfort, and compassion. and this is what he gave you in return? you had sacrificed so much to make him happy. you felt useless. had you thrown away six years of your life just to get cheated on? did he feel guilty? did he regret his choice to kiss a random girl? thoughts sped through your mind.

what did you do until he got home? your apartment no longer felt like a home. it felt gross and unnatural to be in there. to think that the person you shared it with was sharing a different room across the world. did he share your bed with someone else as well? the pictures of the two of you that hung on the wall seemed to mock you.

every passing minute became more and more painful. could you act like everything was fine when he eventually did get home? or would you lose it immediately the second he walked in through the front door?

unfortunately, you knew that only time would tell.

present day ↴

today was the day that carlos got home. you were at work, trying to distract yourself from the inevitable conflict about to occur. you reached the front door of your shared apartment. shaking hands held the key and you placed it in the lock and turned it. pushing open the door, the apartment was quiet, suspiciously quiet.

you noticed that the kitchen was a mess. plates and cooking utensils were in the sink, dirty and waiting to be washed. two wine glasses left discarded on the quartz bar. a bottle of red cabernet left opened and almost empty. one of the glasses had lipstick stains littered around the rim.

your heartbeat quickened. adrenaline began to pump through your body. you quickly toed off your shoes, and your feet ached after a long day. you also discarded your purse and jacket, making your way to your and carlos' bedroom.

as you got closer, you heard moaning. your heart dropped to your stomach. you opened the door as soon as you reached it. low and behold, it was carlos and the same blond from the picture that charles sent you. the blond was on top of carlos, head back and mouth open in euphoria. carlos had the same expression as her on his face.

tears immediately welled in your eyes and quickly fell. you felt defeated. it was one thing to see a picture of your boyfriend kissing another girl, but to catch him with that same girl in the bed that you shared, in the same bed that he fucked you in, was different.

finally, carlos opened his eyes and noticed you in the doorway. his hands found the blond's hips to stop her from moving. his eyes widened with guilt and surprise; mouth wide open in shock.

"y-y/n?!" he shouted. the blond turned to look at you and god, she was pretty. you partially understood why he did it. she covered herself with one of the loose sheets and unstrattled carlos, allowing him to get up.

"y/n, i can explain-" he starts.

"explain what, carlos?!" you shout, cutting him off. "how on earth can you explain me walking in on you fucking another girl in our bed?!"

"it was a simple mistake, mi amor, that's all." he tried to reason, smiling meekly. the nickname that once held so much love now held nothing. the name that made butterflies flutter in your stomach now made them sink.

"you fucking liar!" you screamed. "this was on purpose!" it echoed through the now quiet apartment. you turned your back on the pair and walked away. your hurried footsteps sounded from the hallway, carlos' pair following yours closely behind.

"y/n, stop!" he yelled, grabbing your wrist and turning you around to face him.

"do not fucking touch me!" you say, yanking your wrist from his grip. the complete and utter audacity he had to try to attempt to explain why he cheated. "was i not enough for you? did i do something wrong? did i not fuck you the right way? did i not get you off fast enough? huh, carlos? what made you decide to throw away six years together huh? six fucking years!"

carlos stares at you, his brown eyes that you thought were breathtaking were now filling you with disdain. "tell me carlos!"

"i-i don't know why," he stutters, turning his gaze to the floor, taking a sudden interest in the hardwood paneling. "you were enough, you still are enough. please y/n, we can move past this. i was drunk and stupid, my judgement was clouded." he tries to reason, reaching to grab both of your hands.

"no, stop it. no amount of time can get me to forgive you for this. i will never forgive you, carlos." you said his name with such disgust that he flinched. "charles showed me a picture of you kissing her in qatar in a bar during an after-party. i have known for a week. but to think that you would take her into our home and fuck her?"

"wait, wait, wait. charles texted you?" carlos questioned. there was anger present in his voice. "why the fuck did he text you?" it seemed that he was upset at the fact that charles told you he cheated.

i scoff, crossing my arms. "unbelievable, you are unbelievable. you cheated on me and you are caught up on the fact that your teammate texted me proof? how much of an egotistical cunt do you have to be?"

"me? i'm the unbelievable one? you're the one walking out on me because of a stupid, drunken mistake." he says nonchalantly, glossing over the insult. it's almost like he didn't care that your relationship was ending.

"fuck you, carlos. i am done. we are done. do not call me, do not try to find me to convince me to come back to you." the tears were flowing vigorously down your cheeks. you knew your makeup was running, but you didn't care. "i am fucking done. thanks for nothing. i hope have fun fucking that slut and that you are happy with the choice you made." you finish, walking away through the home that once brought you so much joy to be in.

you gathered your things. purse, shoes, phone, coat, and keys. you would get everything else later. you opened the door and then slammed it once stepping outside. it was then when every emotion hit you at once. violent sobs wracked your body making you shake. you slid down the door hugging yourself. you could not believe it. you don't know if you ever would.

after eventually calming down, you decide to call the one person who made you aware of this whole situation. you clicked on his contact's name and then the call button. you placed your phone on your ear to hear two rings before he picked up.

