#I have such a crush on her it’s not even funny

[shrenvents]

hii can you do some dean smut, maybe he and reader meet in a dive bar or sum?? <3

a/n: sure thing, i hope u like 😉😘

Mind Games

Warnings: Minors dni; Smut, v!penetration (protection used), language, fingering, some fluff, some jealousy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x you

Summary: You and Sam go way back. You and Dean as well, though he has no recollection of it, and for that, you make him pay.

Word Count: 4.1 k

...

The night had been long already when Sam texted you—“Hey, I'm in town. Drinks at Murphy's?”—but you didn’t hesitate to answer yes. It had been quite some time since you’d last seen him, and life had a funny way of pulling people apart after high school, though you and Sam tried to stay in touch here and there.

It hurt when he unexpectedly dropped out of school without explaining why, but thankfully he reconnected down the line, and the rest was history. He was just an easy friend, a good one you could pick up things with even after years of silence.

A dive bar wasn’t exactly your first choice. You preferred places with brighter lighting and cleaner, less sticky floors, without an old jukebox playing songs that were a hit, long before any patrons could remember. But Sam seemed to have a soft spot for them. It suited him, really—the unpretentious atmosphere, the cheap drinks. 

As you stepped past the creaky door, the scent of stale beer and cigarettes hit you like a wave of nostalgia. It reminded you of late nights sneaking into bars with Sam when you were underage, laughing too loud, worrying too little. The memory still made you smile.

You quickly spotted Sam, his broad frame hunched over a small booth in the corner, beer in hand. He looked up, eyes twinkling when he saw you, enthusiastically calling your name. Mid-wave, you froze and your heart skipped a beat after noticing who was sitting across from him —Dean. Sam’s older brother. 

Dean leaned back in his chair, lazily nursing a beer and his signature, cocky smirk as his eyes coasted his surroundings. He looked exactly the same, though his face was a little more rugged, and perhaps a little worn from life.

You’d had a ridiculous crush on Dean back in school. Your best friend's older brother. The guy who could make anyone laugh, who strode around like the world was his oyster. But he never noticed you. Not back then. Dean was too busy sleeping around, charming his way through the female student body, and leaving an abundance of broken hearts in his wake. The few times you were around him, he rarely glanced in your direction. And that was fine. Especially now, since you’ve grown up and moved on…

'Of course he's here,' you thought with an internal roll of your eyes, trying to steel yourself for the sudden rush of old, pitiful memories of unrequited love. You should've guessed he'd be here since Sam told you they'd hit the road together.

With a deep breath, you straightened out your shoulders and paced over, mustering all your strength to fix a calm smile onto your face as you greeted Sam, and his brother, who most likely wouldn’t really know you. "Long time no see," Sam remarked, standing to give you a bear hug, which you immediately returned. “Missed you."

"Missed you too," you replied with a pleased sigh. Your eyes then flickered to Dean for the briefest moment. He hadn’t moved, still reclined in his seat, watching you both with that curious tilt of his head. His silence stretched on long enough that it was clear—he didn’t recognize you.

'Typical,' you thought, and your smile tightened into a thin line as you slid into the booth. Ignoring the way Dean’s gaze dwindled, you decided two could play this game. It might be fun, even.

"Dean, you remember her now, don't you?" Sam asked, oblivious to the tension looming in the air as he gestured to you, hoping the in-person image would jog his memory.

Dean’s brows furrowed, and for a second, you swore you saw something flash behind his forest-coloured eyes. Then, as if he’d decided it wasn’t worth pretending, he shook his head, offering you a half-smile. You dismissed the swarming butterflies in your stomach, realizing this might just be the first time he's truly looked at you. And you’ve seen that look countless times from afar —it was the one he showed to the next girl he'd pick up.

"Sorry," Dean huffed dramatically, feigning disappointment having not remembered you. His voice was a low rumble that made your pulse quicken against your will. "Can’t say I do."

And there it was. Just as you expected. You’d spent countless afternoons back in high school, hanging out with Sam, romanticizing his older brother from the sidelines, praying he’d eventually give you the time of day. But Dean Winchester has always been… Well, Dean Winchester. And he always will be.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a smirk of your own, mimicking his relaxed demeanour. "Don’t worry about it. It’s been a while." Dean’s eyes narrowed momentarily, like he knew he’d missed something important, but had no clue what. Sam, ever the peacemaker, cut in with a laugh.

“Well, now that that's settled, drinks are on us. Let’s catch up.” Sam pushed a beer towards you and you downed nearly half, already determined to show that tonight, you weren't gonna be that quiet, shy, unnoticeable girl you were in school. If Dean noticed you now, he was in for one hell of a ride…

You and Sam probably spoke for less than an hour, because, unfortunately for Sam, he could barely get a word in with all of Dean's shameless flirting, which you somewhat entertained. Undoubtedly, neglecting him only egged him on more.

Throughout the night, after Sam gave up and wandered elsewhere, drunk and confused, Dean would make bold throwaway comments, steal lingering glances, and release that low chuckle every time you defiantly teased him. At first, it was satisfying—this was the guy you used to dream about noticing you, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off you. But as the hours ticked by, you recalled all too well who Dean really was: a player. A guy who’d probably seen countless women come and go without a second thought. However, now, with him slowly inching towards you, it was becoming increasingly difficult to disregard the urge to go home with him to spare your dignity.

The second the ragged surface of his jeans started grazing your thigh, you excused yourself to get another drink. Strutting over to the bar, you felt his eyes bore into your backside and a shiver racked down your spine. Rather dizzyly, you ordered another drink but were surprised when a tall stranger offered to pay for it. Despite the unwanted attention, with Dean eyeing you both, you selected to make this stranger an outlet for a potential mistake.

So just for show, you leaned in a little too close, laughing at jokes that weren’t funny, ambling with your drink as if you were reluctant to return to Dean. His gaze was burning holes into the man's head the entire time, and you knew this was doing wonders to Dean's inflated ego. 

Then you heard a loud thud behind you, and just as you turned around, Dean was already there, standing close by, staring daggers into the stranger you ironically couldn't remember the name of. Dean then glanced down at you, wordlessly demanding eye contact, and you're rooted to the floor when his hand brazenly brushes across your lower back, to rest comfortably on your hip. "Hey," he smiled as his gaze softened, marking the smooth return of his playboy facade.

"How about we get outta here?" Dean whispered into your ear while his nose skimmed your hair. Subtly taking a deep breath, you seductively beam up at him and note how his grip tightened on your side as if he had to brace himself. "Exactly what I was thinking," you whispered back and Dean's eyes fluttered, and you're so close he likely thinks you're about to kiss, but you have other plans.

"Wanna go?" You asked the man you nearly forgot about, who seems almost as stunned as you sense Dean is. He takes a sharp intake of breath at his rejection, virtually staggering back from you, and the moment his hand lifts from your hot flesh, you slip away and grab the stranger's forearm, swiftly hauling him outside with you, without looking back. As you left, you waved goodbye to Sam. "I'll call you tomorrow," you said with an energetic wink, unable to conceal how giddy you were.

After your dramatic exit, you made it clear to the poor stranger that you had no intention of taking things any further than a walk to your car. But Dean didn’t know that. 

…

The very next day, you made more plans with Sam to make up for yesterday's turn of events, but Dean was relentless. For that whole week in fact. He obviously forced Sam to give him your number, and since then, there have been numerous texts, calls, and unexpected visits. Each time he found you, his approach became more serious, more focused, and still, you’d reject him every time, in a rather absentminded way, which drove him mad. You grew to love the way it made him squirm.

Today was one of those days, at a quiet little bar far from the one you met at, the conversation quickly turned south from the usual banter.

He’d barely sat down before that trademark smirk was back. His green eyes glinted as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table between you, his fingers grazing yours. The touch was subtle, but deliberate—like he was testing the waters. You pulled your hand back just a fraction, enough for him to notice but not enough to discourage him. You were growing unsure of who you were punishing at this point.

"Missed me?" Dean's voice was deep, smooth, and far too confident for someone who’d been chasing you all week and failing miserably. You rolled your eyes playfully and took a sip of your drink. "Don’t flatter yourself. I just wanted to get a quiet drink," you quipped. Dean chuckled, undeterred, shaking his head. "Right, right. That’s why you agreed to meet me here. For a ‘quiet' drink." His voice dripped with mischievous sarcasm, and an undertone of sexual frustration.

You couldn’t help but grin. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." You crossed your legs and kicked out one, lightly touching Dean's, and he tensed. He then closed in, his fingers gently touching the back of your hand, this time pausing just long enough to send a quake up your arm. "You like to keep me guessing, don’t you?" He wet his lips, eyes darting to yours, which were shrivelling up with anticipation.

"Maybe," you admitted with a sheepish grin. "Or maybe I just like taking you down a few pegs." Dean laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sounded a bit like a scoff and sent a rush of heat through you. He didn’t pull away, and the teasing glow in his eyes eased for just a moment as he studied you.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" His voice dropped a notch, and his regard danced across your skin. "Ever since that night at Murphy's… I haven’t stopped thinking about you."

Though your pulse was racing, you shifted away, pretending to be unimpressed. "I'm sure you say that to all the ladies," you taunted with a roll of your eyes. Dean shook his head, his smile fading a little. "This isn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief. "Oh Please. Not even a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I know I didn’t remember you from school. But Sam and I've moved around so much; I never bothered to remember anyone." He winced, as if admitting it aloud stung a little. "Though I have no idea how I don't remember you. I wish I did," he expressed, and he sounded so sincere that you nearly swooned.

"But things are different now. This is different," he proclaimed, eyes wild with a fiery determination. You arched an eyebrow, scooting forward. "So, what’s this been about then?" Though you question Dean, you give him no time to respond, pressing on. "You're just upset that I didn’t fall into your lap like all the others?"

Dean’s eyes were ablaze, and he didn't retract into his seat. If anything, he dipped in closer. "Sorry I hurt your ego," you added, half-sarcastic, half-challenging. He shook his head and his jaw clenched. "Maybe it started out that way," he acknowledged, but his tone held not a trace of his usual humour. "But really, it isn’t like that anymore."

You tilted your head, intrigued by the sincerity in his voice, but confused by his articulation. You’d expected him to laugh it off, throw out a line, but this? This felt… as he said, different. Not to mention the way he was looking at you—like he was seeing you, really seeing you—made your heart skip a beat.

"Oooohhh, okay then," you mocked slowly, drawing out the words. "Tell me, what’s it like Dean?" If you weren't paying such close attention to him, you might have missed how his breath hitched and how his eyes darkened while he inched closer to you. The impish atmosphere between you two had suddenly altered, the circulating tension becoming thick and electric. His hand moved to your thigh under the table, his touch scalding, steady, while his other hand weaved through your fingers.

"It’s like…" He trailed off, his voice a whisper now, his lips brushing your ear. "Every time I see you, I have to resist the urge to…" He paused, cutting himself short as he moved back slightly. His breath was warm on your skin and he peered down at your lips once again, however this time, he appeared vulnerable.

"To what?" You whispered, barely able to get the words out as your heart pounded against your ribs. Dean’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours, his hand tautening on your leg, his thumb slowly rubbing your inner thigh. "To kiss you."

Before you could respond he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with a sudden, heated intensity that took your breath away. You melted into the kiss. All the teasing, the banter, the back-and-forth disappeared as you instinctively tangled your fingers into his hair, drawing him in.

Dean groaned softly against your lips, pleased by your instant reaction. His hand moved from yours to cup your cheek, his thumb gently gliding over your flushed skin as the kiss deepened. It was slow at first, then building, and heat swarmed your core when the hand gripping your thigh slid upwards. You felt the pent-up tension you'd been feeling all week, and since the moment you saw him, spill into your actions. He pressed flush against you, leaving no space, and you laid your legs overtop of his lap. His tongue licked your lips surface, grazing your teeth and you gasped, pulling away as much as he allowed.

Breathless and panting, Dean rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That’s what it’s like," he rasped airily, his voice hoarse. And for the first time, you believed him. Things may really be different.

As you got lost in your thoughts, he began to chant your name with that same smile widening. Both his hands then seized your upper arms, shaking you tenderly as he repeated your name. "Tell me what you're thinking," he more or less pleaded.

"I'm thinking that, if I find out you're lying to get in my pants, I'll kill you," you smirked devilishly, peering up at him through hooded eyes. His eyes morphed into a darker shade of black, turned on by your threat. You giggled, lightly shaking your head. "I can't fake this baby," Dean sweet talks, and you note how his manner seems looser now that he's gotten how he feels off his chest.

He pecks your cheek. "You know, I was pretty hurt when you left with that guy the other night," he huffed like the memory still haunted him. You stifled your laugh. "Uh-huh?" His eyes narrowed at your teasing response, though his smile hardly wavered. "You think that's funny?"

"Yeah," you replied immediately with a shrug. "Especially since I was deliberately messing with you." Dean's brows shot into his forehead, creasing it in utter disbelief and bafflement. "I didn't sleep with him Dean," your tone lowers wantonly, "like I said, I wanted to take you down a few pegs."

