#Maybe I could ask other characters to babysit him...

[villain-in-love]

Good thing about Jamil is that I could go to museums with him. If left to my own devices, I can spend an entire day in a museum, but unfortunately, most of the time the people that I go with get bored after thirty minutes after just taking a quick look at everything. And then they nag me to leave already.

Jamil, however, actually seems to be interested in art museums at the very least, judging by his "Platinum Jacket" card. He's got an eye for aesthetics and is knowledgeable about art since he had enough opportunities to listen to merchants who specialize in it. We could actually discuss an exhibition without anyone getting bored.

[dior-luxury]

i’d like to say first that i adore your writing! it’s just absolutely lovely to read everything you write o(^▽^)o ♡ thank you for your work! if you don’t mind, i’d like to leave a request!

could i get some domestic fluff about babysitting with the twst characters? like helping leona babysit cheka (and any other character you’d like to write for who has a younger relative…or maybe just insert some random kid for whoever you pick lol) and the whole experience gets them thinking about the future and perhaps having a family of their own?

Babysitting With Them

( ✧ ) ────── parent stories . fluff - f!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders . riddle . leona . azul . kalim . vil . idia . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] Fluff/Domestic Fluff . Babysitting . Future Family Themes. Mild Chaos/Cute Chaos . Soft Moments/Emotional Introspection . Mentions of Children . Parenthood Imagery/Future Parenting

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! (≧◡≦) It's funny how I two of the same requests that have the same theme Lol, so I just decided to combine them both ( ´ ▽ ` )

Riddle Rosehearts

When Professor Trein approached Riddle with the task of watching his twin grandchildren for an afternoon, Riddle felt a surge of pride and immediate stress. “A demonstration of responsibility,” the professor had said with a knowing glance. Of course, the twist was that you’d be watching them with him.

He'd barely made it to the faculty quarters with the twins before they began running in opposite directions, giggling. One made a beeline for a bookshelf while the other tried to unbutton Riddle's blazer. You calmly scooped one up with a laugh and offered a distracted Riddle a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Indeed,” he said, although his voice cracked slightly.

The afternoon was a test of patience, creativity, and teamwork. The twins were mischievous but not unmanageable, especially with your steadying presence. You suggested a tea party—“Just like in Heartslabyul, Riddle”—and helped set out little plastic cups, cookies, and juice. The twins delighted in it, making Riddle the "tea king" while you were “his queen,” to which Riddle flushed a bright pink but didn't correct them.

He even loosened up. At one point, you caught him kneeling beside a stuffed bear, seriously asking if it took sugar in its tea, and your heart melted.

Later, when the twins were napping in a sunlit corner of the lounge, curled up with stuffed animals, Riddle sat beside you on the couch, sipping lukewarm tea you both forgot to drink. He was unusually quiet.

“You were great with them,” you said, brushing a crumb from his sleeve.

He looked at the sleeping children, eyes soft and thoughtful. “I always feared I’d be too strict. That I’d repeat my mother’s mistakes. But... I felt something different today.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, and he hesitantly took your hand in his.

“I think… if it were with you… a future like this wouldn't be so terrifying,” he whispered. “Perhaps even… something to look forward to.”

And for a moment, the world was quiet—just the hum of a peaceful room, the steady rhythm of children’s breaths, and the quiet, blooming thought of someday.

Leona Kingscholar

You'd never seen Leona more alarmed than when a magical mirror blinked open to deliver a very energetic Cheka into his dorm room—complete with suitcase, plushie, and an extremely chipper "UNCLE LEOOO!"

Apparently, Crowley thought it a wonderful learning opportunity for Leona to engage with family during the school’s "Interpersonal Growth Week." And Crowley, in his infinite wisdom, roped you in as Leona’s "emotional support."

Cheka tackled Leona’s legs with a hug, and the big bad lion grumbled something unintelligible, already looking exhausted. You knelt to greet Cheka with a wide smile and a friendly high-five, which the little lion cub enthusiastically returned.

The next few hours were chaos wrapped in a sugar high.

You tried crafts—Cheka glued everything to the table. You tried games—Cheka turned hide-and-seek into a full-blown stealth mission that almost broke a vase. Leona had all but collapsed on the couch, arms crossed over his eyes, muttering, “I need a nap from this nap.”

But then—magic.

The three of you ended up outside in a sunny corner of the savannah-like lounge. Cheka chased butterflies while you helped Leona set up a blanket and snacks. You fed each other bits of dried fruit while pretending you weren't watching Cheka try to roar at squirrels.

Leona eventually laid down, head resting in your lap as he watched the sky.

“You’re good with him,” you said, fingers brushing through his hair.

“Tch. I just didn’t want him breaking anything.”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

He huffed but didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned his head slightly, golden eyes catching yours. “You’re the one who’s a natural. Think you’d survive if we had a few of our own running around?”

The way he said it was casual, but there was weight behind the words. His gaze didn’t waver.

Your heart did a little somersault.

“I think we’d survive,” you replied, smiling. “And you’d be better at it than you think.”

Leona snorted softly. “Maybe. As long as they don’t wake me up before noon.”

“Deal. I’ll be the morning parent. You handle bedtime.”

He smirked. “Bet I’d be great at bedtime stories.”

That night, Cheka finally fell asleep with you reading to him while Leona lazily played with the boy’s hair. The warm glow of the dorm’s lighting, the distant buzz of cicadas, and Leona’s hand resting on yours as he watched his nephew drift off—it all felt like a fleeting glimpse into another life. A quieter one. A better one.

Later, after Cheka was tucked in, Leona didn’t say much. He just leaned into you, holding you a little tighter than usual, his voice a low murmur against your hair:

“I wouldn't mind this. With you. A pride of our own.”

Azul Ashengrotto

It all started when a local couple from the Coral Sea sent a formal request to the Mostro Lounge. They were in urgent need of a sitter for their precocious little mer-child, Mira, during a diplomatic visit to the surface. Azul, ever the businessman, couldn’t resist an opportunity to help—especially with you involved.

“This is strictly a professional arrangement,” Azul said, straightening his tie as he paced the Lounge. “We’re simply... fulfilling a need. With compensation. Nothing more.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “So, you’re not looking forward to spending time with an adorable tiny sea-creature and me?”

He flushed to the tips of his ears. “I never said that.”

The moment Mira arrived, everything spiraled beautifully out of Azul’s control. The little one was all curious tentacles, gleaming eyes, and boundless questions. She immediately took a liking to you, tugging your hand and asking if you were “Mr. Azul’s princess.”

Azul nearly choked on his own breath.

You spent the afternoon in the VIP room of the Lounge turned “child-safe zone,” crafting with enchanted water paints, building pillow forts, and watching Mira “swim” in circles around the furniture. Azul tried to stay aloof at first, but Mira eventually suckered him in with wide eyes and a tragic, “I need someone to be the sea king in my game!”

He relented with a sigh that masked a small smile. “Very well. But only because the realm demands it.”

You watched as he donned a makeshift crown made of napkins and posed dramatically while Mira shrieked with joy. Your heart swelled at the sight—Azul, so often rigid and serious, pretending to grant royal decrees while holding a glitter-covered wand.

Later, when Mira was curled up on a plush bench, dozing peacefully with your coat wrapped around her like a blanket, Azul sat beside you, strangely quiet.

“She reminds me of myself,” he said softly. “Always watching, always asking questions. Curious. Smart.”

“She’s sweet. And she adores you.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Temporarily, perhaps. Children change quickly.”

You nudged his shoulder. “She didn’t see the business mogul. She saw someone kind and gentle. Someone safe.”

He looked down at his gloved hands. “I never imagined myself with a family. I didn’t think I was built for that kind of softness. But with you here… it doesn’t seem so foolish.”

You reached out and laced your fingers with his, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It’s not foolish at all.”

He squeezed your hand in return, and together, you watched Mira sleep—Azul’s heart caught somewhere between fear and hope, wondering for the first time if maybe, someday, he could create a world where a child of his own wouldn’t have to hide who they were.

Kalim Al-Asim

It was supposed to be a simple favor—watching one of Jamil’s younger cousins for the afternoon while the rest of the Asim family attended a formal banquet. You and Kalim were already spending the weekend at the Scalding Sands estate, so it seemed like no big deal.

That is… until little Layla arrived.

A tiny whirlwind in a flowing dress, Layla was the human embodiment of a sugar rush. She immediately tackled Kalim in a hug, shrieking, “COUSIN KALIM!” as he caught her mid-spin and lifted her into the air like a carnival ride.

“Kalim, she’s going to launch herself into orbit,” you laughed as Layla shrieked in delight.

“She’s light as a feather!” Kalim grinned. “Come on, let’s play palace adventure!”

The next few hours were a technicolor blur of activity. Kalim turned the entire courtyard into an elaborate obstacle course. You both took turns being “guards” or “thieves” as Layla declared herself “Queen of the Flying Carpets.” There were glittery sticker crowns involved, you wore one. Kalim wore four. He looked fabulous.

Kalim was born for this. He matched Layla’s energy effortlessly, spinning stories, making her laugh, and doing every silly voice. You helped bake cookies together (well, tried—Layla mostly just poured sugar in everything while Kalim pretended not to notice). At one point, Layla sat in Kalim’s lap while he played a lullaby on an oud, her little eyes drooping as she leaned into him, totally at peace.

When she finally fell asleep in a cozy mountain of cushions, Kalim looked at you with a warmth in his eyes that was deeper than usual. Not just sunshine—something realer, steadier.

“You’re amazing with her,” you whispered.

He smiled wide but soft. “So are you. She really likes you, y'know.”

He paused then, eyes flicking toward the sleeping child, and his smile grew quieter. Thoughtful.

“Hey… do you think someday, we could do this again? Not for someone else. Just… us.”

Your breath caught at how gentle his voice was. How unguarded.

“With our own little one?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded, reaching for your hand. “I used to think I’d never be still long enough for that kind of life. But with you… I think I could be. I want to share all this joy with someone. With a family.”

You leaned into him, head against his shoulder as the warm breeze swept past, carrying the scent of cardamom and sugar.

“I’d love that, Kalim.”

He kissed your forehead, the weight of the moment grounding even someone like him.

“Then let’s make it a dream to reach together.”

Vil Schoenheit

It began, like all beautiful disasters do, with Crowley.

Apparently, a child from the local village—eight years old, precocious, and obsessed with “divas”—had written a very passionate letter asking to spend a day with the “fabulous Vil Schoenheit.” It ended up in the headmage’s hands, and of course, he passed it along to Vil with a wink and a “learning experience in mentorship and patience.”

Vil wanted to say no.

But you, of course, smiled and said, “Come on, it might be fun.”

That was how you ended up babysitting a tiny fashion-obsessed firecracker named Sera, who insisted on calling Vil “Miss Vil” and who immediately begged to do makeovers.

“She’s got spirit,” you whispered with a grin as Vil exhaled, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Admirable spirit,” he muttered. “With a worrying love of neon eyeshadow.”