"hello? y/n? why are you calling." asked the voice.

"charles," you pause. the question of 'was this a good idea?' ran through your head. but, at this point you didn't care. carlos and what he thought was the least of your worries. "i need you to pick me up."

low key happy with this one, wrote it last night and like where it went. i think i might turn it into a charles x reader :P let me know in the comments if you want that :) thank you for reading! as usual, feedback and requests are welcome; make sure to leave a comment and kudos! (only if you want :P)

[seulszn]

Listen I love TLOU and the fandom very much but a lot of people (not calling anybody out) need a reality check and need to grow up. I wanna say my two cents on things that bother me in this fandom.

1. Boycotting for Palestine

I have seen multiple times on multiple occasions where people would sit on their phone and complain about why writers are “flooding the tags with this boycotting bullshit” and honestly all I have to say is your super childish you can’t take a hour or a week out of your day to raise awareness on a important topic that is affecting millions of people? Your so horny so down bad for pixelated characters that you don’t care about the innocent children, women and men that are dying in Palestine? The boycotting isn’t gonna stop just because you want your needs filled, the boycotting isn’t going to stop because you think it needs to, it’s not gonna stop until Palestine is free. And if you wanna read things that bad then read nobody is stoping you but a take into ignition that if a writer is spreading awareness then don’t be ignorant and say stupid shit

2. Less Sex and more angst or other genres.

Listen I love Abby and Ellie just like everyone else and I read a lot of smut about them but does that all y’all see when y’all look at them? As sex objects? Like I’m not saying that you should stop writing smut for those characters but write other things to that don’t involve smut, like angst I see a lot of people under that tag say how they wish writers would as write other things that isn’t just smut and majority of the time when they say that they get hated for it. It lowkey gets boring reading fanfics where the whole plot is smut, smut, smut. And again I’m not saying to stop writing smut but please for the love of whatever you believe in write other genres.

3. Black inclusivity

As a black writer and a black person TLOU tag isn’t inclusive enough. I know you must be thinking “Why are we speaking about this again?” Because I’m honestly so tired of how uninclusive the fandom is like I said before Ellie dates WOC if you don’t know what WOC is it’s Women Of Color all of Ellie’s girlfriends where WOC now I’m not saying you can’t write for Ellie as a white person and I’m not saying that never did all I am saying is once again all of Ellie’s girlfriend where POC

Riley was a Black African American who Dated Ellie

Cat the girl who wasn’t mentioned alot but is in the game is Asian American who also dated Ellie

Dina is a Jewish (Mexican, Middle Eastern ) American who dated Ellie

Also yes we know when the reader is white coded so don’t try a put that you don’t mention when race mentioned cause you do and we can tell when you do “She’s Petite and cute with her long blonde hair” or whatever you bitches be saying we know when you guys aren’t inclusive the whole point of fanfiction writing is to be inclusive is to make sure that readers can see themself in your xreader so if your putting all these “white things and then labeling your story as “the readers race is not mentioned” or that OC stuff that y’all do then just label the story as a white reader or a OC reader

4. Futa, trans and masc

Now here I’m gonna discuss two or three things starting off with Futa and Trans. Now I don’t know when “Futa” or “Trans” Ellie and Abby came from but a lot of you readers need to understand and learn the difference between the two because they are both very different things.

Futanari: is the Japanese word for hermaphroditism, which is also used in a broader sense for androgyny. Beyond Japan, the term has come to be used to describe a commonly pornographic genre of eroge, manga, and anime, which includes characters that show primary sexual characteristics from both females and males. In today's language, it refers almost exclusively to characters who have an overall feminine body, but have both female and male primary genitalia (although a scrotum is not always present, while breasts, a penis, and a vulva are). The term is also often abbreviated as futa(s), which is also used as a generalized term for the works themselves.

Transgender (often shortened to trans) is someone whose gender identity differs from that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Some transgender people who desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another identify as transsexual. Transgender is also an umbrella term; in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women), it may also include people who are non-binary or genderqueer. Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender. The term may also include cross-dressers or drag kings and drag queens in some contexts. The term transgender does not have a universally accepted definition, including among researchers.

Mind you I am not transgender I am nonbinary but I see a lot of transgender people speak up about how offensive it is to write a character as Transgender but it’s not really transgender but a Futanari remember a Futa is a character who is assigned a gender at birth but just has extra sexual parts like a penis.

Now another thing that bothers me is how y’all Masculinize Masc Lesbians as if they still aren’t women themselves like every time I read a fanfic with Ellie or Abby or even Vi and Sevika from Arcane you guys like to ignore they fact that they are also women themselves like it’s not gonna kill you to give those characters feminine compliments there shouldn’t be a reason why your calling these women “handsome” or other Masculine compliments and also a lot of Masculine women where makeup it’s not just a feminine woman thing. Masc Lesbians are women they aren’t men so stop treating them as if they are men and ignoring the fact that they are women

5. the Innocent childish reader gotta stop.

