#everyones relationship to each other is so unique and complicated!

[anal0g-andr0id]

yall remember that post thats like "2012 avengers fandom wanted so badly for the team to be friends and theyre barely even coworkers." that <- flaw right there is exactly what i think makes xmen media so good. even when its bad. cause at least they all live in a big house together and hang out and have interesting interpersonal dynamics and shit. like we always wanted <3

[nysrage]

MOVIE NIGHT, Connie Springer.

synopsis: you and connie always had an unique friendship, all touch feely with one another, but tensions rise after you two took a detour down lustrous lane.

You and your friends were always known for spontaneously coming up with a move. Basking in the time of some unplanned fun until all of you had to face the real world once you were all out of college. The group of you piled up in the dorms common area, with the projector running after feasting on wings, pizza, and alcohol. Ending the night with a horror movie that was sure to have you all watching your surroundings for the next few days.

“girl come on! the movies starting!” sasha called out to you, dimming the lights in the room while you quickly grabbed a few snacks that’ll last you throughout the film.

Entering the common space just for your spot to be taken by onyankapon. Sprawled out across the floor as if he wasn’t just pushing 6’5. “Now ony you knew that was my spot!” You whined.

Ony brushing you off with a laugh as he typed away in his phone. “shittt you decked the fuck out this cot, and workouts been beating my ass sis.”

You sucked your teeth, trying to find any spot you could until there was a light tug on your arm, turning to face your bestfriend connie. golden eyes low from the edible he indulged himself in earlier, voice all low and deep “c’mere, you know i got you..”

pulling you down to sit in just in front of him between his legs, tucked in the corner of the room. His arms circled around your middle as you shifted around till you were comfortable, resting his chin on your should just as the intro of the movie began. Affection such as this was natural between the two of you, so natural that no one would ever bat an eyelash at the two of you unless they didn’t know your dynamic.

Only it hadn’t been so natural lately, the two of you putting a slight distance in your relationship this past week. It’d all been so tense since that one night the two of you heatedly made out session in the closet at a party. Never speaking on it again. Everyone but the two of you swore there was more to your relationship than you spilled, and they were so wrong until that kiss where the both of you drunkenly revealed the love you had for one another. Causing a slight rift between you, but it was so very short lived after tonight.

Horror was the very thing you steered clear of but who were you to rain on everyones parade. Plus being in the same space as your bestfriend gave you some comfort. He always kept you safe, even if things between the two of you were a bit complicated at the moment.

Within the first fourty minutes of the movie you were practically in his lap. Shifting around quite a bit, glancing behind you at connie whose eyes were focused on the screen. You were a bit uneasy from the jump scares. Yet the thing that had you so bothered had nothing to do with the movie. Being so close to connie felt so different now, and it always left you flustered whenever you were in his presence. Plus the feeling of connie pressed so close to your ass, didn’t help to ease every disgusting thought that through your mind right now. From the way his arms and big hands wrapped around your waist. To the feeling of his body pressed so close against yours, it made you all dizzy.

Little did you know, it was the same effect for connie. You, pressing yourself further into every time you got scared. That soft ass sitting atop his pelvis all heavy and round. Your chubby waist resting in his arms as he caressed your soft, smooth, brown skin of your belly. The two of you just so hot and bothered. Pining for eachother in a suffering silence, until the two of began to break. Not able to take it anymore. Maybe it was the liquor? Shit or the weed? Hell, maybe even the good feeling the two of you gave each other last week but that sexual tension wasn’t something the two of you could fight anymore.

Connie let his hands wander mindlessly over your chubby little body, tracing over the skin of your hips and thighs. Massaging the soft flesh and dipping lower to the creases of your inner thighs. The skin all warm and smooth to the touch, as he gently explores your body. Not missing one reaction you had to his touches, big or small. Burying himself into your neck to drown himself in the seductive ass perfume you always wore, and succumbing to the urge to have that soft skin against his lips again. Placing a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder as he continued to massage the squishy cellulite in your thighs. Your body melts into his as you get all worked up, huffing out a small breathe of air. Body growing hotter by the second from these little minuscule touches.

“I missed you..” you whimper out softly, legs subconsciously spreading to give his hands more freedom to roam. Connie responding with a content hum as he placed a wet kiss against the warm skin of your neck. dipping his hands lower to ghost over the soft flesh of your inner thighs. Dick growing stiff against that soft ass pressed so hard against him. “f-fuck, i missed you too.”

“So much hermosa..”

“Yeah..?” the soft whine from your lips barely audible over the loud cries and thrilled beat of the soundtrack. Connie’s strong hand runs up your waist until meeting that perked nipple hidden by the ribbed fabric of your tank top. Giving your breast a firm squeeze as he indulged himself a deep inhale of your scent.

“Mhm, ” he breathed out, hands coming dangerously close to the mound of your pussy, “Gon’ let me show you how much..?” You breathe hitched, looking up at him through your lashes and meeting his lustrous eyes. All low and red, but those golden irises still glimmered with something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You nod softly, tucking your bottom lip behind those pretty teeth of yours. “Please..”

Connie discreetly looked around the room, all your friends focused on the movie as the masked killer began slowly picking people off, singaling it was almost to its climax. He eased his hand lower, cupping your pussy just as he turned your face towards his to captured your lips in a slow sensual kiss. Swallowing the low moan breaking past your soft lips. Ghosting his hand over the thin fabric of your thong, already dampened with slick. Running his fingers along your clothed folds until reaching your peeking clit, pressing down on it to release some of that building pressure.

You call out to him in a low whine, “connie stop teasingg.” trying your hardest to be discreet, but that needy feeling of having him touchy how you always wanted was too strong, and you were too drunk off lust to realize the consequences.

“Eyes on the movie princesa, you don’t wanna get caught huh?” Whispering against the shell of your ear. You nod, focusing your eyes back on the film. Connie finally pulled those panties to the side to expose that sensitive skin. Fingers gliding through your folds with a low groan, spreading the pooling slick gathered around your entrance.

“What’s got this pussy all wet?” He hummed, giving your clit a soft slap. “Hm mamí? Thought you didn’t like scary movies..”

Fingers teasing slow circles around your clenching hole, so eager to be filled with his thick fingers. Coating his fingers in that clear sticky slick, just before slipping a fingertip into you barely easing that empty feeling and pulling it back out. Slowly stretching you out until he could fully sink two of them into your tight warm walls. Those thick digits slowly piston in and out of you, curling every so often as your walls gripped them in deeper. Moans growing louder as he scissored you open, “shh, gotta be quiet baby..”

“s-shit, connie I-I’m tryinggg..” biting down on your lip with a whimper, nails digging at his forearms. Body tensing at the quick movement from your bestfriend from afar, clamping down on his fingers hard. Just for her to adjust her pillow and lay back focused on the movieonce more, washing away all that fear of getting caught.

“calm down pretty girl, it’s just us.” connie cooed, placing a kiss behind your ear. Stroking your gummy walls, until faint squelching of your pussy could be heard below the loud screams of the film. That fiery pit set ablaze in your tummy as your clit throbs, grinding your hips down against his palm for any type of friction to ease the sensation. Curling his fingers into the spongey ball that made your hips buck up into his hand. “Yeah? Just like that?” He cooed, working messily on your slicked clit.

Walls swelling around his fingers, moaning out from the building pressure. Connie slipped two fingers in your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue as an attempt to keep you as quiet. “ I know, I know. You like when papí play with that pussy?” Head nodding rapidly, too afraid of what sound might break past your lips if you actually tried to speak with those thick digits pressed down on your tongue. “You so fucking good, so good pretty girl..”

Your eyes rolling back as your body shook in his hold uncontrollably, gushing out a creamy mess onto his fingers. The vibrations of your moans against his fingers had him ready to fuck you on the floor right there but it was about you. Swirling his fingers around your clit until he slowly brought you down from your orgasmic bliss. Your body limp in his hold, all fucked out and breathless.

Removing his digits and sucking off the creamy white slick with a moan, just as the movies end credits began to roll. Sasha flicking the lamp on with a quick pull at its string,your eyes squinting as they adjust to the sudden change in lighting, body still trembling slightly. Sasha looking over the room with a smile, dropping slightly when he eyes reached you. “You good girl..?”

You nod, mentally cursing yourself as you tried to sit up, cringing at the slicked feeling between your thighs. “She just shaken up, y’know how she get.” Connie snorted , taking all the attention off you.

Sasha giggles, hand on her hips as she teased you about your scary nature.

“c’mon it wasnt even that bad!”

[moonlightwritingf1]

New Series?

So, I've had this idea for a few months, but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested in it. I haven't started yet, and I probably won't begin working on it in the next month. It's just a story I'd like to begin before the summer ends.

Summary: In this world, soulmates are rare, sacred. Not everyone finds theirs, and those who do often wait decades. A soulmate mark, given at birth and unique in shape and placement, binds two people meant to be each other’s home. Y/N found hers early—an identical mark on Lando Norris’s hip, discovered two months after meeting him through mutual friends. But he’s always treated her like she’s nothing, cold and dismissive in a way he’s never been with anyone else. Despite the universe’s certainty, she’s convinced he’d reject her if he knew the truth—because of the models, the parties, the cheating rumors, and the way he chases attention. To Y/N, the soulmate bond feels like a cruel joke: proof that even the one person destined for her wouldn’t choose her willingly. She hid it for a year because his every word, every look, told her she was unwanted, even by the one fate had chosen for her. And then, in one careless moment, he saw the mark on her hip—his mark—and everything inside him shattered. Everything between them changed.

Includes:

enemies to lovers trope

loads of angst

loads of sexual tension and frustration

fuck boy Lando

complicated relationship with emotionally abusive parents (Y/N)

hyper-independent and emotionally guarded Y/N

“I don’t need anyone” Y/N vs “I’d give her everything” Lando

Y/N hiding her trauma behind success and control

Y/N putting up walls Lando desperately tries to break through

protective Lando once he finds out the truth

slow burn

multiple chapters

[wchswift]

─── LAP OF (DIS)COMFORT | PT.3

pairing: worst!wolverine x fem!reader

summary: to try and resolve the awkward tension between you and logan after everything, you decide to be friends with benefits. And of course, things don't go well. pt.1 | pt.2

contents! mdni 18+, pet names, implied and explicit sex, smut (so all the usual warnings), unprotected sex p in v, teasing, slightly angst, emotional tension, swearing, blood mention, idiots in love, a lot of feelings, fighting their feelings, casual sex, jealousy, happy ending and probably more.

word count: 8k (yeah...)

ℒogan masterlist !

── english isn't my first language/no proofread, so probably some mistakes.

The air in the apartment was different now.

Everything was different now.

It had been ever since that night.

Logan and you had always existed in this precarious balance—a push and pull, tension humming between you like an electric wire stretched too tight. But at the same time, it felt natural, a unique connection. An easy connection. And that night, you'd both finally snapped. Lips crashing, hands gripping, bodies pressing too close in a moment of reckless abandon. But when you pulled away instead of making things clearer, it only tangled the lines further.

Now, you avoided each other like strangers.

You only went to the apartment when you knew he wouldn't be there, or when Wade gathered everyone together you stayed as far away as possible from where Logan was. So he did the same, and whatever connection had once existed between you had been buried beneath silence and stolen glances.

Now, Logan and Wade were away for a few days on some mission the X-Men had called them to help with. So since the apartment was empty, Al being who knows where, you and Vanessa decided to have a girls' night. Just the two of you in the apartment to gossip and have some time without Wade or anyone else always surrounding you like vultures.

When you said you'd rather do it in yours, which was literally next door, she said she didn't want to leave the apartment so she wouldn't miss the moment Wade returned. Their relationship was still complicated, but they seemed happier than ever. You thought it was cute.

So when the front door swung open that night, dragging in the scent of blood and metal, your heart lurched at the sight of him.

Logan stood in the doorway, looking wrecked.

His suit was stained dark—some of it clearly his, most of it not. His shoulders were heavy, muscles tense beneath the weight of exhaustion. His hands flexed at his sides as if they were still expecting a fight. There were no wounds—his mutation saw to that—but something in his posture, in the tense muscles on his face, told you he was barely keeping himself upright.

You stayed rooted to the couch, watching him, fingers curling against your knees. Everything inside you screamed to move, to go to him, to touch, to check—

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Vanessa didn’t hesitate. She got up immediately, crossing the room to Wade, cupping his face in her hands before pressing a kiss to his lips. “Jesus, you two look like hell,” she muttered before pulling him into an embrace.

Wade grinned. “What, this isn’t my usual charming self?”

Vanessa snorted, running her hands down his arms, checking him over, making sure he was okay. You watched. Your heart tightened for a second with something tinged with envy, the almost deadly desire to be able to do the same with Logan.

And Logan? He didn’t say a word. He just stood there for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply and walked straight past you, disappearing into his room.

You swallowed hard.

The apartment felt too quiet once he was gone, the absence of him pressing down on your chest. You didn’t even realize you were gripping the couch cushions until Vanessa glanced at you, brow raised.

“Well?” she asked.

You blinked. “What?”

Vanessa nodded toward the hallway. “Go.”

Your throat tightened. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Oh, please.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it is, it’s eating him alive. And you, apparently.”

You hesitated, your body already betraying you by shifting toward the hall. You hated this. The distance, the uncertainty, the way he acted like that night hadn’t meant anything—like you hadn’t shaken his entire world the way he’d shaken yours. And you know it was your fault. You knew you had done it when you said what you said before you turned and walked away.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

With a quiet breath, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked toward his room.

His door wasn’t shut all the way.

You pushed it open cautiously, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the scent of whiskey and blood clinging to the air. Logan sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head down, his hands loosely clasped together.

He didn’t look at you when you entered. “Don’t need a babysitter.”

You ignored that. “Rough mission?”

A low scoff. “You could say that.”

You lingered by the door, shifting on your feet. “You okay?”

Logan finally looked up then, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. “Why do you care?”

The words stung, even though you knew they weren’t meant to. This was just how he operated—shutting people out, pushing them away before they could push him first. Well, especially since you did. You crossed your arms, steeling yourself. “Because you… you're my friend Logan, Wade's friend. Even after what happened, I still care about you.”

His jaw clenched, something flickering behind his eyes before he exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t.”

Your chest ached at that. “Too late.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was heavy, thick with words left unsaid, with everything you were both too damn stubborn to talk about.

The silence between you stretches, thick with everything unspoken. Logan's gaze is still locked on yours, unreadable, but there's something raw in the way he looks at you—something that makes your stomach twist.

You shouldn't be here. Not like this. Not after everything. You were the one who didn't want this to happen.

But you don’t move.

Because despite all of it—despite knowing this is a bad idea, despite every instinct screaming at you to walk away—you still want him. More than you should.

You've never met anyone like Logan. No one like Logan should want you, but he did, and God, how could you let this moment slip away?

Logan exhales sharply, his hand dragging through his hair. He looks exhausted, like the weight of the world is pressing down on him, and for a second, you think he might tell you to leave.

Finally, he exhaled, “We can’t do this.”

Your throat tightened. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you, frustration edging his voice. “Whatever the hell this is. The back and forth, the looks, the tension, the damn kiss.”

You swallowed hard. “So what do you want, Logan?”

He hesitated—just for a second, just long enough for you to see the war waging behind his eyes. Then, with a humorless chuckle, he shook his head. “I don’t know.” He glanced at you, jaw clenching. “I wanted that—you. But you were the one who ran the other night, remember? The one who said I'm too fucking broke for this to work.”

You flinched at the reminder. His words struck you like a slap. He wasn’t wrong; that night, when you let yourself have it for a moment and realization had crashed over you like a tidal wave, you had pulled away first. Not because you didn’t want it—because you did, too much. You wanted him with a fervor that was almost suffocating, but because the fear of heartbreak, the fear of entangling your lives further in the chaos of both your realities, was terrifying.

“I know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I just—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “With everything you’ve been through, everything you have to deal with, everything I have been through, and this whole… thing between us? It just—it won’t work, Logan. We’ll just make a mess of it.”

His gaze darkened. “Yeah. Probably.”

The room felt unbearably small, the weight of him, of his presence, pressing down on you. You should walk away. You should end this conversation before you got yourself into something you couldn’t handle. Something that would break you after it's over.

But instead, you met his eyes.

“But maybe we can make this work out?” you murmured, voice measured, “it can be casual. Just like you said before.”

Logan’s brows furrowed slightly.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you continued. “It doesn’t have to be anything.”

He exhaled sharply, gaze flicking to your mouth. “That what you really want?”

No.

Not at all.

But you nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

He let out a quiet scoff, like he already knew you were both lying to yourselves. But he still sat back slightly, hands resting on his thighs as he let the weight of your words settle between you.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Something casual. No strings. No expectations.”

The second he said it, you knew this would turn into something worse. A bigger mess. A deeper ache. But you still agreed, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah. We keep it simple. No commitments. No feelings.”

You took a step forward, throat dry.

Your pulse thundered as you approached him, standing between his legs. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He was warm, solid, everything you wanted and everything you shouldn’t.

His fingers flexed at his sides before they finally moved, hesitantly finding your waist. His touch was deliberate, grounding. You rested your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in slightly as your breathing grew shallow.

“This is a bad idea,” he murmured, his voice rougher now.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It is.”

But neither of you moved.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightened slightly, and your fingers trailed up his neck, brushing through the coarse hairs at the base of his skull. His breath hitched.

You swallowed. “Are you gonna kiss me, or are we just gonna sit here making this worse?”

So instead of answering, he closed the distance.

The kiss is slow at first, testing—like you're both waiting for the other to pull away. But neither of you does. Instead, Logan’s hand lifts to your jaw, his thumb brushing over your skin, and then suddenly, it shifts. Deepens.