You helped set up a little “studio” in Pomefiore’s drawing room. Vil arranged the mirrors, the light, the seating—because of course he did—and then the three of you got to work. Sera wanted you to do her nails (purple sparkles, no exceptions), while Vil demonstrated eyeliner techniques and gently corrected her brush strokes.

“You must treat your face like art,” he explained patiently, holding her hand as she tried to line her eyes. “Not a battlefield.”

She beamed up at him, utterly starstruck.

Later, she demanded a “runway walk,” so you all spent an hour in the Pomefiore halls, strutting like queens to invisible music. Sera wore one of Vil’s silk scarves as a cape and declared the two of you her “royal beauty parents.”

And Vil—Vil actually laughed. Not the elegant, posed kind, but a real laugh, from the chest.

That evening, with Sera curled up between you on a chaise, happily snacking on sugar-dusted pastries and humming to herself, you noticed Vil watching her. His hand gently smoothed back her hair, his movements soft and careful.

“She’s going to remember this,” you whispered.

He glanced at you, his voice quiet. “So will I.”

You leaned into him, warmth in your chest.

“You were incredible with her,” you said.

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at you with something unguarded in his gaze—no pretense, no performance.

“I used to think children would be... interruptions to my life. But watching her today, seeing her confidence grow just because someone believed in her?” His voice dropped. “I think I’d like that kind of legacy. To build someone up. Guide them. Shape them into someone proud and whole.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. “You’d be amazing.”

“And you,” he said, brushing your knuckles with his lips, “would be the heart of it all.”

And in the soft silence that followed, with the glow of the setting sun catching in the gold of Vil’s hair, the two of you quietly let the idea take root.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s nightmare began with Ortho cheerfully saying, “Big Brother! You’ve been chosen to babysit my friend’s little sister while their family visits a Space-Tech Expo!”

Idia’s soul left his body right then and there.

“Wh—What?! I—I don’t know how to interact with mini-humans! I barely manage with regular humans—!”

“It’s okay! Y/N will be with you!” Ortho said brightly, clearly having planned this. “Think of it as a co-op quest! With NPC cuteness!”

That’s how you both ended up in Idia’s room, where the lighting was turned to “soft ambient galaxy mode” and a six-year-old girl named Nari was stomping around in your oversized headphones and calling herself “The Boss Monster.”

Idia was frozen at first—tucked in his gamer chair like it was his only line of defense. But you gave him a warm look, handed him a second controller, and said, “C’mon, let’s introduce her to ‘Fantasy Brawl X.’” The game was co-op, cartoony, and had a character that looked suspiciously like Idia with fire hair.

Nari was hooked.

She squealed when she figured out how to make her character jump. Idia mumbled quiet instructions that she somehow understood perfectly. And you, of course, kept the energy balanced—cheering, helping Nari when she got stuck, and giving Idia little confidence boosts every time he muttered, “I’m gonna mess this up…”

You even caught him smiling when she called his gaming skills “SO COOL, like a real boss!”

Hours passed, filled with giggles and glowing screens. You made microwave popcorn and juice box “potions.” Ortho peeked in once and whispered “Level Up!” at Idia, who turned pink and kicked him out.

When Nari finally nodded off on a beanbag chair, hugging a plushie of Idia’s favorite mech character, the room went quiet. The only sound was the hum of LED strips and the soft soundtrack of the paused game.

You turned to find Idia staring at her—his expression unreadable, for once not hidden behind his hair.

“She... wasn’t scared of me,” he said quietly. “She called me cool. Even though I’m... me.”

You moved beside him, laying your head against his shoulder. “That’s because you are cool. And kind. And you gave her a space to just be happy.”

He hesitated, hands fidgeting.

“I didn’t think I could ever picture something like this,” he whispered. “Me. In a family. That’s, like, the opposite of my anime origin story.”

“But…?”

He sighed, almost smiling. “But… if it were with you… maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad ending. Or maybe... a good beginning.”

You kissed his cheek, and his hair turned a shade of glowing pink so fast it lit up the room.

Malleus Draconia

The request came from Lilia.

“I need someone to watch one of the castle’s younger wards while I run errands in Briar Valley,” he said, flashing a mischievous little grin. “You’re good with children, right? And Malleus could use a bit of… exposure to the chaos of mortals.”

Before you could even process what you were agreeing to, you were left with a wide-eyed little fae girl named Aris—no taller than your hip, with bright moss-green hair, tiny horns, and a suspicious amount of energy for someone who literally glowed when she got excited.

“She’s precious,” you whispered.

“She is terrifying,” Malleus replied gravely, watching her zip around your legs with the glee of a creature who’d just discovered sugar.

You had both agreed to spend the afternoon in a quiet glade outside of Diasomnia, where the ancient trees arched high above and the air sparkled faintly with fae magic. Malleus, always fond of serenity, conjured floating lights and flowers that opened at a touch. Aris, of course, immediately declared this was her “kingdom” and that you and Malleus were her “knights.”

Malleus blinked, bewildered. “She… promoted me?”

You laughed. “Congrats, Sir Horns-a-Lot.”

To your surprise, Malleus took his new title seriously. He let Aris ride on his shoulders, gently cradling her little legs with those long, careful fingers. He answered every one of her endless questions about dragons, thorns, and whether he could breathe fire ("Only when properly irritated, young one").

You played tag. You helped make flower crowns. Malleus, despite never doing any of this before, adapted like he'd been waiting for a moment like this his whole life. Watching him kneel in the grass with Aris, guiding her tiny hands to shape a flower into a glowing orb of magic, made something deep in your chest ache in the best way.

When the afternoon faded to dusk, Malleus conjured little floating flameflies and told Aris a fae lullaby. She curled up between you both on a picnic blanket, humming softly, eyes half-lidded, her fingers tangled in Malleus’s cloak.

He looked down at her with something unreadable in his emerald eyes—something warm, gentle, almost reverent.

“She reminds me of the younglings I used to watch from afar,” he murmured. “Always distant. Always curious. But never mine to protect.”

You slid closer, brushing your hand against his. “But she’s here now. And she feels safe with you.”

“She calls me her knight,” he said quietly, a small smile ghosting his lips. “No one has ever said such things to me—not without fear behind it.”

You leaned your head against his arm. “She sees you the way I do.”

He turned toward you, his expression soft.

“Do you think,” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper, “that one day, we could have this? A little one. Not by duty or politics, but… something born of us? Of love?”

Your breath caught, your fingers curling around his.

“I do,” you said, certain and full of emotion. “With all my heart.”

Malleus looked up at the stars, glowing brighter against the indigo sky. And then he closed his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“If this is what the future holds,” he said, “then I have never been more eager to walk toward it.”

In the hush of twilight, with Aris sleeping peacefully between you and the fireflies dancing in the air, Malleus dreamed—not of grandeur, not of ancient destiny, but of a quiet life filled with laughter, tiny footsteps, bedtime stories, and you.

[thepenguinweeb]

orter,kaldo,rayne,Mash and lance x fem reader romantic platonic for the children

Headcanon and separate

Like the male characters meet their children from the future, the child suddenly appear out of nowhere and then meet the male characters and said that they are their child from the future and show a family picture to the character. (Too many 'and') Maybe after the child suddenly sent to their future the character Will meet fem reader. I JUST REALLY WANT TO SEE IT . It will be so sweet 😭 I hope you Will accept my request

(sorry lemon but I Will be selfish this time 💀)

Separate Headcanons :

[ ♡ Orter, Kaldo, Rayne, Mash, Lance x f!reader ]

[ ♡ Trough a strange meeting with their children from the future, they find out a few things. One of those things happens to be their future wife, whom they meet soon after the encounter. ]

[ ♡ Requested by: @fianur <3 ]

- The Desert Cane was never one to care about romance or kids

- So when a little kid who looked eerily similar to him showed up, he ignored it at first

- But then they ran up to him crying, hugging his leg and calling him 'papa'

- He wasn't keen on the idea, believing it was just a lost child, until they showed him a supposed family photo

- He was in disbelief, but now that he knew this child was technically his, he sighed and took care of them until they disappeared, just as mysteriously as they appeared

- Right after that, though, he saw a girl who caught his eye

- You were running trough the halls and passed him by while knocking into his shoulder

- He wanted to scold you for your recklessness until he recognized your appearance to be similar to the woman in the family photos

- He stared after you for a while, making plans to get closer to you soon

- Kaldo was surprised to see three children chasing each other in his dorm room, looking like a mix of him and someone else

- Despite how ruthless he could be at times, he didn't find it in himself to be angry at them

- He tried to be polite and wanted to help them as he thought they were lost, but found himself to be wrong when they called him 'dad'

- Once he was shown a family photo, he was more than happy to take care of the kids

- And, he was very interested to know who the woman in the photo was

- To his luck, after the children were gone again, he found you in the halls with your friends

- He watched from a distance with a smile on his face

- He already knew how he was gonna get you for himself

- Rayne didn't expect to be babysitting that day

- But his heart didn't let him leave a small child alone

- The fact they looked strangely similar to him didn't bother him in the slightest

- But then he noticed them clutching a photo in their hand and when asking to see it, he was surprised to see an older version of himself in the photo

- He felt an even bigger need to take care of and protect the kid until they were gone again

- Then he found out you were one of Finn's friends, and quickly recognized you from the photo

- He was a bit embarrased to be asking his little brother about you so much, but he wanted to know as many things about you as he could so that one day he could ask you out

- "uhh, Mash.. why are you holding a baby?"

- That was Finn's first reaction to his roommate walking into their dorm while holding a small child in his hands

- He didn't really explain himself, just set the kid down on his bed and took care of them all day

- He didn't tell Finn about the family photo he saw in the kid's hands, or the fact they called him 'papa' for a reason

- After the child disappeared, he thought it was over

- But while walking to his class, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see you

- It took him a bit, but when he recognized you, he froze up completely

- He stuttered and stumbled over his own words, leaving you entirely confused

- You were just asking for directions..

- Let's be honest, when he saw a blue-haired kid in his dorm, he first thought it was his sister and was both surprised and excited

- But he quickly realized it wasn't upon coming face-to-face with the angry kid who was demanding to see their mom

- "Daaaaad! Where's mom?"

- ...now that was weird

- It was the family picture the irritated child showed him that made him realize

- He isn't great with kids, so it was a struggle to try and take care of them

- It got even worse when Dot came back to the dormroom

- The two of them only made the child angrier, but it didn't take long for them to suddenly disappear, just as they had appeared

- But Lance noticed they left behind the family picture

- "Hey.. I know her!"

- Upon closer inspection, and with Dot's help, he managed to figure out who you were

- Turns out, you were in Dot's Magic Mathematics class

- Once the redhead figured out what Lance was planning with you, he only huffed

- "Man, she's so cute, too.."

A/N : Woo, another request done! This is also my first headcanons post and my first multi-character writing on this blog! I hope you can enjoy this :)

Divider by @/cafekitsune, tyy <3

[velaris-fic-repository]

A Little Drunk On You

A/N: Soft, comforting Cassian supremacy!