They title says enough I don’t think I need to say too much but a lot of y’all get innocent and corruption mixed up but a corruption kink is When you find the idea of "corrupting" someone, mostly in a sexual way, like taking virginities or introducing people to stuff like bdsm etc. It's the idea of having someone "pure" do "bad" things under your influence. And innocent is not corrupted or tainted with evil or unpleasant emotion; sinless; pure. not guilty of a particular crime; blameless. (From the dictionary)

Y’all need to understand yes not everyone knows what sex is but everyone knows what a vagina is what a penis is, what a orgasm is and what sex is but they may not knows what happens when you have sex so making the reader what y’all call innocent isn’t innocent it’s honestly to me perverted cause the only one who would say something like “my cunny feels weird 🥺” or that “what is sex 🥺” is a child. Children don’t know what sex is children don’t know what pleasure or orgasms is and when y’all say “the reader is a Bimbo” is also funny cause Bimbos know what sex is as well yes they may be stupid but they aren’t slow so before you make a innocent reader please think “am I making my reader act like a child or am I gonna make her really innocent like how regular grown ass adults act?” so don't get not knowing and "innocent" mixed up

6. The stories where they have sex inside a church also gotta stop

Now I’m not a Christian but these stories are honestly really bad and are Blasphemy a lot of people have come out and said that they don’t like the fact that people are writing stories about church in a sexual way like their shouldn’t be any reason why your characters are fucking inside a church, that’s like stomping on someone’s dead grave. You guys do shit like this and then wonder why Christian’s don’t like us. Religion isn’t something to be sexualized it’s not something to be playing with either this idc how much you hate Christianity you can be a Atheist, or Catholic or Jewish but please for the love of whatever you believe in don’t sexualize people’s religion.

That’s all I can think of at the moment if I think of more I’ll of course make a part two to this but don’t take anything I said here to heart it’s just my blunt honest opinion on things in this fandom and if I get hate for this 🤷🏾‍♀️

[tkingfisher]

So I write all sorts of things (fiction, fanfic, screenplays) and my mind is cluttered garden of flowers and weeds and shiny ideas, and I'm wondering how to form a writing practice to clear it into tidy rows? Is it possible to shepherd untamed ideas into order?

How do you manage all your wonderful worlds, characters and inspiration and not feel haunted by the story bits and pieces in your head? Any practical tips beyond dark magic?

Thank you, you are such a constant inspiration for me, both prose and just your presence. <3

*laugh* Oh god, Nonny, if I ever find out, I’ll tell you! When you read books, you’re getting the Instagram-filtered view of a writer’s brain, all the flowers that grew out of the compost heap, carefully composed and shot in optimal lighting. The real inside of my skull is a magpie nest of Neat Shit I Read/Saw/Thought Up While Lying Awake At 2 AM. There are characters and ideas in there that I’ve been trying to get into a manuscript since I was twelve and typing on an Amiga 500.

But, that said…really, I think it’s okay. Creativity is inherently untidy. The compost heap can be corralled into a very pretty box made of sustainably harvested materials, hand-stained by traditional artisans being paid a living wage by an employee-owned company, but as soon as you lift the lid, it’s all worms and coffee grounds and old potting soil and cow shit and the vegetables you swore you were gonna eat this time before they went bad. That’s what compost is.

Nevertheless, having been in the business for…uh…fifteen years now? (@dduane is snickering at me, I can feel it) and having written nearly forty books, I can offer three bits of something less than advice. It’s what I do. It may not work for anyone else, but it’s what I do.

Un-Advice The First: If you get a shiny idea and you are super excited by it? Go ahead and chase it. Pull up a new page in Word or whatever and slap down a couple thousand words while it’s exciting. I know that this absolutely flies in the face of common wisdom, but quite frankly, my enthusiasm is a much rarer commodity than my time, so if I’m excited about something, I write it down until I’ve taken the edge off.

Then I usually save it into a big folder called “Fragments” and go back to work on whatever I’ve got a deadline on. (Usually. Sometimes the edge doesn’t wear off, and I wind up with another book. Which, y’know, darn.)

There are vast numbers of people who will tell you that a shiny idea is a sign that something is wrong with your current project and the solution is to knuckle down and work! through! it! And those people are probably right for them, and I trust they know how their own brains work. Me, though, I got ADHD like a bat has wings. My hard drive is a vast swamp of story beginnings, neat ideas, random scenes. And that’s okay because I still get books finished.

In fact, it’s better than okay. Not that long ago, my agent sent a novella to a publisher and they said “We’ll take that novella and three more novels. What’ve you got?” And I ended up plundering my hard drive and sending the editor a good dozen random beginnings until we found one that we both liked, and then I wrote the rest of that book. And then another one. If I hadn’t had all those fragments lying around, though, it would have been a miserable experience of writing book pitches and trying to think of stuff I could get excited about. (This may not be how some editors work, but it’s how my editor and I work, anyhow.)

Un-Advice The Second: Trust that everything will find a home eventually.