His wide eyes crinkled as he erupted with laughter, stammering "touché" in between chuckles. You laughed along, admiring how carefree he was at that moment. When his stream of laughter died out, you gulped at the strange look he suddenly showed. "It's a shame," he stated cryptically. Your face twisted with puzzlement, which made Dean's dreamlike expression grow, apparently in deep contemplation. "What?" You snapped jokingly.

"Oh nothing," he sighed while his palms skated down to your torso, cupping your ribcage as he looked to the distance sadly. You smacked his side which made a snort escape him. "Oh, just... If only you left with me that night," he remarked dolefully, unable to hide that glint of lust-fueled wit. "If only," you reiterated with a strained sound, also unable to hide your looping thoughts, which were clouded by desire. "How about we make that happen?" He kissed your other cheek. His lips lingered there and his breath fanned your skin. "How about it?" You responded airily and Dean laughed at your consistent repetition, clearly trying to push his buttons in a way he's grown to love.

Without another word, he slides out of the booth and gently ushers you out, onto your feet, holding your hand firmly in his. With his spare hand, he drops some cash on the table and pulls you to his hip. He walked you both outside, leading you towards his car and you shuddered at the sight. It reminded you of the countless times he'd pick up Sam from school and you'd watch him from afar. The number of fantasies you had of him and that car made your body surge with a fierce, intoxicating need.

He opened his passenger seat and propped you inside, and you obediently admired his every move until he sat behind the wheel. One glimpse of his profile darting from you to the windscreen pushed you off the edge.

"Fuck," you quickly murmured, catching Dean off guard when you abruptly pounced on him, straddling his thighs. You cupped his dome, tugging on his short locks while his hands shot to your waist, dragging you downwards so he could grind into you. You both moaned into the messy kiss, so close to satisfaction, yet so far. He groaned your name when your lips moved to his neck, desperate to leave a mark. He reluctantly tried to halt your attack, but your need overpowered all logic. "I can't wait," he grunted when he wretched your face from his neck. Dean's head thumped against the seat's leather headrest and his eyes were glossy with a sort of determination.

"Get in the back," is all he ordered before he hastily assisted you onto the backseat. He climbed on top of you after grabbing a condom from the glove compartment, following your mouth eagerly, and pecking it a few times as he laid you down. "God you're sexy," he groaned. He then yanked off his jacket and shirt in two swift motions before that familiar smug expression consumed his features. "You're unbelievable," you scoffed and his smirk grew.

"I get that a lot," he commented jokingly and you smacked his side harder than before, displaying your exasperation. He laughed and you threaded your fingers into his hair again to shut him up. His mouth collided with yours, and his hands frantically removed both of your clothes. He sweared loudly when you bucked your hips up and rub his bulge —now covered by his boxers alone. His deep voice let out a surprising whimper when you did it again, this time using your hands to drag him down, clutching his defined hips.

You then had a sudden craving to admit to him how much you longed for this moment, but you opted for: "fuck me." Dean growled into your ear before kissing you rather harshly as he took himself out of his briefs. He cupped your bare breast, which is still partially hidden by your bra since he was too transfixed elsewhere to remove it completely.

When his cock hit your abdomen and he slid on the condom, you hummed a moan, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. "Jesus," he mumbled under his breath when his tip breached your slit. He smoothly glided inside, as if you were two puzzle pieces melding together. Your heart panged and you gasped, while Dean muttered nonsensically. He reared back to look into your eyes once he bottomed out. When he pulled away, his very breath abandoned his lungs as if his soul was now connected to your lips, and you'd be keeping it with you now and forever. For once, he actually felt like putty in someone's hands, and he didn't hate it. Not when you felt like Heaven, after years of experiencing Hellfire.

Underneath him, you remarked on how it felt to finally be touched by Dean... Addictive. Unhurriedly, he guided both your arms above your head, stretching out your spine, and holding your wrists in place with a single hand. The air stilled and you listened to his rapid heartbeats. The tension was palpable as his mouth descended onto yours —quickly going from slow and passionate, to needy and frenzied. Dean suddenly thrust and you yelped, which made him cease his movements immediately. He attempted to pull away from your mouth but you raised your head to pull him back down, unable to do anything else, not with your arms still hoisted above you. You rolled your hips into him and he released a lengthy grunt of approval, clearly understanding that you wanted him to resume his pounding.

He sped up his thrusting and you could barely hold back your cries, loving his strength and weight caging you in, and taking you roughly. Even though his lower half was aggressive, it was still Dean writhing into you, looking down at you with such tenderness, and kissing you in ways that made you hopelessly expect more. At this point, you'd take whatever he'd give you and thank him for it.

"Don't stop," you nearly shouted when your legs begun to shake. He released an animalistic sound, his strokes becoming increasingly choppy. Dean heaves your name, muttering, "You're some kind of fantasy, you know that?" Before you could respond he captured your lips, moaning into your mouth while his fingers slipped between you two. Suddenly his digits rubbed circles onto your clit and you gasped loudly, whining into his all-consuming kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist and felt Dean smirk, but you couldn’t bring yourself to reprimand him when he makes you reach your climax, which rushes over you like a tidal wave, crashing into shore with a loud sob.

"Fuck," Dean's hips stuttered into you, and his eyes squeezed shut as he came, letting go of your wrists to prop himself up in a plank. He breathed in and out slowly, eyelids eventually fluttering open to witness you already surveying him, entranced by his face when it's full of ecstasy. "That was... Fucking amazing," he panted as he monitored your reddened complexion. You nodded, though you shied away from his gaze, feeling all too vulnerable, afraid that history was repeating itself, and you were already head-over-heels for Dean Winchester.

As your mind wandered into a dark place, Dean's calloused finger pads grabbed your attention when they caressed your jaw, swiping your cheek. "I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," he chuckled airily to himself before continuing, "and give me a chance to do that again—many, many times."

Now it's his turn to seem sheepish and you laugh, partially in shock. "No strings attached?" You arched a brow as you questioned what you were, despite having not gone on an actual date yet. He displayed a genuine smile as he shook his head no. "I'm already tangled up in them," he confessed with a shrug.

Your heart flipped and you fought to remain stoic. You then lifted your index finger above your nose, right in his eye line. "I'm givin' you one chance... To do that, over and over again," you whispered sensually, biting back your shit-eating grin. A giddy, boyish look took over Dean's face and your laughter burst through, making your core clench around him and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"How about we start that 'one chance' right now?" You purred, smirking at the way his eyes playfully narrowed. "Gladly."

[lovelytsunoda]

the sixth sense | jake "hangman" seresin

summary: after a car accident totals her car and leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, an anxious police desk sergeant learns to live with the ghosts haunting her home, and the crush she has on the hot pilot who lives next door

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

warnings: car accidents, ghosts (but they're very funny ghosts!), sexual innuendos/advances made by a ghost, if you can recognize the names of the detectives/station staff and can correctly tell me what tv show they are from, you get a metaphorical cookie. jake is a very involved neighbour.

author's note: my f1 fics for this collection have been on the struggle bus lately, so here's hoping my top gun one does better

sargeant y/l/n wouldn't say she hated her job, exactly, but there were many days where she wasn't always thrilled with it. take today for example, her desk piled high with requisition forms for fingerprint checks, traffic camera footage, autopsy reports and more.

it wasn't that she didn't like the work. no, she found catching murderers to be most rewarding. it was the people she worked with. detectives who didn't see her as an equal, but as a machine, dropping files on her desk with a demand and an impossible deadline.

"yn, how busy are you for the next few days?"

she raised her eyebrows at the detective across from her. "for you, detective disher? i won't be free until at least the end of the week."

detective disher raised an eyebrow. "how much work are they piling on you? you aren't their servants, you can speak up and tell them you're too busy."

she rolled her eyes, chewing the end of her bic pen. "usually they hightail it out of here before i even have a chance to open my mouth. some of them don't even speak to me or give instructions, they just drop a file on my desk and assume that i know what to do with it."

detective disher frowned. "we really need another desk sargeant."

"you think?"

it was long after sundown when she left the office that night, overtime she probably wasn't going to get paid for. she hoped that leaving at 6:30 was worth it to have a clean desk in the morning, one almost free of files long enough that she could breathe. of course, by the morning, all of the late shift detectives would have dropped all of their files off for her review.

she was about halfway home when traffic started to pick up again, the glow of the led headlights making it difficult to see out of her side mirrors. her glasses claimed to be glare resistant, but what did someone without astigmatism know about glare?

she turned right at the next set of lights, descending down the hill that would lead to her small, cosy neighbourhood. she was still a fair distance away as she watched the light change from yellow to red, taking her foo toff the gas. the car ahead of her seemed to be slowing, but not by much, and the car behind her was uncomfortably close. she sped up slightly, ready to put her foot on the brakes whenever neccesary.

wait a minute, are his break lights out? he's stopping!

she slammed her foot on the brakes, watching helplessly as her car continued to slide forward, her front bumper colliding with the rusted tail hitch.

her head jerked forward from the impact, banging against the steering wheel before it all went black.

she came to in the hospital, where audio was blurry and vision even worse as the doctor explained the symptoms of a concussion to her.

“it was a bad scene all around. you’re lucky you weren’t injured further.” the doctor insisted. “legally, I can’t allow you to drive for the next few days. is there someone we can call?”

realistically, the only name that came to mind was detective dishers. her parents were two cities away, and she didn’t want to disturb them. her sister was on vacation, and she didn’t want to bother any of her friends.

disher picked her up by the main doors, a matchbox twenty song playing on his stereo as she groggily slipped into the passenger seat, a plastic baggie full of prescription drugs in her hands.

“just take me home, randy. I don’t want to talk about it.”

the detective sighed. “okay. But you know you don’t have to come into work tomorrrow, right?”

great. no work meant no leaving the house. no leaving the house meant that her thoughts drove her to the brink of madness.

she simply couldn’t win.

as she slipped into her bed, she must have been slowly losing her mind as she swore that she could hear voices in her room as she was drifting off. she didn't think much of it, chalking it up to exhaustion as she let sleep claim her.

the following morning, she groggily puttered around the kitchen, assembling a light breakfast as she called her captain to explain why she couldn't come to wrok.

"hey captain, i was in an accident last night-"

"i know. randy called me. are you doing okay?"

"no concussion, but the doctor wants me to monitor for signs, so i'm not super hopeful. disher drove me home, and i'm supposed to hear from the mechanics about the state of my car later today."

"well, take care of yourself, yn. if you need anything at all, you have my number, and you have randy's. but don't call adrian, he's probably just going to make things worse."

she sighed, rubbing the skin on her forehead, fingertips teasing the edge of the bandages from where she'd hit her head on the steering wheel. "thanks leland."

"my my, you look a little worse for wear, don't you?" the voice came from nowhere, very thickly british and definitely not familiar.

she spun around, spying a figure in the kitchen doorway. his long hair dusted the shoulders of his leather jacket, and his skinny jeans were ripped to oblivion. she screamed, reaching for the metal ladle in her utensils jar.

"how the fuck did you get into my house?"

"your house?" the man looked confused. "sweetheart, i've always been here. i wouldn't throw that at me, if i was you. you'll just damage the wall behind me."

"who the fuck are you?" she stammered. "you're not real, this is just concussion brain, i should call the doctor back and go another scan-"

"you're seeing ghosts, honey." this voice was older, deeper. kinder. and significantly less british. another body materialized in her kitchen, sitting at her breakfast counter. she was round and plump, with a rosy face and sweet, kind eyes. she wore a nun's habit over a white blouse and a long navy skirt. "rick over there died in 1984. i'm sister katherine, and i died in 1961. lovely to meet you properly."

"the fuck do you mean i'm seeing ghosts?!" yn screamed, the sound reverberating through her skull. "you're not real!"

"i understand that this is a lot to take in." sister katherine insisted "but it must have something to do with the accident you were in last night."

"how do you know about my accident?" she pushed, brandishing her metal spoon as a weapon.

rick rolled his eyes. "because we watched that detective bring you home last night. tell me, are you two sordid lovers? if i wasn't dead i would love to get a piece of your-"

"enough, richard!"

"what the hell is happening right now? has he been watching me in the shower?" yn hissed under her breath, starting to pace back and forth in front of her stovetop.

"if you've got a head injury, you should really sit down." the nun kept trying to reason with yn, but nothing in this situation made one iota of sense.

she shakily sat down in one of the ikea chairs in her kitchen, and noted how badly her hands were shaking. she dropped the ladle on the table, clasping her hands together. she refused to look at rick and sister katherine, instead focusing on where her shellac manicure had begun to chip.

she really should book herself in for a fresh one.

"we have visitors!" rick's voice carried, his ghostly body reappearing next to yn. she startled in the chair, refusing to meet his eyes. "he looks annoyed, and he's wearing mechanics coveralls. i wore a pair of those on stage once. ladies love 'em."

"he was in a very unsuccessful hair band." sister katherine clarified.

"i need both of you to stay quiet for a second." she sighed. "he must be from the body shop."

she closed the front door behind her, although that was unlikely to do much against two beings who could walk through walls, but a girl could try.

"are you y/n y/l/n?"

"sergeant y/n y/l/n." she corrected. "san francisco pd. can i help you?"