@starfallweek 2025 March 20th Prompt: Character A has a little too much to drink during the festivities, leaving Character B to take care of them. Or maybe not?

Cassian had experienced stress many times throughout his life, mostly on a battlefield or during missions of some sort. However, he had never felt stress quite like realizing in the winding down of the Starfall party, that he had absolutely no idea where you went.

You who, last he’d checked when you were right next to him - and he could’ve sworn you were a second ago - were very, very drunk.

You two hadn’t been seeing each other for very long but you’d been friends for centuries. You were one of Azriel’s best, having been on what you affectionately nicknamed ‘Vanserra babysitting duty’ when you were stationed in Autumn. You’d gotten too close to that den of vipers though and had to be extracted and retire from your spy duties, using your skill set to aid the Inner Circle in other ways. You had a knack for organization, information and correspondence making you an ideal agent to send in Rhys’ stead for negotiations around the court if he couldn’t be there. You were also an incredible civil servant in Velaris, aiding her citizens however and whenever you could. You even managed volunteering in the theater district. It was kind of impossible for Cassian not to be a little in awe of you.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to protect you. It may have even compounded the problem.

He’d never seen you drunk, or at least never like this. You were swaying before the lights even started falling. He had to find you.

He whipped his head around the room, scanning for any sight or sound from you. Not over there. No. Where were you?

He was about the check another area entirely when he heard it. Your laugh, loud and sharp cutting across the room. He spun, finding you and Mor in equal hysterics, slouching on each other like you were both using the other to hold yourselves up. The only destiny that awaited you two in that configuration was the floor and fate was fast approaching.

Cassian still smiled at the sight as he made quick strides over to the two of you. It was a testament to his strength that he managed to hold the both of you upright with only one hand each.

“You girls having fun?” He asked.

You and Mor’s laughter peetered out as your forehead scrunched in bleary confusion. You stared into your nearly empty drink like it was the Cauldron itself before blinking up, finally catching sight of him.

The grin that split your face squeezed his heart in the best way.

“CASS!” You shouted, sounding the happiest you’ve ever been, and threw your arms around him. Or, at least, you tried to. Cassian had to let go of Mor to open his arms to catch you, the other female slouching back in her chair. You didn’t seem to notice, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically purring.

Cauldron boil him, you were drunk.

You never called him Cass.

Ever.

The only nickname you ever used was Rhys because he had all but commanded you to do so. It was always ‘Cassian’ with you. He had to get you home, now. He couldn’t stand to think of what might’ve happened if you were by yourself. He knew most of the people at this party, but there were some males he didn’t know. His eyes sliced daggers around the room at the thought.

“Cass,” you slurred, playing with a lock of his hair, “what’s wrong? You look like Azzy.”

Cassian paled. ‘Azzy’ had been your boss for centuries. You were on friendlier terms now with the career change, but you’d be caught dead before you let anyone hear you call him that.

Cassian swallowed, looking down at you with a comforting, if not a little nervous, smile, and said, “Nothing’s wrong sweetheart. I just want to take you home and take care of you, okay?”

You looked down, forehead scrunching again as if thinking was difficult. “Okay,” you said, looking up at him, sound in your drunken decision.

“Okay,” he said slowly, pulling you up and wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind, his wings and body a shield against the world.

“Have fun!” Mor, who was not as drunk as Cassian thought she’d been, called from her chair, taking the remnants of your drink Cassian had deposited on a nearby table.

You giggled - actually giggled - and nuzzled into Cassian even as you walked. Mother spare him.

Flying you down to the apartment you kept in Velaris, just on the edge of your beloved theater district, was tricky. It took longer than Cassian had expected it to, but it did him a world of good knowing he was the one getting you back safe. What? Who said that?

You were adorably stubborn. Attempting to push him in your sluggish state when he tried to unlock the door for you. Insisting on being a good host when you both got inside. Arguing that you were, “not as think as you drunk I am,” and that you were well and fully capable of taking care of yourself.

Cassian laughed, not mockingly, but in honeyed amusement. “I know, sweetheart. But I want to take care of you. Let me do this okay?”

You faltered, and Cassian saw a flicker of clarity in your eyes. He grinned, recognizing that even inebriated as you were, his words could still strike the heart of you like this. You settled back into your subdued state of being from before just as quickly, but you allowed him to care for you this time.

“You’ll want to drink this water, it’ll help you feel better in the morning.”

“Eat some of this, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Just have a little of it.”

“I’m going to wait outside, change into these pjs, and get me when you’re done. I’ll be right here.”

It wasn’t long before you poked your head out the bedroom door and Cassian let himself inside. You were tired, babbling nonsense at this point, as he pulled you to the bed.

He helped you down onto the mattress and tucked you in nice, snug and comfy. You smiled lazily up at him as he leaned down pressing the softest kiss on your forehead. Heart eyes looked down on you for half a moment before he crossed to the door to leave, half sure you would be asleep by the time he got there.

“Cass,” you said, panic pushing through your grogginess. It only seemed to ease a bit when he turned around.

“Stay,” you pleaded like it wouldn’t melt his heart on the spot.

“Sure, sweetheart. Sure thing.”

He carefully removed the covers on the other side of the bed and squeezed into the small space, trying to not disturb your comfort while creating a tiny amount of his own.

When he fully settled, facing you, he brushed a hand over the side of your face and kissed your forehead again. “See? I’m not going anywhere.”

You hummed softly, closing your eyes. He watched you a second longer, then did the same.

A contented sigh from you, and then you said, “Thank you, Cassian.”

Hmm. He sighed like you had, settling down after a night of revelry.

This was nice.

Hmm.

Hmmm.

Wait a fucking second.

He opened his eyes to see you grinning wickedly at him, your eyes decidedly not foggy and your countenance the exact opposite of what you had been moments before. Puzzle pieces clicked in his brain as your grin grew wider.

“W- You were faking?!”

The question drew full body cackles from you as you sat up, the covers moving with you and pooling at your waist. Cassian followed at a break neck pace.

“What!? Explain!”

“Mor and I thought it would be a good idea!”

“What- how- how did- how did you do that?”

You smiled at him with a quirked eyebrow, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m one of the best spies your brother’s ever had and I regularly work with and around actors, dear. How do you think I did it? I knew there were a few things that you’d never think I’d say. If I threw those in, along with typical drunken behavior, you’d believe it.”

Cassian continued to make sputtering noises, so you explained further.

“I approached Mor with the idea and she thought it would be funny. I just wanted to see what you would do. You were even sweeter than I thought.” You turned your attention down to the sheets, drawing little shapes with your finger, avoiding his eyes.

The surprise finally dissipated from Cassian’s brain. A wolfish grin spread across his face. He brought his hand up, cupping your chin and pulling your attention to him.

“What I’m hearing,” he said, low and dangerously joyful, “is that you wanted my attention.”

To his delight, instead of cowering, you met him. “I always want your attention.”

He smirked, eyes flicking to the bed below you and back up. “We’re in a bed right now, and you aren’t under the influence anymore…”

You chuckled and he fought the urge to chase the sound. “I’m a little under the influence, it wasn’t all fake. The water and food definitely helped.”

“Well, I’m a little under the influence too.”

“On what?” you said, “I don’t remember watching you drink anything at all tonight.”

“I’m always a little drunk on you, sweetheart.”

And what could you do but kiss him about it?

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Villains: Ranked By How Much You Could Trust Them To Babysit Your Child

As requested by anon. :)

You need a babysitter for your kid, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, you can only entrust your child to a Cosmere villain. But fear not: this list will aid you by ranking how much you could trust said villains with your precious child.

[Big Spoilers for villain actions throughout! I'd steer clear of any characters from book series you haven't yet finished. However, there is nothing from Wind & Truth previews]

1. Taravangain [Stormlight]: Your child has...slightly better than even odds of being fine

Taravangian is one of the few villains who actually did order a group of children be put to death--remember when he was highly "intelligent" but the child choir was bugging him so he ordered that they all be killed? Not great credentials for a babysitter! On the other hand, his subordinates did talk him out of child murder, and presumably his subordinates would also be there with your child. So your kid probably wouldn't be executed by royal order!

...But I'd maybe stay away from Taravangian.

2. Miles [Mistborn Era 2]: Not the worst choice

If I remember Miles correctly (and I hope so, because I'm not really checking), he's the sort of villain who would have been one of the protagonists in Mistborn Era 1. I mean, his whole thing is that he wants to do what's right and stand up for the downtrodden through loads of murder, which--good resume for Kelsier's crew, am I right? I think your child would probably be fine--seems pretty safe to be strapped in a baby harness against the chest of an unkillable dude. Let's just hope he's not being fired upon by like seventy constables while babysitting.

...Maybe ask him to stay in your house for the job.

3. Hrathen [Elantris]: Are you willing to convert?

I believe Hrathen would actually take very good care of your child. He's a competent guy and doesn't want to cause any harm for harm's sake. On the other hand, you probably won't be paying him money--rather, I'm guessing he's gonna ask you to convert before he'll agree to watch your child.

So: Pros: You child is safe and healthy. Cons: You're a follower of Jaddeth now.

4. Crow [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Not worth the price

The moment Crow has your kid, she's 100% blackmailing you into committing murder. That's just her MO. You're better off paying your neighbor kid $20 at that point.

5. The Sorceress [Tress of the Emerald Sea]: Uh...her literal thing is kidnapping

Come on, the Sorceress only knows how to do three things: kidnap people, curse people, and build hugely phallic rocket ships disguised as towers. I'm assuming you don't want your child to be kidnapped, cursed, or taught that all tall buildings should be inherently phallic. I'd steer clear of the Sorceress.

6. Odium, original vessel [Stormlight]: Pretty good choice!

What's promising about original-flavor Odium is that he likes to make agreements and will not only keep that agreement but also adhere to its spirit. All you need to do is get Odium to agree to keep your child safe, and Odium will do that!

Now, will Odium ask for something in return? Naturally. Will it be more than a cool $20? Yeah. And will your child be returned to you spouting some nonsense about how they must abandon all negative passions and become unchained? Well, yeah, but they're five. You can probably distract them with some Boo's Clues and they'll forget all about Odium's brainwashing.

All in all, not a terrible choice!

7. Odium, [spoiler-y] vessel [Stormlight]: Well...are you a really good lawyer?

Odium as represented by his new vessel will also keep to the babysitting contract--exactly as written and no further, loopholes fully exploited. So unless you can write an ironclad babysitting contract, you may return to find that sure, your child is physically safe, but they're now the face of a shady baby food company being used to smuggle exotic car parts across state lines. And nobody wants that.

8. Denth & Tonk Fah [Warbreaker]: Take them at their word

Denth & Tonk Fah will definitely tell you that, as mercenaries, they can't be trusted with a small child. Denth will say this in such an offhanded and charming way that you will definitely feel compelled to tell them, "Don't be silly! I know my child will be safe with you two."