This one is easy to say and hard to do because sometimes you get that overload that if you’re writing the book about, say, werebear nuns, you aren’t writing the one about the alien crustaceans. Or worse, you feel guilty. If you don’t use that one cool thing, was all that time you spent on it wasted?

Breathe. Be easy. Every single cool thing does not need to go into a single book. There is no sell-by date on the neat character. You will probably write many books in your life and all those random characters will find a home. (Seriously, the werebear nuns were lurking for like a decade.)

For me, at least, when I find the spot where something fits, it often snaps into place like a Lego. Easton’s backstory as a soldier from a society where soldiers were a third sex had been kicking around in my head for a few years, derived from about three different sources, and then I wrote the opening to What Moves The Dead and all of a sudden Easton was there and alive and they had strong opinions about everything and I had ten thousand words practically before I turned around.

You can also stave off guilt by writing some of your ideas in as highly personal Easter Eggs. A couple of my books have references to a white deer woman, a heroic deed done by a saint and the ghost of a bird, and a woman with dozens of hummingbirds on tiny jeweled leashes. Those are all characters and stories I’ve had vague notions about, but haven’t managed to work in anywhere or learn much more about. Still, the passing reference is enough to make me feel like I haven’t abandoned them.

(The advantage to this is that once you DO write those in, the readers are all “oh my god, she foreshadowed this a decade ago, she must have planned this all out in advance!” Then you look really clever and well-organized and no one has to know that you have no idea what you’re doing.)

Un-Advice The Third: Write the kitchen sink book.

At one point, I had so many stray ideas that hadn’t gotten into a book yet—the tree of frogs, the dog-soldiers, the stained glass saint, the albatross and the shadow of the sun, and also I wanted to write something with Baba Yaga—that I hauled off and wrote a book where I just put in everything and the kitchen sink. It’s called Summer in Orcus. There are bits in there that I had been cooking in the mental compost heap for decades, but that weren’t enough on their own to sustain a whole book. The phrase “antelope women are not to be trusted” showed up in my head some time in college. It’s a fun little book and I’m proud of it, but it’s very much a patchwork quilt of weirdness. But it’s also written so that if later on, an antelope woman shows up in another book in another context, that just adds to their mythology, it doesn’t break canon or whatever.

(Pretty sure I’m not the only one who has done this, either. China Mieville has said that he wrote Perdido Street Station because what he really enjoyed was writing all the weird monsters.)

So yeah, that’s my advice, for what it’s worth. Some days I just tell all the fragments and ideas that I promise that I’ll get them a home eventually but I need to write this thing here now. Sometimes I throw down enough words to get the story stabilized and then I’m okay to move on. Sometimes I write multiple books simultaneously.

Any method you use to write the book, so long as it doesn’t hurt you or anyone else, is a perfectly valid method. If anyone tells you different, you send them to me.

(…god, I hope that was the question you were actually asking, Nonny, and that I didn’t go off on a completely different tangent when you just wanted to know how I keep track of a plot or something.)

[lavandulawrites]

In The Arms Of A Longing Man (rewritten)

Yandere Childe x reader

This was the first fanfic I have ever written. I was scrolling through my fics and I suddenly got the urge to rewrite it:))

Masterlist

Synopsis: Ajax can’t seem to let you go.

Word count: 1726

His dead eyes where something you wished you would never have to see again. Every day you prayed to whichever archon who might listen, the he would be gone. It was no surprise that the archons failed you as everything else in you life. Had you just realised that something was terribly wrong with him from the beginning, everything would have been different. If you hadn’t met him the day before your original departure, your life would be normal.

The ice cold Snezhnayan wind blew through the treetops, creating a whistling sound. You cussed at yourself for not wearing a ticker scarf, but you knew very well that Childe would be extremely mad disappointed if you didn’t wear the scarf he so kindly had gifted you. You could only hope that you wouldn’t get a frostbite.

“Hurry up soldiers!” the commander yelled. You and the other Fatui soldiers hurried as fast as you could in the heavy snow. Oh, how you longed for your warm little cottage that was safely hidden in the big forest by the little village you had grown so fond of.

You thought that joining the Fatui was a good idea. You had hoped then that you would be able to escape the poverty that had hunted you since you were born. You did in fact earn more than you ever had, but it didn’t take long before you soon regretted your horrible decision. You had realised then that you had been blinded by the hope of earning enough money to live a good life. You had been so blinded that you had not thought about all the cruel acts one had to commit in order to become a true Fatui soldier. You realised soon after arriving to Snezhnaya that you had been incredibly foolish and naive to believe you could avoid all the evil deeds. How could you be so utterly foolish? You were truly ashamed of your naive thinking.

You had to leave the Fatui as soon as possible. Today was the day you were going to tell your superior that you were going to take a boat back to Mondstadt the following day.

You were going back and forth in front of her superior’s office. You didn’t have any other choice. You held your breath and raised you hand to knock on the door.

“Hi! You’re [Name] right? You’re one of the new recruits if I remember correctly?” a voice behind you said gleefully. You jumped at the sound and quickly turned around to get a look on the person who the voice belonged to. It was Tartaglia, one of the Eleven Harbingers.