You gasped against his lips, and that was all it took.

Logan pulled you onto his lap, making you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders. You melt into the heat of him, fingers threading into his hair. The kiss turns desperate, feverish, all the tension between you snapping at once.

His hands slid up your back while you sighed against his lips, his hands pressing you impossibly closer. Heat curled in your stomach, spreading fast, your body already reacting to every shift, every touch, every desperate inhale between kisses. And right now you didn't care about the blood or the dirt on his uniform, all you needed was to feel him.

He moved his hands under your shirt, rough palms searing against your skin as he lifted the fabric higher, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat.

Before you could process it, he was shifting, standing up with you still wrapped around him. You let out a surprised laugh, only to yelp when he turned you around and tossed you onto the mattress.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes wide. “Logan, Wade and Vanessa are in the other room.”

He smirked, already crawling over you. “Don’t give a damn.”

Then he kissed you again, pulling your shirt over your head—and you let him. Because at this moment, nothing else matters—not the past, not the future, not the way this is going to complicate everything.

It’s just him. Just you. Just this.

it’s almost too much. The weight of him, the way his lips find yours again, the way his hands mold perfectly against your breast, the way your bodies fit together like they were always meant to—it feels like falling.

And you let yourself fall.

It wasn’t an official thing.

Hell, it wasn’t supposed to be a thing at all.

It was just sex.

That’s what you told yourself waking up tangled in Logan’s sheets, his scent clinging to your skin. What you told yourself walking out of his room that morning, glancing back just once. And definitely what you told yourself now, sitting across from him in Wade and Logan’s apartment, pretending nothing had changed.

Except… something had.

You weren’t supposed to feel different. But you did. Lighter. Like something had settled inside you.

And Logan?

Logan looked… good. Not just in the rugged, unfairly attractive way he always did, but good, lighter too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Wade, oblivious, was loudly chef’ing in the kitchen.

“This is how you host a dinner!” he announced, dramatically tossing something into a pan. “A little olive oil, a lot of butter, and enough seasoning to make Gordon Ramsay weep!”

Vanessa stole a sip from his drink. “You didn’t measure anything.”

“Did my sexy friend, Gambit, measure his charm? Did I measure the perfection of my ass? No! Some things are meant to be.”

Logan shook his head. “Jesus Christ.”

You caught the twitch of amusement in his expression and grinned. Wade clapped his hands, declaring dinner ready. You and Logan sat at the table as he slid plates in front of you.

“The masterpiece is served!”

You eyed the steak and roasted potatoes. Not bad. Logan raised a brow. “You actually made something edible?”

“Weird for me too,” Wade admitted, taking a bite. “Damn. Maybe I am husband material.”

Vanessa patted his cheek. “That’s cute, baby.”

Logan eyed his plate with deep suspicion. “What’d you do to it?”

“Wow. Wow.” Wade pressed a hand to his chest. “The lack of faith. Do I look like the kind of man who would tamper with a meal out of pure, petty spite?”

“Yes,” Logan and Vanessa said in unison.

Wade gasped. “Babe, et tu?”

Vanessa shrugged. “You once swapped out Logan’s beer with non-alcoholic just to see what would happen.”

You snorted, glancing at Logan. “Did he notice?”

Logan scoffed. “Of course I did.”

Wade grinned. “Not right away, though.”

Logan shot him a glare. “I did.”

“Sure, sure.” Wade smirked, cutting into his steak. “Denial is the first step.”

You bit back a grin. “To be fair, it is kinda funny.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you, something warm behind it. “Yeah?”

“You’re fun to rile up,” you teased.

Something shifted in his expression, just enough for the corner of his mouth to twitch—and then:

“Least I don’t eat like a damn toddler.”

Silence.

Wade blinked, fork mid-air. “What.”

Vanessa stifled a laugh. “Oh my god.”

You burst out laughing. Because Wade did eat like a damn toddler. Cut-up bites, ketchup on everything, sometimes even a sippy cup.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was that Logan had made a joke.

"No! I can't believe you made a joke! Aww, I knew you had some humor in you." You exclaimed, your eyes wide with mock disbelief.

Logan just exhaled, shaking his head. “Took an easy shot.”

“Oh, spare me! That barely qualifies as a joke!”

“Shut it, Wade.”

“Don’t listen to him,” you said, turning to Logan, a playful smile lighting your face. “He doesn’t get your humor like I do.”

Logan’s gaze held yours a second too long. You saw him fight down a real smile.

That thing—that undercurrent—was back.

Wade shattered it, as always. “Okay, this is getting weird. Can we get back to admiring my culinary genius and not the undeniable sexual tension at the table?”

You rolled your eyes and took a bite of steak.

Dinner drifted into easy conversation, Wade leading with his usual running commentary. But through it all, you felt Logan. Every glance. Every flicker of a smirk. Every time your eyes met.

When Wade got up for drinks, Vanessa followed, leaving you and Logan alone.

You nudged a potato with your fork. “Didn’t think you’d stick around this long.”

Logan exhaled. “Yeah, well. Wade would’ve whined if I didn’t.”

You smirked. “So you do like him.”

“Didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t not say it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but his smirk betrayed him.

Neither of you spoke, but neither looked away, either.

His gaze dipped—just for a second.

Your breath caught before you stretched in your seat, arching slightly, just enough for your shirt to ride up an inch. You didn’t look at Logan when you did it, but you felt his eyes flicker downward.

Then, the tiniest smirk tugged at your lips.

You leaned in, breath brushing his ear. “You keep looking at me like that, Logan, someone’s gonna notice.”

His jaw tightened, a reaction that sent a thrill through you.

Just before the moment deepened, Vanessa returned, interrupting the charge in the air. You leaned away.

“We should do this more often,” she mused.

“Agreed,” Wade said through a mouthful of food. “Nothing brings people together like a good meal and unresolved sexual tension.”

You nearly choked.

Vanessa swatted Wade. “Babe.”

“What? It’s like watching two tigers circling each other. I half expect growling.”

You groaned, shoving another bite of steak into your mouth.

Logan, ever the gracious one, shot Wade a flat look. “You done?”

“Not even close.”

Dinner wrapped up soon after.

“I should probably get going,” you said, standing.

Logan stood too, casually. “I’ll walk you out.”

Wade squinted. “Ohhh, will you now?”

Logan didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

Wade turned to Vanessa. “Babe. Look at them. They think they’re sneaky.”

“Leave them alone,” Vanessa sighed.

“No, this is gold—”

“Wade,” you cut in, deadpan. “Shut up.”

Wade gasped, clutching his chest. “She shut me up.” Then, he turned to Logan, smirking. “You better marry her.”

Logan grabbed the door handle and opened it. “We’re leaving now.”

Wade called after you, laughing. “Have fun!” and because he can keep his mouth shut, he added. “Also, stay safe! And by that, I mean use protection, I’m not dealing with a mini-Wolverine running around, okay?”

As the door slammed behind you, Logan muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

You snorted. “That was so bad. Real smooth.”

Logan huffed. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be.”

You turned to him, grinning. “Yeah, I noticed.”

His gaze dipped to your lips. Your stomach flipped.

The tension between you snapped tight.

Your fingers brushed his arm, teasing. “What now, Wolverine?”

His voice dropped. “Think you already know.”

Heat coiled in your stomach.

The second the lock clicked open, Logan pushed inside with you. The door barely shut before Logan had you pinned.

He shoved you against it, a hungry growl ripping from his throat as his mouth devoured yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was needy. Desperate. Fucking brutal.

His hands grabbed at you—hips, waist, thighs—picking you up like you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, and he slammed you against the door, muscles flexing as he held you up, rolling his hips hard against yours.

“You got no idea what you just started,” he muttered, voice low, hot against your ear.

You swallowed hard. “Oh, I think I do.”

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That right?”

His fingers dragged up your thighs—slow, teasing, making you shiver.

Then, his lips brushed your ear, voice dropping into something filthy.

“I’m gonna ruin you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I’m gonna have you up against the door—spread out, begging, takin’ me so deep you feel me for days.”

Heat flooded your body.

He smirked. Fucking smirked, because he knew.

“You’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?” His voice was pure sin, rough and knowing. “Walked outta that dinner all sweet and teasing, thinkin’ you could provoke me.”

You whimpered, trying to move against him, but his grip tightened.

“I’m about to show you what teasing really gets you.”

And fuck, he really did.

The apartment was still thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Your skin was burning, muscles weak, body utterly wrecked—in the best fucking way possible.

You barely registered Logan lifting you off the door, carrying you with ease like you were dead weight. The bastard didn’t even sound winded. Just a small huff as he maneuvered you towards the couch.

“Christ,” you muttered, boneless against him. “How the fuck are you still standing?”

He huffed a laugh, voice still rough from the way he had been groaning your name not even five minutes ago. “Got stamina, sweetheart.”

Yeah. No shit.

Logan sat down with you on top of him, keeping you wrapped in his arms like he wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon. He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the couch and pulled it over you, the warmth settling over your already overheated body.

His hands lazily traced your spine, his fingers dragging slow circles that made your skin tingle. Your head rested against his chest, his muscles still taut, his body as warm as a damn furnace.

You sighed, fingers absentmindedly running through the coarse hair on his chest, tracing the dips and ridges of his body like he was some damn Greek statue sculpted out of pure, toned perfection. He let you, saying nothing, just watching you through hooded eyes, his breath deep and slow.

The silence stretched, comfortable—dangerously comfortable.

Which meant you had to ruin it. Obviously.

“So,” you started, tone casual, dragging out the word. “Rules.”

Logan snorted. “Rules?”

You hummed, still absentmindedly tracing your fingers over his abs. “You know, to keep things… simple.”

That got you an amused glance. “Simple?”

You ignored the skepticism in his voice and pushed on. “Yeah. You know, since we agreed this is just—” You gestured vaguely. “—whatever the fuck this is. Casual.”

Something unreadable flickered across Logan’s face. It was gone before you could name it. He hummed, considering. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You smirked. “Rule one. No catching feelings.”

That earned you a look.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Logan muttered, smirk tugging at his lips. “Just think it’s funny you’re sayin’ that while still layin’ all over me, playin’ with my chest like I’m a damn teddy bear.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

He chuckled, but said nothing. Didn’t push it. But the amusement didn’t leave his face, and that irritated you more than it should’ve.

You cleared your throat. “Rule two. No staying over.”

Logan arched a brow. “And yet I’m sittin’ here with you curled up in my lap.”

You groaned, pressing your face into his chest. “You’re impossible.”

Logan just smirked. You could feel the smugness radiating off him.

You huffed. “Rule three—”

“Lemme guess. No jealousy?”

You blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

Logan smirked. “That’s cute.”

You frowned. “Why is that cute?”

“‘Cause, sweetheart, I don’t share.”

The way he said it—the deep, husky rasp of his voice, the possessive edge in his tone—sent a shiver down your spine.

You tried to ignore the way your thighs clenched. “That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He just looked amused. Smug. So utterly unbothered.

Asshole.

You huffed, pressing your palm against his chest and pushing yourself up a little so you could properly look at him. “Fine. But I’m still not calling you if I need a ride, or if I wanna crash at your place, or—”

“Uh-huh,” Logan murmured, his hands gripping your waist. “So you’re not gonna call me when you’re thinkin’ about me late at night? Not gonna want this again?”

His hands tightened.

Your breath hitched.

You glared at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

He gaved you that goddamn knowing, cocky grin. “Mmm.”

You hated him. You really did.

You huffed, laying back down, fingers idly brushing over his skin again. “Okay, fine. Maybe a few of these rules are meant to be broken.”

Logan snorted. “All of ‘em are gonna be broken.”

You gave him a playful glare.

Logan chuckled, tilting his head at you. “Alright, so what can we do, huh?”

You blinked. “What?”

He smirked. “C’mon, you’re layin’ down rules, so what’s allowed? What’s okay?”

Your lips parted, but before you could speak, Logan’s hands started moving—trailing over your thighs, your waist, teasing. “We can fuck. That’s obvious,” he murmured, voice all low and gravelly. “But what about you sneakin’ into my bed just to feel me? What about this—” he dragged his teeth along your jaw, making you shudder “—is that okay?”

Your brain had short-circuited. “I—I mean, yeah.”

Logan smirked. “Mmm. And what about me calling you when I need to wreck you?”

You clenched your jaw. “That’s… fine.”

Logan hummed, his breath warm against your skin. Then, just as quickly, the amusement faded, and he leaned back, watching you carefully. “And we can see other people, right?”

Your stomach dropped.

You swallowed. Forced a smirk. “Yeah. Of course.”

Logan held your gaze. “That what you want?”

You hesitated. But what else could you say?

“…Yeah.”

Liar.

The lightness was gone now, replaced with something heavier, something unspoken. Logan exhaled sharply, his hand resting on your thigh, but this time, he didn’t tease.

Neither of you spoke.

Because you both knew the rules wouldn’t matter. And they sure as hell wouldn’t last.

It’s late. Or early. You don’t even know.

The knock on your door wakes you up. Not loud, but firm.

You groggily shuffle to the door, still in your sleepwear—just one of Logan’s old shirts, oversized and worn, barely covering your thighs.

You open it, blinking against the dim light of the hallway.

Logan stands there. Disheveled. Dark circles under his eyes. His breathing uneven. His fists clenched like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“Logan?” Your voice is thick with sleep. Confused. “Are you—”

“Can I come in?”

You pause. His voice is rough—not like usual. Not gruff with amusement or lust, but hoarse. Quiet.

You step aside. “Of course.”

He walks in, head down.

You close the door, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”

His jaw clenches. He hesitates—Logan never hesitates. Then, quietly, “I just... needed to see you.”

Your chest tightens.

“Logan,” you murmur, stepping closer. Your hands find his arms, warm and solid. “Talk to me.”

His throat bobs. Then, finally, his eyes meet yours—raw.

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

You exhale. That’s all you need to hear.

Wordlessly, you take his hand, guiding him to the bed.

You expect him to just lay down, curl into you, let you hold him.

But when you move to pull away, his hands tighten on your hips.

His gaze is heavy.

Needy.

And then, quietly—almost fragile—he asks:

“Can I have you?”

Your breath catches.

Not fuck. Not need to be inside you. Not a filthy demand.

Just Can I have you?

Like you’re something precious.

Like he doesn’t just want you—he needs you.

You nod.

Slowly, carefully, you press your lips to his.

It starts soft. Gentle. Just a taste.

Then, Logan sighs against your mouth, and the kiss deepens—not rough, not rushed, just aching.

His hands slide up your sides, thumbs tracing your ribs, like he’s memorizing you.

You climb into his lap, straddling him.

He groans into the kiss, hands gripping your waist, but not hard—just enough to hold you.

Then, he pulls back, eyes dark, fingers brushing up your thighs, under your shirt.

“Lemme take care of you,” he murmurs.

And he does.

This time, there’s no tearing, no ripping—he peels your shirt away, slow and reverent, like he’s unwrapping something sacred.

He lays you down, his lips trace your collarbone, down to your chest, his breath hot, hands skimming every inch of skin like he can’t get enough.

His mouth closes around your nipple—soft, wet heat—and you whimper, back arching.

Logan hums against your skin, lapping, sucking just enough to make your stomach tighten.

Then, he keeps going.

Trailing kisses lower.

His hands part your legs, sliding up your inner thighs, teasing—lingering.

When his fingers finally touch you, you gasp.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes, eyes dark, dazed. “You’re already so wet. Always so wet, baby.”

You let out a needy little sound, pushing into his hand.

He grins—small, tender—then slowly slides one finger inside you. Making you whimper.

He presses another inside, curling just right.

“Logan—”

“I got you,” he murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good.”

And he does, God he really does.

His fingers work you open, patient, stretching you until you’re a mess against him.

His mouth follows—hot, open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, up your thighs, teasing the spot right beside where you need him most.

Then, finally, his tongue replaces his fingers.

You shudder, hands fisting in his hair.

“Logan,” you cry.

He groans against you, lapping slow, deep strokes that have your legs shaking.

Then, right when you’re about to break, he pulls away.

You try to rise and your protest is cut off by his lips finding yours again, swallowing your whine as he guides you back against the pillows.

His cock drags against your entrance, hot and hard, teasing.

“You still okay?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you breathe.

His lips brush your temple. Then—slowly—he pushes inside.

You gasp.

Logan groans—deep, wrecked, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he sinks into you.

You feel everything.

The stretch. The heat. The way his breath stutters as he fills you completely.

His hands find your hips, holding you there, like he needs a second.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You feel... fuck.”

He pulls back, thrusting in slow, deep rolls of his hips.

No pounding. No bruising grip.

Just this—a steady, aching rhythm, like he’s drowning in you.

You moan, nails dragging down his back.

His mouth finds yours again—kissing you through every slow, deep thrust.

Every movement is deliberate. Devotional.

His lips brush your jaw. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

A kiss against your throat. “So fuckin’ good to me.”

Another at your collarbone. “You got me, sweetheart. You have me so good… I'm all yours.”

Your chest tightens.

You pull him closer, wrapping around him, and Logan groans, pressing deeper, tilting his hips just right until you shudder beneath him.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Let me feel you. Let me have this, my sweet girl.”

And when you finally fall apart, he follows, burying himself deep, spilling inside you with a shuddering breath.

The only sound left is your ragged breathing.

His weight sinks into you, warm and solid.

His lips ghost your temple.

Then, his voice—small, barely above a whisper:

“Can— Can I stay?”

Your fingers tighten in his hair.

“I don’t want you going anywhere.”

It's all so comfortable that you didn't notice when you fell asleep. You just wake up slowly. Warm. Wrapped in something solid.

It takes a second for your sleep-heavy brain to register it.

Then, you feel it.