Don't do it. Your child will NOT be safe.

Keep looking.

9. Telsin [Mistborn Era 2]: Not a great idea

Best-case scenario, being a good babysitter is somehow an important skill to Autonomy, in which case Telsin will in fact give it her all. You'll come back from your dinner & movie to find that your baby has a Harvard PhD and is mayor of a small town.

But more likely than not, if Telsin wants to watch your child, then she has nefarious plans that involve murder and world domination, and that's probably not the future you want for junior.

10. Straff [Mistborn Era 1]: No

Hahahahaha no.

Just no.

11. Lord Ruler [Mistborn Era 1]: Will immediately hand your kid off to his subordinates

The Lord Ruler is not gonna babysit your kid. He's gonna hand that child off immediately to his subordinates, the obligators. Your best-case is that the obligators also hand your child off to their subordinates, all the way down until your child ends up with a skaa servant who actually has some semblance of human love still in their heart. Worst-case, you find your child sitting on a dusty floor playing with spikes you hope are just rusty.

I'd recommend choosing a different babysitter.

12. Moash [Stormlight]: Not worth the risk

It's not like Moash is just evil for evil's sake or anything, but we know he doesn't have an issue killing innocents (RIP Teft) and he is currently trying to suppress his conscience wholesale. Now, if your child cannot be used in any schemes, I don't think Moash will hurt them for no reason. But if they CAN be used for schemes, then your child might be dropped off a tall tower to distract Kaladin or something. Best-case scenario, your child is returned to you safe & sound but has been given an Evil Baby Makeover (exactly the same outfit as before but it's black now).

I just don't think its worth the risk.

...Evil Baby Makeover might be kinda cute, though.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 1 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob is happy for his friends, but feeling like the fifth wheel every weekend has gotten old. Anna's main goal is to fly under the radar as she starts work at San Diego State University with her shiny, new graduate degree. She is convinced that the only company she needs is her own, but a specific flyer in the faculty lounge catches her interest.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, eventually 18+

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Bob hated it when Natasha was deployed without him. He always ended up feeling like the fifth wheel now that Bradley was married and Jake was dating Jessica. Well, both of those were actually understatements. Bradley was devoted to his wife, and Jake was soppy now that Jessica moved in with him. And Bob's feelings on the matter were never more evident than on nights out at the Hard Deck. 

Without fail, a girl or two or three would hit on one of the other guys, and they would deftly try to pawn said girl off on Bob only for the girl to look rather disappointed and kind of wander away. He just had that effect on women. He was a lot better with the written word than with the spoken, and something just didn't translate well for him when he was met face-to-face with an intriguing smile and an attractive body.

He groaned as he watched another woman head off in the direction of the bar as soon as he nervously stumbled his way through a sentence where he tried to introduce himself. How exactly was he supposed to compete with Jake Seresin anyway? Nobody who originally wanted him was going to settle for Bob. 

"I got you more peanuts." Bob looked up to see Bradshaw's wife smiling at him and holding out a cup. Ever since he visited Chippy's bar, he didn't want to admit to Penny that hers weren't quite as good, but if someone went out of their way to bring him a cup full, he was going to eat them. And it was also nice of her to make sure he was included tonight while Mickey was babysitting his nephews.

"Thank you," he replied softly, and she patted his shoulder.

"I saw you talking to that girl?" she asked, nodding her head toward the bar. "She's really cute."

Bob shook his head as he looked down at his ginger ale. "I mean, yes, she was very pretty, but I wasn't really talking to her. She didn't want to talk to me, actually." He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as he looked up at her from his stool. "She wanted to talk to Jake."

She rolled her eyes, and Bob kept his fingers occupied by cracking open a peanut. He craved the familiar intimacy he saw when he looked at his friends and their partners. Maybe jealousy wasn't the right word, but he always felt left out of the loop. They all knew something he didn't, and he craved to be on the inside with someone of his own.

"I'd choose you over Jake any day, Bob. You're smart, and I like talking to you."

He smiled at her as he said, "That may be the case, but you'd choose Bradley over me."

"You got me there," she said with a laugh as she kissed his cheek, making him avert his eyes to the floor. "I'm probably not the best judge of character though."

Bob looked toward where she was smiling now and saw Bradley with his hideous tie dye shirt and idiotic looking backwards baseball cap as Jessica slaughtered him in a game of pool. "Yes, you are," Bob told her quietly. Because as soon as Bradley looked at his wife, his expression became one of complete wonder. 

"Sugar! Come here! Jessica is being mean to me again!"

She squeezed Bob's shoulder and then took him by the hand, bringing him along with her to the pool table. He blushed again as he looked a little nervously at Bradley, but everyone knew Bob was harmless. He was the one just drinking a ginger ale since he had to drive home.

"Baby," Bradley whined. "She won't even let me try to make a shot."

"That's not her being mean to you. That's her being better than you," his wife replied. "And what's the moral of the story again?"

"Women should never be underestimated," Bradley and Jake said in unison.

"That's right," Jessica said as she sunk the 8-ball into one of the corner pockets. "Especially ones who have a PhD and tenure." She handed her pool cue to Bradley and did a little dance. Then she reached into Bob's cup of peanuts and said, "Chippy's are better."

"They are," he agreed with a nod and a grin. He cleared his throat as Bradshaw's wife finally dropped his hand. "So I heard the new semester starts on Monday?"

"Yes," Jessica gushed as she fixed her glasses. "And Brian took a position at the community college, so this should be my best semester yet."

Bob already knew that Jake was relieved that his girlfriend would be going to work in a more comfortable environment every day, but it was nice to see how excited she was. 

"You know what I was thinking?" Jessica asked Bradshaw's wife quietly. Bob wondered if he should step away and give them some privacy, but they both kept helping themselves to the cup of peanuts. "Maybe we could put something up on the notice board in the main building, kind of inviting the other female teachers at the school to have lunch together one day? I felt so embarrassed and excluded from things because of Brian, I just thought it might be nice for anyone else who feels marginalized?"

Bradley's wife nodded. "I think that's a great idea."

Bob listened to them for a few more minutes before he wished them good luck as they started back to school for the fall term, and then he excused himself for the night. He stood outside in the dark parking lot for a few minutes and listened to the sound of the ocean before he climbed into his truck and headed for his silent house. 

--------------------------

"Dr. Webber."

Anna looked at the name placard on her office door and bounced up and down. "Dr. Webber," she read out loud again. She had the worst office on campus, no doubt about that. It was miniscule and kind of smelled like stale bread since it was so close to the cafeteria, but she loved it. All of the shelves were crammed with her books, and she could lock the rest of the world out when she needed a minute to herself. She just hoped that the tiny office wasn't a sign of bad things to come after San Diego State University willingly hired her less than a month before the start of the term.

In a matter of eight weeks, she had finally- finally- graduated with her PhD in English Literature and secured a job on the other side of the country. She sold everything she could think of, including her rings, and moved from gloomy New Jersey to a studio apartment in sunny southern California. Sure, all she had in her kitchen was a toaster oven and a mini fridge, but she was on her own. She had nobody to answer to. And she never would again.

"I guess everything is smaller here," Anna told herself as she locked her office door and went in search of the classroom where she would be holding the first lecture of her teaching career. She was too early for the class, but she was filled with nervous energy and decided that walking around would help. 

She looked in classrooms and listened to a poetry lecture on the third floor. She found a really secluded ladies' bathroom as well as a reading nook. Eventually, she and her copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn managed to wander all the way to the main building where she found a faculty lounge.

It smelled like coffee, and there were snacks out on the counter, and everyone was talking in pairs or small groups. She should probably get to know her colleagues, but she also didn't mind the anonymity that came with observing everyone without engaging. She was good at that, and she'd spend too much time around people who needed to be in the spotlight all the time. As she reached for a donut with pink frosting, she saw a notice board across the room and went to take a look. 

The hum of conversation around her was comforting as she read about a yoga class in the quad, alumni night, and a teacher appreciation banquet. Then her eyes caught on a single piece of paper with a plain black font. It wasn't flashy, and somehow it reminded her of a page from a favorite book.

WELCOME BACK FOR THE FALL SEMESTER, LADIES!

If you're interested in getting to know some other women who work on campus, let's meet for a friendly lunch on the first Tuesday of the term! Noon in the quad next to the weird tree.

Anna laughed. She knew where the quad was, but she wasn't sure which tree was the weird one. They actually all seemed a bit out of place to her since she wasn't used to living near palm trees. She started to skim a notice about how to recycle old textbooks, but she didn't get far before she was re-reading the one about meeting up for lunch. 

If it was truly meant just for women, then it sounded kind of nice. She could eat her sandwich outside. She liked weird trees. The idea of having zero men around made it even more appealing. The last thing she wanted was to develop an interest in anyone right now. Or maybe ever again. 

She took out her phone and snapped a picture of the page before checking the time and leaving with her donut. Twenty minutes later, with her class assembled before her in a small lecture hall, she cleared her throat and said, "Welcome to English 205. I'm Dr. Webber, and this semester we will be covering the classics."

------------------------

"You can do this. You'll be fine," Anna said as she walked slowly across the quad toward a palm tree that looked like it somehow started growing sideways about six feet up from the ground. "It's just some people."

But she wasn't good with people. Kevin had been quick to tell her that all the time. He liked to point out that she was awkward unless she was talking about literature or poetry or something from the New York Times bestseller list. Apparently she didn't know how to talk about normal things. Her hands started to sweat as she held onto her brown paper bag and can of ginger ale. 

"Oh god," she groaned as she got a little closer. Truly, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was just two women smiling as they talked to each other with their lunches. But they were both beautiful. Like the kind of stunning girls that Anna was always afraid to talk to when she was a teenager. One was wearing a suit and high heels, and the other was wearing cute brown loafers and some tweed, and she felt like her own outfit looked awful now by comparison. 

It wasn't too late to just walk past them and loop back toward her office and never try to socialize again. "Yes, let's do that." She nodded and picked up the pace a little bit. She could turn left at the weird tree and then maybe even make a run for it. "What are you doing?" she whispered, slowing down again. It was one thing to swear off men, but it wasn't going to be an enjoyable existence if she never tried to make a single friend here.

With a deep breath, she forced herself forward, and then soon two sets of eyes were on her. All she saw was matching smiles as she approached and said, "Hi. I'm Anna Webber. Is this the weird tree?"

"It's the weirdest tree I've ever seen," said the first woman as the other one jumped to her feet. 

"Hi! Are you here for lunch?" she asked as she adjusted her glasses. "I told you someone would come," she whispered to the first woman before sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica Reed! I work in the physics department, and this is my friend, and we are so, so happy you're joining us."

Anna smiled at how bubbly she was as she briefly shook her hand. "I just got here," she said with a wince. "I mean... it's my second day working here? I just got hired. In the English department. I'm teaching literature." God, could she sound like any more of an idiot right now?

But Jessica gasped in response. "Advanced Literature!" Then both women squealed, and soon the other one was introducing herself and talking about the math department and pointing out a building Anna had never been inside yet.