“Hello sir. Yes you’re indeed correct” you straightened your back and bowed deeply in respect.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be training with the other recruits?” the Harbinger grinned.

“Yes, I should, but I’m here regarding my position here in the Fatui. I’m going to quit” you looked down at the floor. The light blue tiles were wet, and a small puddle was forming underneath Childe’s boots. You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Maybe it was because he was a Harbinger and you felt the need to tell him? His grin was gone and replaced by and unreadable expression. Had you gone too far by telling him? Probably, judging by his expression or rather lack of.

“Oh… really. May I ask why?” his lips were pressed tighter in a tight line. You really shouldn’t tell him the reason, but you definitely shouldn’t lie to him.

You sighed “I am really not fit for being a member of the Fatui”.

He hummed. “I see…” he looked disappointed. He turned in his heel and walked away down the dark hallway. He waved over his shoulder. “By then, dear [Name]” his singsong voice echoed against the empty hallways.

You tumbled back against the door. You were relieved that he didn’t scold you or worse… Still, you got a bad feeling.

The office door opened. The sergeant looked you up and down with disapproval. “What brings you here. And why is your uniform wrinkled?” he motioned for you to enter. You must have knocked on the door when you leaned against it by accident.

“Sit” he said and sat himself on a fancy leather chair behind his newly polished desk. He was waiting for you to speak up.

“You see sir, I have thought about it for a while and I have concluded that I will resign from my position in the Fatui” you said as you neatly folded your hands in your lap. You tried to put on an air of confidence, but you knew he could see right through you.

“I am sure you have” his tone mocking. “Why? Do you not feel honoured by being a soldier? Are you really that ungrateful?” he pushed his small round glasses up his nose. His eyes narrow and filled with anger.

“No! Of course not! I’m very grateful that I got this position. It’s just that I feel… like it’s not for me. The Fatui have use for someone better than me” you tried desperately to explain.

He scoffed “Well… I guess I can’t deny you since you applied yourself. It’s a shame really. You’re dismissed.” He waved his hand at you.

“Thank you for understanding, sir” you bowed and hurried out of the room. You sighed in relief. I really did it!

The next day you had finished packing and was on your way to the pier. The docks in Snezhnaya were freezing, but you couldn’t care less. Finally you were going home. You were about to board the boat, when a few Fatui soldiers surrendered you.

“We have orders from the Eleventh Harbinger to arrest you” the tallest of them said.

Your eyes widened and fear crept over your entire being. What on earth was going on? You hadn’t done anything wrong. “Why?” you asked and you prayed that you didn’t sound scared, but judging from your voice you did.

“You have leaked secret information about the Fatui to other nations” a broad shouldered man said. He was shorter than the others, but his strength was clearly superior. He was eyeing you up and down and his lips twisted into a mocking grin.

“What?! I have done no such thing! I swear on my life!” you pleaded. Your pleas fell however on dead ears as they forcefully brought you to Zapolyarny Palace.

The footsteps of the soldiers echoed in the seemingly endless hallways. You were shivering. Was this it? Were you going to get executed for crimes you did not commit?

After walking through the dark and cold hallways for what felt like eternity, you stopped in front of two giant twin doors. The doors were the only thing that separated you from you seemingly inevitable doom. The doors opened with a loud groan and the soldiers pushed you in. You stumbled, but quickly caught your balance. The inside was dimly lit, and the walls were decorated to an almost exaggerated state.

The Harbingers were standing in an half circle with the leader of the Fatui in the middle. Their eyes followed your every move and you had never felt so utterly helpless. As you kneeled in front off them, your legs almost gave out. The soldiers behind you followed your example and kneeled.

Pierro cleared his throat. “I am certain you understand why you are here” his gruff voice rung loudly in the spacious hall. You could only nod.

“I am highly disappointed. Such behaviour should be punished with death.” You raised your head and were about to claim your innocence, but stopped when you saw that The Jester was not done talking.

“Thanks to Tartaglia you are spared. Be wise and thank him properly.” Your eyes widened. “You will now be serving directly under him.”

Childe was grinning. You bowed your head. “Thank you for giving me a second chance. To that I am extremely grateful” your voice was quiet. You weren’t grateful at all. Now it would be impossible to leave the Fatui. Serving directly under a Harbinger was worse than death.

“I look forward working with you, comrade” his blue eyes full of indescribable hunger. You swallowed thickly.

“You are dismissed” Pierro’s voice stern. You rose to your feet and bowed deeply before exiting.

 

 

 

The icy wind didn’t get any better as you decided the mountain. The mission had gone smoothly. The snow creaked under your heavy boots. Fear was creeping up your back. You were almost home. You tried to calm your nerves. Maybe he wasn’t in his office? Perhaps his mission was delayed? You could only hope so.

The office door creaked open. You stepped inside with your back straightened. You were not going to show him any fear. The red haired man was staring out the window. He turned around and grinned upon seeing you. “Well if it isn’t [Name]” his voice was soft like velvet. His dead eyes boring into yours. Trying to peer into your soul.

“Hello Tartaglia” you bowed.