The heavy weight of an arm slung low over your waist. A hand resting at your ribs, fingers curled lightly against your skin. The warmth of another body, pressed flush against yours.

You inhale—and the scent of him fills your lungs.

Logan.

Your stomach tightens.

Last night.

The way he showed up at your door, quiet and not-quite-broken but close. The way he touched you—like he needed you. The way he kissed you, slow and deep, like he was memorizing you.

The way he—

Your breath shudders.

Logan stirs behind you.

His arm tightens for a split second, his body shifting, his nose brushing the back of your shoulder before he stills again.

You swallow.

Your pulse is too loud.

You should move. Say something. Anything.

But you don’t.

You just lay there, tangled up in him.

Minutes pass.

Then, he sighs—a deep, slow exhale against your skin.

“…You awake?” His voice is hoarse—thick with sleep.

You pause. “Yeah.”

His hand shifts slightly against your ribs, like he might pull away.

You should let him, but you don’t.

Instead, you reach down, fingers brushing over his knuckles, light.

Then—slowly—he relaxes again, keeping his arm where it is.

The shift is small—barely there.

But it’s everything.

A moment passes. Then, with a rough, gruff exhale, Logan stretches, pulling back just enough to roll onto his back.

The absence of his warmth is instant.

You turn, watching as he scrubs a hand over his face, eyes still half-lidded.

Then, he shifts, glancing at you. His expression is unreadable. His brows furrow slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.

So you do what you always do—mask it.

You smirk. “So, uh… you always wake up this clingy?”

Logan snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Shut up.”

You grin. “You were wrapped around me like a damn koala.”

“Tch.” He shakes his head, rubbing at his face. “You’re full of shit.”

“You nuzzled me.”

“I didn’t nuzzle you.”

“You definitely nuzzled.”

Logan gives you a look, but there’s no real bite behind it. Just something softer. Something that wasn’t there before.

For a second, neither of you say anything.

The weight of last night lingers between you.

Then, Logan clears his throat.

“So,” he mutters, voice lower. “You, uh…” He glances away, fingers tapping once against his thigh. “You good?”

Your chest tightens.

He’s asking if you regret it.

You should make a joke. Should keep it light, keep things easy.

But you don’t.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “Good.”

The silent is not awkward, not really. Just… uncertain.

Neither of you know how to act.

You both know something’s different.

But saying it out loud?

That’s something else entirely.

So instead, Logan grunts, pushing himself up. “You got coffee?”

You blink at him.

That’s it? That’s how he’s handling this?

You should’ve expected that.

You sit up, the covers slipping down your chest. Logan’s eyes flicker lower for half a second before he pointedly looks away.

Oh.

That’s new.

The Logan from before wouldn’t have looked away. He would’ve stared, smirked, made some cocky comment.

But now?

Now, he’s acting like he's trying not to cross a line.

Like last night meant something.

Like he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

You feel like your heart is going to explode.

You should let him off the hook.

Make it easy.

So you stretch, deliberately slow, grinning. “Yeah, but you’re making it.”

Logan snorts, “Figures.”

He stands, stretching his arms over his head, muscles flexing, still gloriously shirtless. Then, with one last glance at you, he turns toward the door.

He doesn’t say anything else.

But as he passes, he strokes your hair—just barely.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

And you feel it.

More gentleness. More care. More of him letting you in.

And for now?

That’s enough.

For now.

After that night, everything changed. The change was subtle at first. A softer gaze held for a second too long, a touch lingering past its excuse. The air between you and Logan had shifted since that night. But despite the warmth settling between you, neither of you had spoken about it.

It’s in the way Logan lingers when he stays over at your apartment, the way his hand brushes over your back absentmindedly when you pass by him in the kitchen. How he steals bites of your food, even when he has his own plate, or how he drinks from your coffee mug like it belongs to him. The way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his fingers trace over your skin for a little too long when he helps you close up the coffee shop late at night.

There was also that morning when you woke up first, tangled in his arms, his face buried against your neck. You should have slipped out of bed, put some distance between you. Instead, you stayed. You ran your fingers through his hair, your touch light, like you were memorizing the feel of him. When he stirred, blinking up at you with sleepy confusion, you just murmured, "Go back to sleep."

And he did.

Sometimes, he stays longer than he should. Sometimes, he watches you move around your apartment, making coffee, hair still a mess from sleep, and his heart does something stupid and reckless—like want more.

Like when you were cooking in the kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, and he came up behind you, hands on your hips, voice rough in your ear. "You’re making it real hard for me to behave right now."

You turned, arching a brow. "Since when do you behave?"

He kissed you then, slow and deep, backing you up against the counter, and you never did finish breakfast that morning.

Or the night you’d had a long shift and fell asleep on the couch, only to wake up in bed, blankets tucked around you, the faintest trace of cigar smoke lingering in the air. You hadn’t questioned it. Neither had he.

Logan would come by your coffee shop almost every morning, sitting at his usual corner table, nursing a black coffee while you worked. He didn’t say much, but his presence spoke louder than words. Sometimes, he stayed until closing, walking you home, a silent promise unspoken between you. In your apartment, things felt different too.

One night, you were sprawled on your couch after another heated round, both half-dressed, your legs draped over his lap. The TV played some old movie neither of you were watching. Logan’s fingers absently traced circles on your bare thigh, his touch lazy, almost distracted.

He exhaled through his nose, then muttered, "Uh… should we be doin’ this? This doesn’t seem very casual."

You tilted your head to look at him, amused. "Lo, we're friends, right? We sleep together, we're friends too, so it’s fine. Right?"

Logan's fingers hesitated for just a second before continuing their slow path over your skin. "Yeah, I guess." He shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. "I just don’t want us to get things mixed up and... get weird."

You grinned, unable to resist teasing him. "Weird? Are you getting too attached to me already, Logan?"

He scoffed, giving your thigh a light squeeze. "As if."

Your grin widened. "C'mon, you like me. Admit it. I bet if I disappeared, you’d miss me."

"I’d miss the sex," he shot back without hesitation, though the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You feigned offense, placing a hand over your heart. "Wow. And here I was thinking we had something special."

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a flicker of something softer behind them. You nudged him playfully with your foot. "It’s fine, Logan. I consider you my friend, besides everything else. And we can hang out, you know... besides just hanging out so you can be inside me."

That made him snort, shaking his head. "You're a piece of work."

You gasped dramatically. "Was that a compliment? From the great Wolverine? I'm honored."

Before you could react, he grabbed you and pushed you against the couch, settling above you with an amused grunt as you laughed beneath him. "You’re real smug for someone who just got pinned, sweetheart."

"Oh, please, I let you do this," you shot back, breathless from laughter.

Logan just smirked down at you, but the warmth in his gaze lingered a second too long. And you felt it again—that thing neither of you were saying out loud. But instead of pulling away, he let himself stay close, just for a moment longer.

Then, the misunderstanding happened.

Logan was pulling his jacket on when Laura spoke up from the couch.

"Where you going?" she asked, flipping through some book.

"Coffee shop," Logan grunted, grabbing his keys.

Laura made a face. "You sure?"

His brow furrowed. "Yeah. Why?"

She shrugged. "I dunno… I think she’s not there."

Logan stilled. "The hell you mean?"

Laura hesitated, eyes flicking toward Wade, who was too busy making inappropriate balloon animals to notice their conversation. Then she looked back at Logan. "I maybe saw her going into her apartment a little while ago. With some guy."

The words hit him like a gut punch.

He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, to shrug like it didn’t matter. "You sure?" His voice came out gruff, unreadable.

Laura just gave him a look, like she could see right through him. "Pretty sure."

Logan clenched his jaw. He didn't say anything, just grabbed his keys and left.

He told himself it was nothing. That it wasn’t his business. That he wasn’t the kind of guy to get jealous.

Casual meant casual. No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions that left a man raw and aching.

But then he checked the coffee shop anyway.

And when he found it dark, closed earlier than usual, something in his chest twisted.

His feet carried him back to the apartment before his brain even caught up. He didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe for you to already be alone, for Laura to be wrong. But standing at your damn front door, he heard it.

A voice.

A man’s voice.

Muffled through the walls, deep, unfamiliar. Logan stood there, heart slamming against his ribs, pulse pounding in his ears. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms.

He should walk away.

He should not fucking care.

But he did.

Goddamn it, he did.

He didn't sleep. The thought of you with someone else—another man's hands on you, another man's mouth on your skin—was a sickness in his veins. By the time morning came, he'd convinced himself that he was fine, that it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t like you owed him anything.

The next day, when he saw you, all cute and soft-eyed like nothing had happened, it took every ounce of restraint not to snap.

"Hey," you greeted, stepping close, smiling up at him. "You okay?"

His stomach twisted. "Yeah."

You frowned. "You sure? You seem—"

"You should’ve told me."

The words were out before he could stop them. Your brow furrowed, confusion flickering across your face. "Told you what?"

Logan scoffed, a bitter sound, and rubbed his jaw. "That you had someone over." His eyes flickered over your face, searching for something—guilt, confirmation, anything. "We agreed, didn't we? Casual means we can do what we want, see who we want. But you could’ve given me a fuckin’ heads-up. Could’ve saved me the trouble of showin’ up lookin’ like a damn fool."

Your stomach twisted. "Logan—"

"I ain't mad," he cut in quickly, lying through his fucking teeth. "You don't owe me shit. Just sayin', would’ve been nice to know before I walked into the coffee shop last night expectin’ to see you, only to find out you were already home—with him." His voice darkened, something sharp behind it. "Shoulda figured, huh?"

You blinked. "Wait— you think—Logan, it's not—"

"Don’t sugarcoat it," he muttered. "Laura told me and I heard him in your goddamn apartment."

"Yeah? And what exactly did Laura think she saw?" Your voice was firm now, pushing back against the storm in his eyes.

His jaw tensed. "A guy, in your fuckin’ apartment."

"Jesus, Logan," you breathed, pressing your fingers against your temples. "That guy—he’s not some random hookup, okay? He—" You let out an exasperated breath."He's my landlord. He was fixing my damn heater."

Logan froze.

You crossed your arms. "So, unless you think I’m screwing my fifty-year-old landlord with a beer belly and a receding hairline, maybe take a second to think before jumping to conclusions."

The weight in his chest lifted instantly, but the embarrassment settled in just as fast. Logan swallowed, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling stupid.

You sighed. "For God's sake. You really thought I’d do that?"

Logan was quiet for a long beat before he finally muttered, "Wouldn’t blame you if you did."

You frowned. "What?"

"You heard me," he gritted out, looking anywhere but at you. "Wasn’t like this was meant to be serious, right?" He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Ain't like I’m the kinda guy a girl settles down with."

Your chest tightened. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

His head snapped up, eyes locking with yours.

"You really think I still see this as some casual, meaningless thing?" you demanded. "That I'm just out here screwing around with other people? That I'm not completely fucking yours?"

Logan felt like the air had been punched from his lungs.

"I don't want to be casual, Logan. I haven't been casual—not for a long time. In my head, I’m already with you." Your voice softened, filled with something deep, something unshakable. "And I thought you felt the same."

His throat worked around his next words. "You thought right."

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly, but his expression was still guarded. " But if you felt that way, then why the hell are we still pretending?" he asked, voice rough, edged with something raw. "Why are we still actin’ like this doesn’t mean anything?"

You hesitated, searching his face. "I was scared," you admitted softly. "Scared that if we said it out loud, it’d break whatever this is. That it’d make it real, and real means it can be lost. And I'm sorry for yesterday, for not saying anything."

Logan exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair before settling on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Darlin’, it’s already real," he murmured. "Has been since the damn start. I—hell, I tried to keep it casual, tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but it does. You do."

Your heart pounded at his words. "Logan…"

The next second, he was kissing you.

Desperate, claiming, like he had to make up for every second he’d spent doubting this, doubting you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body telling you everything he hadn’t said in words.

You melted into him, fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him. "Idiot," you mumbled against his lips. "You should’ve just talked to me yearly."

He huffed out a breath, forehead pressing to yours. "Yeah, well... talkin’ ain’t my strong suit, and it looks like it isn't yours either."

You smiled, brushing your nose against his."Good thing we have everything resolved now. That this is real."

Logan let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening. "Damn right. It's always been real, princess."

But this time, he wasn’t letting you go.

He cupped your cheek, voice gruff but sure. "You’re mine, darlin’." His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gaze locked onto yours. "Always were."

Your heart clenched. "I am, Lo. And you’re mine."

Logan exhaled, leaning in, pressing one last kiss to your lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I am."

And then, he kissed you again—slow, deep, a promise written in the way he held you. A promise that he wasn’t going anywhere. It felt natural; like you belong to each other. Something profound and permanent. That this wasn’t just some arrangement anymore. No more lying and not saying what you really feel. No more faking about what you really mean to each other.

Finally, finally, no more pretending.

Just you and him.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

lina's notes: yayy so we've finally reached the end!! First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for all the love for this series and all the repercussion it has achieved!! When I wrote that little drabble, I didn't expect you guys to like it so much and for it to turn into a series, so I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart <3 I loved writing this so much and I'm a little sad that it's over lol. I kind of enjoyed writing about the development of this relationship between Logan and neighbor!reader. Maybe in the future I'll write some more separate things for this series if you guys want… ��� (and feel free to send me requests for this series at some point, if you wish) 💜

taglist: @namikyento @cruel-as-sin @lilzilla1scool @weallhaveadestiny @killerwendigo @forksloree @fandomxo @matronmothercrone @unlikeable-female-character @blossomingorchids @eternalssunshine (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)

[octaneink]

Could you do some dating willne headcannons or some willne smut but like in an established relationship? I’m obsessed with your fics, I swear I’ve read them so much I could recite them from memory 😭😭

Ahhh thank you so much for the kind words! I'm really happy that you like what I've written. I've never done headcannons or write smut lol so bear with me. I don't really know how to write smut ngl so I hope you like the spice (I think thats spicy? I don't know) at the end, I've never really written anything lke that before so I hope its...realistic?

Warning for some steamy stuff at the end!

Dating Will Lenney Headcanons

Playful Banter

In your relationship with Will, playful banter is the base of your dynamic, and he uses it to keep things light, fun, and endlessly entertaining. Whether you’re curled up on the couch, out for a walk, or in the middle of a mundane task, Will’s teasing is a constant—a reminder of how much he adores you.

He’s the kind of person who can’t resist poking fun at your quirks, but it’s always done with so much affection that it never feels mean-spirited. For example, if you’re watching one of your favourite romantic series for the hundredth time, he’ll lean over with a smirk and say, “Oh, this again? Let me guess—they’ll hate each other, then fall in love, and you’ll cry even though you know exactly how it ends.” But then he’ll stay right there beside you, secretly enjoying how much you love it—and secretly enjoying the series himself. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’s grown fond of the predictable charm of your go-to media.

Will’s teasing isn’t just one-sided, though. I think he’d love it if you gave as good as you get. If you catch him singing off-key in the shower, you’ll absolutely call him out on it. “Wow, I didn’t know cats could sing opera,” or something, and he’ll laugh so hard he almost slips. Or if he’s trying to fix something around the house, and it goes wrong, you’ll be there with a camera and a sarcastic comment like, “Handyman of the year, everyone.” He’ll pretend to be offended, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

The best part is how his teasing always comes with an undercurrent of love. He’ll joke about your “weirdly specific and unnecessarily complex” coffee order, but he’ll still remember it perfectly and surprise you with it on a rough day. And if anyone else dares to tease you, he’s quick to jump to your defence, proving that his playful jabs are reserved for him alone.

Your banter becomes a language of its own—a way to say “I love you” without actually saying it. It’s in the way he grins when you roll your eyes at his jokes, the way he nudges you gently when you’re being stubborn. The way he always knows exactly how to make you laugh, even on your worst days. With Will, every day feels like a game, and you’re both winning.

Supportive Partner

In your relationship with Will, his unwavering support is one of the things you cherish most. He’s not just your partner—he’s your biggest cheerleader, your hype man, and your safe haven all rolled into one. No matter what you’re going through, whether it’s chasing a dream, tackling a new challenge, or just having a rough day, Will is always there to lift you up and remind you of your worth.

When you decide to try something new—whether it’s skating, learning an instrument, or even something as simple as baking a complicated recipe—Will will be the first to encourage you. He’ll sit with you while you practice, offering gentle advice when you ask for it and cheering you on even when you feel like giving up. “You’re a natural,” he’ll say, even if your first attempt at playing the guitar sounds more like a cat in distress. “Seriously, I’ve never heard anyone make that chord sound so… unique.” His teasing is always light-hearted, but it’s paired with genuine admiration for your willingness to try. And when you finally nail it? He’s beaming with pride, as if you’ve just won a Grammy. “Told you! I knew you could do it. Now play it again—I need this on video for when you’re famous.”

On tough days, Will’s support is a quiet, steady force. He has an uncanny ability to sense when you’re feeling down, even if you try to hide it. Without a word, he’ll wrap you in a hug, press a kiss to your forehead, and say, “Talk to me.” And when you do, he listens—actually listens. He doesn’t try to fix everything (unless you ask him to), but he’ll remind you of your strength and resilience. “You’ve got this,” he’ll say, his voice firm but gentle. “And even if you don’t feel like you do, I’ve got you. Always.”

Will’s encouragement isn’t just reserved for big moments, either. He celebrates the small victories with just as much enthusiasm. Did you survive a particularly gruelling day at work? He’ll show up with your favourite takeout and a movie, ready to pamper you. “You’re a rock star, and rock stars deserve the VIP treatment.”

But what makes Will’s support so special is how deeply personal it is. He pays attention to the little things—your favourite comfort foods, the way you light up when you talk about your passions. He knows when you need a pep talk, when you need a distraction, and when you just need someone to sit with you in silence. And he’s always there, without fail.