"It's silly, we know, but we kind of have code names for each other. I'm Advanced Calculus, and Jessica is Advanced Physics. You can be Advanced Literature. If you want." Now she looked a little uncertain while Jessica bounced in her high heels. "Wow, we sound like absolute nerds."

"We are nerds," Jessica confirmed with no shame as she looked at Anna. "I collect scientific journals. She uses math as foreplay with her husband. Do you want to eat lunch with us, Anna?"

Her response came with an ease that she hadn't felt in a long time. "Yes. Please." Then both women were shifting their lunches down and making room in the middle of the bench. Anna took a seat and watched Advanced Calculus pick a carrot stick out of the most beautifully organized lunch container she'd ever seen. She also had a tie dyed lunch box that was charming in a hideous way.

"How's your first week going?" Jessica asked as she bit into a delicious looking sandwich on fancy, multigrain bread. Anna knew she didn't fit in here at all as she pulled a plain turkey sandwich and some peanuts from her bag, but it was all she could afford right now. 

"Well," she said with a sigh. "It's better than New Jersey."

Both women squealed again. "You're from the east coast!"

"Yeah," she replied as she opened her ginger ale. "I grew up in New Jersey. I went to college and grad school in New Jersey. I attempted to move to New York, and then somehow I ended up here." She left out the heartbreaking parts about Kevin, because he didn't really belong in a conversation where she was surprisingly kind of enjoying herself. 

She learned the two women were from Massachusetts and Virginia, and that they both had PhDs from prestigious universities. They were both in committed relationships with naval aviators who also happened to work together. And both of the men loved packing their ladies lunches. 

"Lucky," Anna muttered as she popped a peanut into her mouth and thought about the kitchen in her studio apartment. It was so small, it almost didn't exist. She was almost thirty and essentially still lived in a dormitory. How sad.

"Hey," Jessica said suddenly. "If you like peanuts, you'd probably love Chippy's!"

"What's Chippy's?" Anna asked curiously.

"Eww, no. Don't listen to Jess. Chippy's is a disgusting dive bar on the other side of campus."

"It's not disgusting! He just doesn't clean the floor."

Anna laughed. "I actually do love peanuts, but I'm not a big drinker." Then both women silently studied her, and she could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She'd said something wrong already. Of course things couldn't be this easy.

"Huh. You like ginger ale," said Advanced Calculus as she sat paused with a carrot stick halfway to her mouth.

Anna nodded as she said, "My... well, a guy I know used to make fun of me for being a ginger and loving ginger ale." She gestured to her auburn hair which was clipped up at the back of her head. 

"Are you married? Or in a relationship?" she asked, and she finally bit into the carrot. 

Anna didn't even have a chance to reply as Advanced Physics gasped on her other side. "You like peanuts. And ginger ale. How do you feel about men with glasses?"

"How do you feel about men with greenish blue eyes?" 

"How do you feel about sweet men who blush?"

"Would you ever date a guy in the Navy?"

"Are you fond of beat up pickup trucks and country boys?"

"Do you want to come to the Hard Deck this weekend?"

Anna was starting to get whiplash as she looked back and forth between the two of them. "Wait, I'm sorry. What? I thought we were talking about a place called Chippy's?"

"We were. But now we're talking about a man called Bob."

-----------------------

Omg omg omg. Okay, here we are with a story for our lovable Bob. Thanks for reading about the Sugarverse. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[elverrie]

ranking btvs characters on how much i would trust them to babysit my pride and joy - my cat. (inspired by @socratesgirlnextdoor)

buffy - 6.5/10, depends if it`s for a day or a longer time. for a day we are golden, but if it`s more, then i`d be uncomfortable to bother her with how much she has going on, she already has a sister to look after. plus her attention often scatters and i think she could`ve forgotten about him or to lock the door at some point.

tara - 10/10, PERFECT, she is a cat mum and sososo gentle, responsible, attentive and caring, i`d trust her more than anyone maybe.

willow - 7/10, also a cat mum, but her babysitting moments with dawn sometimes were questionable. s6 willow gets even less, any other willow would do just fine. she`d definitely play with him and provide enough attention cause she wants to be the best babysitter.

xander - 0/10, i wouldn`t invite him into my home.

anya - 2/10, i`d have to pay her and she`d say no anyway, cause she has a business to run.

giles - 9.5, that dad who says he doesn`t want a pet and then you find them cuddling together on the couch. had an experience babysitting spike - which is practically the same. i think his calming energy would positively impact my cat.

dawn - minus fucking 100/10, NO. with or without crossbow, NO.

spike - 7.9/10, he is THE babysitter. i think they would hate each other initially and then reluctantly get along together, spike`s wet cat personality would show. and my cat isn`t a kitten, so i can be sure he won`t use him in a kitten poker... also i`d make buffy ask him for promise to care about him and protect him - we all know how he would do anything to keep dawn safe, so i`d definitely trust him. he is my third choice.

faith - 6/10, another wet cat example. i just think she`d get bored and go out and forget about him. but for a day they`d be good for each other.

oz - 8/10, chill guy, what else can i say. however, i`m not sure how my cat would feel about him and his situation...

angel - 1/10, i`m not running around to find him, and he wouldn`t come out during the day anyway.

cordelia - 6.5/10, when cordy locks in - she locks the fuck in, and it could be her paris hilton moment, if paris had a cat.

[luckhound]

gintoki + relationship headcanons.

↻ pairing ✦ gintoki/gender neutral reader

↻ request ✦ I read your rules and stuff, and I hope I read it right gsusvjddn can I request some relationship headcanons for Gintoki? I can't watch the final movie for Gintama yet and I am devastateD —anonymous

↻ warnings ✦ mild suggestive content, blink and you'll miss it; terrible attempt at humour

author's note: this is several years late but i Just started a rewatch and was reminded of my love for this story and its characters. so uh, better late than never?

First of all, you deserve a medal for perseverance. You managed to do the impossible by entering into a relationship with this man, who dodges romantic entanglements without even trying to despite the many possible love interests in the source material

Now you have to deal with a cheapskate who doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Congrats!

Don't expect to be taken out on a date any time soon; his idea of a good time is to recline on the couch and read Jump. Unfortunately, that doesn't change even when he has a partner who he could be spending his free time with

When the two of you do go out, maybe sit down somewhere for a bite to eat, Gintoki expects you to pay. What? He should foot the bill? With what money? Any cash that so much as brushes his hands is snatched up by the old hag (Otose), or gobbled up by the brat with the bottomless stomach (Kagura), or swallowed up by the pachinko machines that the idiot hits up (Gintoki)

Rarely do you have privacy. At any given time, a revolving door of characters will intrude upon your finite alone time with Gintoki; if it isn't the rare client asking for help, it's one of his friends annoyances (or so he calls them) stumbling into you two, or some two-bit villain hatching the latest evil plan that's plaguing Edo this week

Then there's Shinpachi and Kagura, who stick to the man like gum on a shoe. Sure, you do adore them, but babysitting two kids while trying to spend quality time with Gintoki can get old—you're dating a penniless samurai, not a struggling single dad!

Don't bother expecting him to get jealous or possessive; if someone were to flirt with you in front of him, it'd go right over his head

You would have to spell it out for him after the fact, and even then he'd stare at you with those dead fish eyes, wondering what you wanted him to do about it

Wait a second, you must be thinking. All of these bullet points so far have only listed the cons of dating this bastard! Where's the good stuff? What are the pros?

There aren't any, sorry to say. You're better off dumping him like yesterday's garbage and moving on to someone worth your time

Which is probably what Gintoki would say, if forced at gunpoint to answer truthfully; he has no clue why you tied your fate to him of all people

You, on the other hand, might reply with:

He's constantly finding excuses to touch you. His head in your lap while he reads Jump on the couch, his ankle brushing yours under the table when dining out, his arm tossed around your shoulders as you walk

As much as he loudly complains and huffs and rolls his eyes, he doesn't stop you when you steal food from his plate. He'll even let you swipe some of his parfait, despite threatening to make you pay for another. It'd be easy for him to slap your hand away, but he never does

Romantic he may not be, but you know just how much he wants you by the way he can't keep his hands off you when the mood hits; his every touch elicits shivers, his mouth never strays far from yours for long, his gaze dark and intent on you

There is no one more doggedly loyal than Gintoki. No one who cares more about your wellbeing and happiness. No one else who would put you first when it matters, protect you from anything or anyone that may try to harm you

For those reasons and more, you'll deal with the many downsides that come with dating Sakata Gintoki. Not always happily, mind you, but you'll do it anyway

("Why do they even put up with him?" Shinpachi wonders aloud, watching the two of you bicker for the fifth time that day. "Stockholm syndrome," is Kagura's immediate answer.)

[tangents-within-tangents]

Hot take:

Crosshair does not have the Imperial disillusionment and redemption arc of The Bad Batch

Emerie does.

Crosshair has an arc for sure yes but it's not that.

I was thinking about this scene:

and how it got right what this scene kinda didn't:

(It was so close but then bad writing decided to undercut the moment with a joke rip)

And I think it's really interesting that these characters who were more or less raised into the Empire/First Order and chose to leave it are all directly asked why.

But take a look at Crosshair's answers in comparison:

Different context for the asking, yes, but still, compare that to clones like Howzer, Cody, Slip and Cade who left or turned against the Empire because they knew what the Empire is doing is wrong and they weren't just going to blindly follow orders:

Crosshair - Loyalty, Purpose, and Survival

Crosshair didn't choose to join the Empire (though the show isn't very clear or consistent about how much control the inhibitor chips have) but he did, for whatever reason, choose to stay. By the end of S1 we know his chip has been removed and as he definitively says "This is who I am." There were likely still other influences on his decision, but listen to how he talks about the Empire in the S1 finale:

Hunter: Crosshair, I've seen what the Empire is doing. Occupying planets and silencing anyone who stands against them. You know it's not right. Crosshair: You still don’t see the bigger picture, but you will. Hunter: Can't you see they're using you?

Crosshair: We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior. The Empire can’t protect the galaxy without strength, this is what we were made for. Think of all we could do, together!

Crosshair: You all are meant for more than drifting through the galaxy. It’s time to stop running. Join the Empire, and you will have purpose again.

Hunter: They destroyed an entire city! Crosshair: They did what needed to be done. Kamino, regs, the Republic, that time is over. The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it. Hunter: Don't fool yourself. All you'll ever be to them is a number.

He undeniably knows what the Empire is doing, but he does not care. In fact it sure sounds like he actually supports it and finds self-meaning in it. Hunter spends those episodes trying to convince him it's wrong, he doesn't change his mind. In the end they offer him an out and he doesn't take it.

Wrecker: You coming with us? Crosshair: None of this changes anything. Hunter: You offered us a chance, Crosshair. This is yours. Crosshair: I made my decision.