"i'm from clint's garage, detective disher brought your car in last night."

that didn't sound good. behind her, she could hear a car door slam in her neighbour's driveway. oh good, jake was home. she tried not to let her eyes wander, waiting with bated breath for what the mechanic was going to say next.

"the front bumper was totally smashed, caved in where you hit the trailer hitch. the hood is also bent back a bit from impact. the good news is that the airbags didn't go off, which means your car can be fixed. the bad news is that it's going to cost more than your car is worth."

she could feel her headache coming back, her legs beginning to feel weak. she knew her car wasn't worth much due to it's age. but the city didn't pay her enough for her to be able to take on the payment for a new car outright, even if she was buying used.

she felt unsteady, and her body was starting to list to one side as two strong arms picked her up.

"i've got you, just keep breathing." the smell of cologne was overwhelming. there was no way in fuck that was rick, and it wasn't the mechanic.

she'd know that texan drawl anywhere. and that meant that right now, she was in navy pilot jake seresin's arms.

and that idea made her feel a little more faint that normal.

jake seresin had lived in that neighbourhood longer than her. she'd moved into her rental house just over four years ago, and he'd bene there on viewing day in a tight white tank top and jeans, getting all sudsy as he washed his silverado in the driveway. she couldn't resist watching from the window as he got into his truck in full navy fatigues before he went to work, or when he worked out shirtless on his front lawn since the porch took up most of the back.

she cleared her throat. "can i get an estimate for the repairs? will it cost less than buying a whole new car?"

the mechanic sighed. "look, even at randy's mates rate, it would still be more advisable to buy something new. go to a dealership and look at the preowned lot, anything less than 20k will serve you a lot better than getting this car fixed up would."

she couldn't form words, mind going fuzzy from the feeling of jakes hand on her lower back, and the thought of going back inside and facing the ghosts again.

"thanks, man. she can't drive for a few days anyway," jake started "but i'll bring her to the car lot when she's better and help her find something nicer."

jake helped her back inside, where the ghosts were watching giddily with their heads through the kitchen wall.

"you didn't have to do that." she insisted, avoiding eye contact with sister katherine while she spoke to jake. "i really can't afford a new car."

she could hear sister katherine in the background, whispering to rick. he's a hot one, and a real gentleman too!

"but you can't drive that one either. it's almost twenty years old, yn." jack frowned. "treat yourself. finance if you have to. take the scrap money and run, that's what i would do. you think the navy pays me well either?"

she fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and slump down on the table. "can you drive me to my follow up at the end of the week? he just wants to make sure there's no brain damage. i was going to get detective disher to do it, but if you have the morning off its less hassle."

jake looked puzzled. "why would you want me to do it instead of your boyfriend? shouldn't that be his job?"

"why the fuck does everybody think i'm hooking up with randy?" she shouted. "jesus, jake. he's my fucking boss."

the pilot's face was red as he carded his fingers through his hair. "he just seems to be over here a lot. he drove you home from the hospital last night and i just assumed."

"he's over here a lot because his girlfriend threw him out so sometimes i let him sleep on the daybed in my spare room while he finds a new place. we've been friends for years, we were at the academy together. i could be where he is if i wasn't too chickenshit to go into the field."

jake paused for effect. "well, this is awkward. are you sure you never thought about it."

despite herself, yn laughed. "we hooked up once back at the academy. we were sooo not compatible."

"i fucking knew it!" she heard rick shout in the background. "men and women can't just be friends!"

"richard!" sister katherine cut him off. "let the girl speak and mind your own business."

"lucky for you," jake grinned, totally unaware of the ghosts arguing behind him, every syllable of their argument making yn cringe inside "i happen to have the day off on friday. i'll take you to the doctors, and if everything is good, we can go to the car lot where i bought my truck. the guy will give you a good deal."

"i want a volkswagen. that's non-negotiable." she warned.

"that's fine. we can even stop by the garage and pick up your scrap money to put towards a deposit."

her chest felt tight with everything jake was offering to do for her. it was a slight anxiety, but a positive one. nerves that sprung to mind when she thought that maybe jake was offering to do all of these things for her because he wanted to be more than just her neighbour.

and as incredible as she knew it would feel to have a special place in jake seresin's heart, she'd been out of a relationship for so long that being in one again scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

true to his word, jake picked her up promptly at ten am the following morning. she had stressed about what to wear all morning, dodging criticisms about her outfit choice from sister katherine ('seriously, what on earth are they selling in the clothing shops these days? tops are supposed to go to the top of your jeans! what happened to dressing respectably?) and outdated sex tips from rick (which came with a knowledge of the ghost's kinks that she wished she could erase from her memory).

"just to be clear, you guys are bound to this house, right? you died here and now you can't leave?"

sister katherine nodded. "that is how being dead works, my love. we have to stay here while you go out gallivanting with your fancy man."

she stifled a laugh. "jake is not my fancy man. and neither is randy."

"whatever you say, cutie." rick winked. "and if you ever find yourself being undead in the walls of this house, give me a call and let me rock your world."

shaking her head with a laugh, she closed the front door behind her and headed over the grass to jake's house. he was waiting with two thermoses of hot chocolate and looked like he had just finished vacuuming the inside of his truck.

"good morning sunshine, let's go get you a clean bill of health!"

the wait to see the specialist was longer than the appointment. it lasted no longer than half an hour while the doctor took another brain scan and declared that there was absolutely nothing wrong with y/n aside from some superficial bruising to the skin on her forehead where she hit the steering wheel. jake insisted that her clean bill of health was worth celebrating, ushering her back into the truck and refusing to tell her where they were going.

"you know i'm a serving police officer, right? one call to captain stottlemeyer and there's a all points bulletin out on your truck."

jake laughed heartily. "i'm not kidnapping you, sweets. damn, you really don't like surprises."

"can't say i'm a fan."

minutes later, jake pulled off a secluded country road and into a parking lot lined in mulch. for a place that was so out of the way, the parking lot was packed to the brim and jake had to park the silverado what felt like miles away from the building itself. like a true gentleman, he helped her down from the truck's cab, one hand on the small of her back as they walked towards the large country store.

"a farmers market?" she giggled. "big bad hangman frequents farmer's markets?"

"how do you know my call sign?"

"you have it written on a metal sign in your garage."

jake winked at her, opening the heavy glass door. the country store was in a large refurbished barn, with the hayloft having been fully converted into a small cafe. his hand was warm through her cinnamon colored t-shirt as jake guided her towards the stairs to the cafe.

"do you like cinnamon buns?"

"of course i like cinnamon buns. who do you take me for?"

laughing to himself, jake had a large smile on his tanned face as he guided her towards a window seat. "make yourself comfy, sugar. i'll be right back."

she hated to see jake seresin leave, but she loved to watch him go, shamelessly watching the rippling muscles underneath his tight levis jeans.

he came back a few minutes later, two white china plates in hand, each one with a steaming warm cinnamon bun on top. as he passed her a plate, the cowboy made the bold claim that these were the best cinnamon buns in san francisco.

"i'll be the judge of that." yn said with a laugh, trying to pick up the sticky pastry in her hands in the most dainty way possible. the buns were large, mostly taking up the small plate.

"need a knife for that, sarge?"

"shut up, hangman."

"you know i outrank you, right?" jake joked, a sly look in his eyes.

she stuck her tongue out at the pilot, wishing she had a third hand so she could give him the finger. "bite me."

"all in due time, sugar."

she tried to hide the blush taking over her face, busying herself with taking the first bite of her pastry while she tried to ignore the images that jake's comment had conjured in her mind.

of course, the moan that she let out upon tasting the pastry did nothing to ease the sinful thoughts creeping into her mind. she could tell jake noticed, his breath momentarily catching in his throat despite the smile never breaking on his face.

"am i right or am i right?"

"fine." she playfully rolled her eyes. "you were beyond right. these are incredible!"

she beamed over at jake, wiping up some of the warm glaze on her chin that hadn't fully dried before she'd taken a bite. he was sitting across from her at the small table, and had yet to touch his cinnamon roll.

"you've got a little something..." he started, reaching a warm hand over the table to brush against her lips, wiping up some cinnamon that had been left behind.

her breath caught at the action, her eyes catching jake's blue ones. he truly was a beautiful man. time seemed to slow, jake's eyes slowly moving from her own to her lips and then back up again, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

"yn, can i kiss you?"

"yes."

he leaned over the table, gently rising from his wooden chair as he pressed his lips against hers. he was soft at first, almost apprehensive until she gripped his wrist where he was caressing her face, tilting her head back to give him a better angle and kiss him harder.

kissing jake seresin was everything she'd wanted it to be and more. if this was a movie, there would be fireworks going off behind them, and a sappy pop rock ballad playing as background music. perhaps something by lifehouse or matchbox twenty.

her lips felt sticky as jake pulled away, a goofy smile on both of their faces.

"you haven't touched your pastry." she said shyly.

jake grinned. "that's because you taste a lot nicer."

they stopped at the dealership on the way back, after having picked up the scrap money. yn test drove a volkswagen, fairly new with few miles on it. she decided to make it a point to come back within the end of the weekend, having already fallen in love with the little car. she felt like was, for lack of better words, walking on sunshine as jake pulled into his driveway, one of his large hands resting comfortably on her thigh.

he helped her down, looking forlornly over to her house, almost as if he'd enjoyed himself and didn't want the night to end.

"i have to go into work early tomorrow, and you've probabaly got heaps of work to do as well, so i'll let you get back to it." jake sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "but, if you're up for it, i can stop by tomorrow and make you something for dinner?"

she smiled up at him, reaching to take his free hand in hers. "i'd love that." remembering her ghostly guests, she hesitated. "but maybe we could do it at your house instead?"

"i would like nothing more, sarge."

"good." she pressed up onto her tiptoes, kissing jake softly.

his hand snaked around her waist, slipping into the back pocket of her jeans as he deepened the kiss. she hummed contentedly, gently stroking his face with her thumb, hand resting on his cheek.

"i can't wait." she winked at him before she cut across her front lawn, backing towards her property. her southern gentlemen saluted her as she unlocked her front door, slipping inside the foyer.

"soooooooo." rick's familiar english drawl began. "how did things go with john wayne over there?"

and despite herself, yn was very much looking forward to sharing details of her budding romance with rick and sister katherine.

things were coming up roses for sargeant yn yln, and she was so excited to see what the future had in store.

[imthepunchlord]

I think that the main problem with Marinette is that she always gets blamed for minor things, but her bigger mistakes are ignored.

She also gets blamed for things that aren't her fault. Like Reverser I blame Nathaniel and his extreme expectations, and Refleckdoll, it was Alya who was making things worse for Juleka while Marinette was trying to help. Gamer's another as she did play fair and square, and won fair and square.

But yeah, ML has an issue with priorities. With the mindset that ONLY Marinette can be at fault, which has her at fault for things that actually aren't her fault or are minor things when there are bigger faults with others; and that, for Marinette's actual faults and issues, they don't focus on the actual problems.

For one thing, Marinette is a perfectionist, in her work and responsibilities, and in how she helps people. This leads to her being meddling and controlling. With good intentions but she can take it far. She even has this idea that only she can be the solution, though more in an Atlas complex way than being egotistical.

Which I'll give the show this, by how it's set up, Adrien and Marinette kinda feed this bad aspect of their dynamic into each other. Adrien goofs around as a hero or doesn't take situations seriously with his flirting at bad times, so Marinette feels like she has to step up more as leader and responsible one, and Adrien doesn't get a chance to take things more seriously or be the leader as Marinette doesn't expect him to, which leads to his frustration of not being as valued as a partner like he wants and he acts out, and Marinette sees she can't rely on him as much and it just cycles.

I know the show sorta tries to address this with the insistence that Marinette can trust Alya and doesn't need to shoulder everything, which is great, if they didn't take it back right away validating Marinette in being right in not trusting Alya.

Which man, that's one of Marinette's actual big issues, and you address it, and then take two steps back and reverse and vindicate the flawful mindset.

Another big issue is her over involving herself in this she doesn't or shouldn't get involved with, meddling included. She could do to ease back, let others solve their own problems. Like, Darkblade comes to mind (though there may be a better example). I do think it was a good episode, but you got Marinette admitting she's already busy, and doesn't want to be class rep, but steps up as no one else is. This is just an added responsibility she doesn't need but does so because she's involving herself in others problems.

This also leads into the other issue: Marinette's tendency to overpile onto her plate. They even focused on this in Gamer 2.0 but instead of doing a lesson of learning to ease up, take a break, and have fun (which Adrien could've been great for, heck, could've had them bond over a busy lifestyle); but nope, she passes Max off to her parents and continue being busy.

And of course, there's the big issue of her crush.

Like, they're 13-14 yos dealing with first crushes, they're going to be cringe and crazy as they don't know how to handle this, but they just take it way too far. And the extremes it's taken isn't even funny but concerning.

Marinette having his schedule.

The hoard of pictures.

Jealousy that spirals to extremes.

And having rose colored view of Adrien, to thinking he can never do wrong and feeling like she needs to protect and assist him, even at the risk of herself (Collector).