His belief in you is unshakeable. Even when you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of all the reasons you shouldn’t. “You’re brilliant, you’re kind, and you’re capable of anything you set your mind to,” he’ll say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if anyone says otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me.”

With Will by your side, you feel invincible. His support isn’t just words—it’s in the way he shows up for you, day after day, in big ways and small. He’s your partner, your teammate, and your biggest fan. And no matter what life throws your way, you know you’ll always have him in your corner, cheering you on every step of the way.

Car Rides

Car rides with Will are an experience in themselves. He’s always the one behind the wheel, and you’re perfectly content being his passenger princess. With you who's in control of the music, and you take full advantage of it. Whether you’re in the mood for girly pop, rock and roll, Afrobeats, jungle, reggae, or even a random playlist of your favourite guilty pleasures, Will never complains. He embraces it, turning every drive into a mini concert filled with laughter and the occasional side-eye from strangers at traffic lights.

You love how he lets you take charge of the aux, trusting your musical instincts even when your choices are… questionable. One day, you might blast upbeat pop anthems, singing at the top of your lungs as he chuckles beside you. “Okay, but why do I lowkey know all the words to this?” he’ll say, pretending to be embarrassed before joining in on the chorus. Another day, you might switch it up with some smooth reggae or high-energy Afrobeats, and he’ll bob his head along, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm. “You’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that,” he’ll tease, even if he’s secretly adding some of your songs to his own playlist.

The best moments are when you both get so into the music that you forget the world around you. You’ll be belting out a duet to some cheesy love song, completely off-key but having the time of your lives, when you catch people in the next car staring at you. Will, never one to back down from a bit of fun, will roll down the window and shout, “What? Never seen a Grammy-winning performance before?” before bursting into laughter and speeding off when the light turns green.

Long drives are your favourite. Whether it’s a road trip to somewhere new or just a leisurely cruise around town, the car becomes your little bubble of happiness. You’ll pack snacks, throw a blanket in the backseat just in case, and let the music set the mood. Will’s driving is smooth and confident, and you love how he occasionally reaches over to hold your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he focuses on the road. “You good over there, princess?” he’ll ask, glancing at you with a smile. And you’ll nod, feeling completely at ease because, with him, even the simplest moments feel special.

Sometimes, the drives are quiet, the music playing softly in the background as you both enjoy the comfortable silence. Other times, they’re filled with lively conversations, random debates, or Will’s hilarious commentary on whatever’s happening outside. “Did that guy just try to parallel park in one go? Bold move,” he’ll say, shaking his head in mock disbelief. Or, “That billboard says ‘World’s Best Coffee.’ Challenge accepted.” And just like that, you’re pulling into a random café to test their claim, laughing the entire time.

But no matter where you’re going or what you’re listening to, the car rides always feel like yours. It’s your space to be silly, to be serious, to be yourselves. And Will wouldn’t have it any other way.

Protective Side

Beneath Will’s laid-back, easygoing exterior I see lies a fiercely protective streak, especially when it comes to you. While he’s usually the type to brush things off with a joke or a sarcastic remark, the moment someone disrespects you or crosses a line, his playful demeanour is gone.

Will’s protectiveness isn’t the loud, over-the-top kind. It’s subtle but firm. He’s the type to notice things others might miss—a snide comment, a dismissive tone, or even a lingering look that makes you uncomfortable. And while he might not always call it out immediately (he prefers to gauge how you feel about it first), he’s always ready to step in at the moment you need him.

Like if someone makes a backhanded comment about you in a social setting, Will’s response is sharp but calculated. He’ll tilt his head, feigning confusion, and say something like, “Oh, I’m sorry—did you mean to say that out loud? Because it sounded like utter bullshit.” His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes it clear he’s not joking. And if the person tries to laugh it off or double down, he’ll hit them with a perfectly timed quip that leaves them speechless.

But it’s not just about witty comebacks. If someone genuinely hurts you—whether it’s a friend, a coworker, or even a stranger—he’s quick to reassure you that their behaviour says more about them than it does about you. “Anyone who can’t see how amazing you are doesn’t deserve a second of your time,” he’ll say, his voice soft but firm.

What makes Will’s protectiveness so endearing is how he balances it with respect for your independence. He never tries to fight your battles for you unless you ask him to. Instead, he understands that you can stand up for yourself and is often there offering quiet support and encouragement. “You don’t need me to defend you,” he’ll say with a grin. “You’re perfectly capable of putting people in their place. But just in case, I’ll be right here, ready to back you up.” (definitely would hold your earrings and purse if you were to scrap with someone)

And when it comes to physical safety, Will’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. If you’re walking home late at night, he’ll insist on accompanying you, even if it’s out of his way. If you’re feeling uneasy in a crowded place, he’ll subtly position himself between you and whatever—or whoever—is making you uncomfortable. And if anyone dares to threaten you, his calm, sarcastic facade drops entirely. He becomes a force to be reckoned with, his voice low and steady as he says, “You have one more chance to apologise and walk away before this gets ugly.”

With him by your side, you feel safe, cherished, and fiercely defended. And while you might not always need his protection, it’s comforting to know that, no matter what, Will will always have your back.

Surprise Dates

Between his busy schedule and the demands of everyday life, you make it a point to plan dates that are thoughtful, fun, and meaningful. You’ve made it a tradition to try something new at least once a month, while the other dates revolve around activities you both love. Whether it’s a spontaneous road trip, a nostalgic arcade night, or a fancy dinner at a place he’s been wanting to try, you always find ways to make him feel special—and he absolutely adores it.

You know how much Will appreciates surprises, so you’ve become a master at planning ahead. You keep a mental (or physical) list of things he mentions in passing—like a new restaurant he wants to check out, a movie he’s excited to see, or a place he’s always wanted to visit. Then, when the time is right, you spring the surprise on him. His face lights up every time, and the way he grins when he realises what you’ve planned is worth every bit of effort.

Another month, you might plan a random road trip to a nearby town neither of you has explored. You’ll pack a picnic, create a playlist of his favourite songs, and let him take the wheel. The excitement in his eyes when he realises where you’re headed is priceless. “You’re seriously the best,” he’ll say, squeezing your hand as he starts the car. Along the way, he’ll take detours to roadside attractions, insisting on stopping for silly photo ops and spontaneous adventures. “Look at this place!” he’ll exclaim, pulling over at a giant dinosaur statue or a retro diner. “We have to take a picture. This is peak road trip material.” And of course, you’ll oblige, laughing as he strikes ridiculous poses and insists on making the memories as over-the-top as possible (though he takes cute couple pictures as well).

And then there are the fancy dates—the ones where you pull out all the stops. You’ll book a table at that upscale restaurant he’s been talking about for weeks, or you’ll surprise him with tickets to a show or event he’s been dying to see. On those nights, you love seeing him dressed up, his usual casual vibe swapped for something more polished. “Look at you, all fancy,” you’ll tease, and he’ll shoot back with a smirk, “What can I say? I clean up nice. But not as nice as you.”

What makes these dates so special is how much thought you put into them. You know how busy Will’s schedule can be, so you always plan ahead to make sure the timing works. You’ll coordinate with his friends or coworkers if needed, and you’re not above bribing them with coffee or baked goods to keep the surprise under wraps. And when the day finally arrives, you love seeing the look on his face. “You planned all this for me?” he’ll ask, his voice soft with disbelief. “Of course I did,” you’ll reply, smiling. “You deserve it.”

But it’s not just about the big surprises. You also make time for the little things—like cosy movie nights at home, complete with his favourite snacks and a blanket fort, or lazy Sunday mornings where you cook breakfast together and spend hours talking and laughing. Those moments are just as important, and they remind you both why you fell in love in the first place.

With every date, whether big or small, you show Will how much he means to you. And in return, he makes sure you know how much he appreciates it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he’ll say, pulling you close after a particularly memorable outing. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m not letting you go.” And as you smile up at him, you know that these moments—these carefully planned, perfectly executed surprises—are what make your relationship so special.

Social Media PDA

I think Will is the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, and that extends to his social media presence. While he respects your desire to keep a low profile due to your job, he’s not shy about showing the world how much he adores you. His Instagram is a mix of his work, his hobbies, and, of course, glimpses of your relationship. He’s the type to post pictures of the two of you without a second thought, whether it’s a candid shot of you laughing at something he said or a cosy selfie from a date night. Or a goofy photo of you both making faces at the camera.

His captions are always playful and affectionate. “Caught this one mid-laugh. Guess I’m funnier than I thought” or “Date night with my favourite person. Don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in one piece.”. The comments are always flooded with fans gushing over how cute you two are together, and Will loves reading them, often showing you the funniest or sweetest ones with a proud grin. “Look, they’re saying we’re goals. Can’t argue with that.”

But it’s not just the photos. You occasionally pop up in the background of his videos, whether it’s a behind-the-scenes clip from one of his projects or a casual vlog. Sometimes it’s just your hand in the frame as you pass him a coffee, or your voice chiming in with a sarcastic comment that makes him burst out laughing. Fans have come to love these little moments, dubbing them “crumbs” and saying that they’re being “fed” whenever you make an appearance. “We see you back there!” they’ll comment, or “The way he looks at her when she talks… I can’t. 😭”

Will finds the whole thing hilarious and endearing. He loves how much his fans adore you, even though you’re not in the spotlight yourself. “They’re obsessed with you,” he’ll say, scrolling through the comments. “Can’t blame them, though. I’m obsessed with you too.” And while you prefer to stay out of the public eye, you can’t help but smile at the way he proudly includes you in his world, even if it’s just in small, subtle ways.

There are times when he’ll sneak in a little more PDA than usual, just to mess with you. Like the time he posted a video of the two of you cooking together, and he casually dropped a kiss on your forehead mid-sentence. The internet went wild, and you playfully scolded him for it later. “You’re such a show-off,” you said, and he just shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? I like showing the world how lucky I am.”

Despite his public displays of affection, Will is careful to respect your boundaries. He never shares anything too personal or invasive, and he always checks with you before posting something that features you prominently. “You good with this?” he’ll ask, showing you a photo or video before hitting post. And if you ever say no, he doesn’t hesitate to scrap it, no questions asked. “Your comfort comes first,” he’ll say, and it’s one of the many reasons you love him.

For Will, it’s simple: he’s proud of you, proud of your relationship, and he wants the world to know it. And even though you prefer to stay behind the scenes, you can’t help but feel a little flutter of happiness every time you see one of his posts and realise, all over again, just how much he loves you.

Spicy Headcanons

Rough or soft?

Will is the kind of partner who knows exactly what you need, even before you do. Whether it’s a night of tender affection or one where he pushes you to the edge, he always makes sure you feel safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by him.

Soft Moments

When the mood calls for softness, Will is all about making you feel adored. He’ll take his time, his touches gentle and deliberate, as if he’s memorising every inch of you. His kisses are slow and sweet, starting at your lips and trailing down your neck, your collarbone, and everywhere else he knows you love to be touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’ll murmur against your skin, his voice a low, soothing rumble that makes your heart swell. “I could spend forever like this, just you and me.” His hands will roam your body with reverence, tracing patterns that leave you shivering. He’ll whisper praise in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves the way you respond to him, and how lucky he feels to have you in his arms.

These are the moments where he’s all about you—your pleasure, your comfort, your happiness. He’ll hold you close afterward, his fingers brushing through your hair as he presses soft kisses to your forehead. “You’re my everything,” he’ll say, and you’ll believe him, because in those moments, nothing else exists but the two of you.

Rough Moments

But then there are the nights when Will’s more dominant side takes over. It’s not about anger or frustration—it’s about trust, about pushing boundaries, and exploring the raw connection between you. On these nights, he’s in complete control, and he knows exactly how to make you unravel.

He’ll start slow, his touch firm but teasing, building you up until you’re trembling with need. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he’ll pull back, his grip tightening in your hair as he forces you to meet his gaze. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his commanding voice sending a thrill down your spine. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

He’ll edge you relentlessly, his hands and mouth working you to the brink over and over again until you’re a writhing, desperate mess. Tears might prick at the corners of your eyes, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you beg him for release. But he won’t give in—not until he’s sure you’ve reached your limit. “You can take it,” he’ll say, his tone equal parts challenge and reassurance. “I know you can.” Of course, you can; you haven’t said the safe word yet.

Foreplay

Will is the kind of man who takes his time, savouring every moment of intimacy with you. He’s not just interested in the end goal—he’s obsessed with the journey, with the way he can make you unravel under his touch. For Will, foreplay is an art form, and you are his masterpiece. He loves watching you moan, squirm, and barely hold onto yourself, knowing he’s the one driving you to the edge.

It starts with his hands, always so deliberate and sure. He’ll trace patterns along your skin, his fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake. He loves the way you shiver under his touch, the way your breath hitches when he finds that one spot that makes you gasp. “You’re so sensitive,” he’ll murmur, the tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. “I love how you react to me.”

His mouth. Damn his mouth. He’ll press kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your stomach—everywhere but where you want him most, just to tease you. “Will,” you’ll whine, your hands tangling in his hair, and he’ll chuckle against your skin, the vibration making you squirm. “Patience, love,” he’ll say, his lips curving into a smirk. “I’m not done with you yet.”

When he finally does give you what you want, it’s with a slow, deliberate intensity that leaves you breathless. He’ll watch you as he works, his eyes dark with desire, drinking in every moan, every whimper, every desperate plea for more. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he’ll say, his voice rough with need. “I could watch you fall apart all day.”

But Will isn’t just about physical touch—he’s a master of words, too. He’ll whisper filthily sweet nothings in your ear, his voice a mix of praise and promise. “You take me so well,” he’ll say, his breath hot against your skin. “I love how you sound, how you feel, how you’re all mine.” His words are like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, and they only make you want him more.

By the time he’s done with you, you’re a trembling, incoherent mess, barely able to form a sentence. But Will isn’t satisfied until he’s sure you’re completely undone. “Not yet,” he’ll say, his hands and mouth working in tandem to push you even further. “I want to hear you beg.”

I hope people don't mind that I only wrote two spicy scenes. Sorry, I kinda ran out of ideas lol. Anyways… how did people like the headcannons? These are headcannons right?

[ghostlyferrettarot]

★Pick a Picture:🧡🫂Your next best friend🫂🧡

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

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🧡Masterlist🧡

🐯Pile 1: The Sun, Ace of Wands and 8 of Pentacles.

This person is truly charming and caring, and I have a feeling that they will be your antithesis in many ways, which will make you two complement each other incredibly well. The connection between you two could come about in a totally unexpected way; perhaps you'll find yourself in a situation that forces you to spend time together, which could lead to a strong and long-lasting friendship. This person's loyalty will be unwavering and their authenticity will shine through in every interaction you have. Their presence in your life will bring a dose of optimism and kindness that will allow you to appreciate the beauty in simple things, especially if you've had difficult experiences with friends in the past. Their way of being will remind you that not everything is complicated and that there is light even in dark times.

This person is undoubtedly unique and will become a friend for life. The connection you develop will be special, full of meaningful moments and shared laughter. As you get to know each other, you'll find that their sweetness and outlook on life will inspire you to open up more and trust in friendships again, creating a bond that will last over time.

🐯Song:

🦊Pile 2: The Star, 5 of Wands and Queen of Swords.

This person is really a lot of fun. I have a feeling that you'll find yourselves in a place where you can enjoy and relax, like a nightclub, where the music and atmosphere allow you to let go and put your worries aside. It's the kind of situation where you feel free to be yourself and enjoy yourself to the fullest.

When you're together, you become the center of attention, as if you were the life of the party. People around you notice the joy you have, and everyone wants to be around you to share that positive energy. It's as if your laughter and good humor are special and thay cant help but feel drawn to you.

The connection between you is so strong that you seem inseparable, almost as if you were family. There is a special chemistry in the air, an authentic and sincere energy that reflects the deep relationship and loyalty that they share. It is truly beautiful to see how they support you and how their friendship has become an unbreakable bond with you.

🦊Song:

🦁Pile 3: Knight of Pentacles, 9 of Cups, and The Hermit.

This person tends to be quite serious in their way of being, but you will have the ability to transform their way of seeing things. The chemistry between you will be remarkable, and although some may think that you are a peculiar duo, there is actually a deep and sincere friendship that unites you. This special connection will allow you to enjoy unique and fun moments, creating memories that you will treasure forever.

As you spend time together, you will both experience significant personal growth. The relationship you develop will be so strong that you could even embark on a joint project that will bring you great benefits. The trust and understanding you have towards each other will allow you to face challenges and take advantage of opportunities, turning your ideas into something tangible and successful.

What they have goes beyond a simple friendship; it's a family. You consider each other family and know each other so well that they can anticipate each other's thoughts with just a glance. This connection is powerful and unique, and will allow them to support each other every step of the way, further strengthening their bond and leading them to achieve new goals together.

🦁Song:

🧡Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated🧡

[hamliet]

All for the Game: In Defense of Melodrama

So a friend mailed me a trilogy of self-published books (not published by my friend) telling me it had all the trigger warnings but I needed to read it. So I did.

And it took me 3 days to read through all three books of the All For the Game trilogy. So I guess you could say I liked it. A lot.

The premise is... unhinged. Think a sports drama meets a mobster story meets a college story. Plus some romance. Oh, and the sport is made-up.

But hey, every major single character is a lost, angry murder child who had no fair shot at life, and yet is given one anyways. And their development is some of the best I've read.

And the rarest gem of all? The best portrayal of identical twin characters I've ever seen. Y'all know how rare this is for me to say!

A Found Family of Foxes

Coach Wymack only recruits troubled kids to join the Foxes. Essentially, we need more Wymacks in real life. Addicts, sex workers, murderers, runaways. Everyone gets a second chance, and no one is limited by their pasts.