The next we see Crosshair in "The Solitary Clone" (S2:E3) he follows orders and shoots the Desix governor, right after Cody heartbreakingly tries to do what's right and find a peaceful solution.

Cody: Tell me something, Crosshair. This new Empire, are we making the galaxy better? Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

After this (glorious!) conversation, Crosshair stays. Maybe this began to seed some doubts, but he actually smiles a few scenes later when Rampart assigns him another mission. It seems like for him it truly is as he said in S1:E1 (chip not enhanced yet but still influencing him enough for his brothers to notice he's acting strange):

Crosshair: Republic, Empire... what's the difference.

Crosshair: Orders are orders.

This unethical mission that finally pushed Cody over the edge does not change Crosshair's mind about the Empire, at least not enough for him to take action.

But what does?

Mayday: And here we are, the survivors. Combat troopers stuck babysitting cargo shipments. Crosshair: Mission’s a mission. Mayday: Yeah, I used to say the same thing.

Mayday: After all the clones have done, all we’ve sacrificed. We’re good soldiers, we followed orders. And for what?

This mission has nothing to do with how the fascist Empire treats the galaxy, it's about how they treat their soldiers. It's about how Mayday loyally fought and served his whole life and Lieutenant Nolan let him die

Lt Nolan: He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire. Crosshair: You could have saved him! Lt Nolan: Perhaps you didn’t hear me, he is expendable, as are you.

Crosshair thought he could find purpose within the Empire, and Nolan shows him exactly what that will be.

His turning point is accompanied with this powerful visual of the ice vulture, a symbol (and threat) of death, and also set up within the episode a symbol of survival:

Mayday: Vicious creatures, but you have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.

This critical moment (that gives me chills, oof this episode is a masterpiece!) comes right after Nolan calls him expendable and directly threatens him:

Lt Nolan: And if you speak to me again with such disrespect I'll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.

then Crosshair sees the vulture's shadow and turns to Mayday's dead body (ahh visual storytelling my beloved) then makes his decision:

Crosshair turns against the Empire not because he believes Hunter was right about this:

Hunter: I've seen what the Empire is doing ... You know it's not right.

but because he was right about this:

Hunter: All you'll ever be to them is a number.

Redemption (both in fiction and irl in my humble opinion) comes with making amends and reparations (which is why death 'redemptions' bother me so much but that's a rant for another time). Unlike Emerie, Crosshair never explicitly denounces the Empire or his own actions within it. He never says anything to specifically show if and how his views have changed from what he said on Kamino. He makes amends with his family (sending the warning message, helping Omega escape, making up with Hunter) but that's about it. The most we get in terms of acknowledgement is this:

Crosshair: I thought I knew what I was getting into with the Empire. I thought I was being a good soldier. Hunter: Nobody really understood what was happening back then. Crosshair: I’ve... done things. I’ve made mistakes. Hunter: I have regrets too, Crosshair. All we can do is keep trying to be better, and who knows there just might be hope for us yet.

Which is nice and all but it's more about them making up as brothers so it's way too excusing tbh ("no one knew what was happening back then" ummm? "The Empire will control the entire galaxy, and I am going to be a part of it" remember? And even if at first Crosshair was being controlled by the chip, the fact that he chose to stay after it was removed* means he condones and is therefore still accountable for those actions).

There's also a bit of self-destructive guilt:

Crosshair: Omega, don't risk anything for me. I belong in here.

Crosshair: Omega needs you both. So I’m doing this alone, it’s what I deserve. Hunter: Don’t even think about plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us.

(which thank you Hunter for pushing back on the death redemption bs and oh look is that a wrap up for the purpose thing?)

But there's no action taken on his part to make up for what he's done or to stand against the Empire (aside from the bare minimum of help with Tantiss, only after it became personally relevant, which like yeah he had trauma to deal with but still).

While I do think the implications/follow-up of Crosshair's turn should have been handled better in S3 (like rip Howzer! he deserved an apology, but that's a rant for another time), I don't necessarily** think this arc is a bad writing choice. It's just saying different things than we expect:

Maybe Crosshair's story is not about standing up against an unjust system, like we see with many other characters (who deserved more screen time but that's a rant for another timeeee). Maybe his story is about how even those who are loyal to the Empire, who actually believe in it, still suffer under and within it's rule. Not to garner sympathy, but to show that there is no winning.

Crosshair has another 'so what changed' convo in S3:E14 with Rampart, in which they draw parallels to each other:

Rampart: You used to believe good soldiers followed orders. Crosshair: Depends on who's giving them. The Empire betrayed us both. Rampart: And you think you can fight them? That's not you. You're like me, loyal to no one but yourself. Crosshair: I've changed.

(note how he says who's giving the orders, not what the orders are)

"Loyal to no one but yourself" describes Rampart much more than Crosshair, since we often saw Crosshair pride himself as a loyal soldier of the Empire whereas we saw Rampart abuse power to be self-serving within the Empire (like when he killed Wilco to save face). But they were both betrayed either way. Vice Admiral Rampart, snively Imperial opportunist through-and-through, shouts "I was following orders!" as he is arrested for the Empire's purposes. (Edit: and where Crosshair rejected the Empire and found new purpose fighting for his family, Rampart was still self-serving in the finale. He still tries to gain power for himself and he gets his comeuppance).

Even Hemlock, the final boss immoral Imperial scientist, who has to be benefiting the most from this system, echoes the expendability idea:

Hemlock: What I am working on is beyond your understanding. Something so vital to the Empire it makes me indispensable.

Then there's CX-2, also set up as a parallel/foil to Crosshair (fight me), who in the end is discarded as no more than a weapon, a tool that served it's purpose, showing us what would have become of Crosshair if he had stayed.

There is no winning in the Empire. Loyalty is not rewarded, it "doesn't go both ways." Everyone has to fight for their value. Even high ranking individuals** who for a time benefit from the injustice, in the end are just pawns to be used up and cast aside at a whim for the Emperor's gain. Even people who are motivated by self-interest alone cannot survive within this system, the only viable option in this galaxy is to fight the Empire and dismantle that system. (unless you conveniently find a magically safe island to hide away on but that's a rAnT fOr AnOtHeR tImE)

Which brings us back to...

Emerie - Cooperation, Compassion, and Choice

(Okay this post has already gotten away from me but I still want to talk about her to show the contrasts.)

Emerie may not have been given a lot of screen time to really flesh out her development, but there is a lot that is pretty clearly implied with her:

Crosshair: They’ll never turn her [Omega] over. Hemlock: They don’t have a choice. She is a clone, and therefore Imperial property. *Camera cuts to an angle more centered on Emerie’s face*

Crosshair: Give me your access card! Emerie: It won’t get you outside!

Emerie: I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the Doctor.

Emerie: Prisoner? Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there.

Emerie: You should go back to your room. Crosshair: You mean her cell?

Emerie: Why children? Hemlock: Children are easier to attain and more agreeable to the subjugations. They are unaware of why they are here and what they possess.

Emerie: They're children. Like I was... Was your plan to discard them too? Nala Se: The Empire will keep them in order to control them.

We don't know a lot about Emerie's background, but it's clear that she had a lot less choice than Crosshair and less opportunity or ability to leave. Unlike Crosshair, we never directly hear Emerie's views of the Empire (and she was most likely 'taken under Hemlock's wing' before the Empire even came to power), but lets look at how she talks about the Tantiss:

"Remain calm. Cooperate and you might survive."

"Don't make this worse, Crosshair! There is no escape!"

"All of us serve a purpose here."

"The Doctor will inform me, if it's necessary."

"It's best not to ask questions."

"Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good."

She honestly does the best she can within the system she is also trapped in. She tries to help Crosshair, Omega, and the vault kids in the only way she knows how (warns Crosshair about the hounds and security, tries to protect Omega from Hemlock, tells Scorch his "actions were extreme" with Jax, insists on overseeing Bayrn's retrieval, double checks his m-count (to give him an out), and tries to find out where he came from). When she gives Omega, and later Eva, the doll, I think it shows just how little she really is able to do here (and it's kinda heartbreaking imo).

The framing of this shot especially (after Jax's escape attempt) visually shows how Emerie herself is trapped/imprisoned:

Despite the fact that very little of this is Emerie's fault, she has very little power and she is doing all she can, the narrative does not excuse her role in the Empire:

Nala Se: What will you do, Emerie? Emerie: There is nothing I can do. I don't have that kind of power. Nala Se: Don't you?

Emerie: I- I was doing my job. Echo: Yeah, I’ve heard that before. You’re a clone. How can you be part of this?

These fighting-the-Bystander-Effect conversations parallel these exchanges:

Hunter: We made a choice, and so did you. Crosshair: Soldiers follow orders. Hunter: Blind allegiance makes you a pawn.

Crosshair: We’re soldiers, we do what needs to be done. Cody: You know what makes us different from battle droids? We make our own decisions, our own choices. And we have to live with them too.

which did not change Crosshair's mind. And honestly, all respect to Echo's disappointed mom glare™ but I think it's clear Emerie had already made her decision, she just needed help to actually be able to do anything about it. When she stopped Echo, with her voice wavering on the verge of tears (ahhh v good voice acting), she clearly had no intention of turning him in. She's on her own in the Empire's most secure facility with very little resources, if she had tried anything on her own she most likely would have failed and been killed

Omega: Emerie, you don't have to do this. Emerie: (sigh) I’m sorry, but I do.

but as soon as she is enabled by an ally, she immediately turns around to help: giving information and getting Echo through security, helping the kids escape, and giving Omega the tablet that allows them to free the other clone prisoners.

Where Crosshair's turn is accompanied by the symbolic imagery of the ice vulture, Emerie's is the removal of her (literally rose-tinted!) glasses:

Symbolizing how she has shed her previous views/indoctrination that altered her perception of the Empire and blinded her to it's wrongs. It's disillusionment.

Emerie's story shows us that even those who are raised and indoctrinated into this system can, should, and will escape (with needed help). Even those who did not choose to be apart of the Empire and are not making the decisions still have the responsibility and ability to act on what they know is right.

Emerie, whose name means 'Home strength' 'Brave' and 'Powerful', and "reflects the importance of leadership and authority in the workplace".***

While Emerie is only in one more scene after her turn, so the wrap up is a bit rushed, she still very simply does what Crosshair does not:

Emerie: Because I was wrong about this place. And I'm trying to do the right thing.

Echo: I’m sure Senator Chuchi would find what you have to say very helpful for our cause. Emerie: I have a lot to make up for. I’d like to help out however I can.

She admits wrong, takes accountability, commits to making amends, and leaves with Echo to go take on the Empire (which hopefully we will get to actually see more of some day).

So, in short, she's showing us how redemption is done right!

---

Notes:

*Whether this writing choice was good/logical/in-character or not is another discussion entirely, but I'm going off of what we were given, what the show is presenting in the canon text and (reasonably inferred/intentional) subtext. Crosshair is pretty multifaceted and I could only touch on so much here. There's a lot of ways to interpret his character/choices, but I tried to avoid the realm of speculation or fanon explanations (even if they sometimes make more sense lol).