Part of the worst part about this is that this exists for the writers' amusement, taking it to unlikable extremes and not portrayed as really bad flaws that need to be addressed or have lessons about; which leads me to question what's the exaggeration and what can be more accurate/reasonable for the cringey, dramatic crush. Some of which could've been fine issues to fault her for and for her to get called out and learn from, but we don't get that, all we get is unpleasantness.

Oh! You could also cover Marinette's lack of prioritizing herself, and may not knowing how to take a break and have fun. Cause I don't know if this girl knows how to relax. And she definitely doesn't behave like a kid, but much older. Could even delve into the friendship problems she has not really connecting with her friends as well because she doesn't know how to be a kid, how to mess around and goof off.

Marinette has a good number of issues and flaws that can be addressed and worked with, but they pick the wrong ones to focus on.

[periprose]

Can I have a Logan Howlett x Angel!Fem!Reader where Logan sees the reader in the kitchen having a bit of a meltdown and uncomfortable feeling over holding a knife (for like, cooking reasons or smth) and he calms her down because the reader just doesn’t want to hurt anyone :(? I’d appreciate it thanks! (I’ve seen you wanted more Angel reader, so im here to reciprocate :3)

AHhhh this fits so well Anon (maybe unintentionally so, the previous fic had a little snippet about Angel's mom trying to stab her when she was young...) but I love your brain. I made it a bit longer and added some stuff and it's set before the previous Logan Gains a Guardian Angel fic (LGGA for short) so they're not together yet.

Knives Drip Chocolate (or, Logan Gains a Guardian Angel)

Word Count: 2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt with comfort, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild traumatic flashback stuff (but no violence)

LGGA Masterlist

Logan is always ready for a late-night snack.

It’s hard for him to feel full, a lot of the time– he didn’t always have the easiest access to food, and he’s known for a while, if there’s a brief period in his immortal-like life where he can just relax about food and supplies, he shouldn’t take that for granted. 

Plus with an accelerated healing factor, sometimes his body starts digesting food too quickly, leading to faster body repair, but nothing to feel satisfied about.

So he’s got tons of cravings. Something that you are constantly bothered about, even now, as Logan knocks on your door, asking yet again if you’d accompany him to the kitchen.

Not that you actually mind. Sometimes you think you’d follow Logan into hell if he asked nicely enough, despite your occasionally evasive attitude keeping him on his toes.

“Angel, please. I’m starving.” Logan’s grumpy complaints are muffled behind your door, and you wonder why a nearly 200 year old man needs you so badly, to be by his side, when he’s spent so long being a loner.

“I’m coming.” You yawn, pulling yourself out of your bed– Storm is your roommate, and she’s passed out, stone cold. You quickly finger comb your hair, and fix your giant t-shirt, so your shoulder isn’t so exposed.

Silly, because you know Logan doesn’t care.

It’s bad. It’s really, really bad, because you don’t want to get attached to Logan, not when he’s sure to toss you aside like he’s done with the rest of them eventually. But you can’t help yourself– Logan is easy to be around, he knows your fears and little quirks, and he has never treated you like you’re so different for being a little quiet, like him. 

You know everyone has noticed. When you open your bedroom door, and Logan stares at you for a moment– an unreadable, soft glance in his eyes, one that you could choose to ignore, but don’t, as you stare back at him– you know all the other X-Men see it. Some silly crush you have on him, that clearly confuses Logan himself as he shakes his head, and pulls you by the arm out of your room, your PJs and hair askew.

Logan himself looks good, you have to admit– wearing lazy sweatpants and a white tank-top, his arm muscles looking especially defined tonight– and you pull your arm away, embarrassed that you give into these feelings so easily.

He’s only ever going to be your best friend. Even now, there’s nothing romantic about the way Logan asks if you want a ham and cheddar sandwich, too. He’s just looking out for you. 

Jean, Scott, and Storm have literally asked you, more than once, if you and Logan had maybe slept together, or kissed, or anything that would be a culmination of some supposed lust, in which case you always laugh awkwardly and deny everything. 

Your excuse is that it’s deeper than that, and it’s one-sided. What would be the point of bringing it up if it would just end in heartbreak?

“Earth to Angel.” Logan shakes your arm, breaking your stride. “Hey, that’s kind of funny, isn’t it? You’re always up in Heaven. Daydreaming about who the hell knows what.”

“Haha, Logan.” You mockingly say in a deadpan voice. “What is it?”

“Your wings are flexing a little bit, again, like they’re about to open. They’re kind of pulsing.” He says it in a soft tone, ushering in some concern he has, and you find yourself wishing that you were someone normal, someone that Logan didn’t have to care so much about. 

It’s not that you’re not happy to have his concern, it’s just that you don’t know what to do with it. Thank him for it? You have never been used to people looking out for you.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I get muscle spasms, it’s nothing to worry about.” You mutter, knowing it has to do with anxiety, but Logan looks a bit unconvinced.

“Okay. But if you keep having weird tremors, I’m taking you to the hospital wing so you can get diagnosed.” Logan states, and you open your mouth to argue, but he tuts. “No arguing about this. Last thing we need is for you to die from stress or cancer or something.”

Your heartbeat quickens, not at the mention of cancer, but because Logan used we and now you’re just thinking about how you’re always together.

Not like that, though.

“Okay, Logan. I get it.” You shake your head. “I won’t die.” 

“Not yet. We got snacks to eat.” Logan agrees, as he leads you into the kitchen.

/

Logan’s got you working on making hot chocolate as he makes the sandwiches, pan-frying them till the cheese is hot and melty. 

It’s not really a common mix, you think, but you’re just happy to be helping.

“Careful. Milk boils over fast.” Logan comments from next to you, mostly focused on his own side of the stove, and you roll your eyes.

“I know that.” You retort, but as you look away from the stove for one second, the pot of milk nearly does boil over, and you swear, reducing the heat quickly.

Logan starts laughing. “Told you.”

You shove him lightly, and he has a stupid grin on his face, one where you know Logan takes such joy in teasing you at times. Like this is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

You move the milk over to the counter, to let it cool, and then remember something semi-important. 

“Logan? Don’t forget, Scott wanted extra ham for the Hawaiian pizza they’re making tomorrow–” As you’re reminding him, Logan wordlessly shows you the empty ham package, telling you that he used all of it for the sandwiches.

“You snooze, you lose.” Logan shrugs, and you close your eyes in partial defeat, trying not to laugh at his antics.

“I guess, but you never seem to lose, and Scott’s always chewing me out for your ‘mistakes.’” You point at yourself, tongue poking through the side of your mouth, and Logan raises his eyebrows. “Tell me: Am I snoozing, or are you just lucky that I take the blame?”

“Ah, Angel… you’re obviously asleep.” Logan smirks, and you scoff at his audacity, having expected a semi-apology from him. “No one ever said you had to take the blame for my snacks. You could’ve just told him it was Jean, and he wouldn’t have asked any questions.”

You blink at him. “Lying to our team’s leader aside, why Jean?”

“C’mon. Scott’s crazy over her, they’ve been together for however long, and he can never say no to her. It’s the perfect excuse– he wouldn’t even ask her about missing food, so not to offend his sweetheart.” Logan pauses, a thoughtful look taking over his features, and he scratches his chin. “I guess love really is blind.”

“Wow. You had that takeaway based on gaslighting both Scott and Jean? You really are an unfeeling old man.” You giggle, and Logan glances over at you, his face heating up at your laugh, a sweet sound that always pushes a warmth into his chest.

If Logan was honest, he understands Scott perfectly. Sure, he could play the part of the curmudgeonly old man, and lie to you– but in truth, he was doing that because he likes you.

Just like Scott. Logan likes you so much, that he would honestly lie to you just to protect your relationship– whether that be about missing food, or if you talk about some other dude someday, and he has to pretend he’s all ecstatic for you, as he often worries about. 

He knows it’s bad. And he doesn’t like it, either. Logan insists to himself, in pure self denial, that this love he has for you doesn’t exist, because he would rather be given even a little bit of your presence as a friend, than to be entirely shut out by you upon imminent rejection.

But even he knows he protests too much. Of course he loves you, how could he not?

Logan thinks of you as his personal guardian Angel. It’s silly, of course– but you’re the one who helps him make better choices, doing the right thing more often than not. He’s an idiot– you’re a beautiful genius of a woman, and it bothers him so deeply that you keep to yourself.

He looks over at you. You’re chopping up a bar of dark chocolate, and your gaze is intensely focused– Logan has seen the same expression on you when you’re beating up a bad guy. You’re thinking, murmuring something to yourself, probably thinking about hot chocolate.

Your eyes turn wide, glassy, and you inhale sharply.

Logan immediately comes to your side. “Angel?”

Logan’s voice doesn’t fully register to you.

The knife gleams in the low lighting of the kitchen, as you turn it over and over in your hand, dark brown chocolate smudging the blade, and then you look down to your palms.

Where your hands are covered in dark, melted chocolate, after you’ve been holding the chocolate bar to chop it up– the liquid is almost amber in hue. 

“...blood.” You whisper something unintelligible, but Logan catches the last word.

You retch to yourself, hyperventilating over the counter, back hunched over, the knife still clenched in your palm.

“Angel, hey–” Logan squeezes his way between the counter and your right arm, where your hand is holding the knife, and he firmly pulls it away from you, grabbing it blade-first without even thinking about it, and you gasp, shouting at him to get away.

Logan stops, at a loss for words. You’re trembling, you’re no longer holding the knife, but you can’t stop looking at your hands.

He grabs your arms a bit more gently, turning you towards him, and you’re lost in some train of thought that Logan can’t stop.

Mom sliced up one of my hands once… it’s been years, but it looked just like this.

Then I got her back, by accident… it was an accident, Angel.

“What’s wrong?” Logan looks down at you in fear, worry that something may actually be very wrong, and you haven’t told him a thing.

He thinks he shouldn’t have assumed you were always alright. He knows you aren’t– he just finds it difficult to surpass your avoidant attitude. He’s never seen you have a full blown panic attack like this before.

Your wings are subtly twitching again, folded against your back, but threatening to open up to full expanse, and you shake your head, lip quivering, as you look down at the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” You utter so softly, so heartbreakingly tiny, and Logan feels himself turning cold at your words, wondering if you’d really done something that terrible.

With a kitchen knife, of all things. He wants to hug you firmly now.

He knows even if it was true– there’s no way that was your fault, no way Logan wouldn’t have sussed that out based on instinct. 

“It isn’t…” Logan starts, wanting to say it wasn’t your fault, but he doesn’t know how that will go over with you. “You’re not going to hurt anyone. Where is that coming from?”

“Just a bad memory.” You say with a shaky breath, the most information you’re willing to give him at this moment, and you know– you know– Logan is never going to be satisfied with that answer.

You don’t want to scare him off. This is the first time you could even say you have a best friend, and you don’t want Logan to pity you or feel like you were incapable of taking care of yourself. You don’t want him to see you like your mother did.

Logan frowns. Then, instead of asking you a question, he traces the back of your wings, which causes a shiver in your body.

You close your eyes, expecting to feel tense, scared, and horrified, but instead you feel calm, almost placid. Being touched by Logan makes you feel like everything is going to be alright.

Your wings stop shaking, and Logan hands you a wet paper towel. You wipe your chocolatey hands, which puts you at ease, seeing your clean hands again. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to make you my caretaker.” You whisper, always worried about others’ perception of you, and Logan shakes his head.

“I don’t mind, Angel. As long as you’re alright.” Logan has a tentative look on his face, and you’re almost embarrassed, that you like being taken care of so badly, and he hugs you tightly, arms wrapped around your back, a near bone crushing hug that has you nestled in his chest, fit under his jaw as he places his head on top of yours.

Your heartbeat slows down. You’re not panicking any more, but it seems like Logan, too, is reaping some sort of benefit by being so close to you. He inhales deeply, and the sigh rumbles through his chest into you.

You could almost cry. You spent so much of your childhood never being close to anyone, and being held is cathartic in a way you can’t even describe.

Logan doesn’t let go until you do. Then he has the audacity to look a little sheepish, like he had done something un-Logan and uncool, and you almost feel pained, like you should push him away, and go to sleep on your own.

It’s such an odd feeling, to both want his concern, and to wish you never needed to do so.

You stare up at him, and Logan smiles, a soft smile that he hopes reads as comforting rather than a snarl, and you can’t help yourself for what you ask next.

“Could I sleep in your room?” You ask, biting back the immediate disclaimers of it’s okay if you don’t want to. “I’m just better when I’m around you.”

There’s also the thing of waking up Storm if you enter back in now, and explaining that you had yet another panic attack. She’ll be mad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.” Logan murmurs, wondering if you meant to make that sound so devotedly sweet, something that causes his insides to seize a little.

He feels better around you, too.

You’re usually good at hiding this side of yourself from him– it’s another step deeper, another step too far into your relationship to take back– and now you worry you’ll never really be able to separate.

Logan ruffles your hair, and all is right again.

/

He makes you eat at least a bite of the sandwich, and sip a little hot chocolate– the rest is placed in the fridge for some other mutant to eat.

Logan won’t let you go to sleep without a meal, or in this case a few nibbles, if he can help it.

“Moods are worse on an empty stomach.” Logan grins, and you smile, feeling a little more at ease.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry.” You joke, and Logan rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, save that for when we’re pilfering Kurt’s Snickers bars.” He snorts. 