He raised an eyebrow playfully “What have I said about treating me so formally when it’s just us?”

“Right…”your voice flat as you eyed the Harbinger.

He walked towards you with a wolfish grin. He stroked your cheek gently. “Oh, how I have missed you…” he sighed. You didn’t answer. He curled his his arms around your and held you tightly. You didn’t dare to hug him back. He lowered his head and whispered in her ear “You can’t escape me now. Do you seriously think that the commander doesn’t tell me everything?”

Chills ran down your spine. He laughed coldly. “He told me that you were planning on leaving the group and and flee across the border. How utterly foolish you are” he sighed and looked you straight in the eye. His expression filled with madness.

He gripped your your chin firmly. “Do you know how hurt I was when I heard that? I can’t possibly let you go now. No you are way to naive for this cruel world” his features twisted in faux sadness. “Oh, how I have longed for you since the first time I saw you” his voice soft and his gaze tender. His lips pulled back into a terrifying smile. “I will never let you go.”

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Would Bill also rationalize that weridmagedeon could be apart of the twin’s birthday party?

Would one of Bill’s henchmaniacs accidentally try to kill one of the Pines family by accident and Bill just incinerates that said henchmaniac?

Food for thought, Bill and Stan have known eachother for 30 years. Stanley and Ford have known eachother for 17 until they broke off contact. Meaning that Bill has known Stanley and has been with Stanley longer than Ford has.

Like man, that must sting on Ford’s side of things.

Another thing do Bill and Stanley read fanfic together? Idk why but it kinda seems like something they would do. I also like how Stanley and Bill are agents of chaos, Gravity falls will not survive them.

I know you said that Stanley’s past comes back to haunt him, but how much does Bill know about Stanley’s past, like in general and because of drunk nights. You said that they’re in a unspoken game of chicken on who is going to admit who cares for who first but who is the one who actually admits it out loud first?

Also about that Gideon rivalry with Stan and Stanfraud pls tell me more I AM INTRIGUED BECAUSE YES GO MAKE ENEMIES WITH THAT 10 YEAR OLD BOY

How far does the rivalry go?

Also also also also does Stanfraud also participate in the catching a dozen eggs thingy like Stan? Idk why I can just imagine Stanfraud being pelted in the face with eggs.

What is Stanfraud’s opinions on Pioneer Day? I know Stanley hates it.

Cracking my knuckles. Okay. Let’s go:

— Oh absolutely. And it’s the best kind of birthday party too! Not to mention, it means they never have to go home, back to a house where everything feels like stepping on eggshells, and they hear their parents argue at night. Obviously it’s better here — a party that never ends, forever free from all human restriction and fear.

He finds himself feeling genuinely hurt when they act ‘ungrateful’ about it. He put a lot of thought into making it as comfortable for their tiny, human brains!

And as for the Henchmaniacs, if one were to be cocky, and go against Bill’s direct orders… yeah. They wouldn’t be around much longer.

— I was thinking about this. It’s genuinely so fucked up. Bill knows Stan better than Ford does, and not because of his all-knowing capabilities, but because Bill has spent more time around Stan, time that Ford missed. It’s the little things. Stan has a nickname for Bill that he let slip around Ford. There’s photos around the shack that Bill — in Ford’s body — is a part of, and he doesn’t seem out of place at all. As a whole, Ford feels like a stranger to his brother, and his brother is a stranger to him. His own twin, and someone else has played the role better than he did.

— They’ve definitely read the same fanfic before. Though, it tends to be more like Stan reading fanfic and Bill being annoying and leaning over his shoulder making unnecessary commentary. Stan has pushed him off the arm of the chair before and will dos so again.

— Initially, Bill knows a LOT about Stan’s past courtesy of being, you know, Bill. He wasn’t stuck in Ford’s body when Stan was travelling the US, and so his all-knowing capabilities were still the same and not weakened. Courtesy of the drunken nights though, he’s gotten to know Stan’s past from a different perspective, and Stan has in turn, gotten to know scraps about him. The longer he possesses Ford though, the more his mind begins to adapt to the human brain, and he can’t remember as much as he once did on a grander scale, but, he still knows a lot about Stan thanks to said drunken nights and the fact they do talk somewhat openly… on the rare occasion.

Also, Stan is the one to break the game of chicken and admit he gives a shit about Bill first. Not sure when or why yet, but It’ll come to me in a divine vision at 2am I’m sure.

— The rivalry is so hysterical to me. Two old men are this kid’s biggest haters. Thinking more on it, Gideon really does try his best to only piss off and encounter Stan. He has gradually become more and more terrified of Stanfraud who has shown he isn’t afraid to threaten taxidermying a child. Mabel is okay with this threat being used in her defence because she knows it isn’t genuine. Her Grunkle has gone on a ten minute rant before about why taxidermying a human is near impossible if you want to do it right, and it isn’t the law stopping him, it’s that.

The rivalry would probably end up very intense if it weren’t for Stan shooting down all of Bill’s ideas on how to deal with Gideon. No, Bill, they can���t dangle the child from a cliffside and make him answer five questions, then drop him if he gets one wrong. That’s too far, even for Stan.