The author does a wonderful job of interlacing the characters' pasts. They each have their own piece to offer Neil, our main character, as he joins, insofar as learning what family means. They also all learn from Neil, and from each other, and each character feels very unique. They have their own manner of talking, and their own journey. They felt real.

Nicky was one of my favorite characters to read. Neil, Kevin, Andrew, and Aaron's arcs were the best written. Andrew, of course, is the standout. He's so angry, so hurt, and so easy to write off as a sociopath. And in real life, someone like him would be written off as one. But he's anything but.

In fact, Andrew is the heart of the story. Him learning to love despite seeming like the longest shot at the start answers the thematic question of the story... especially because that theme is twisted to ask questions of the reader, because we learned Andrew has loved deeply, and all along.

Andrew's twin brother, Aaron, shares a very complex relationship with Andrew. It's codependent and also filled with resentment and deep care. The idea that love and hate are two sides of the same coin is really embodied by their relationship. Whatever happens between them, they are never apathetic.

Their arcs are complimentary but unique, with Aaron learning to fight for Katelyn and with Andrew learning to stay for Neil. Their relationship also foils Riko and Kevin's, in that again, they are something of a "set" and there are complicated feelings about being abandoned and protected between them, as well as just what gives their lives value. Riko and Kevin's brotherly relationship was tragic, however.

Andrew's romance with Neil is also well done slow-burn. You can slowly see Neil falling for him, despite being oblivious in his narration, and his inability to open up and realize that Andrew is down bad for him (and that he's also obsessed with Andrew and has been since their first meeting).

At the beginning I assumed the romance was Neil and Kevin, and I think it was an interesting subversion that it was actually Andrew and Neil. Though apparently the author flirted with the idea of a throuple of Kevin-Neil-Andrew, and I'm not gonna lie, you can absolutely see that in the story. It could have worked, but I'm not mad it didn't either.

Neil is also a great main character. His struggles with identity and purpose mirror those of a lot of younger people, and that's without the trauma and the literal switching of identities (a way in which he and Andrew parallel each other in their first meeting, by pretending to be someone they aren't).

His slow acceptance that he has worth, and that life has value, and that he can be loved and love, that he can even trust, and that even if tragedy strikes, it's worth being loved--that was genuinely moving to read. Like, I teared up.

Fox Faith

I really enjoyed the way the author wrote about Renee's born again faith, as well as Nicky's faith. Nora Sakavic portrays them as real people, flawed too, but also people whose faith clearly impacts their lives in a positive way. And those around them as well, but not in a preachy way.

Listen, I'll take any portrayal of queer-affirming Christianity I can. And that the author does this without dumbing down the reality of living their faith? I loved it.

I also found the way the scenes between Nicky and his family at Thanksgiving went down--the utter nightmare they were--to be a somewhat accurate commentary on the state of the protestant evangelical church. I mean, the father is literally named Luther. In his judgement, he throws a hurting child into the arms of a predator, unaware he's being played by forces far greater than his (the mafia). But that doesn't break him. No, what breaks him is his son being gay. A child is literally being abused in your house, and you don't even focus on that because oh no, the gay. Intentional or not, it works as a scathing commentary on the American church today.

The Critiques and the Features

There's really only one critique I have. Well, two. But one is a critique I think actually is a feature, not a bug, and the other is really a taste thing.

The first critique though is a spoiler, so skip the next three paragraphs. This is your one warning.

I didn't like that Riko died. I think it works for the story, actually. I also think him living would have worked. Andrew breaking his arm after he's lost the game in the end was poetic justice. He had nothing left. His brother killing him was kind of just unnecessary--but also kind of the point.

Because the reality is that Riko never had a chance. His entire life he was thrown away and desperate. He was awful, yes, and did many unforgivable things... but because the entire story was about humanizing the types of people seem as monsters, it also never lets you forget Riko is human. His story is a tragedy, and his death ensures freedom for Neil and the Foxes, but I personally would have preferred him to live. However, this is more a taste thing than a critique thing.

I also think that Riko ironically mirrors Seth's arc: both died tragically and never had much of a chance. And even though they are gone, Seth is still loved and appreciated. Riko really isn't, and that is, itself, supposed to rattle.

My other critiques are not so much critiques, just acknowledgements that AFTG doesn't conform to most westerners' expectations of fiction. The good news is that it sets this up at the beginning so the unrealistic elements don't really raise eyebrows because it never pretends it's going to be realistic. Expectations are fully managed.

Still, yes, you do have to suspend disbelief a bit. Neil's dad and his goons are comically evil (yet still terrifying). The coincidence of Kevin and Neil meeting again is a bit much. Also, Andrew's nonsensical medication that is just not how medicine works. And also, Exy. Okay, Exy as sport is basically lacrosse and Quidditch.

Larger Thoughts on Genre

AFTG also reminds me of what I think is missing from a lot of traditional publishing and is why a lot of people turn to, say, fanfiction rather than traditional work now. Actually, this extends beyond just publishing and gets into the western style of storytelling in the modern era.

It's too grounded in reality.

Not that realism is bad--I like realism a lot. But I do think a lot of the appeal of, say, K-dramas, J-dramas, Spanish and Greek telenovelas, and fanfiction is the melodrama. Modern western storytelling industries frown on melodrama, and indeed there are flaws inherent in melodrama, but there are also flaws inherent in realism. I do think modern western publishing and storytelling has, to use a cliche, thrown the baby out with the bathwater and forgotten how needed melodrama is. Too much realism leads to every story I consume from the west feeling muted and stale.

Really one of the few places in the English-speaking western entertainment sphere where you don't see an emphasis on realism is fanfiction. A lot of fanfics say the hell with reality, let’s portray the wildest possibilities. The ironic thing is that many of these melodramatic stories end up with something a lot more valuable to say, in terms of emotional truth and heft, than your average sanitized product from private equity firm controlled publishers in 2025.

AFTG takes wild possibilities and uses its melodramatic plot and premise and characters to portray emotional realities that everyone can relate to, and through the melodrama gives readers a safe space to explore those feelings. Feeling hopeless. Feeling trapped. Abandoned. Terrified of the past, and of the future. And it shows a family forming, trust forming, healing happening, despite scars.

While melodrama at its worst can be full of flat stock characters who never move past their archetypes, melodrama at its best--like in AFTG--takes those archetypes and breaks them down. It invites you into the premises of a story that could never happen in real life and asks you to explore the wildest reaches of the reader's capacity for empathy and hope.

Melodrama done well reminds me of the hyperbolized worlds of novels in the past. For example, Dostoyevsky's works, in which hyperbolized reality contrasts with the brutally honest realism of his characters' psychologies. Now, I'm not saying All for the Game is on the same literary level or anything like that. Not at all. I'm just saying that this work reminded me of melodrama's greatest strength: Hyperbolized worlds that enable us to explore the heights/depths of and questions of limits to human nature.

Melodrama at its best is a tool to enhance stories, and while it's got a bad rap, it is compelling ish when done right.

All this to say, I genuinely wish traditional publishing would open up to craziness again. Yes, all the YouTube dudebros will say "this would never happen" and they'd be right. But the emotional heft of the story is still very, very real.

[theotterpenguin]

thinking about how katara is the only person zuko tells about his mother, the only member of the gaang who zuko opens up to about his scar, the only person he let touch his scar, the person that zuko gained another scar for in order to protect. thinking about how all the terrible memories wound up in zuko's scars are also now intimately connected to katara's kindness. thinking about how katara is the first person zuko trusted, how she offered to heal his scar out of the goodness of her heart, how much he values that trust she placed in him and so he cares the most about rebuilding that connection with her - more than anyone else - after his betrayal. thinking about katara always being so in tune with zuko's feelings, how she understands the importance of zuko and iroh's relationship and is concerned about zuko during the eip, and how in return zuko chooses to open up to her when he's worried about his uncle forgiving him. thinking about how only katara has truly witnessed the complicated relationship between zuko and azula, how she's seen azula's manipulation of her brother but has also seen how zuko still cares for her and stands by him even when he's grieving the defeat of his sister. and how for all these reasons it only makes sense that zuko would want katara with him for the most difficult fight he's ever had to face, and it only makes sense that azula realizes killing katara will hurt zuko the most.

thinking about how zuko is so in tune with katara's feelings, how even when they were enemies the crystal catacombs he reaches out to her when he realizes she's upset, how he never invalidates her negative feelings towards him, but instead only asks what he can do for her. thinking about how zuko is the only person in the show that katara ever reveals the full story of her mother's death to, and how zuko is empathetic and kind and apologizes to her, despite not being responsible for it. thinking about how zuko is the one who recognizes that katara still has her own story to resolve, separate from aang's, and helps her overcome the most traumatic event of her life. thinking about how zuko understands the strength in katara and trusts her to make her own choices, never questioning katara's personal moral choice not to kill but also not to forgive. thinking about how zuko is the only person in the show that ever looks after katara's wellbeing while she's so busy caring for everyone else, how he asks katara to rest, how he realizes that katara needs to face her past to heal emotionally, how he takes katara to ember island for some alone time to process what has happened, how he is always shown helping out with house chores without being asked. how for once katara gets to be cared for instead of the caretaker. thinking about how zuko never makes his forgiveness a requirement of helping her, and yet, for all of these reasons, it only makes sense that katara chooses to forgive him. and it only makes sense that zuko is the person that katara ends up trusting the most deeply, the person she is willing to run into an agni kai arena for and risk her life because she cares for him and doesn't want him to get hurt.

just thinking about the way that katara and zuko share a relationship that is so unique from any other dynamics in the show, and how they share the most complicated, emotionally intimate connection in the gaang.

and it's no wonder that they always gravitate towards each other the most in the second half of book 3 - because they understand each other the most out of everyone else. they never leave each other's sides in tsr, go out of their way to be near each other in subsequent episodes, and are together in almost every scene in the finale.

[chrollosnenfish]

I remember when I read the webtoon, not at all knowing what I was getting myself into, having a great time. Then I finished it, with a hole in my heart so big I didn’t think anything else could fill it. Then I learned that they had adapted weak hero into one season of a kdrama. I was absolutely ecstatic and I watched it all in one sitting. It fascinated me how the director chose to adapt the backstory first, but I definitely wasn’t against the decision. In fact, I believe that’s the best way it could have gone. Then comes this year. I had been anticipating season 2 for so long and when it came out, I made sure to watch it in one sitting, as to not get spoiled. I was, again, filled with an empty hole in my heart. But also the satisfaction of seeing this product that I had waited for and love being adapted in a way that was filled with passion.

The relationships in this show fill me with so much joy. Starting off with the OG trio. I always have a soft spot for trios in fiction. Each of the pairs have their own unique dynamic and it elated me to see Sieun come out of his shell slowly in this group. Even after all of the events of season 1, Sieun holds so much love in his heart for Beomseok that I don’t think even he knows what to do with it. (I’ll get to Suho and Sieun’s dynamic later).

Sieun and Yeongyi were also a cute dynamic. Her assertiveness vs. his reserved-ness also played a large part in him being able to open up. Suho and Yeongyi were basically 2 peas in a pod. They matched each other’s vibe and were loud enough to cancel out each other.

Onto season 2. We had the quad. Each member strategically balanced each other out. Starting off first with Sieun and Baku. Both of them struggle with very similar things, the burden of thinking they ruined a friend’s life due to their actions. They try to keep people safe, but don’t take their own advice. One of them is fighting for everyone and the other is fighting for everyone they love. Then there’s Gotak and Juntae. These two cuties are almost like each other’s rock. They’re always there for each other and would do basically anything to protect each other. Juntae’s kind nature balances out Gotak’s impulsiveness. Their scenes will always make me smile. I like reading them as romantically coded, but I also like their dynamic as just friends

Then we’ve got Sieun and Juntae. I think Sieun was surprised with the idea that he had the ability to protect someone who, just days ago, he didn’t care about at all. He may see a little bit of himself in Juntae, although their personality differs. Juntae sees Sieun as almost his savior. He didn’t even call him and he came running. Next is Gotak and Baku. The childhood friends. Although they don’t talk about the incident, I imagine once in a while, Baku sees Gotak’s leg and starts spiraling, but Gotak reassures him that he’s okay. They’re very much the ‘dumb and dumber’ trope, and they compliment each other well.

Next is Sieun and Gotak. Although their relationship started rough, they’ve both grown into people that they can mutually respect. Gotak, other than their first fee encounters, never crosses any of Sieun’s boundaries and always seems to make him feel comfortable. In fact, they’ve both grown first almost smile we got out of Sieun in season 2 was because of his (and Baku’s) antics. Lastly for the quad, we’ve got Juntae and Baku. Although one of the less explored dynamics, we can see that Baku views Juntae as almost a little brother, someone worth protecting.

Now for a very interesting one, Baekjin and Baku (#were divorced and make it everyone’s problem). Jkjk, but the two of them have a very complicated history and “let go” of their affection for each other long, long ago. Knowing that Baekjin dies not knowing the Baku does not, in fact, hate him, will forever hurt me. Another interesting one is Sieun and Baekjin. The two geniuses who could have been on the same team in spelling bee, who ended up fighting each other almost to death. One thing that always stood out to me, was that Baekjin never broke his promise about not going to Suho’s hospital, while Sieun did end up not keeping his promise of staying away from Baku.

As the absolute last we’ve got Sieun and Suho. From the moment I read the webtoon, their dynamic tickled my brain. Their relationship starts off similar to how Sieun’s and Gotak’s start, with a bit of a rough patch. From then on, through effort put in on Suho’s part, and toleration on Sieun’s they get closer and closer. I know their relationship can be interpreted in different ways, but the romantic angle was always the one I saw it from. As soon as either one of them gets hurt, the other makes sure to make the person who’s hurt them pay dearly. He was the first person to make him smile and the entire conversation at the hospital was almost a confession of love. Even the director, Hyunwook and Jihoon themselves said similar things about their love. I know, when Suho got put in that coma, Sieun probably never thought he’d love again. But through exposure to all new friends, he did. Then seeing his heart through his eyes at the sight of Suho at the end of season two wrapped it all up with a pretty little bow.

I’m glad to finally write this all down. I’ve been wanting a way to relay my feelings about weak hero and I finally did.

[atricksterproblem]

Relationship Headcanons for Mizu

[x]

A note on gender and sexuality: I use she/her pronouns for Mizu but I think her actual gender is "it's complicated". The show's creators have intentionally left her gender open to interpretation, which I think was wise. Any headcanons you want to have about this are valid. For myself, I think that it would in any case be difficult to impose any categories that we normally would given that she's living in a very different place and time, and from what I've read Edo period Japan had a unique approach to gender. That said, we have much less information about what AFAB people were getting up to than AMAB, so there's room for theorizing.

It's also worth noting that their approach to sexuality seems to have been, as in many other places in pre-modern times, to consider things in terms of acts people may or may not choose to engage in rather than in terms of overall personal identity. So all gender questions aside, I think as of the end of Season 1 we have incomplete information about what Mizu may or may not be partial to, so again pretty much anything you want to imagine for her is valid. Which is the long way of saying that the reader here can be any gender.

A relationship with Mizu is not going to happen quickly or easily, and if it happens at all, it's unlikely to be casual. She's had her trust broken again and again, she has secrets to keep, and she's laser-focused on her goals. You'd have to be a well-proven friend before she'd even consider anything more.

2. If you did manage to get that close to her, she'd defend you with her life. She knows exactly how dangerous the path she's on can be, and she values the few people she cares about above all else.

3. Getting her to open up would be a project. As a rule she talks very little. Once you're together she remains taciturn in public but would be freer with you during alone time.

4. Be prepared to make sure she's getting enough sleep and taking care of whatever injuries she's healing from. She tends to just power through pain, which works beautifully right up until it doesn't. She's also a light sleeper, something she's had to train herself to be for safety while traveling alone. Having you there to reassure her that all is well will help her get back to sleep more easily.

5. She'll have trouble believing you really find her attractive until you're an established couple, and even then she'll have many moments of doubt. She's used to being considered monstrous by everyone and it will not be easy for her to see herself through your eyes.

6. Patience is one of the greatest gifts you can give to her. She knows she can be a prickly, difficult person after everything she's been through. Knowing that she can count on having you in her corner no matter what is everything to her.

7. Your reward for that patience is that you see a side of her that nobody else ever does, and she looks at you in a way she never looks at anyone else. Her eyes soften. For you, she smiles more. You've heard her laugh -- really laugh, not the sardonic chuckle most people have experienced. When she's alone with you, she feels like more than a weapon, more than a vow. Sometimes, when you're in each others' arms, she can imagine a life after revenge. Someday, she'll complete her task. She doesn't know what she'll do after that happens, but whatever it is, she wants you there for it, always.

[aphroditeofcnidus]

Rhysand's warning to Nesta about Gwyn is infuriating.Why does he think Gwyn is there in the first place?Not because of Nesta,who invited the priestesses to the training sessions,because she believed it would help them?Why would she be unkind to someone she invited and was trying to help?Nesta has a complicated relationship with Feyre.Rhysand needs to realize that just because someone doesn't have a good relationship with his mate,this doesn't make them a terrible person allover.Not everything revolves around her and he also needs to realize that she's not so perfect in her relationships with others,either.She says that Nesta and her were horrible to each other.The fact that Nesta is so demonized,because she was once rude to Feyre is ridiculous.Everything about her is blown out of proportion.She can't be nice to anyone,because she wasn't nice to Feyre.Cassian in his unique defence of her tells it as it is:Rhysand is unable to believe she would ever do sth nice. Someone can have bad relationships with some people and be nice to others.Rhysand for example is far worse than Nesta in that respect,because he's nice to a very small group of people,but an asshole to everyone else.Nesta has a bad relationship with Feyre,but when it comes to others she only snaps when provoked.Cassian is a prime example for that.Rhysand doesn't hide his hatred of her and she responds in a similar manner.Mor invades her personal space,after she's been violated by the Cauldron,when she makes that comment about her dress.She tries to protect Elain,when she's trying to keep Lucien away from her and she's super justified to slap Greysen.Her slight rudeness to Helion comes at a time,when she's greatly troubled.Normally when others are nice to her, she's nice to them as well.As long as Amren was nice to her,she was nice to her back and she's always nice to Azriel,who never speaks badly of her.