Logan leads you to his room, oddly silent the entire time. It’s not that Logan isn’t typically quiet, it’s that it feels more tense. He’s keeping to himself, and he doesn’t seem to have anything against you– he has only a kind expression for you, when you meet his eyes.

Finally, you both arrive to his bedroom door. Logan is lucky– he doesn’t have to room with anyone– and you’ve been in here plenty of times.

Still, that doesn’t explain why it takes him a second to enter in the room, as you follow him in.

It’s sparsely decorated in here– one poster of the Calgary Flames is on Logan’s wall, and there’s a mug with random, assorted pens on his desk. His bed has never been filled with loads of stuffed animals and pillows like other X-Men (read: Jubilee) would have. There’s a pile of assorted flannels, jackets, and scarves hanging off a coat rack.

It’s comforting, though. Logan is a simple man, and you like being close enough to understand him, to see the small remnants of things he likes.

“Well. The bed’s there, if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.” Logan points to the bed, and he starts walking towards the leather recliner next to the window.

“Logan. Stop.” You grab him by the arm, and he pauses, slightly scared, mostly enthused by what you’ll say next. “It’s okay with me if we sleep next to each other.”

“...Okay.” Logan watches as you climb into his bed, hoping it’s comfortable, and doing a weird thing of personally memorizing the way you lay and snuggle down, in case you never do this again.

You’re next to the wall, so Logan stays on his side, lying down close to the edge of the bed. And you’re keeping your distance– so is he.

You turn, and Logan is already looking at you. He glances away.

“Good night, Angel.” Logan utters softly, and with that, you turn to your side, to fall asleep.

/

When Logan wakes up, he freezes, so not to move you. Somehow, through out the night, you ended up snuggled around him, sprawled against his chest, your arms lightly wrapping around him.

He loves it. He’s glad to see he’s been useful for once– he gave you a good night’s sleep.

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal no. 18

masterlist

"this was such a good idea,"

alisa sighs contentedly, setting down her fork with a satisfied smile. kuroo mirrors her expression, nodding in agreement, though his mind drifts elsewhere.

inside, a war is raging. everything about this feels wrong, but it's the right thing to do. at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

he tries to maintain his composure, to focus on the woman in front of him, but beneath the surface, he’s being torn apart. it’s maddening - the frustration, confusion, and anger building up inside. emotions he knows he shouldn’t be feeling, not now, not here.

kuroo was brought up to be a "good" guy. make the people around you comfortable, give them a hand when they need to, and help bring out the best in them. he lived his whole life being the reliable, friendly guy that is ready to give you a push whenever you need him.

in his mind, it means he can’t afford to be selfish. it’s simple: if it makes others happy, it should make him happy too. and when he wants something for himself? well, he should bury that desire, deny it for the greater good. because that's his "role".

that's how he mastered the art of masking his own feelings, hiding behind a smile, always keeping things light and fun. anything to avoid ruining the peace, to avoid letting people see how conflicted he truly is. if he messes up, in his eyes, he’ll have failed. the tetsuro kuroo everyone knows and relies on would be gone.

he knows kenma can see through it. kenma’s always been his voice of reason, telling him it’s okay to be honest, to not always put himself last. but it’s no use. kuroo can’t afford to believe that - not when the cost of expressing his true feelings seems so high.

so, he convinces himself that this is for the best, even though he knows deep down that if he could, he’d treat you so much better. he’d hold you close, knowing you belonged there. just seeing you smile could melt all his troubles away, and even the slightest brush of your hand would send his heart racing.

to him, you are everything. beautiful, kind, funny, and passionate. but it’s more than that. something about you makes him weak in a way no one else ever has. you make him want to be selfish, to want you all for himself, no matter the consequences.

he’ll do anything for you - even if it means forgetting you. because that’s what he thinks you want. you don’t need him complicating things with his feelings, not when you like someone else, even if you call it a harmless crush. it’s ruining whatever you already have. so, he’ll keep this up.

alisa and kuroo continued to talk, and he tried his best to get to know more about alisa, outside being his project partner and classmate. all he knew about her was that she had a little brother who was also into volleyball, which sparked most of their conversations before. besides, he needed to distract himself from thinking about you.

honestly, he feels bad. this date is probably something you both just wanted to try out, but he can't help but feel like he's forcing himself to be here when alisa is genuinely great.

as they finish their dessert and wrap up the conversation, kuroo can’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. he’s managed to put up the front, to act like everything’s fine. maybe if he does this enough, he’ll actually start to believe it. maybe, eventually, he’ll forget about you.

“i had a great time, alisa,” he says, turning to her with a small smile.

“this was a really nice date. i felt comfortable.” the lie slips out effortlessly, though he did genuinely enjoy getting to know her better.

alisa raises an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of amused confusion. “wait, what?” she lets out a small laugh, “a date?”

kuroo tilts his head slightly, caught off guard. “yeah?”

she shakes her head, still smiling. “this wasn’t a date, kuroo.”

for a second, the words don’t register. then, when they do, he feels his stomach drop. holy shit. embarrassment rushes over him as he quickly tries to backtrack.

“oh god,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “i’m sorry.”

alisa’s expression softens, and she waves it off casually. “no, no. did i lead you on? i didn’t mean to. i’m sorry if i made it seem that way.”

kuroo shakes his head quickly. “no, it’s not your fault. i just misunderstood. honestly, at first, i didn’t think of you like that, but when you asked me out for coffee, i thought - well, maybe.”

alisa nods slowly, her expression apologetic. “i’m still sorry, though. i guess i should’ve been clearer when i asked.”

he shrugs it off, offering a weak smile. “it’s fine. really. i hope this doesn’t make things awkward.”

alisa shakes her head this time, "don't worry, as long as we're on the same page. you're a great guy yourself, kuroo." she smiles at him.

he returns the smile, but inside, his mind is racing. despite the embarrassment, a strange relief settles over him, washing away the tension he’s been carrying all evening. it feels wrong to be this relieved, almost like he’s betraying the plan he’d set for himself, but the truth is undeniable.

why is he relieved? all of a sudden, although he feels emotionally tired from all the torture he gave himself throughout today, it's like his inner self was screaming, thank God.

a wave of emotions crashes over him, sudden and overwhelming, as if the universe is trying to tell him something. like, this was a sign.

he freezes, the thought hitting him hard. it's absurd, reckless even. after everything he’s put himself through today, after all the mental battles and efforts to push you away, this would undo it all. it goes against every rational argument he’s made for why he should forget you.

but the relief flooding his chest is undeniable, drowning out the logic he’s clung to. it’s like a voice, quiet at first but growing louder, insistent, cutting through his doubt until it’s the only thing he can hear:

he loves you, and it's you who he wants to be with.

without another thought, kuroo stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“thank you, alisa. i’m sorry again. but i have to go.”

"i want you, y/n."

his words echo in the quiet room, and for a moment, all you can do is stare, frozen in place. the intensity in kuroo’s eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the surprise or the weight of his confession that makes your heart race.

kuroo lets out a shaky breath, his voice raw. “i know you like tooru. and i know you’ve explained to me how you feel about him, how it’s always been. but even knowing all of that, i couldn’t stop wanting you.”

his gaze drops to the floor, as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “i kept telling myself that i didn’t have the right. that i shouldn’t want you. but no matter how hard i tried, i couldn’t help it. i just do.”

there’s a vulnerability in his tone that you’ve never heard before. kuroo, who’s always so composed, so confident, now stands in front of you, his emotions laid bare.

“i don’t know if you’ll hate me for this or if this will ruin everything between us, but i... i can’t stand on the sidelines anymore.”

his fists clench slightly at his sides, his voice almost breaking. “i’m tired of pretending i’m okay with it. tired of forcing a smile when all i want is something i convinced myself i couldn’t have.”

he steps closer to you, his eyes lifting to meet yours again, filled with something that leaves you breathless.

“from the day i saw you smile... i wanted you. even if that smile wasn’t for me.”

the room feels smaller, the air heavier, as you try to process everything he’s saying. a part of you wants to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out. instead, you find yourself moving without thinking - your arms wrapping around him, pulling him close.

kuroo stiffens for just a second, caught off guard by your hug. he doesn’t know what this meant, but in the midst of his confusion, his arms come around you slowly, holding you close, his fingers curling gently into the fabric of your shirt.

maybe she just missed me, he thinks. or maybe you felt touched by his confession. he tries to make sense of it by thinking that you were too happy to see him that you just weren’t able to control it. he’s been avoiding you lately, after all.

you glance over his shoulder, and there were your friends, peeking around the corner, smirking like they’ve been waiting for this moment all along. you pull back slightly from kuroo, cheeks burning, and clear your throat.

“come on,” you whisper, guiding him toward your room to escape their prying eyes. once inside, you close the door behind you, trying to ignore the heat that’s rising to your face.

the two of you sit on the edge of your bed, but there’s still a careful distance between you, an unspoken barrier that neither of you know how to cross just yet.

kuroo breaks the silence first, his voice hesitant. “so...”

you glance at him, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. you know you need to say something, but finding the right words feels impossible. after a moment, you take a deep breath and decide to start with the truth.

“you know about my last relationship, right?”

he nods silently, his eyes softening as he waits for you to continue.

“well… it scarred me. i decided after that… i didn’t want to fall in love again. i didn’t think i could be a good girlfriend, so i chose to just admire from afar instead.” you pause.

as you start to explain, kuroo starts to decipher what you’re trying to say. immediately, he thinks this would end up in a rejection. why would you say these things to him anyway?

despite this, he wants to listen to what you have to say. it’s not like he’s expecting you to like him back. you feel his gaze on you, unwavering, and it makes it both easier and harder to keep going.

“i told myself i didn’t deserve anyone. even more guys that i thought was out of my league. that was the case too when i liked tooru. it was safe... i knew nothing would come of it - the reason why i used to say i just wanted to be an ‘observer’.”

kuroo stays quiet, letting your words sink in. there’s no judgment in his eyes, just understanding.

“i did my best to run away from romantic feelings,” you admit quietly. “because i didn’t think i deserve to be in love anyway.”

there’s a pause, a heavy silence that settles between you. then kuroo speaks, his voice gentle but firm. “we both know that’s not true.”

“is it, though?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

kuroo shifts closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “do you really think i would’ve fallen in love with you if that was true?”

the question takes you by surprise, and you don’t know how to respond. “i... i don’t know,” you stammer, unsure.

he shakes his head slightly, his expression softening. “you didn’t need to be my girlfriend for me to see that you’re more than capable of being loved. you didn’t have to prove anything to me. i’ve always seen it. you’re perfect the way you are, y/n.”

his voice drops lower, filled with emotion, looking down. “i would’ve done anything just to call you mine.”

his words hit you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare at him. you can see the sincerity in his eyes, feel the truth behind every word he’s just said.

“kuroo,” you begin, your voice shaky. “i don’t like tooru anymore. i haven’t for a while now.”

his brow furrows, confusion flickering across his face. “but... i thought you guys were getting closer?”

you nod, a small, rueful smile on your lips. “we were, but only as friends, nothing more.”

kuroo’s eyes widen as realization dawns on him. tooru had been trying to push him toward you this whole time.

“kuroo,” you say again, gently pulling him out of his thoughts.

“yeah?” he replies, his voice a little unsteady.

“i know you just said you’re in love with me... but do you think i can?”

he tilts his head, eyes searching yours. “can you what?”

you hesitate for a moment, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

“can i fall in love with you too?”

kuroo’s eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid as he processes your words. for a moment, he’s completely still, his mouth opening slightly as if he’s searching for the right response. the room feels charged with the weight of your confession.

you watch as he takes a moment to absorb what you’ve just said. when he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper, filled with disbelief. “w-what?”

you give him a small, rueful smile, and continue, “you know, getting closer to tooru was because of you. he was also helping me figure things out.”

kuroo’s eyes widen further, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “because of me?”

you nod, your gaze steady. “yeah,"

the pieces start to fall into place for kuroo, and you can see the understanding dawn in his eyes. he takes a deep breath, his expression a mix of relief and intense emotion.

and then, in a swift, almost desperate movement, he reaches for you, pulling you close. his lips find yours with a kind of urgency that takes your breath away, the kiss filled with all the emotions he’s been holding back.

his hands frame your face gently, like he’s afraid you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. you can feel the tension melt away, replaced by something warm and undeniable.

when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. kuroo lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“of course,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“please do.”

and then, without missing a beat, he kisses you again.

notes

kuroo borrowed yn's phone and tweeted (and not because i didnt realize the plot hole immediately)

yn and kuroo sitting in a tree : D

this ends undercurrents OMGG UGHHKFSDHFKSDFS

i hope this was a good ending !!!!!

dw because a special chapter is coming !!! bc ik i'll miss this plus i want u guys to see sum yn and kuroo moments as a couple because WHY NOT

i'll properly conclude everything there !!

so technically its not officially done???