Bill comments they could ‘always do to Gideon what they did to the Llama’, and Stan shoots him such a look that he goes completely quiet.

Basically Bill is being put on a metaphorical leash here courtesy of Stan and the kids, and if he had his way, he would drop kick the child.

— He participates if he’s out shopping with Stan, but by participate I mean he tries to make Stan drop the eggs on purpose. He’s a secondary obstacle for Stan to deal with.

— He loves pioneer day. He thinks it’s hilarious. He loves going around and telling people historically accurate facts — specifically the disturbing ones. He also gets a front row seat to Stan’s suffering!

There’s the whole conspiracy about the Northwests too, which he definitely knows about. He’s just saving it for the perfect moment when it will cause the most disruption.

… Then Pacifica insults Mabel, and all bets are off. He’s coming for the Northwest’s bloodline and reputation.

Hopefully I didn’t miss anything!

[imtherain]

Why We Wake

Heyo

Fun fact about me, my first love in life was Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, so as one would imagine, I'm taking the new movie, EXTREMELY well and I am SO normal about it.

Here's the first fanfic I've finished for him this time around. Just a little fic, but I said I'd post it if people liked my last post, and I am nothing if not susceptible to that brand of peer pressure.

Anywho...

Warnings: None really, it's pretty short and kinda cute. There's a storm, there's no smut, reader is jealous/avoidant of her feelings because of Jean... I guess it's vaguely friends to lovers? idk

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Plot:

Where it's storming and you go to wander the mansion because you can't seem to sleep. You run into Logan, who also can't sleep, and he was looking for you. 

It had been stormy most of the afternoon, distant thunder and sheets of rain. While the mansion was awake, the noises didn’t bother you. Most of the time, even when it was quiet, storms didn’t really affect you much either. But tonight, as the mansion fell silent and the storm built outside, you found it impossible to settle for the night. You dozed for maybe five whole minutes, but kept finding yourself awake. You tossed and turned until eventually, you gave up.

Like most of the night dwellers, you found your restless feet circling the common areas. Someone was in the lounge flicking through the tv. A couple of the teenagers were whispering in the library as you peaked in and passed by. You figured, since you couldn’t sleep, might as well make the rounds in case someone asked what you were up to. You were supposed to be one of the responsible adults after all.

You weren’t sure why exactly, but after you finished the normal route around the school, your feet took you down the opposite side of the living spaces, causing you to come around the long way on your way back to your room. You really didn’t know why you even bothered to go back towards bed, you would have had better luck sleeping somewhere else. It didn’t matter much though, because your feet stilled outside a door that wasn’t yours.

You and Logan had circled each other for a long time.

But you’d seen the looks that had passed between him and Jean too many times to ever feel like there could be room in his heart for you. You figured you might settle for room in his bed, but you’d never really been the casual type. So all this time you had wanted, and yet, you had stayed, quite purposefully, away. 

But it never prevented the way he flirted with you.

And it never prevented the ache you felt for him.

The door in front of you suddenly swung open and you found yourself face to face with the man himself. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. From the way he had half zipped it, you could tell he hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on underneath. 

“Hey,” His voice was gravel and surprise. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You smirked back. He grinned to himself and nodded.

“Storm’s too loud,” He said. “Was going to go see if you were awake. Maybe ask you to sing me a lullaby.” You felt that familiar heat bloom in your chest. Logan often said things like that to you, and if you didn’t know better, you might have even believed he meant it. 

“Sure you were,” You rolled your eyes at him.

He probably said the same things to Jean when he bumped into her.

“What are you doing down this far?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised now. The heat from your chest grew as he watched you blush. “As I recall, your room is on the other side,” 

“It is,” You agreed. “I was walking rounds,” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to watch you squirm. 

“In the teacher dorms?” His stupid face was so full of mirth you could almost forget the gnawing in your ribcage. 

“Teachers need to be checked on too,” you snapped back, crossing your arms defensively. 

You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, so why did you feel so guilty?

“Find anything good?” He was smirking at you and you wanted to look away but you couldn’t. You liked it when he smiled at you like that. Even if at some point, the moment would end and you’d be alone again.

“What?”

“On your rounds. Find anything… good?” You weren't sure you understood the pause or why it felt loaded. 

“Not at all, a few kids in the library, a straggler here and there,” You told him. “And you,” he hummed at that.

“Wanna come in?” Logan asked with a nod of his head to signal the room behind him. You'd been alone with him before, and had been in his room plenty of times for a moment or two. 

“Yeah, sure,” You agreed easily. If nothing else, just spending some time with him might help you relax. It usually did, though you would never tell anyone exactly why. 

And you didn’t pay any mind to the little thoughts in your head that spoke of the sorts of sordid things people could do behind a closed door on a stormy night. And while you knew Logan flirted, you also knew he wasn’t going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t like or want or ask for.

Logan moved to push the door open enough that you could slip under his arm and go inside his room. He followed, closing the door behind him. 