Not everyone,who doesn't get along with Feyre is a monster.Rhysand acts as if rudeness to his mate is blasphemy.He's just psychotic.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Velvet Nights - Yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 15 - REQ. BY anon

~"Virgin Angel Yeosang x Virgin angel reader; Please make it smutty but very lovely. I love when there is aftercare invovled. Also can we emphasize his birthmark?"

pairing: angel!yeosang x angel fem!reader

genre: 18+, cute

summary: your boyfriend gets *a little* jealous and protective when two other angels approach you, and makes you get a taste of his feelings, right in his bed.

wc: 4.2k

warnings: angel au, established relationship, yeosang is really sweet, virgin yeosang & virgin reader, pussy eating, face fucking, one round, aftercare, unprotected (boo wrap up irl!), cowgirl, idk what should I say more oml, unedited, completely consensual, for sure forgot something.

Author's Note: Ayy this is a cute one I promise 😁 It's Yeosang after all. I kinda had fun writing this one, haven't written any cowgirl sex scenes in any of my fics so.I truly had fun ^^ Anon, I hope you'll like my work !

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

It was one of those nights when the sky shimmered with a deep velvet hue, star-streaked and glowing with the softest touch of the divine. The heavens stretched out endlessly, and beneath it, the grand ballroom of the Celestial Academy gleamed with opulence. A vast chandelier of pure light hung suspended above, casting a warm, ethereal glow that made everyone below look like they were walking on clouds. Angels of all kinds, from different realms, fluttered about in their formal attire—wings brushed in gold, silver, and sapphire, the intricate patterns reflecting their heritage.

You stood by the large arched window, your fingers lightly tracing the cool, marble sill as you glanced outside. Your heart raced, not from the excitement of prom, but from the quiet thrill of anticipation. Yeosang, your Yeosang, would be there any minute. You scanned the faces of those gathered, spotting angels from various factions, each marked by their unique wing patterns and aura. Your own wings, soft and feathery with a faint glow of lavender and pearl, trembled slightly with nervous energy.

We were from different kinds of angelic orders, and that made things complicated. Your family—being traditionalists—had strict views about your union, the ancient rivalry between your two lineages casting a shadow over your relationship. Yeosang was from a line of guardian angels, protectors of the sacred realms, while you came from the Seraphim, the more revered order, often seen as the higher-ranking ones in the celestial hierarchy. Though your connection felt pure and unwavering, your families viewed it differently. They saw you as mismatched, perhaps even rebellious. But love, as you had learned, didn’t care much for rules or traditions.

And tonight was your little rebellion—a secret date amidst the grandeur of the prom, hidden in plain sight among the others.

A soft rustle caught your attention, and when you turned, there he was. Yeosang walked towards you, his movements graceful, his aura serene but undeniably powerful. His wings, large and imposing with dark, velvety feathers tipped in silver, fluttered ever so slightly as he approached. He wore a sleek, tailored suit, its midnight-black fabric perfectly contrasting the pale glow of his skin. His eyes, dark and deep like the quiet of the universe itself, found yours, and instantly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he murmured, his voice low and soft as he stood in front of you. His hand reached for yours, his touch sending a gentle warmth through your body. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re not late,” you smiled back, heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze held yours so intently. “And you look… perfect.”

His fingers gently intertwined with yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded. It was just the two of you, surrounded by an unspoken promise, a bond stronger than any familial disapproval or ancient rivalry. In his presence, everything felt right.

“Shall we dance?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he tilted his head toward the dance floor.

You nodded, your wings fluttering in agreement as he led you into the center of the room. The music swelled, soft and melodic, and you moved together effortlessly, gliding through the air as though it were second nature. Your feet barely touched the ground as Yeosang spun you around, his strong arms pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, your wings brushing gently against each other’s.

“I wish we didn’t have to keep sneaking around like this,” you whispered as you swayed in time with the music.

“I know,” he replied, his voice tinged with quiet frustration. “But we’ll figure it out. They’ll come around eventually. And if they don’t—” He paused, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with unwavering determination. “I’ll always choose you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot everything else. It was just Yeosang and you, lost in the rhythm of your own world, your own love story, defying the expectations that sought to keep you apart. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, lingering kiss, the taste of it filling you with warmth, with certainty.

But as all perfect moments do, yours was soon interrupted.

Yeosang leaned down to whisper something sweet in your ear before excusing himself to the restroom, his wings brushing lightly against your arm as he stepped away. You watched him go, feeling the sudden absence of his presence like a cold breeze against your skin.

It wasn’t long after that when two figures approached you. They were both from the warrior class, their broad shoulders and sleek, metallic wings a testament to their power and confidence. Their eyes lingered a little too long on your body, and as they drew closer, the air around them seemed to change—less respectful, more predatory.

“Alone, are you?” one of them asked with a sly grin, his voice smooth but laced with an arrogance that made you uncomfortable.

“Just for the moment,” you replied politely, but you could feel the tension growing in your chest.

“Seems like a shame,” the other chimed in, stepping closer. “Someone as stunning as you shouldn’t be left alone. Maybe we could keep you company?”

You stiffened, glancing toward the direction Yeosang had gone. Where was he?

They leaned in closer, one of them reaching out to lightly touch you arm. “You know, we could show you a much better time than—”

“Than what?” Yeosang’s voice cut through the air, cold and sharp. He stood behind them, his dark eyes narrowed, his wings stretched slightly as if ready to shield you. His presence was commanding, and for a moment, the two angels froze, their arrogance faltering.

The two warriors backed off slightly, clearly not wanting to provoke a fight with a guardian angel of Yeosang’s caliber. Still, they chuckled awkwardly, muttering insincere apologies before slipping back into the crowd.

You could see the restrained anger in Yeosang’s eyes as he turned to you, his jaw clenched tightly. He didn’t speak until they were out of earshot, and when he did, his voice was low, filled with a barely contained intensity.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand reaching out to touch your arm gently, his touch a stark contrast to the simmering fury I

you could feel beneath the surface.

You nodded, placing your hand over his to reassure him. “I’m fine. They didn’t do anything.”

Yeosang’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, though you could still feel the storm brewing within him. In front of others, he was always so composed, his jealousy soft and understated. But you knew him well enough to recognize the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the tension in his wings, the way his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I don’t like when people think they can get away with things like that,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.

“They didn’t,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

Yeosang held you close, his warmth wrapping around you like a protective barrier. As he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, there was a flash of something intense in his gaze, a spark that spoke of unspoken feelings. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His eyes dropped to your lips, and for a moment, you felt the air grow thick with anticipation.

Without another word, he closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and possessive, as if he needed to remind you that you were his. His hands moved to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his emotion into it—the love, the jealousy, the fear of losing you. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and you found yourself melting into him.

When he finally pulled away, his breathing was uneven, and he let out a low chuckle, almost as if to mask his own vulnerability. "I… don’t like sharing," he murmured, his voice soft but edged with a hint of frustration. "You’re mine, and I’m not letting anyone forget that."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you could see that spark of jealousy still lingering in his eyes. Gently, you took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Then show me," you whispered.

---

He smiled—a rare, mischievous smile that you only saw when you two were alone. Without a word, he led you down the hall to the private room he had reserved, his fingers entwined with yours. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, his expression softened as he looked at you, but you could still feel the possessiveness in his gaze.

Yeosang reached out, brushing his thumb across your cheek, his jealousy slipping through in his words. "You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured. "I can’t stand the thought of anyone else trying to steal even a moment of your attention."

You placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I only have eyes for you," you said softly, and he let out a relieved sigh.

"You’d better," he said, his lips quirking up into a playful smile. But as he pulled you close, his jealousy faded, replaced by the warmth of his love.

Yeosang's gaze softened as he held you close, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back. He leaned in, pressing another tender kiss to your lips, his touch delicate yet brimming with the intensity of his emotions. Every movement was careful, as though he was savoring every second with you, not wanting to rush or break the fragile magic between you.

With his forehead resting against yours, he whispered, “Are you comfortable? If this isn’t what you want, please tell me.” His voice was barely above a murmur, laced with both vulnerability and the faintest trace of that protective jealousy you’d come to know. He was searching your eyes, reading every shift, every flicker, as if you were the only thing that existed in his world.

You nodded, your heart racing. It was kinda *both of your first times*. His hand moved to cup your face, thumb brushing softly over your cheek as he held your gaze. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet admiration. “I don’t think you even realize what you do to me.” His lips trailed along your jawline, each kiss tender yet filled with restrained passion.

He let his hand fall to the hem of your top, fingers hovering, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “May I?” he asked, his tone gentle but his eyes intense. You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth as he carefully lifted your top, his hands gliding softly over your skin. He took his time, his touch reverent, like he was memorizing every detail.

He paused, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he whispered, his tone raw. “I don’t want anyone else to see you like this. Only me.” The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through you, but beneath it was a gentleness, a promise of respect.

Yeosang met your eyes again, his gaze filled with warmth and a hint of that lovely jealousy. "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, his voice soft, but there was a tremor in it, a vulnerability that showed just how much he cared. He wanted to be everything you needed—protective, gentle, and loving, but above all, he wanted to make sure you felt safe with him.

Your smile was all the answer he needed. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands holding you close as if you were something precious he would protect with all his heart. And in that moment, you knew—he was yours, just as much as you were his.

With gentle hands, you reached for the hem of Yeosang's shirt, a silent question in your gaze. He gave you a reassuring nod, his eyes filled with warmth and trust. As you carefully lifted his shirt, the fabric slipped over his shoulders, revealing smooth, defined muscles beneath. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of him, realizing just how strong he was—a strength that he always kept so carefully restrained around you, his touch soft and measured.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed your reaction. “Didn’t expect that?” he asked, his tone playful but with a hint of pride.

Blushing, you shook your head, your fingertips hovering just above his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. Tentatively, you let your fingers brush over the hard lines of his muscles, marveling at the contrast between his strength and the gentleness he always showed with you. He shivered slightly at your touch, and you felt his hands settle at your waist, grounding you.

Yeosang leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I want you to know… all of this is just for you,” he whispered, his voice hushed but full of meaning. “Every part of me belongs to you.”

With a tenderness that made your heart swell, he took your hand in his, guiding you to the edge of the bed. His gaze was steady, affectionate, as he helped you sit, standing in front of you with an unwavering focus, as if you were the only person in the world.

He brushed a thumb across your cheek, smiling down at you. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice laced with awe. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.” There was still that flicker of jealousy in his gaze, as if he were guarding this moment, wanting it to be just yours and his alone. His hand lingered on yours, reassuring, grounding, as he looked at you with a love so fierce, you felt it in every heartbeat.

---

Yeosang's gaze never wavered as he leaned closer, his fingers brushing through your hair and tracing down the curve of your back. He lowered himself slowly, his body moving with grace, and his lips found yours in a kiss that was as soft as it was intense, filled with a quiet reverence. His hands settled on your shoulders, sliding down in slow, measured movements, feeling every inch of you as if he wanted to memorize this moment.

With gentle insistence, he guided you back onto the bed, his weight pressing down just enough for you to feel his presence, comforting and strong. His kisses trailed along your jaw, down to your collarbone, each one igniting a warmth that spread through you. His hand slipped to your back, fingertips brushing your skin in a way that made your pulse quicken. He was in no rush; every touch, every glance held a quiet patience, as if he wanted to savor every second, every heartbeat.

As his hands moved lower, his gaze softened, and he leaned back just enough to look into your eyes, searching for any sign that you weren’t comfortable. But you met his gaze with equal trust, a silent assurance passing between you.

Yeosang smiled, his eyes full of warmth, and carefully, he took your hand and placed it on his chest, letting you feel the steady beat of his heart. "I want you to know… you're safe with me," he whispered, a promise laced with devotion. He slowly leaned back, gently pulling you atop him, his touch as tender as it was protective, grounding you in his embrace.

Both of your and his wings retracted as soon as you let yourself sit on his lap and him on the bed. His hands resting on your thighs, you could definitely feel how excited he was already. As you were sitting on his crotch, you felt his cock pulse under you, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. His hands travelled then to your bra, of which he got rid in an instant, then to your panties, of which he wandered around a bit before taking them off for you. You then slowly got off his lap so you could undress him. You unbuckled his belt and then got rid of the suit pants he had, his cock straining against his briefs. You took a deep breath and took his briefs off too, to which you slightly gulped, taking in the view. He chuckled, watching you contently.

"Come here sweetie, give me a kiss" Yeosang said and nodded, to which you crawled onto him and leaned in for a kiss. It was a heavy, lustful one, but filled with a drop of love and tenderness. That type of kiss that anticipated what was about to happen, but left room to feel the love radiating from him. He leaned in for a kiss, kis hands on your ass, squeezing it softly. You whined at the touch, feeling his lips curve into a smile against yours. He suddenly, but slowly started guiding you up until your back arched, not necessarily knowing what he wanted to do.

"May I?" he said and let you down on his face. Your face screamed *horrified* as you let your now-dripping cunt on his face, hovering over. "Oh- my god, Yeosang-" you whispered, breath hitching as soon as you felt his tongue finding it's way in. His hands anchored to your thighs, pushing you down forcefully to bring your pussy closer to his face. He then started eating you out, his tongue hitting all your sweet spots. Your hands were holding onto the headboard, back arching with every touch of his. "You taste so good, babe..." he said, completely fucked out and breath heavy, his nails digging in your flesh. You could already feel the knot in your belly thighten and.. as soon as his nose nudged at your clit a couple more times you came. He ate you out thru your high then softly lifted you up and pushed you down to his lower abdomen, where he let you sit for a moment.

"Everything okay?" Yeosang asked, forehead sweaty.

"Y-yes.." you muffled, still not being able to process what the fuck just happened. But you were damn sure you loved every second of it. You took a minute to look at him and take his beauty in. Your hand hovered over his face, resting for a moment near his eye, where his birthmark was. That was the most poignant feature you loved about him.. his cute, birthmark that made him unique. A birthmark you've probably seen on other people too, but on your man it looked like it was carefully painted by God itself, that's how pretty it looked to you.

"I love you, Yeosang.." you smiled at him, then your mimic changed. You lifted yourself off his belly and your hand slowly went to your folds. You fingered yourself for a short moment to lube your fingers up, then you stroke his length for a couple of times. He flinched at your touch, excitement building with every touch of yours.

"Hold up, baby. You wanna do it without... this?" he said, as his hand reached for the nightstand, where he got a condom from.

"Y-yes.." you shyly said. "I want to feel you... completely. It's my first time, after all... I want to feel e-everything-" your confidence slipped off as you slightly got embarrassed at your words, to which your boyfriend chuckled.

"Okay then, as you please, my love..." he said and his hands went to yours, reassuring you.

Your left hand placed his on your waist as your right hand went for his cock, slowly guiding it to your entrance. You let yourself down on his length, slowly but surely. You let out a loud gasp, followed by a soft moan as you felt him bottom down after two or three tries. A groan left his chest as you gradually and slowly jumped on his cock, your hands holding onto his chest. His hands went to your ass, holding tightily onto it, but not hurrying you. Though, after some thrusts, he easily pushed you a bit, wanting to feel you even more.

"I-uh" you muffled.

"W-what, sweetie?" he breathed out.

"It feels s-so, ngh.. good" you were finally able to say, slowing down for a moment.

"If that's so... why don't we.." his hands grounding you and his pelvis softly thrusting upwards, "speed up, just a bit?"

He waited for you to say something. Anything, the smallest reaction that could be read on your face. But you simply couldn't verbally answer. Though, in response, you started to moderately jump faster on his cock, feeling his length all the way up, deep down inside you, your walls clenching onto him. He had a vein on his cock which you felt way too well, rubbing against your aching walls.

"How do you f-feel, my love..?" Yeosang muffled, breath heavy and hands even heavier on your thighs. He moved them to your ass, softly moving you up and down on his length. Your hands went to his waist, holding dearly onto him. You could yet again feel the knot in your belly thighten, but your thoughts were soon softly interrupted by Yeosang's muffles and quiet moans. You sensed that he was close, too. So you did what you had to and started jumping up and down on his cock rapidly, his nails digging in your soft flesh, feeling for more.

"I-I'm, uh, close, love-" Yeosang said and raised his torso, dragged himself back to the headboard while still being inside you. His hands then went for your ass, moving you up and down forcefully, so he could feel you better. Your hands flew to his hair, and lips to his.

The two of you started making out, sloppy and muffled moans escaping your rapidly rising chests. His eyes glistened with lust, and as soon as he thrusted upwards into you a couple more times he came, filling you up. You fucked yourself on his cock and load through his orgasm, the squelching sounds and the feeling of his cock gliding effortlessly inside you sent you over the edge, the belly in your knot getting undone and finishing all over his length. He slowly came down to a stop, then moved his hands to your back. His dick still deep inside you, he leaned in for a thight hug, stroking your hair and back softly with his hands.

"You did so well, sweetie..." he softly whispered, leaving soft kisses behind, on your body, until his eyes met yours.

"I-.. I love you, Yeosang. I never want to be away from you..." you gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Me neither.." he leaned in for a tender kiss.

He helped you down, sitting you peacefully on the bed, "let's get you washed up, alright? I'll hop in, too" Yeosang said as he lifted you up in his hands and carried you to the bathroom, where he slowly placed you in the tub.