**History and political theory are not my area of expertise at all, so I have NO idea how well this aligns with real-world fascism stuff and therefore what implications this storytelling choice could have. I think the message of like 'if you think you could survive or gain power by doing what the Empire/fascist system wants you are wrong' could be good (like how everyone is actually harmed by the patriarchy type of a thing), but I hesitate bc maybe there are those who would benefit, since it's a hierarchal system, right? If anyone more knowledgeable than me has incite to share, by all means

Either way, I do think it works in-story and in-universe though. It's just in the execution. The main problem (even from a strictly theme/character arc stand point) is the lacking follow-up/consequences for Crosshair in S3. Like you gave your character accountability by removing the chip and I think that's great setup for an arc but you gotta follow through with that and actually hold him accountable!

***I'm always curious when clones have 'normal' names, like why did they chose the name Emerie of all things? So I looked it up. Idk how reliable sources are for name meanings so take it with a grain of salt but it's still fun. Fits pretty well, and clones names have definitely had significant meanings in the past (like how Rex and Jesse both mean 'king') so I'm pretty sure it was intentional.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Continuity Error 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you are the resident tech and fly on the wall, until you’re not. (short!reader)

Characters: Thor, this reader is known as Stormie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The floor is quiet. The leadership meeting typically offers a respite from the usual buzz. You go through your task list, checking off each, checking in on those of other techs you're waiting on. Always a delay, always an excuse.

As you weave through your work, the conference room lets out. You check the clock, surprised at how early it is. It's usually at least forty minutes longer. Too bad.

There's a murmur across the room and you can't help but be irked by the low baritone creeping through the air. You glance over as Mr. Odinson speaks with a woman who used to work a few desks down. She looks agitated as he can barely look at her.

To your chagrin, he's watching you. She pulls his attention back before you can react. You quickly turn back to your screen. He probably wasn't looking at you.

His voice continues to pervade the space as it so often does. You peer over at two figures looming around the conference room door. One you know, Odinson's brother. A gloomy man without much consideration for others.

You get up and cross the space. You're overwhelmed by all the sudden activity and people who don't belong. There's still a ruckus sounding from the meeting room. Of course those in charge don't abide a tight schedule. You don't envy the PAs and their babysitting jobs.

You go into the break room. You have your thermos but you just need space. You're relieved to find it empty and exhale. You could do your job from home, for the most part. No one listens. No one hears.

"Ah, there she is. The woman I'm in need of," Odinson's voice has you spinning to face him.

You give a tight-lipped expression as you resist an all out scowl, "sir, I was just going back to my desk--"

"I've a more important task at hand," he interjects. You're not much of a talker, but you're not overly fond of being spoken over.

"Oh, sir, I have a task list--"

"Bah, some intern can see to maintenance," he waves off with his large hand. "This is much more intriguing."

You're not interested. Excitement is not for you. You keep things orderly, predictable, safe. You don't show your agitation and merely nod.

"Alright, but I do have some projects--"

"Not buts. Come. Get your bag."

You hesitate. "My bag?"

"Yes, we must hurry," he claps his hands and you flinch. "I'm already behind. Those meetings always do go overly long."

He bounces on his heel and turns, strutting out without further argument. Oh boy. This can't be good. Most days, you rarely leave your desk. A bathroom break here or there, maybe to get some water, but you avoid anything more. Even when there are donuts in the breakroom. The sugar just makes you sleepy.

You cautiously go back out to your desk and sit. You're a bit shocked. Can't he find someone else? There are a dozen techs who would be slathering to be his lap dog. You're certain whatever he has in mind hardly requires IT. One of his manager buddies could sort him out.

You calmly shut down your computer and tuck your thermos in your bag. It doesn't feel right. Packing up this early. It makes your ears itchy. This isn't how it goes. This isn't what you were ready for today.

"Come, let us go," Odinson reappears as he checks his watch.

"Sir," you stand and take your jacket, folded neatly over the back of your chair. You hook your bag over your other shoulder. "How long--"

"So curious. Let's face our adventure head on," he insists as he ushers you ahead of him.

You're glad your back is to him as you lead him between the other desks, though you aren't happy for the prying glances. The flirty temps and the gossipy seniors are all watching. From the outside, this must look rather strange. You doubt any of these people even recognise you.

You step into the elevator and as he gets on, you swear he makes it dip before the doors close. He turns to stand side by side with you, close even as no one else joins you. A man his size must make most spaces seem cramped. He taps the button down to the parking garage. You scrunch up your mouth.

"Sir, is this the Harriford office again? I thought Scott--"

"Ah, you have so many questions. Consider it a special assignment," he explains. "I will be sure a premium is added to your next cheque."

"Sir," you begin.

"Please, Thor, as I prefer it. It is only just us, after all."

How could you forget? Just you and him. You sink into resignation with the descent of the elevator.

As the compartment stops at the bottom, he waves you out first. You stop just outside the doors as you are disoriented by the large garage. He brushes your lower back and points across the lot. You shift away from his touch.

He leads you over to his car. A luxury car in a regal red. He opens the door for you and you chew down your anxiety. You get in the seat and search for the belt, finding it at an awkward angle that has you twist to reach it it. He gets in the driver's side and sighs. His legs are too long even as his seat is pushed much further back than your own.

"Ah, little one," he says as he starts the engine with the push of a button, "did I mention that blouse is rather... pretty."

You frown and look down. Beige and brown stripes. Not exactly Vogue material. Thrifted and unstained. Your standard.

Your shoulders rise and inch, "thank you, sir."

He grips the wheel and backs out, so fast you grip the door, hugging your bag in your other arm. He swoops around and redirects, speeding through the rows and slamming his brakes as he swerves around. He's an awful driver.

He comes to the ramp and you're pushed into the seat as he revs up into the sunlight. You suppress a groan. He's just as reckless as you would expect.

"Never fear, little one, I would not let you get hurt," he assures you and chuckles. "Isn't it nice to get out of the office?"

No. You just breathe and keep a tight hold on the door. The few responses you can think of aren't appropriate. You can only hope that this is a quick job.

[amethystarachnid]

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part I

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Reader has stalkers and crazy fans, said stalker gets inside reader's apartment and Logan uses his claws on him

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies, just...maybe before days of future past?

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

You’ve always hated the idea of needing a bodyguard. It feels ridiculous, like some over-the-top celebrity diva move. But ever since your career skyrocketed, the tabloids won’t leave you alone. A role in a blockbuster film, a few chart-topping singles, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of you. The constant media frenzy, the “fans” who somehow know where you live, the paparazzi camping outside your apartment—it’s become too much. When the threatening letters started showing up, your manager insisted on hiring a bodyguard.

You rolled your eyes, argued, but eventually caved. You love your career, but you’re not an idiot. You know when things get dangerous.

So, here you are, pacing back and forth in your living room, waiting for the “best in the business” to show up. The guy your manager picked. No name, no details, just a reputation for getting the job done. Whatever that means.

You stop mid-step when the door opens. In walks a man who looks like he’s seen and survived more wars than any human being should. His hair is a wild mess, and the dark scruff on his face gives him a rugged, almost dangerous look. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built like someone who could easily break someone in half with his bare hands. He’s wearing a leather jacket, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal thick forearms that have clearly seen some action.

You blink, not expecting…well, this.

“You’re the bodyguard?” you ask, eyes sweeping over him. You were expecting someone in a suit, maybe with an earpiece and sunglasses. Not…a lumberjack biker.

He glances at you with piercing, slightly narrowed eyes. “Logan. And yeah, I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You cross your arms, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He gives a half-smirk, the kind that’s both infuriating and somehow annoyingly attractive. “Noted.”

There’s an awkward pause as he looks you up and down, assessing you in a way that makes you want to shrink under his gaze. “So, what’s the deal? You a princess or somethin’? 'Cause I gotta say, this gig doesn’t exactly scream 'royalty.'”

“I’m an actress, actually,” you respond with a touch of sarcasm. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

Logan’s unimpressed. He shrugs, clearly not the type to follow pop culture. “Nope.”

You’re not sure whether to be offended or relieved. On one hand, it’s nice not to be recognized. On the other hand, what rock has this guy been living under? You’re practically everywhere these days.

“You can Google me later,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “I guess I’ll just assume you’re qualified.”

“More than qualified,” he growls, his voice deep and gravelly, like it’s been dragged across the pavement. “I don’t do babysitting, but your manager was…insistent. Apparently, someone out there’s got a real interest in makin’ sure you don’t stick around long enough for the next season of whatever-you’re-in.”

You narrow your eyes at him, irritated by his attitude. “Well, lucky me, right? Having you around means I’ll definitely survive to make another movie.”

He smirks again, this time with more of an edge. “Keep that attitude up, and I’ll have you wishing they got to you first.”

You snort, because as gruff as he is, you’re not intimidated. “I bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

“I don’t do parties.”

“Shocking,” you deadpan, unable to stop yourself from throwing in a bit of sass.

Logan’s eyebrow twitches, but he seems more amused than annoyed by your attitude. “You’re gonna be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“Only if you deserve it,” you quip, sitting down on your couch and crossing your legs. “So, how does this work? Do you stand in the corner looking all broody while I go about my life? Or are you planning on following me everywhere like a lost puppy?”

He scoffs, taking off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. “You wish. I’m not here to play lapdog. I’m here to make sure no one tries to kill you. If that means following you around and making sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble than you’re worth, so be it.”

“Comforting,” you say dryly. “It’s nice to know you think I’m worth saving.”

Logan pauses, eyes locking with yours, and for a second, the air between you shifts. His gaze softens just a fraction, enough that you almost forget the gruff exterior. Almost.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you were,” he says, his tone quieter but no less intense.

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Well…thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Then he glances around your apartment. “You got security cameras?”

“Uh, yeah. Around the building,” you say, still trying to shake off the weird tension between you two.

“Good. I’ll check the perimeter. You stay put,” he orders, turning to leave.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I’ll just sit here quietly while my life’s in danger,” you call after him, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan stops at the door and looks over his shoulder with that damn smirk again. “I won’t.”

As he walks out, you can’t help but shake your head. This is going to be a long job.

The first couple of days with Logan are…interesting, to say the least. He’s always there, a constant shadow, but he’s not the hovering type. He gives you space, but you can feel his presence in the room, always alert, always watching. And the banter—well, that hasn’t stopped.

“You think you could maybe try not to look like you hate being here?” you ask one morning as you head out for a meeting with your agent.

Logan’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that signature scowl on his face. “This is my happy face.”

“Really? Because it looks a lot like your ‘I want to punch someone in the throat’ face.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling. “That’s pretty much the same face.”

You sigh dramatically, brushing past him. “Well, you’re really selling the ‘friendly bodyguard’ vibe.”

“Good thing I’m not here to be friendly,” he shoots back, falling into step beside you.

“Right. You’re just here to make sure I don’t die.”

“Exactly.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, but you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan looks at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, but I’m growing on you.”

“Debatable.”