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin @mochroialainn @avis-writeshq @sorrynotsorrh @walllflowerrrsss @viva-vxgue @chifuzzy @mikaela26sstuff

[mal3vol3nt]

lfr is such a loser it's too funny, she's a zuko boymom pushing 30 and self-inserting herself onto a 14 year old, a terf and a talentless hack who uses AI in her lame fanworks like damn pick a struggle! anyone who thinks shipping an indigenous girl with a violent imperialist who was hurting and antagonizing her for 90% of the story is feminist praxis is a braindead idiot who should never be taken seriously, you made the right call not responding to zks and their shitty uninformed takes they're too worthless to warrant a response

with the way she talks about katara and femininity in general, i have no doubt in my mind that she’s a terf. like i don’t even need proof i believe you LMAOO

also i remember hearing about that ai art when i first joined atla tumblr and that’s fucking hilarious. imagine using fucking ai to create ship art and thinking it’s worth sharing with the world. cause to even use ai you have to be a moron in the first place, but to then post it and try presenting it as your own hard work?? you’re an imbecile who’d probably get winded trying to lift a pencil

i truly can’t entertain any of her posts or sokkastyles and the-badger-mole cause they all go out of their way to misinterpret every single thing about atla for the sole purpose of promoting zutara. it is not possible to beneficially engage with their posts like at all, especially when they start saying shit about how the ember island players katara was the real katara and how a 12-year-old deserves to die because he has a crush. they’re not trolls, they’re just degenerates who watched a show centered around asian and indigenous characters and decided that was a good form of media to center their sexual fantasies and unchecked racism around (because yes, it is racism)

as adults who engage with a kids’ show, it is our responsibility to interact with its characters and themes appropriately, especially since the target audience is much younger and the themes are so heavy. adults who can’t do that—who can’t interact appropriately with underaged poc characters and intellectually engage with the cultures presented in the show—deserve to be called every name in the book

atla is a fictional kids show that is humorous and at times, very unserious. the show definitely should be criticized for what it does poorly and enjoyed for what it does great. but when we, as adults, start demeaning and sexualizing underaged characters for the purpose of a ship then we have failed to be responsible with the handling of this children’s media

[baldurs-writers-3]

Misunderstandings: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec List

This week, we have Misunderstandings! Check under the cut for nine excellent fics communication may be lacking but the meaningful relationships most definitely are not! And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Desperate Measures by Asidian (7270, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion/Karlach

Astarion comes up with a sneaky way to get what little blood he can while in the Shadow Cursed lands. Karlach is none too happy about it when she finds out, but only because she doesn't understand the severity of Astarion's hunger

Reccer says: I always adore Asidian's characterization, and they handle the misunderstandings trope so well here

Until you by bloodinwine (103345, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Tav/Astarion

"And they were roommates" the fic. Two people hurt for love and their slow-burn closer to each other.

Reccer says: This fic gently presses its foot down on your heart and gradually puts more and more weight on it. The prose is fantastic. But it's with the characters that this author really shines. Effy, her Tav, is one of the most well-written I've read--she's so godsdamned relatable. She gets wedgies, she pees, she fucks strange men at karaoke bars (and yes, this fic is set after the game) and she aches for Astarion with a conviction that just guts me.

Whither is thy beloved gone? and it's sequels by Brabbles (77903, Explicit) Content Notes: Depictions of violence, verbal abuse, unhealthy relationships. Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Wyll/Karlach

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort? The fics are a softer take on A!A and explores Tav's past and the consequences of the rite.

Reccer says: I love that it is a nuanced take on A!A, and it sticks to canon events as much as possible. It goes from right before the epilogue to a year after.

Strange Highways by NoCryptoGrapher (28939, Mature) Content Notes: None Pairings: Cazador Szarr / Original female characters, Cazador Szarr & Original male characters, Cazador Szarr & Astarion, Cazador Szarr & Petras

After a failing ascension ritual, Cazador gets transported to 1987 New York. To set things right, he reluctantly joins forces with an aspiring heavy metal band.

Reccer says: It's really funny and full of twists.

The Faithwarden and the Archdruid by Lanafofana (3355, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Halsin/Tav

An angsty with a happy ending fic about a Halsin and Tav that aren't communicating their feelings well to each other. They're each trying to keep the other from feeling guilty when their responsibilities get in the way of their relationship and it leads to some misunderstandings and hurt feelings.

Reccer says: This fic is such a perfect blend of angst and fluff. The writing really makes you feel the hurt and sadness that Tav is experiencing. And the way the author rounds it out with a sweet, happy ending? Oh, my heart melts.

Found My Voice by SheDragonOfTheWest (3683, Teen) Content Notes: Modern AU Pairings: Laezel / Shadowheart

Lae'zel has had a crush on Shadowheart for a while, but she's not sure if it's mutual. It will take a gentle nudge from a friend, a few drinks and a shabby karaoke bar for her to finally make a move.

Reccer says: Funny, sweet and rocks!

Ruin You by VakarianSyndrome (3827, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion/Reader

There's an implied break up post confession (WHO DOES THAT?) and now the RI is looking for Astarion and she gets more than she bargained for. I couldn't tell if he wanted to make her pay for leaving or reward her. Am I the one misunderstanding? It's ok. Sooo good.

Reccer says: Takes place in the Underdark, for one. I suspect F*ck or die, even though it's not clear, which I love. Very sensual and indulgent. Also, Astarion is kind of a troll here... Mr. Beg Me.

Reckless Little Love by VakarianSyndrome (12300, Explicit) Content Notes: Some violence, vampire bites (obv) Pairings: Astarion/FemDurge

Astarion fumbles trying to get Durge on his side, but they almost can't figure it out. Misunderstanding is an understatement. The tension between them is killing me, I swear to God.

Reccer says: I love Astarion trying to change tactics because his advances just don't work the way he expects them, too. It's kinda funny. But there's a seriousness to the fic that I really like, too. They're both looking for the same thing, but keep butting heads instead.

And two recs for the fic:

declaw, defang by PurpleCatGhost (7390, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Wyll

The whole camp gets to contribute during BITE NIGHT and Gale says the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time and Astarion misunderstands in a very understandable way, considering his circumstances

Reccer #1 says: Peak early team dynamics. Everyone's characterizations are on point, and the resolution at the end is perfection! Reccer #2 says: I love this whole fic! Poor paranoid Astarion, not even realizing how much poison Cazador fed him about the world. He goes on a huge mental roller coaster right in this fic and each twist and turn feels so believable because why would anything good every happen to Astarion??? of course they're all waiting to stake him! What else could he really expect?

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with another recurring theme, Rare Pairs!

Rare Pairs are any romantic ships with less than 1000 fics to their name. This recurring theme is to help highlight ships that are often overlooked or buried beneath more popular ships.

[karlachismylife]

Flutter Into the Skies

CW: fem!reader, girly reader (dresses, makeup, all that jazz), flirty banter, mentions of alcohol, Ghost is a menace as always, toothrotting fluff.

(Title from "Butterfly, Butterly" by a-ha)

You're excited.

That bubbly feeling of sincere happiness for someone else is filling your chest with lightweight foam, rising as if you're the most perfect, airy meringue that has ever graced anyone's kitchen - and it's soft too, not choking or overwhelming like any strong sensations tend to be.

You're literally beaming on someone else's wedding day. It's good.

Even Ghost and his ever so heavy, even unintentionally, presence seem to have nothing on you and your metaphorical butterfly wings of a flowing dress, fluttering behind you as you're running around to finish getting ready to head out. He considers himself already good to go, a sharp suit matching colour with your dress, grown out hair styled neatly, keeping the subtle waves it naturally has whenever he lets it go. You even got him a half-face mask that matches his tie and pocket square, no black allowed to your sweet friend's celebration. He's wearing it already, getting used to the feeling of unfamilar fabric on his face, as he stands in the hallway, leaning on the wall in a lazy manner, hooded eyes watching you with a deep satisfaction and a crooked smirk of a predator in its den lurking somewhere behind the satin mask.

You hear a distinct chuckle as you zoom past him in your festive frenzy, looking for a particular eyeshadow palette in your impressive collection - so, naturally, you turn on your heels and give Simon a mockingly stern look.

"What's so funny, huh?" You demand, pointng your eyeshadow brush at him, right between his dark, magnetic eyes. Sparkly glitter smeared on the soft hairs makes it look like you're about to zap him with some pixie dust magic. "I wanna look good, it's her special day, can't ruin it by being a mess! You could put some effort in too, Mr Riley."

That's when you get him - light eyebrows sliding upwards in a quizzical look, eyes dipping down to give himself a quick one-over before coming back up to stare at you. Daring you to tell him he doesn't look exquisitely and magnificently. He would go meet the Queen of England herself looking like this, not to mention a friend of his own little queen.

"Your tie, dummy," you giggle and put your formiddable weapon of artistry and glitter on the nearest surface, dancing up to Simon and gripping his unevenly tied accessory.

"Could've fixed it meself before headin' out," he grumbles in response, standing upright for you to adjust the tie into a straight line and tighen it up just the right way. Sure, he could, but that's what he gets for being a menace and teasing you for fussing over every detail of your appearance today.

You lift your gaze to retort with some smartass quip, but Ghost is already two steps ahead, staring at you with a heavy, sultry look he knows you can't resist - eyelids half-closed and lazy, white lashes fluttering slightly as he assesses your expression, notices the way your half-done makeup blends together into a colourful picture, bright, sparkly, not subtle at all and screaming "this is a happy day for me too!"

You must be a fairy or some other mythical creature to posess this wonderous ability to dissolve seamlessly into other people when they need your support and then emerge unscathed; complete, full and whole on our own - and yet always there to be a part of a bigger thing.

He knows, because you've seeped under his skin every time his own shell crumbled, and held the fortress for him, mending every crack with your pink pixie dust and golden unicorn fur. They are still there, still visible, still hurting - but not threatening to collapse on top of him, crushing whatever soft and alive still is kept inside.

If there is a pang of guilt prickling him for never supplying you with something this good to melt into, sharing happiness instead of a deadly burden, it disappears too quickly once Simon sees the simmering adoration in your glitter-eyeliner emphasized eyes.

Sliding the knot of his tie up and adjusting it around his collar, you don't let go of it immediately, instead opting to tug on it - an indication of your intent clear enough, you think. But of course, the mountain that is Ghost, doesn't move.

"Come on, I wanna kiss you," you murmur, yet to realize that Simon didn't misread your gesture as a part of fixing his tie.

The bastard ignored it on purpose.

"Oh, I can tell," his smugness rains down on you through the slyly narrowed eyes of his and the undeniably satisfied smirk unable to be contained discreetly with the mask alone.

It takes you a few seconds to go from charmed and adoring to scandalized and outraged.

"Fuck you, Simon Riley," in sincere wrath, you jerk your fist up, choking him with the tie, and yank the asshole's face towards you, pressing a loud, mocking smooch directly over the light fabric of his mask. It's his fault he didn't want to remove it and give you a proper kiss.

"We'll be late if ya do," unfased by the silky hanging noose around his neck, Ghost hammers in the last nail.

You're pouting at him the whole way to your friend's wedding, his poorly muffled chuckles only digging his grave deeper as you glare at him, no threat in your butterfly princess appearance whatsoever. The only thing that keeps you from elbowing the self-assured dog or telling him what a bastard he is, is the sweet revenge you're gonna get once everyone at the wedding sees him with a stupid, bright-pink, sparkly kiss print on his mask that he still hasn't noticed is there.

That's what he gets for being an ass: mighty image completely ruined, reputation of a scary, battle-worn beast shattered. Everyone will see just how wrapped around your finger and domesticated he is (as if it wasn't obvious already - or as if he didn't have you wrapped around his himself).

It's only at the afterparty, when everyone's letting loose and your cheeks are definitely tingling from the sweet alcohol you drank in the name of your friend's union with her sweetheart, when you suddenly get jumped by Ghost on your way to the bathroom. He's just leaving it himself, and you know from the look in his eyes that he finally had a chance to look in the mirror and see what a pretty sight he had been the whole day.

"Were ya even planning to tell me, ya little minx?" Somehow he growls right into your ear, already caging you against the wall. Good thing he does - your head is spinning, you're tipsy, charged with the best mood, buzzing from hearing good music at the dancefloor, full of sugar and sweet, sweet aftertaste of someone else's love wafting through the air.

"Took you long enough," you giggle, resting your palms on his shoulders - even through the blurriness of your lightweight happiness you clearly see that he's smiling, little lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes and warmth in his voice as he nuzzles into your temple. "Not so sharp-eyed anymore, Lieutenant?"

"Jus' didn't expect blatant betrayal in me own home." You roll your eyes and that's enough to miss him sliding his marked mask down. "Ya will pay for this, lovie."

"I'm shaking in my- mmph!"

Whatever you were shaking in, gets cut off by a whole tornado of smooches, light alcohol taste on Ghost's lips and tongue too. Should've known he'll get like this after a couple of glasses.

But then again, do you really mind?

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Never Date Your Celeb Crush (Homelander)

Description: Y/N is obsessed with Homelander....Until she gets him in bed.

Warning: Smutty

Word Count: 656

Request: I can’t find the actual request but it was sent in a while ago and they wanted one where the reader is obsessed with Homelander until they find out he is bad in bed.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. The Homelander was looking at her in such a provocative way. Like he wanted her. Y/N thought she was dreaming at first but realized the entire night she was getting eye fucked by the man of her dreams.