You were so damn lucky to have someone like him in your life.

NETWORKS:

@illusionnet

@blossomnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @gong-fourz @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @woolysium @peachy-bell26

[fucktoyfelix]

Building Consent Culture

From consent.academy

"Consent” is a word with many meanings and applications. It is more than ‘no means no’ and ‘yes means yes’. These simple rules are sometimes helpful, but consent applies to every part of our daily lives - and life can get complicated!

Consent is mostly about feelings, sensations, and power. And feelings, sensations, and power are really complex things. ​How easy is it for you to talk about your feelings? Do you always understand why your body is having different sensations? Do you always know how powerful you are?

Consent is about slowing down and taking in the bigger picture. One way to understand consent is to consider it a shared feeling created together through a process of constant, collaborative discovery. It’s a feeling that comes from voluntary agreement (made without coercion) between those with decision-making capacity, knowledge, understanding, and autonomy.

Consent is present in all forms of human interaction (not just sex). 

Practicing consent creates a space where the safety and agency of all parties is honored, using healthy communication and negotiation to craft informed boundaries. Consent, explicit and implicit, is dependent on the context of the situation, and can be revoked at any time. In any given day, consent is affirmed and violated multiple times. People do it to us and we do it to other people. Creating the conditions for consent is a skill that gets better the more you practice. We need to practice consent in regular, day-to-day situations so we’re prepared for more intense ones like driving a car, being in romantic relationships, and having sex. If we violate consent in these situations, we could cause serious, lasting harm. Practicing consent everyday lowers the risk of consent violations happening, and it also prepares you for what to do when things go wrong.

How Do You Practice Consent?

There are many ways to practice consent. Below are 4 pillars to help you practice consent in your own unique contexts:

1) Capacity 

Capacity is about how able you are to both give and receive consent. How much ability do you have to describe exactly how you feel and make decisions that are right for you? And how much ability do you have to listen to the feelings and decisions of others? Slow down, pause, and check in with yourself and others on how you are really feeling, emotionally, physically, and mentally.

If someone’s capacity is lowered in some way, there’s more risk of a consent violation, so try and find out if there’s anything you can do to help boost each other’s capacity. The mnemonic H.A.L.T.S. can be helpful to check in on some important aspects of capacity - Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired, Sad/Sick/Stressed out.

Recognize that alcohol and other substances can lower your capacity a lot, if not entirely - if someone is unconscious, unable to remember what’s happening, or otherwise incapacitated, then the risk of consent violations is essentially guaranteed for most activities, but especially intense ones like driving or sex. People who are incapacitated need help to prevent harm occurring, so try to give the care they need, even as a bystander.

2) Information

Informed consent is about knowing and understanding exactly what you’re being asked to consent to. Is everyone answering questions honestly? Is everyone sharing and being open with the information they have? Does everyone understand what the words being used actually mean? Going through the “who, what, where, when, why, and how” is a good way to gather information. Pay special attention to the ‘what’, ‘why’, and ‘how’. For example, what does ‘hanging out’ mean? What exactly is a ‘date’? What does ‘having sex’ mean? Why do you want to do this activity, and with this person? What are the risks involved and how are you going to address them? The more you share and check for understanding, the less risk there will be of consent violation.

Being clear about what you're asking for is super important if you want to avoid misunderstandings and unintentional consent violations. And if someone asks you to do something, and you're not sure exactly what they mean or want, ask for clarification. You don't have to agree to something you don't fully understand.

 3) Agreement or Boundary Setting

​Once you have checked in on capacity and shared the information you need, the next step in the ongoing process of consent includes asking questions, making agreements, and setting boundaries. Being explicit is the least risky way to make an ask and set an agreement or boundary. Being explicit means being as clear and specific as possible. This includes:

Saying the words! Accurately describe the activity, how you feel about it, and if relevant, name the body parts involved. If it’s too difficult for you to say out loud, it’s too risky to do!

Setting time limits: Maybe you want to try something for a certain amount of time, or maybe you only have enough capacity for a limited amount of time. Setting a time limit is a good way to combine agreements and boundaries. For example, you might say, “I’m willing to try this, but if I don’t like it after 5 minutes, I want to stop.”

Some people say consensual agreements should be enthusiastic - enthusiasm is great, but sometimes people can seem enthusiastic when they’re actually nervous or scared. Judging someone’s body language can give you helpful information, but always ask how someone is feeling rather than assume. The way someone’s body is responding is not always representative of how they feel.

Again, agreement and boundary setting is part of an ongoing process. Take lots of breaks to check in on sensations specifically - how does your stomach feel? Is it tense or relaxed? Are your hands and feet warm or cold? How is your heart rate? Do you need a bathroom break? Asking questions like this gives someone the chance to figure out how they’re feeling by letting their mind and body catch up to each other. It also lets that person know you care about them as a whole person, and you understand that sometimes what we imagine something will feel like isn’t always the reality.

Remember that just because someone said ‘yes’ to something before, they don’t have to say ‘yes’ again. And if someone changes their mind in the middle of an activity - that’s ok! Stop and ask if there’s something else they’d rather do. Give people lots of time and space to answer honestly. Lastly, remind people often that saying ‘no’ is ok. It’s easy to forget, especially if we don’t feel powerful in a situation, or get overwhelmed by sensations.

4) Autonomy

Autonomy is why we practice consent at all. Autonomy is everyone’s inherent right to decide what’s best for their own body, mind, spirit, and story. If anyone wants to do something that involves other people’s bodies, minds, spirits, or stories, they have a responsibility to communicate and help create the feeling of consent between everyone involved. If they don’t, everyone gets to decide for themselves if they feel a consent violation has happened to them (this is when your boundaries have been crossed and you feel harmed). We all violate consent at some point, even if unintentionally, so we should practice taking accountability for our actions, as we would want others to do.  Accountability can be difficult but respecting someone’s ‘no’ is one of the easiest ways to honor autonomy. Don’t try to convince people to change their mind. Making someone feel afraid or unable to say ‘no’ is coercion, and a guaranteed way to violate consent. Also recognize that the absence of a ‘no’ is not a ‘yes’. Don’t assume that the way someone is dressed or behaving means they really want to say ‘yes’. Just don’t assume - it’s way too risky. Ask questions, listen carefully, and respect how people respond. Despite how complicated things can get, practicing consent can also be this simple.

[blackwaves]

link click fic recs

[ hi– compilation of fics that are rentfree in my head rn. limiting myself to one fic per writer for length, but as a rule i'd recommend much more by each writer if i did not have that restraint + would suggest searching out more by each writer on the list. bonus obligatory self-rec in form of: you can find either niche genfic or veinxiao/polyhouse crimes on my ao3 at lanternglass. crossposted on dreamwidth. ]

i take your hand in mine by jan

(li tianchen & qian jin; rated t; 0.9k)

summary: I could make you do anything, Tianchen thinks. I could take your hand here, now, and make you do anything.

notes: obsessed with literally anything by ao3 user jan thanks— mostly-genfic with impeccable characterization that sprawls across a variety of different characters in the cast and maintains their voices throughout it. this particular fic is a study of li tianchen and qian jin's canon relationship and has a fascinating interplay between them wrt power dynamics.

pay time's debt by yvesi

(li tianchen-centric; rated m; 5.0k)

summary: "Let's reconsider that, shall we?" Liu Xiao says, a gentle smile. "My friend. Let's reconsider everything."

notes: incredibly interesting and very comprehensive character study of tianchen that makes me literally vibrate. the dynamics between both tianchen & liu xiao and tianchen & tianxi & qian jin are fraught and complex in ways that fit with canon and are very well-executed; the grasp of each character as an individual is also excellent. it uses the form and structure in a way that makes me go !! as well.

blue and permanent by sunslants

(li tianxi-centric; rated g; 1.7k)

summary: Li Tianxi, at the opera.

notes: everything by this writer uses gorgeous, poetic language— this fic in particular is a single moment in time between qian jin & the twins pre-canon, and it executes it well as a lens to encapsulate the dynamic. it's written through li tianxi's pov and i think touches well on the ways in which she's so devastating to me.

blood and oil by Shadaras

(li tianchen & lu guang; rated t; 0.5k)

summary: Li Tianchen stared at Lu Guang in the flickering light of the subway tunnels. They were the only two people left alive. Bullet wounds dotted everyone else, and now the gun was out of bullets, and neither of them were well either but at least they were alive.

“You need to do it,” Li Tianchen said, holding on to the last thread of his sanity with both hands. Also his sister’s body, slowly growing cold in his arms, head resting on his shoulder like it so often had in life. “You must.”

notes: this fic is short enough that i normally would not place it on a reclist (and the writer has longer sgdlr fics i would also rec) but it's a favorite of mine forever— it takes an intriguing possibility wrt the time-travel and ltc's canon desire to use that power, and it plays very well with it. the last lines make me stop and stare each time.

a perfet slaugther of innocence by Lanster

(xiaochen; rated e; 0.8k)

summary: "Aren't you too old to be playing dress-up?" Liu Xiao asked with a note of a slight amusement, as he languidly leaned against the doorframe.

Li Tianchen took his eyes off of his own — Xixi's — reflection in the mirror and turned around to meet Liu Xiao's eyes instead. They stared at each other in heavy silence.

His mouth opened.

I just miss her, the words got stuck in his throat like a bone, digging into the soft walls of his esophagus.

notes: gorgeous writing in delightfully fucked-up liu xiao/li tianchen. sibling grief alongside the weird power dynamics between lx and ltc, as well as an exploration of ltc's canon dressing-up-as-xiaoxi and setting the twins being such a complicated dynamic next to the fact that liu xiao is sibling-issued in his own unique ways.

the seed of a gorgeous death by insideascarecrow

(li tianchen & liu xiao; rated t; 1.1k)

summary: a good hunter needs an important friend to tell them when the beast is about to swallow them whole.

and you can trust me, li tianchen. you are – you will be – a beautiful beast.

A guide to hunting, as narrated by one Liu Xiao.

notes: stylistically fascinating and intriguing; prose poetry-esque? character study that makes me go !! forever. it's as liu xiao addressing li tianchen, and the dynamic and the way it characterizes them both is so so good to me.

a contemplation by LadyCharity

(li tianchen-centric; rated g; 3.1k)

summary: The place where Li Tianchen hated most in his childhood home was the dinner table.

Or, to know your mother is to sit at her table.

notes: fascinating take on (1) food-as-love, (2) an alternate universe where the twins end up living with the photo studio trio post-s2. the writing is lovingly done, especially in the descriptions of the food, and it captures the internal conflict and the flinch away from kindness very well.

cross the line, be mine by streetlights

(shiguang; rated g; 7.1k)

summary: “I’m sorry. This isn’t fair, but I don’t know how I feel about you yet. I can’t make any promises. Can you wait for me?”

Cheng Xiaoshi throws him a languid smile. “Of course. Don’t you know? I’m pretty good at waiting for people.”

In the original timeline, Cheng Xiaoshi falls first. Many timelines later, he’s still waiting.

notes: shiguang + love confessions as a fic; i think it captures the way shiguang pine for each other and the impossibility (i.e. the certainty/solidity of that love as contrasted to lu guang's goal-of-saving-cxs rendering delivery upon it impossible) of it? excellently done pining/yearning in a way i think is well-fitting.

wanting it all by brekkerified (enhattps)

(shiguang; rated t; 1.1k)

summary: 7. Originally, Xia Fei squints between them and gives Lu Guang a look that he can’t parse. The same happens the second time, but there’s not much time to contemplate when they come face-to-face with Vein in mere hours.

8. Would trying to translate the sheer depth of everything that whirls through his head and heart into words back then, in the original timeline, have saved Cheng Xiaoshi at all?

A short, non-comprehensive list of things Lu Guang would like to do with Cheng Xiaoshi, if he weren’t actively trying and failing to save him from death’s jaws.

notes: makes me go !!! forever. feels very tender to read, and i think is a good picture of lu guang + yearning + the way it aches that he is time-looping to save cxs' life. the impossibility of breaching the gap between them feels very vivid in the fic, and the steadiness of the devotion between them underlays it.

play it ‘til the end and then reset by Moondal

(lu guang-centric; rated t; 1.1k)

summary: You are a hypocrite of the highest order. For Cheng Xiaoshi you break your own rules again and again, uncaring of the consequences of time and space, because you can’t even breathe at the very thought of him no longer being there.

He has to live. He must live.

So again and again you raise your hands and go back to the beginning. Because how can you do anything else?

-

Lu Guang’s self-imposed time loop.

notes: timeloop fic!! i think my favorite exploration of lu guang timelooping— this is a canon-compliant take on him having cxs die in his arms again and again, and repeatedly dive back in time. i think captures the desperate grief very well to me, the inherent selfishness of that refusal to let someone die.

can you see me this time? by aknightley

(shiguang; rated t; 9.4k)

summary: Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t think it’s a bad thing to trust your feelings.

Trust is all you have left, sometimes.

Lu Guang has never asked Cheng Xiaoshi to trust him, but he does.

Alternatively: Cheng Xiaoshi weighs his trust in Lu Guang against an increasing list of things that do not make sense.

notes: well-written and handles the inevitable confrontation re:lu guang's timelooping well (the way that lu guang steadies him, the way lu guang takes comfort in being able to tell him, all make me a little bit insane). handles the fact that the core of the bond between shiguang is trust well as well.

impermanence by FingerCracc

(shiguang; rated t; 7.0k)

summary: They're orange roses, six of them in a ring around a bit of baby’s breath, a piece of leather fern tucked in the back like an afterthought. Cheng Xiaoshi comes back from whatever errands he’d been running and sets the bouquet on the counter.

“What is this?” Lu Guang asks, eyeing the flowers.

“For you,” Cheng Xiaoshi says simply. .

Cheng Xiaoshi buys Lu Guang flowers. Lu Guang can't ignore whatever's between them anymore.

notes: the writing style is lovely, delicate kind of careful (would rec other works by the same user for similar reasons). the dynamic between shiguang feels steady and deliberate and i'm so, so fond of it, as well as the intimacy between them. the namesake theme of impermanence is well-delivered upon in lu guang's narration, and it feels fitting.

our bodies at the shoreline by velvet_ie 

(shiguang; rated m; 0.8k)

summary: —like this, Cheng Xiaoshi is obedient. He trusts in the safety Lu Guang provides, trusts Lu Guang to not burn him.

It’s almost too much trust.

notes: the writing feels incredibly soft/tender/intimate, and i'm so fond of it— i think it examines the trust that cheng xiaoshi puts in lu guang in a non-dive setting in a way that makes me so so. soft about shiguang.

you know how it is by honorarybimbo

(xia fei-centric; rated t; 2.2k)

summary: He cracks at the edges and occasionally unwinds at the seams. And there’s a dissatisfaction buried deep in the pits of his stomach that hollows him out from the inside, that collapses like a caving accident right above a pocket of air no one knew someone was stuck in. He’s pressed in a space the size of an artery deep within the earth, and can only breathe when he exhales.

Sure.

But that only if he isn’t fed.

notes: an exploration of xia fei and the hints of something sharper/meaner that we get out of him, via a canon-compliant (pre-bridon arc) moment in time of him switching into something colder to retaliate against another model. i'm fond of the writing style, and i'm fond of the ruthlessness of the xf voice.

soft smoke, sharpened teeth by bloomingsite

(xia fei-centric; rated m; 4.1k)

summary: Xia Fei once thought proper goodbyes were too sentimental: to linger was to give what they had too much focus and too much weight, so earnest he might trip up over the formalities. But he would give up just about anything to be sentimental now. That must be part of why he turns the key in the lock of the door and slips in, right as the sun sets, and it's like he's tumbled into a picture from the past. Nothing much has changed — Xia Fei's invaded Vein's place plenty of times and then been left to his own devices — the silence is the same. But knowing it's not, not truthfully, is a steady, painful revelation. In search of clues and comfort, a grieving, sleep deprived Xia Fei breaks into Vein's penthouse.

notes: xia fei grief fic that i love— the framing device wrt the flashbacks is fun to me, and i'm fond of the way the ache of the loss resonates through the writing. i think it's a fun exploration of xia fei left in the wreckage afterwards, trying to figure out what to do at the same time that he's falling apart from his own grief.

They All Fall Down by NbZo

(xia fei-centric; rated t; 28.4k; 6/? chapters)

summary: To uncover Vein’s mysterious death, Xia Fei investigates the Yingdu underworld, the disappearance of one Wang Qing, and the Bahati fire from his past he had long repressed from memory. However, other agents are at play, and it may make his mission impossible.

notes: reviving the ancient and half-forgotten art of plot-centric fics via something that you can solidly sink your teeth in; i'm so, so fond of this fic. i'm being flippant, but i genuinely adore fanfiction that puts so much of itself into the meat of logistical workings (the writer of this has an insanely long plotting/research document, notably to me) and which weaves a convoluted plot via it. there are so many fascinating theories in this, i think.

paifang by yuudoufu

(veinfei; rated t; 7.0k)

summary: “Felix, do you want to know how I became the leader of Chinatown?”

Xia Fei lolls his head over the back of the couch, bangs flipping over his forehead to reveal the Badtz-Maru themed bandaid Vein had stuck on him earlier. He silently gnaws at the lollipop in his mouth as he stares at Vein from upside down. For someone lounging in the maw of a beast, he always looks more relaxed here than he does in the studio, drunk or not. “Umm. Democracy?”

Vein barks out a laugh that comes out sharper and more genuine than he expects. Oh, sweet, naive Xia Fei. Kid’s smarter than he lets on, but not always when it comes to Vein. Then again, it’s partially this that makes him all so amusing. Vein bares his teeth into a large grin, tongue and incisors and all, and relishes in how Xia Fei stops chewing on the candy after a straight half hour to gawk. “With my teeth, sunshine.”