The room looked almost identical to yours in form, but you had decorated yours to fit you. Logan’s room looked like no one had lived in it yet, other than the jacket thrown on a chair, a couple pairs of boots, and the fact it smelled like him.

How a room could smell just like him surprised you, but only because he didn’t seem to have been in any one place long enough to leave that sort of trace behind. But he had been at the school far longer than you, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise you.

You watched as Logan made his way back to his bed and slid himself under the covers. He remained sitting up, back against the headboard, as he waved you closer.

“I won’t bite,” Logan’s smile said he might if you asked. You were ok risking it either way.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You teased him, joining him under the blankets. Just like friends at a sleepover. You were surprised at how warm the bed was already. Surprised too, at how you were chilled from your little walk.

“Shame,” Logan mused, shifting so that his arm was around you. You felt the heat from your chest swell again, but you were desperate not to notice it. Not to read into things. “What do you say to spending the night here?” 

“Here?” You mused. You knew Logan could hear your heartbeat speed up. Honestly, it wouldn't have taken enhanced hearing to notice.

“I think the company would do us both some good,” He continued. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” You ask, incredulous.

“Not afraid, it’s just… really loud. I’d rather listen to something else,” You could feel him watching you but you weren’t brave enough to meet his eyes. This could go a couple of ways, and most of them ended with you crying in your bathroom tomorrow.

“Do earplugs not help since your hearing is so good?” You asked, trying to dispel the tension.

“Pretty much,” You jumped when you felt him press his lips to your bare shoulder. You weren’t sure if you were glad for your tank top or not. “You ok with this?” 

“More than I should be, yeah,” Your chest felt tight. It was nerves and it was that ache that always seemed to show up when Logan was nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His breath fanned against your neck, but he paused in his movements.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jean,” You told him. “I don’t want to be your consolation prize,” You didn’t have the strength to stop him when he shifted to rest his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Then you haven’t seen the way I look at you,” His voice was a whisper against your skin. You shivered as he pressed another chaste kiss there.

“I guess I haven’t,” You agree, equally soft. You wondered how you never made the connection that anytime you did look at him, his eyes always happened to be on you. Did he really look at you like that? 

“I can hear your heart racing,” Logan chuckled, his lips on the shell of your ear. “Tell me you don’t want this,” 

“Tell me that you do,” You countered, eyes screwed shut.

“I do,” He almost purrs. “God, I’ve wanted you since the first day you walked into this mansion.” Another kiss against your jaw and you couldn’t help but move so he had better access to kiss your throat. “With your giant ass wheeled suitcase… and that fucking sundress,” He groaned when he felt your hand on his arm, squeezing him in response to the memory. You had always been so busy trying not to catch his eye for fear of finding him looking at someone else. “I’ve dreamed about you in that dress…and you cruelly haven’t worn it since,” 

Turns out you really had missed him looking at you.

“It didn’t seem as appropriate once I got here,” You manage around the blood racing through your body. Your heart was working overtime, beating so loud you couldn’t even hear the thunder anymore.

“Maybe you should wear it for me when I get to take you out,” Logan chuckled as your ears turned pink. He was so close to you, shrouding you from the night and the storm outside. It was so different than you expected it to be, but you welcomed it either way.

“You want to take me out?” 

“If you’ll let me,” He sits back to look at you. “Though if you just want to fuck, I guess that’s fine too,” 

You were surprised at the way his eyes hardened at the thought that this might just be carnal. You may not have known everything that had happened to him in his life, but it wasn’t hard to guess that there had been a number of times when people just wanted to use him. For fighting, for fucking, for whatever, his own feelings be damned.

You never wanted to make him feel like that.

“I’d love for you to take me out,” You told him, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Logan grinned, leaning into your touch. Before you thought better of it, you leaned forward and covered his mouth with yours. 

Logan seemed pleased by this, adjusting so that he was over you, working you both down the bed so that he could settle himself with his hips cradled in your welcoming thighs. His lips never leaving yours.

“When are you free next?” Logan asked, panting after the long kiss broke for a moment. 

“I don’t know,” You roll your eyes at him. “We’ve got other things to do right now,” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you as he knit his brow, seeming to wonder what you meant. You just pulled him down to kiss you again.

Eventually, you both settled in for the night, exhausted all at once. Logan was using you as a pillow, his head resting just above your hip, one arm reaching up between your thighs so he could tease the skin around your navel with his strong fingers, tracing circles and nonsense into your flesh. Holding you like his favorite pillow.

You were resting comfortably amongst his pillows, one hand reaching down to the back of his head to play with his hair.

“I think the storm passed,” You muse, not really meaning anything by it.

“There’s more coming,” Logan told you. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay right here and listen to you instead,” you felt him nip gently at your hip and you squirmed.

“I don’t mind at all,” You smiled at the ceiling while Logan adjusted himself around you.

“Good,” He mumbled, already halfway to sleep. You couldn’t help the grin on your face as you felt his breathing even out. 

Maybe you woke up just for this.

Either way, you were more than happy to play pillow, and soon enough, you were just as asleep as he was.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)