She fantasizes about Homelander. The one and only thing she understood about FireCracker was the Homelander obsession. Though she was jealous of her and would die to be in her position and by the looks of it, She might be.

Homelander had never seen her around before and was nearly drooling at how good she looked. The red dress and the blue heels, was she trying to impress him? He had a big ego but he wasn’t wrong.

She laughed as she talked to one of the other party goers but her eyes kept drifting back to Homelander and he took note of that. It wouldn’t be too much later that he made his way towards her and she felt her heart stop.

He was much bigger and intimidating in person and up close. Homelander looked at her like she was a piece of meat but she didn’t mind one bit. “Hello.” He said and she struggled to keep herself together even though he was the one talking to her and started the conversation.

One thing led to another and she ended up back at his penthouse. He pushed her on the bed a little too hard but she shrugged it off as he got on top of her and started kissing her. The kiss was rough and hard, very sloppy and just not good.

She tried to set the pace but he wouldn't let her and kept doing his thing. She tried to ignore the fact that he was a bad kisser but once his hand drifted off to her pussy that wasn’t as wet as she would be if things were going good, she couldn’t hold back the laugh that had escaped her mouth.

He couldn’t even give her pleasure while rubbing her clit. Homelander pulled away from her neck with a very confused look on his face. Oh that was even more funny. “Homelander, have you ever had sex before?” That was a dumb question but his experience seemed to be leading towards that factor.

“Excuse me?” He was offended now. “Your kisses are too rough and sloppy and you can’t even rub my clit right.” His eyes were wide as she told him these things.

He was perfect in his eyes. He was the being of all and this mortal human with no powers was degrading him like this? “I am a god. I am the almighty. I am the Homelander and you think you get to say those things to me.” He gripped her face which caused her to freak out. “I’m sorry. I’m just not enjoying this.” She whispered.

“You should be grateful that I would even allow myself to you.” He growled. Wow he really was egotistical. “You’re right.” She said but he just rolled his eyes and got off her. She watched him as he paced his room, wondering what was on his mind.

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He rolled his eyes at her comment. Upset? Homelander wasn’t capable of feeling many things. He would never admit to such things.

“I want you to leave.” He told her and she stared at him in shock. She wasn’t upset like she thought she would be at his request. “Get out.” He yelled at her and she jumped up and got dressed. “Uh sir? I have no idea where I am.” She said and he sighed.

She looked at him as he picked her up and flew her back to the party.Before she could say anything else to him he flew off. She stood there repeating the past hour in her head and decided that there wasn’t anything special about him.

[lexithwrites]

Pls prongsfoot.

I am on my knees. Begging.

Pls!!

im just gonna write basic prongsfoot and not sugar daddy au prongsfoot incase this isnt about that,,,,enjoy!

i love the idea of sirius and james growing up together, like they went to the same preschool and begged their parents to hang out every day and they both cry when they have to go home

they also go to the same primary school and BEG to go to the same secondary school and of course they got their way, their parents weren't about to deal with the fallout of separating them

their school life is similar to hogwarts, they meet remus and peter and they're THE group, like they're nerds and play DND but also play football and are great with the teachers and their grades are good too and they're always up to some shit

but james and sirius have always been a little closer, not to the point of jealousy in the group but just,,,its different

james isn't super sure of his sexuality in secondary school but sirius is like,,handsome and pretty somehow? he likes girls, lily evans is still the hottest girl in school and his first crush, but sirius is,,,there's something about him

sirius knew he was bi since forever lmao he's dated guys and girls but nothing has ever really been 'love' for him, at least not yet

he loves james though, obviously, he's always loved james how could he not? he's handsome and funny and smart and charming and tall and—

they're each others first kiss at a house party in year 10, its awkward and they're drunk and outside in the garden trying cigarettes for the first time and its,,,nice?

james finally dates lily in sixth form and they're the school's it couple for months, they are really cute together and they're affectionate and they're both top of their classes, lily is the school's netball team captain and james is the football captain, its great

and then lily breaks down in their last year crying because she thinks she might be gay and she's been so scared to tell james and hurt him but he's the most supportive guy about it

he cries with her because he feels awful for making her feel bad about it

of course he's upset, he really loved lily and always will, but if it isnt meant to be, it isnt meant to be (he cries to monty and effie for a few weeks before finally coming out of hiding and he and lily stay close, james even helps set her up with girls when she's too nervous)

when sirius finds out he basically runs to james' house, he's so worried about his best friend and his heart is hammering in his chest and when he gets there they talk about everything and james cries a little, lily was his first crush, first love, first girlfriend, he lost his virginity to her, she's a huge part of his life and his story

and sirius feels awful because he's happy james is single...because maybe he has a chance?

sirius kisses him and its bad,,,james reels. back, he's so confused and upset and so is sirius and sirius goes home and they dont talk for like two weeks, its awful

peter and remus are awkwardly talking as the other two are silent until peter breaks and begs them to just stop the petty arguing and talk because they're best friends and this is weird, remus quietly agrees and tells them to grow some balls and talk about their feelings like men

sirius apologises for kissing him, smoking a cigarette outside the bike sheds as james kicks stones around and its awkward for sure but they make up

and james is slowly back to his old self after the break up, he and lily hang out and everything is okay, but sirius is,,,james feels different about him

he's more handsome than ever, more charismatic, he was always like this??

and james realises he fancies him and he whines to remus about it and remus, the very gay man that he is, just tells james to tell him

silly remus

james instead just tries to hang out with sirius like its normal, even after they finish sixth form and look for uni's to apply too together james is looking at sirius' lips, his fingers, his hair, his ass, his chest, everything

he's just,,,,gorgeous

and then their first week of uni happens, freshers is underway and remus is down from edinburgh and peter is back from holiday and they all go out drinking with their new flatmates and classmates and its great,,,then james sees sirius chatting a girl up and his heart breaks

james tries to drink it away but that wont work so he just huffs at sirius and drags him to the toilets to yell at him for flirting with someone and sirius is SO confused because why does james care then it slowly sinks in and as james is yelling and nearly crying, admitting that he wants sirius to flirt with HIM and ONLY him, sirius just grabs him and kisses him, dragging him into a stall and locking it

its so heavy and hot and passionate and everything they wanted and needed and maybe they jerk each other off in the bathroom, whose to say? but they come out red faced and with messy clothes and they're both grinning because god theyre idiots but they're each others idiots

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere romantic hcs for Legoshi and Juno both fighting over a wolf darling please ^^

Sure! I haven't rewatched Beastars so I hope they're both accurate. I ran out of ideas for this near the end so I'm sorry it wasn't very intense or anticlimactic....

Yandere! Legoshi vs Juno with Wolf! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, SFW Scent kink, Manipulation, Coercion, Stalking, Blood, Violence, Implied kidnapping, Forced relationship(s).

This is unnerving because, while you are a carnivore and the same species as them, the two can still take advantage of you.

For example, as a fellow wolf you'd think you can trust the two....

Legoshi may be socially awkward, but he's reliable.

Plus Juno is so sociable and nice!

Unfortunately, despite that, it doesn't seem like you can trust them in this....

Juno herself has been described as ambitious, manipulative, and jealous/possessive in canon.

This is shown in how she competes to be Beastar and her behavior towards Legoshi and Haru.

Legoshi is, surprisingly, more tame than Juno.

He's humble and polite, struggles socially, and tries to be gentle/patient.

Although, since he is still a wolf, he is capable of being imposing and assertive.

He doesn't like scaring people... yet his stature as a male wolf is naturally intimidating.

Out of the two, I feel Juno would be the one more forceful.

Legoshi spends a lot of his time trying to rationalize his feelings and comprehend them.

While Juno immediately thinks it's love at first sight and you must date.

There's a lot of manipulation in this rivalry.

The good thing is, you're not an herbivore.

Which should, in theory, put you on near equal footing with them as a wolf.

You see the two wolves during classes, in the hallways, during Biology Days...

You may even have drama club with them.

As a wolf you interact a lot and don't activate any sort of hunting instinct in them.

What you do ignite within them?

A need for companionship.

Juno used to feel such a way for Legoshi until she met you.

She loves your fur, your scent, your voice...

She loves it all!

It's funny, because the moment she finds a new crush?

Her old crush also shows signs of liking them.

Frustrating.

Wolves tend to be possessive of chosen mates.

So while Juno shows this a lot more, Legoshi's capable of it too.

You're close with them as friends and fellow wolves.

You even remember their scent and are capable of sensing them through that.

Which is why it unnerves you when you start sensing them more often than you should.

Juno is much more clingy, sociable, and touchy with you.

She's assertive and it seems like she's showing every animal around her that you two belong together.

It's like she's showing claim over you.

You notice and may try to distance yourself, but the other wolf follows you closely.

Why are you trying to avoid her?

Do you not like it when she holds you? Nuzzles you?

Don't you see her tail wagging when around you?

Legoshi is less into PDA....

He's shy around you and allows you your space and independence.

He's protective more than possessive, yet those desires still linger within his actions.

He blushes at close contact, stutters when speaking to you, and overall just likes to admire you from a distance.

He's the opposite of Juno... yet he feels jealous when he sees how Juno acts around you.

Legoshi can tell you aren't a big fan of Juno's clingy behavior.

Which he uses as an excuse to pull you away and distract you a bit.

Much to Juno's frustration.

Although, while Legoshi is protective and willing to help you away from Juno...

He can end up being suffocating too.

Legoshi is less manipulative and possessive than Juno at first.

Although, with how strong the other wolf is coming on, he may feel like he has to show claim over you.

It's no doubt in his instincts if he really does view you in a romantic way.

You probably don't even see either wolf in that kind of way.

Which is why it can be overwhelming when two wolves are suddenly not only trying to win you over... but compete.

They both act caring and attentive to you when it's just you and them alone.

Yet the moment the two are in a room with one another?

There's tension and glares.

Maybe a frustrated growl here or there.

Juno is the one who acts the most moody out of the two.

She's often arguing with Legoshi, blaming him for trying to sabotage her or how she just wants him to leave you and her alone.

Her heart is still recovering from their "break-up" (They were never together).

Now he's trying to take yours from her!?

Meanwhile Legoshi just wants to make sure you're okay and Juno isn't being too... much.

Legoshi's crush is gradual, so he starts just genuinely looking out for a fellow "pack member".

Although... Over time he wonders if he should pay attention to how his tail wags and how he blushes around you....

Would the two be violent with one another...?

No... I can't really see it.

Legoshi would want to physically hurt Juno.

Juno may threaten him, standing her ground and barking about how you're hers.

But she won't actually do anything... hopefully.

Legoshi is no doubt stronger than her as a male wolf, so she's cautious.

Even other wolves can sense the tension between these two.

Biology Day feels more stressful than it should be due to Juno and Legoshi avoiding one another.

Juno would try to spend more time with you by inviting you to gatherings or trips.

You don't seriously plan on spending all of your time in the dorms, right?

You'd rather do that than deal with their tension.

She'd drag you out to hang out with her, always having an arm around you as she walks.

Her tail would be wagging fast, while yours sways with insecurity.

Legoshi would be less forceful, merely offering for you to hang out with him... doing anything really.

Since he isn't as intense, you may actually go to him more often.

Right up until he admits he has feelings for you, another wolf, and asks if you'll be his?

He may be more considerate... but he's going to want this rivalry between him and Juno to end at some point.

One of them will have to claim you as theirs soon....

You don't seem at ease around Juno... but you're at ease around him, right?

Right?

It's worse when you're walking around the halls, only to catch sight or smell of them.

You know at least one wolf is watching you at all times.

As though they're waiting for the perfect move.

Kidnapping seems OOC for both of them... but hey...

Maybe one of them will trap you in their dorm so you have to make a decision?

This rivalry could go on for months.

It really pushes you and the two wolves to the brink.

You're aware the two stalk you.

You're aware they're pushy to date you because you're such a good looking and kind wolf...

Yet you wish they'd stop.

Even when you tell them you want nothing to do with either of them...

They only seem to press more.

Juno gets more possessive, Legoshi gets more protective...

You can't trust either of them anymore.

Plus, you may even grow more concerned when you start seeing blood on their fur.

With months of tension, the two may even fight more.

Wolves are territorial and violent when it comes to mates....

You can only hope the issue resolves soon.

Those wounds are beginning to concern you.

They can't hide the smell of blood from you.

Juno may be the one most likely to lock you in her dorm until you choose her.

Although, Legoshi may lure you to his dorm in an attempt to soothe you and protect you.

Both wolves are intense and only seem to have one goal in mind...

How long will it be before one of them snaps?

You may be a wolf, a carnivore just like them...

But between them you just feel like prey.