// or: life lessons with vein except they're not so applicable to college students whose biggest trouble is the lack of financial aid and applied physics exams

notes: engrave with my teeth, sunshine into the urn that will eventually hold my ashes, etc. the style of the writing is so unique (again, would rec the writer's works as a whole for that) and i think the vein pov + the characterization literally solved an equation in my head for how he works, it's excellent and i'm so fond of it and the character voices in it.

[sophieinwonderland]

Debunking r/systemscringe's DID Lies!

For those who aren't aware, r/systemscringe is an ableist hate subreddit, and is one of the greatest sources of misinformation about dissociative disorders and plurality on the internet.

Today, I'd like to go over some of their most prominent excuses for fakeclaiming DID and OSDD systems, and why those reasons are contradicted by actual research by actual psychiatrists.

"Alters Can't Talk To Each Other"

This is one of the most easily-debunked lies I've seen to excuse fakeclaiming. It can take a few different forms. But generally, when a system talks about speaking to their alters, r/systemscringe users will say that it's impossible and that DID doesn't work like that.

This isn't just a little false. It completely contradicts all known research into DID.

Hearing voices of alters is directly mentioned in the DSM-5 as a symptom.

This isn't even uncommon. Voce hearing is more common in DID than in schizophrenia, experienced in about 80% of cases of dissociative disorders.

Now, it does need to be noted that just because 80% do, that doesn't mean it's true of everyone. 20% is still a big number, and systems who can't communicate internally are still valid.

But the fact of the matter is that most systems can communicate this way.

"You Need (Years of) Therapy to be Able to Communicate With Alters"

Failing the first one, another popular claim is that alters can't possibly communicate without therapy. Usually, people will claim this requires "years" of therapy to build communication.

So is this true?

Turns out, not in the slightest. In fact, in a study comparing DID voice hearers to schizophrenic voice hearers, it was found that 90% of the DID voice hearers started hearing voices before the age of 18.

This is in comparison to a Schizophrenic group that consisted of 28% without maltreatment and 38% with maltreatment that started before the age of 18.

Given that DID notoriously takes years to get correctly diagnosed with and most patients aren't diagnosed until adulthood, it should be obvious that most of these 90% didn't have to undergo years of therapy before being able to hear the voices of their alters.

"Alters Can't Be Friends"

Let's be 100% clear here. Dissociative Identity Disorder is absolutely a disorder. It couldn't be diagnosed if it didn't come with some level of distress or impairment. That's a fundamental part of the criteria.

But when that same study I posted above asked the DID and Schizophrenic groups if they would miss the voices if they were gone, a huge 69% of the DID group said they would.

The truth is that DID is more complicated and nuanced than "having alters bad."

Sometimes the distress or impairment has less to do with the other alters and more to do with the other dissociative symptoms, such as the DP/DR and the amnesia.

And sometimes, you can have positive relationships with some alters and negative relationships with others. And yes, there is that 31% who say they wouldn't miss hearing their alters if they no longer heard them. That's valid too.

But this does show that a majority of DID systems do feel a close attachment to the other alters in their systems.

"Systems Can't Control When They Switch"

Like above, this is nuanced. The truth is some systems can't control switching. Others can only control it some of the time. And some have full control.

There has actually been a study on a DID patient voluntarily switching in and MRI machine:

This study literally couldn't have been done were it not possible to voluntarily switch.

"Fictives Aren't Real"

Okay, now let's tackle one of the biggest lies to justify fakeclaiming. Fictional introjects or "Fictives" are alters or headmates based on fictional characters. r/systemscringe and other fakeclaimers love to fakeclaim systems for being fictive heavy or even having any fictives at all.

And like most of r/systemscringe's claims, this is nonsense. Here is one account of fictives from 1988.

Furthermore, in the book The Haunted Self, which is responsible for the Theory of Structural Dissociation of the Personality, one case study is referenced of someone who had many fictives based off of Start Trek characters.

This also serves to debunk other reasons for fakeclaiming I've seen from r/systemscringe. That a system has too many fictive, is all fictives, or that their fictives all come from the same source. Because as we see above, this is a very real documented presentation of dissociative identity disorder.

Closing:

I'm likely not done with this post. I plan to add to this list of misinformation that I've seen repeatedly peddled by the hate subreddit and used to justify attacking systems. There is A LOT there!

But here's the bottom line. r/systemcringe is a hate sub peddling division and bigotry against systems... often for normal system things that have been well-documented in academic literature.

If you're here from r/systemscringe, I'm sure you've seen all or most of the above lies I debunked above posted there. And if you're a system, I would ask you why you would stand by a subreddit that so blatantly spreads misinformation about other systems with the intent of hurting them? With the intent of hurting people like you?

Because if you think that they're your friends, I have watched them turn on systems that joined in with their fakeclaiming so many times, and fakeclaiming fellow members of that subreddit. And I can promise that they will turn on you too.

Click here for my debunk of their claims that endogenic systems are a "conspiracy theory."

[hrizantemy]

Hm, I've been thinking about the High Lords. When the IC, both in canon and fics, try to justify why they're the only people who should have the trove, or the book of breathings, or that Nesta should trust. How they are the most trustworthy option in all of Prythian/ the only dreamers or people who want a better world. But why? Over, maybe, Beron, I guess. And I they have personal issues (that they share much of the blame for) with Tamlin. But then, there are four other courts. Summer, Winter, Dawn and Day, as candidates, so why not any of them?

Practically speaking, the Day court would be the best candidate. The only reason Feyre broke through the wards in Hybern was because she had borrowed Helion's power. The only one who could, theoretically, break his wards, aside from her, is Rhys (if we take the strongest HL thing at face value) or someone wielding the Cauldron, in which case, Night isn't really any safer. Especially given that they have Helion come to ward the mask anyway, but, his own court probably has more layers of those wards, and perhaps other, more complex ones too, so it'd still be safer.

Summer also kept the book of breathings safe for about five hundred years with no issue until Feysand came along. Something tells me they'll be updating their security after that.

Now, of course, the natural reason is that the Night Court is the home of our main characters (the Archeron sisters) and the ruling body of the NC are their family, which gives them a reason to become involved in politics to being with.

But, that leads to more questions. The main ones, for me, being why aren't there more nuanced HLs.

Beron feels like he's there just to add an inter-court threat, y'know? He's as much of a cardboard cut out villain as Elain and Nesta were in ACOTAR, but more extreme. One of the courts, other than Spring, needs to be hostile to Night so their politics seem more complex than they actually are, while also adding a road block here and there. So they picked a court, and gave it a tyrant as a ruler before calling it a day.

I've mentioned before how good people can be the worst rulers, and bad people can be the best leaders, historically speaking. There's so much complexity and nuance in politics, especially in fantasy and fiction that create wonderfully unique dynamics that I feel are missing in ACOTAR. All of the rulers, barring Beron and Tamlin, are portrayed as good people by the narrative, and even then, in Tamlin's case, that's largely due to the NC's bias and refusal to see their own faults, but point out everyone else's.

There are even other ways to complicate the political situation, making it feel more nuanced and delicate, than adding a single land mine, a couple of relationship dramas, and high key valid concerns that just get brushed under the rug anyway, rendering them moot. Even if the High Lords are mostly good people, creating a complex political situation doesn't mean turning any more of them into villains (if we had even one more Beron, I might scream. They don't need to be obviously evil and well hated to make them bad people/political issues!). Adding personal vendettas going back farther than UTM, or interpersonal relationships would add complexity that would be difficult to navigate.

For example, I've been reading a Manwha called 'I became the Tiger's adopted daughter'. In it, a nation of divine beasts is ruled by four rulers, each governing lands in one of the four cardinal directions, with an absolute ruler that they all answer too. There are also two guys who work in more bureaucratic/judicial positions who have, arguably, equal authority to the four rulers (and maybe the absolute, I can't remember) and essentially uphold the law, and make sure the rulers do their jobs right. The reason this otherwise straightforward system seems to work, is their characters and interpersonal relationships.

The ruler of the Eastern Lands is the tiger, and the fmc's father. He comes off as rather cold, but I think might've had a relationship with the Absolute's younger sister before she died. Because of that, he and the Absolute seem to be on somewhat more casual terms than the other rulers, though she tries to remain impartial (and the judicial/bureaucratic guys are there to make sure she does anyway).

The ruler of the Sourthern Lands is young, and was born a Phoenix, which holds enough cultural importance that her supporters pushed to have the former leader ousted when she was still young, to place her on the throne based on her race of divine animal alone. She's young, doesn't really know how to govern at all, and struggled to look after her lands properly, leading to the divine animals living there suffering under her reign. Her heart is in the right place, though she doesn't take the initiative to learn how to govern properly, and tries to rope one of the judicial guys into walking her through it at every chance. She also demands special consideration for the struggles of her lands, despite it being her responsibility for a while at that point.

The ruler of the Western Lands is a wolf, who often visits other territories (mostly the Eastern lands) because he wants to avoid work. He can do it, he just needs to be forced into it. He's only the ruler temporary, since his brother, the former ruler, died and he needs to step in until his nephew is old enough to take over. He's intuitive, but irritating and somewhat childish (but in a more endearing way than the ruler of the Southern Lands), and dotes on his nephew often. He is knowledgable about his lands and culture, and seems to be ruling effectively, he just complains about it a lot, and comes across as immature and a bit of a slacker.

Finally, the ruler of the Northern lands is a snake who seems to have feelings for the ruler of the East, and sees the fmc (his daughter) as either her road to winning his heart, or an obstacle in her way. She stands up for her lands, but can prove difficult to deal with, given her conditions in negotiations often revolve around finding a way to worm her way into his good graces, or get time alone with him. Sometimes she tries to get into fmc's good graces, thinking that will win her dad over, but she sees through the snake's intentions. It also leaves the fmc distrustful of the snake, and protective of her father when she's around. The ruler of the Northern Lands often shows bias towards the Eastern Lands, likely as a way to win his favour.

All of these interpersonal relationships make the situation in each place complicated to navigate, but very interesting. None of them are evil, or villains, per se (except maybe the snake, idk yet) but can exist in antagonistic roles. The Absolute, especially, needs to be careful not to show too much favour to any given land, but does seem playful and mischievous at times, while others, she leans more towards murderous, if the situation calls for it.

We know how, UTM, Day, Summer and Winter rebelled against Amarantha, and had almost their entire lines wiped out, which is why the ones currently ruling those lands are those who weren't likely to initially have been chosen by the land. They weren't direct relations to their predecessors, but that's mostly, really, mentioned about Tarquin, rather than Kallias and Helion. Expanding on their goals, and lives before they were made into rulers would've been a good way to spice things up. Were the raised to rule as well, or are they completely new? If the latter, then did they take the initiative to learn? When? From who? How do their people feel about those who were, previously, nobles that had a decent blood relation to their royal family, suddenly being in charge? Were there disputes with other courts due to lack of experience, pushback from nobles and bureaucrats, and how well did they assimilate?

I love how, in A Place of Silver Silence, you give the Temple a position of power within Dawn. It adds nuance to it's government, making the situation, and by proxy, Thesan's position more complicated. He can't risk offending or earning the ire of the Temple, but he also has to maintain his own authority. Draw lines in the sand, if you will, so he doesn't turn into their puppet.

It would also affect other courts, who would have to take considerations not to offend the Temple, otherwise it might cause diplomatic or trade issues that even Thesan would struggle to avoid or remedy. It also gives other courts an opening to exploit, the way Rhys exploited the sanctity of a mating bond (in the Temple's eyes) to try and take Nesta.

Expanding on the leadership of each Court in this way also adds another layer of nuance and concern that needs to be taken. It adds layers distrust between Dawn and other courts, due to fear of the Temple's interference, despite Thesan's best intentions. It creates opening for foreign powers to gain influence in Dawn, should they do so through the Temple.

Even in your post discussing the place of the Temple in other Courts, you mentioned the importance of trade in Summer, and how it would matter more to Tarquin than the Temple's desires. This would show that merchants and trade companies would have more influence in Summer's politics than they would in other courts, and given their importance, it would force other courts to exercise more caution when handling Merchants who are from/trade with Summer. If those merchants have enough influence, they could force Tarquin's hand when it comes to certain policies and relations. Merchants also make for good spies, which adds a layer of distrust.

These are the kinds of complex, nuanced political situations that I love. Ones that feel like you're navigating through a maze filled with tripwires and laser alarms, trying to take note of everybody's needs while prioritising your own court's. It's incredible, and I can't wait to see more of it.

This is such a rich and layered analysis, and honestly, one of the most compelling critiques of ACOTAR‘s political structure I’ve read. You’re absolutely right—the IC’s claim to moral and strategic superiority is presented in canon and fandom as an almost given, but when you look at the actual world of Prythian with a critical lens, their logic quickly unravels. The Night Court-centric worldview is inherently flawed—not just in its self-serving bias, but in its disregard for the nuanced political and historical potential of the other courts. And that’s the real tragedy of the series: the potential is there. It’s just never meaningfully explored.

Let’s start with the idea of trustworthiness and power. The Inner Circle consistently claims the moral high ground, often to justify unilateral decisions that affect all of Prythian, such as the control over the Trove or the Book of Breathings. But what’s left unexamined is why they believe themselves the most trustworthy—beyond the fact that they’re the protagonists. This presumption sidesteps any meaningful engagement with the other High Lords, who, while imperfect, have proven themselves in ways the Night Court hasn’t. Helion, as you noted, lent Feyre his power without coercion or posturing. Tarquin kept the Book of Breathings secure for centuries without issue. Kallias’ rebellion cost him his entire court, and yet we’re never given any meaningful insight into how that sacrifice shaped his rule. And then there’s Thesan, who literally houses his kingdom’s version of a theological and bureaucratic watchdog within his court. None of these men are cartoon villains like Beron, nor are they irredeemable or incompetent—but they’re treated as less competent by default.

Your comparison to “I Became the Tiger’s Adopted Daughter” is brilliant. It demonstrates how layered, personality-driven politics can enrich even a straightforward power structure. Prythian could’ve done the same—seven High Lords with conflicting motivations, alliances, ancient histories, personal feuds, and court-specific interests. But the narrative flattens them, either by villainizing (Beron, Tamlin) or sidelining (Tarquin, Helion, Kallias, Thesan) them in favor of the Night Court’s moral monopoly. Imagine if instead, each court had a political identity: Dawn’s religious authority and internal theocracy, Summer’s economic diplomacy and trade dynasties, Day’s scholarly secrecy and magical innovation, Winter’s cultural aristocracy and bloodline purism. You could create entire plotlines out of the frictions between those philosophies—especially in a post-Amarantha world where every court is scrambling to rebuild and reassert itself.

And Beron—you nailed it. He exists as a plot convenience, a villain to make the other High Lords look “good” by comparison. But in reality, this is lazy worldbuilding. Why not create a character who’s corrupt but beloved by his people for bringing prosperity? Or one who is utterly rigid and lawful to a fault, causing massive diplomatic issues but never breaking his kingdom’s own moral codes? Villainy in politics is far more compelling when it’s ideological, not just abusive. Not to mention that if all antagonism stems from one person, it places no real pressure on the protagonists to adapt, compromise, or grow.

You also made a crucial point about post-UTM politics. Why was the fallout of Amarantha’s rule never given more weight? If Tarquin, Helion, and Kallias weren’t originally meant to rule, what were their qualifications? Were they second sons? Bastards? Scholars? Revolutionaries? Did they have to put down civil unrest when they took power? How did their courts react to these sudden changes in leadership? What does legitimacy look like in Prythian, anyway? These are the questions that could’ve made each court feel alive and rooted in its own internal logic—not just an aesthetic (snow, sunshine, sand, etc.) or a mood board. Instead, they’re treated like factions in a video game with a couple of lines of lore and then forgotten.

And you’re absolutely right about A Place of Silver Silence—what makes Dawn compelling there isn’t Thesan being good or bad. It’s the balance of power between him and the Temple. It’s the way religion exerts political force, the way his progressive leanings are curtailed by institutional forces beyond his control. That’s realpolitik. That’s what makes the world feel lived-in, dangerous, and real. In that world, mating bonds aren’t just romantic—they’re tools of leverage and warfare. Belief systems matter. Cultural taboos matter. And it opens up incredible possibilities for storytelling. Like you said, Rhys exploiting the Temple’s belief in mating bonds to get Nesta is more than a dirty trick—it’s a political one. What happens when a belief system is weaponized? What happens when personal relationships get wrapped up in religious diplomacy? That is the kind of storytelling that sings.

Summer, as you pointed out, could be ruled less by a High Lord and more by economic stakeholders. Imagine if Tarquin is constantly pulled between merchant guilds, ship captains, old noble houses, and foreign investors. His court isn’t weak—it’s decentralized. The threat to him isn’t betrayal or rebellion, it’s the quiet erosion of his influence by people who control ports, goods, information. You could spin an entire arc around one of his major trade partners being secretly aligned with Hybern, and his court slowly becoming complicit in treason without realizing it. And he’s not evil. He’s just overwhelmed. That’s the kind of nuance the IC never has to deal with.

Ultimately, you’re right—ACOTAR politics feel more like table settings than the messy, powerful mechanisms they could be. And that’s a shame, because Prythian is so ripe for it. What you’re describing—the layered complexity, the unspoken alliances, the grudges that last centuries, the balance between faith, wealth, power, and loyalty—is exactly what makes fantasy politics great. And it’s not even that hard to do. As you’ve laid out, even small additions to personal relationships or court-specific pressures can open entire veins of story. I would love nothing more than to see this richness brought into Prythian, whether in canon or through fics that aren’t afraid to let the IC not be the center of every moral and strategic decision.