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part II, Chapters 7-8:

35 Portland Row is such a perfect home base. An urban Hobbit Hole. Magician’s nephew townhouse. Familiar and homey, yet exiting and unusual. Just the right amount of familiar and unfamiliar things that would appeal to a kid. The tantalizing fantasy of independence mixed with the fear of the outside world that the young target audience first starts to comprehend at that age. The dream of living with your crush and all your friends, eating donuts for breakfast, staying up to all hours of the night, being dashing, running things, having swords, being better at something than the adults who are an arbitrary force you put on a façade and appease and try to get rid of as soon as possible. Your challenge being comprehending mortality, coming to terms that death is a part of life and can happen to anyone around you, even your most loved ones. And your enemy being corrupt adults who run corporations that already traded your future, all your hopes and dreams, all your potential for just a bit more money, prestige, life they desire. It says something that a book for a modern teenager is one about kids just trying to survive in a world adults ruined and how difficult it is to keep a place of your own and your integrity safe and in one piece.

Miscellaneous:

It's sweet that Lockwood sees Portland Row as being not just "his" but belonging to anyone who is part of the agency. This is his home, legally he is the sole owner of it, but he views the house as Lucy's and George's in equal measure because they are part of Lockwood and Co. He opens his home to people not in the manner of a landlord (we don't really ever find out if he charges Geroge or Lucy any rent, I suspect he doesn't although informally they all probably pitch in on maintenance). What I love about Lockwood is he's such a paradox, he's extremely inviting and yet intensely closed off. He both opens his home to friends and craves a family and is also deeply emotionally stunted and detached.

George has lived with Lockwood for only maybe a year or so and the agency has only been registered three months and yet he gives off such intense "Elizabeth from Accounts Payable whose been with the company for twenty years and has weathered every kind of bullshit and is counting down to retirement" vibes like, Sir, how do you sound so 50 at 15?

Lockwood is so funny because one moment he's actually being a good boss and agency head – conducting good interviews, watching for emotional responses, making background checks on potential hires, giving a tour to new employee where he firmly but politely draws boundaries - and then the next moment he's absolutely peacocking to a cute girl like "look, look, I'm also powerful and a big deal!"

I also think it's funny that Lockwood strikes out with Lucy a lot more from the beginning then we realize. Lucy is traumatized, emotionally immature and has not been socialized properly. Her self-confidence has been worn away by her "prettiness is not your job" mother and having to be the breadwinner for her family so early in life. There are these moments early on where someone more adept at flirting would have picked up on Lockwood being a showoff and maybe played with it, but bless her she's 13 going on 14 here, literally no one can flirt at that age so she's just incapable of seeing what is going on or give it any time of day. It's no wonder that it takes them literal years to get anywhere.

Also, who let Lockwood keep that watch? no one right? He stole it. He told the cops there's a shitload of death glows in a garden and they probably brought him along to raid the home of a serial killer to help look evidence or whatever and there was a watch lying around and Lockwood was like “ooooooh for my murder scrapbook!” and swiped it.

The mention of an uncle early on is such a clever thing because it’s relevant to the plot during the interview to show how sensitive Lucy really is, but it’s also a red herring. When George mentions Lockwood losing his parents young and him being “in care” of some relative, the reader immediately thinks "ah yes, that must have been that nice uncle!" It lets us assume that whatever mystery there is about the room it must be about his parents. It's why the reveal at the end of Whispering Skull is such a surprise and shows just how little we know about him.

Yea she's gone.

It took less than a week for her to go from describing Lockwood as looking like "a priest on a toilet" to this teenage horniness. My disaster crush in Gr.7 had about the same trajectory. Also reminds me of Mei's completely realistically portrayed crush on Some Convenience Store Guy in "Turning Red". Flips on like a switch and before you know it, you're doodling the most mortifying thing ever conceived my man. 13 is such a cursed age, my god.

I’ve mentioned this before in a post, but Lucy lashes out at people for things she hates about herself. Her internal gripes about Geroge are not that he’s rude (even though he definitely is to her) she’s not mean about him being objectively less Talented then her, she’s never makes fun of him for being smarter or better educated than she is. Lucy can handle outright hostility pretty well and she’s not self-conscious about her talent or lack of education. But she is, I think, deeply insecure about her appearance. And like so many girls her age it’s the chink in her armor she knows to hide and wallpaper over with dismissal and disdain. She pretends she doesn’t care but she does, and the more her feelings for Lockwood grow the more it shows in how she talks about herself and how she talks about others.

Sometimes you’re reading a book and oooh there’s a romance subplot and A falls for B (often instead of C or D) and you think … but why? why is A in love with B actually? What is it about them that makes the attraction click? But with Lucy it’s so obvious why she is almost immediately taken with Lockwood, but also why she doesn’t realize it. From Lucy’s POV, for all his flaws Lockwood is the opposite of what Jacobs was. He enters with the teams and he’s the last to leave (he even jumps out the burning building last). She doesn’t feel alone and unsupported. He takes accountability for any error on the case, easily and without any shifting of blame. Sure he’s vainglorious and a bit irresponsible and impulsive and all that. He’s 14-15 at most - that’s normal enough and she’s a kid like him, she gets it. But Lockwood is also a kid burdened with a lot of responsibly and I think Lucy is in a unique position to appreciate this and admire him for taking it on as he does. And that admiration neatly tricks her into thinking that’s all there is to her feelings for a long, long time because she can’t tell her feels apart worth a damn.

I’m going to start a Lucy describes Lockwood’s smile count: 6

[izzystizzys]

“ - but have you ever considered, I don’t know, not sucking all the time? Just a thought.”

It takes the combined grips of Nuisance and Hound to keep the wriggling, snarling body beneath Fox from throwing him off its back. With three years’ practice of having to fix his own rickety desk chair over and over again, the movement merely ruffles the proverbial fringe on his helmet.

“And I don’t mean that as an insult, necessarily. Well, I do a little bit. But also I have some amount of empathy for the no doubt immense amounts of trauma that had to go into the creation of something so dysfunctional as you, on a very personal level, so have you considered going to the root of that in a way that’s like… useful? Instead of wasting it all on kriffing Kenobi, I mean. Look at the guy. All he does all day is drink tea and commit warcrimes. I bet he knits for fun. Bit of an embarrassing nemesis, don’t you think?”

“I”, says Kenobi, then pauses. The space between his eyebrows is creased with uncertainty, and he looks deeply torn between continuing rocking the shaking Duchess of Mandalore against his chest from his corner of the throne room and re-activating his lightsaber to continue losing his fight against the Darksider Fox is currently sitting on. “I feel like I should object to some part of that, but I’m not entirely clear on what. Or how this happened, again. Isn’t Mandalore a few star systems from your purview, Commander?”

“Probably the warcrimes”, mutters Nuisance underneath his strained breath.

“About as far from my supposed assignment as yours, General”, says Fox a little louder.

Kenobi twitches. Fox cannot claim to know which of them does it. Both, maybe. Probably.

“I will - taste - your - flesh!”, heaves out Darth Maul, snarling and hissing.

“Oooh, kinky!”, calls Grids, from the corner where she’s got her stun-setting aimed at the other Zabrak, currently passed out cold. Fox sighs deeply. He knew he shouldn’t have taken those three - any combination of Grids, Hound and Nuisance in a room together usually spelled chaos.

Unfortunately, it also spelled competence. The Basic alphabet can be funny that way.

The point being: as of some months into the war, one of Fox’s assigned tasks is the surveillance of all GAR-wide communication. All command-class staff theoretically got that memo, but no one seems to have read the fine print where that includes both professional and personal communication, as well as any and all comm devices registered or suspected to be registered to that person. Especially not one Anakin Skywalker and Padmé Amidala.

The point further being, if that sounds both immensely impractical and sort of terrifying in a democratic supposedly non-surveillance state, you’d be bang on the credits, and to Fox’ eternal chagrin the singular person in this whole useless army who’s spent the second of thinking necessary for that conclusion.

The final point being, when one frantic General’s mad dash across the Galaxy to rescue his teenage sweetheart from the spectre of his supposedly dead nemesis crosses his desk on its way to the Chancellor’s inbox, it doesn’t take much time for him to block any and all trace of it across the digital space of the GAR commboard and take matters into his own hands.

“ - which is why I told Thorn to suck it up and be in charge for a few days, and also why you’re still alive, your Highness, very welcome, was no trouble at all”, he concludes, drily. The Duchess stares the wide-eyed look of someone attempting to reconcile clones with ‘sentience’ or perhaps ‘personality’ in her head, but won’t say it outright.

Or the look of someone who’s just been violently overthrown and nearly murdered, perhaps, Fox allows.

“Um -“, Kenobi hedges, blinking rapidly.

“And the reason you’re still alive, probably. You’re welcome for that too, by the way”, Grids calls from the back of the throne room, cheekily.

“Alright”, says Kenobi, loudly. There’s color back in his deathly-pale cheeks, Fox notes, even if that color is a lot of red. It doesn’t fade very gracefully into his beard. “Opinions on whether or not I had everything under control notwithstanding -“

“You really didn’t”, Hound supplies helpfully.

“ - opinions notwithstanding, I am admittedly still lost on why you’re now sitting on Darth Maul and attempting to, to - jeer at him, Marshall Commander!”

“We’re not jeering, we’re trying to create a safe space and lay the groundwork for more open communication”, Fox says, primly.

Maul screams into the ground, attempting for the umpteenth time to rear up and visit great violence upon Fox, which admittedly has him rattling in his crosslegged seat atop his back.

Kenobi raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Safe space?”

“He’s restrained and not stabbing anyone, I personally feel much safer than before”, Grids muses. “Watch the teeth though, Hound. Little biter.”

Indeed. Fox’s right greave will have to be replaced posthaste.

“And anyways, the point isn’t to jeer at him, it’s to make clear that he’s focusing his energy in the wrong places and could be doing much better things with his admittedly not-great life”, Fox adds, shifting to cast a pointed look down at Maul. The Sith is panting open-mouthed into the durasteel floor, sharp teeth gnashing wildly as his piercing yellow eyes shine with barely restrained rage. “I’m just saying - aim higher. You aren’t seeing the forest for the Kenobis, Maul. Can I call you Maul?”

“I will feed you your own entrails”, yowls Maul.

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m an easy target to focus all that built-up rage on, but is killing me really going to help you achieve any of your goals? No! Think about it - when it all comes down to it, who sent you on that mission to Naboo in the first place? Who made sure the Jedi and, by extension, Kenobi would be there to kill you? Who used you as a dejarik piece and then cast you aside the second you outlived your usefulness?”

Beneath him, Maul slowly stills in his struggle, still panting heavily. Hound and Nuisance don’t let it deter them in their vigilance, because they’re damn good vod’e and possess an ounce of common sense.

“And, look, I get it. I could spend the rest of my life punching every civilian who spits on me in the streets and it would even be satisfying. I could hit back the Senators who think of clones as easy targets. Or - I can aim my sights at who’s on top. And I think you know who I mean, because you know as well as I do the same damn man has ruined both our lives.”

Kenobi makes an alarmed noise, and Maul an interested one - not that Fox is going to let him walk out of this place awake. Still, he tilts his head in a way he hopes conveys his helmeted grin successfully to non-vod, as well as the bloodlust behind it. “You’re also welcome for the fact that the Chancellor won’t have heard of your spontaneous resurrection yet, by the way. You’ll retain your element of surprise instead of gambling it away on petty revenge on Kenobi.”

“He cut me in half!”

“He killed my master!”

Fox waves their protests away.

“Also, that’s treason!”, Kenobi adds, sputtering. Fox grins. Kenobi purses his lips, and continues. petulantly, “…do you have any proof?”

“So. Much. Proof”, says Nuisance, dreamily. “Like, do you want it alphabetically or by date?”

Which is when the Duchess, of all people, bursts out into barking, crazed laughter.

“You - you’ve certainly given yourself an edge in that fight, Marshall Commander”, she wheezes, brushing tears from her eyes. Fox raises his eyebrows at her, which she somehow seems to be able to tell, because she gestures at the clunky handle dangling from his belt.

“What, this old thing?” He unclasps the black rectangle from its hook, holding it up in the air. Maul stills strangely beneath him, and Kenobi goes ghostly pale again. Fox is starting to get a bad feeling.

“I took it off Viszla and beat him over the head with it. I figured he’d taken it off a Jedi cadet or something. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

[possamble]

I absolutely really need to be writing anything but random ideas while I procrastinate and this is so awful rough bc I literally wrote it on my phone in one sitting while avoiding work but

Do you see my vision. Her Nosy Bitch Syndrome would actually be good for him when they've both chilled out a little in the postcanon.

[is-the-milk-fresh]

"But the ship is pseudo-incestuous!!" THE GIRL CANONICALLY FUCKED HER ACTUAL COUSIN???

Like incest bad. Don't do incest. Don't be Lucy. But I feel like maybe thats not the grounds on which to be arguing here? Never mind that they are literally NOT related (no matter your personal headcanons). Ms. 'Incest is a normal part of growing up' probably isn't going to be morally hung up on that. Even if she (in the case of actual incest, not headcanon father figure pseudo-incest) absolutely should be.

I don't even ship it myself. But Lucy Maclean is a capital F Freak. You gotta accept that.

[claratyler]

No i mean its actually so so so funny that they never tried for a second to push for or even lightly imply a merlin/morgana romance (which would be the formulaic thing to do, given that the other two leads were already paired up). They just couldnt do it. They had to be like ok we have to be real here.. not only is he gay and not only is she a lesbian, but they absolutely despise each other. Obsessed with their dynamic