But as you both walk out into the chaos of cameras, fans, and flashing lights, you realize he might be right.

The next few days pass in a blur of meetings, interviews, and public appearances. With Logan by your side, everything is under control. He’s always there—solid, unflinching, and frustratingly good at his job. You don’t feel a single ounce of fear when he’s around, but you do feel something else, something that keeps tightening between you two like a stretched wire.

It’s impossible not to notice how Logan moves, how his muscles flex under that leather jacket when he’s surveying a crowd, the quiet, simmering power in his stance. And then there are the looks. God, the looks he gives you. It’s subtle, but whenever you catch his eye, there’s this electric charge, a tension that wraps itself around you both, even if no one else in the room can feel it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though. At least, not out loud. It’s ridiculous. He’s older—way older—and this is supposed to be professional. You’re not some starry-eyed girl who’s going to fall for her bodyguard just because he’s dangerous and good-looking.

Right?

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. But the more time you spend with him, the harder it is to ignore. He’s just so there, so…Logan.

The rumors don’t help either.

It starts with a photo—just one. The paparazzi manage to catch Logan opening your car door, his hand on the small of your back as you slip inside. It’s a simple, professional gesture, but in the world of tabloids, it’s something else entirely. Within hours, the internet is flooded with headlines: Mysterious Man Seen With Actress Y/N! New Bodyguard or New Romance?

You laugh it off at first, but the rumors snowball. Suddenly, every gossip site is buzzing with theories. Logan’s too attractive to just be a bodyguard, they say. You’re spending too much time together. There are whispers about the age gap, about the “forbidden attraction.” Some tabloids get more imaginative—Logan: The Bad Boy Who Stole Y/N’s Heart? or Secret Fling with Older Bodyguard? Inside the Dangerous Romance.

“I can’t believe people are actually buying this,” you mutter, scrolling through a particularly ridiculous article.

Logan’s lounging on your couch, reading through a security report. He doesn’t even look up when he responds. “You’re famous. People’ll believe anything.”

“Yeah, but this?” You wave your phone at him, exasperated. “Secret romance? Seriously?”

Finally, he glances up, his expression unreadable. “You worried about it?”

You snort. “No. It’s just insane. People will say anything for clicks.”

Logan’s silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. “It’s not that crazy, y’know.”

You freeze, your heart doing a weird little flip. “What’s not?”

He smirks, just a touch of amusement in his eyes. “You. Me. The rumors.”

Your mouth goes dry. “I—what?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “People see what they wanna see, darlin’. You’re young, successful, in the spotlight. They think you’re gonna fall for the first guy that gives you a little danger, a little excitement.”

You narrow your eyes, heat prickling at your skin. “And you think you give me that?”

Logan’s smirk widens, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. “Don’t I?”

Your stomach twists in response. There’s no denying it—there’s something between you two, something you’ve been ignoring for days. Weeks, maybe. But hearing him say it, so casually, like it’s a fact you both already know, sends a rush of heat straight through you.

“Logan,” you start, trying to regain some control, “there’s nothing—”

“Yeah? You sure about that?” His voice is low, and suddenly the space between you feels smaller, like the room’s shrinking, the air thickening. He’s not even touching you, but it feels like he is, the weight of his presence pushing against every nerve in your body.

You swallow hard. “We—there’s an age gap.”

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, there is. Doesn’t seem to stop ‘em from talkin’, does it?”

“No, but—” You stop, frustrated, because what’s your argument here? That you’re not attracted to him? That you don’t spend half your nights thinking about what it would be like if he wasn’t just your bodyguard?

Logan stands, slowly, and you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. His sheer size makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. He moves closer, and your breath catches in your throat as he stops just in front of you.

“Thing is, people are gonna talk,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do. So, the way I see it, you got two choices. You keep fightin’ what’s happenin’, or…”

He pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips before slowly moving back up to meet your gaze.

“…you see where this goes.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. There’s no more pretending, no more banter to hide behind. The air is thick with everything you’ve been avoiding—the attraction, the tension, the unspoken desire that’s been crackling between you both since the moment you met.

You take a shaky breath, trying to think through the haze of want clouding your mind. “Logan, this is—this is complicated. We can’t just—”

“Why not?” His voice is rough, raw, like he’s barely holding himself back. “You’re not some kid. You know what you want. So do I.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his words, something primal that sends another surge of heat through you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity that makes it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

You try to hold on to logic, to the rational part of your brain that’s screaming at you to slow down. But when you meet his eyes, all dark and stormy, your resolve crumbles.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Logan murmurs, his voice so low it’s barely a whisper. His hand moves, just a fraction, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to pull you close. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because you can’t tell him that. You can’t say the words when your whole body is aching for something you know you shouldn’t want but can’t stop thinking about.

He steps closer, and the air between you crackles with the kind of tension that makes your skin tingle. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

Your pulse races. Every rational thought, every reason you’ve been telling yourself not to cross this line, fades into the background. All you can think about is him—his scent, his presence, the way his body radiates heat like a furnace.

“Logan…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

That’s all it takes.

In one swift movement, he closes the distance between you, his large hands finding your waist as he pulls you against him. The world tilts, and before you can think, before you can breathe, his lips are on yours—hot, demanding, and absolutely relentless.

You gasp against his mouth, but it’s lost in the kiss, in the way he takes control, his grip firm but careful, as though he’s been holding himself back for weeks and now there’s no stopping it. He tastes like whiskey and danger, and the moment his tongue brushes against yours, your knees threaten to give out.

You don’t even realize your hands are in his hair until you’re pulling him closer, pressing against him as if you can’t get enough. The kiss is rough, intense, filled with every ounce of pent-up tension you’ve both been ignoring.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Still think it’s just rumors?” he growls, voice ragged.

You can’t speak. You just shake your head, fingers still tangled in his hair, your body flush against his.

Logan smirks, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Thought so.”

Just as you start to lose yourself in the heat of Logan’s kiss, a sharp, sudden beep cuts through the haze. It takes a second to register, but when you pull back slightly, you see Logan’s face shift—his entire body going rigid. His phone is vibrating in his jacket pocket.

The change in him is immediate. The heat, the softness, all of it hardens into something sharp and dangerous. He pulls away from you, grabbing his phone with a quick, practiced movement. You don’t get a chance to ask what’s happening because his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at the screen.

"Shit," he mutters, already moving toward the door.

“What’s going on?” You ask, heart still racing from a mix of adrenaline and confusion.

Logan’s whole demeanor has shifted into something colder, sharper—his focus laser-like. "Someone’s inside the building."

Your stomach drops. "What? How? Shouldn’t the security downstairs—"

"They got past it," he interrupts, throwing on his jacket in one fluid motion. His eyes are darker now, more alert, and it sends a chill down your spine. "Stay here."

Before you can protest, he’s out the door. But the idea of staying still, alone, in a situation like this? No chance. You grab your phone and follow him, keeping a few paces behind as he stalks through the hall, every movement precise, calculated.

He barely glances back at you, his body a wall of tension, like he’s ready to explode into action at any second. "I told you to stay back, Y/N," he growls under his breath, his voice low and urgent.

"And I don’t take orders," you snap back, even though you’re trembling inside. The hallway feels too quiet, too still.

Before Logan can argue, you both hear it—heavy footsteps, coming from the stairwell. Your heart skips a beat. You weren’t prepared for this kind of fear. Sure, the letters had freaked you out, but this? Someone actually in the building, hunting you?

Logan moves so fast you barely see it, pushing you behind him as the door to the stairwell creaks open. The figure that steps out is shadowy at first, but as the light hits him, you see a man—unshaven, wild-eyed, and holding a small knife that glints in the dim light. He’s muttering something under his breath, eyes locked on you.

"There you are," the man breathes, voice unnervingly soft. "I’ve been waiting for this moment."

Before you can react, Logan steps forward, his body a barrier between you and the man. "Back off," he warns, his voice so low it rumbles in his chest.

The stalker’s eyes flick to Logan, sizing him up, but instead of retreating, he grins. "You think you can stop me? I’ve been planning this for months."

You feel your skin crawl, bile rising in your throat. But Logan is a wall of calm fury. Without a word, he lunges at the man, moving so fast you barely register the impact. Logan’s fist connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the wall with a sickening thud.

It should have ended there. Any normal man would have been down for the count. But the stalker scrambles to his feet, eyes wide with manic determination, swinging the knife wildly.

You gasp as the blade slashes through the air, missing Logan by inches. But he’s not rattled. He ducks, then pivots with a speed and grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. And then, with a growl that sounds more animal than human, Logan throws the stalker against the wall, pinning him there.

The man struggles, trying to bring the knife up again. But then, something happens—something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

Logan’s hand shoots forward, and suddenly there’s a metallic SNIKT. Three long, razor-sharp claws extend from between his knuckles—gleaming silver, impossibly deadly. They punch through the man’s jacket, pinning him by the shoulder to the wall.

The stalker lets out a scream, eyes wide in terror. But your own scream is stuck in your throat. All you can do is stare, your brain struggling to comprehend what you’re seeing.

Logan has claws. Metal claws.

What the hell?

With the stalker writhing in pain, Logan leans in close, his voice a low growl. "You picked the wrong damn target."

The man whimpers, his bravado completely gone as blood trickles from the shallow wound. Logan jerks the claws free, and the man collapses to the ground, groaning in pain but still breathing. Without a second glance at his attacker, Logan turns to you.

“Y/N,” he says, stepping toward you, his voice a low, rough murmur that sounds far away. “It’s not what you think—”

But you stumble back, the knife in your hand trembling, not because of the stalker lying on the floor, but because of him. Because of what you just saw.

“Y-you…what—” You can’t even get the words out, your mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened. “What are you?”

Logan’s face tightens. He’s clearly seen this reaction before. “I’m a mutant,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice almost unnerving given what just went down. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but—”

“I—” You take another step back, your heart still racing. “Mutant? Logan, you—what the hell did you just—” Your eyes drop to his hands, where the claws retracted just moments ago. “You have claws?”

Logan doesn’t move, his hands by his sides, still covered in a few drops of the intruder’s blood. His whole body looks tense, as though he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d never—”

“You—” You’re shaking your head, not even sure what you’re trying to say. Everything’s too much. You’ve only ever heard horror stories about mutants, about how dangerous they can be, how you should keep your distance. You’ve never known anyone who was one…until now.

And it’s Logan. The guy who’s been protecting you.

The guy who just kissed you.

“I need…I need some space,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, your mind still reeling.

Logan’s expression shifts, a flicker of something that looks almost like regret crossing his face. But he nods, stepping back slowly. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re scared. But I’m still the same guy I was five minutes ago. I’m not the enemy, Y/N.”

You know that. Deep down, in some part of yourself, you know that Logan wouldn’t hurt you. He’s saved your life, protected you, and been nothing but loyal. But right now, your instincts are screaming at you to get away, to process what the hell just happened.

“I just…please, I need to be alone,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Logan’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something. But then he nods once, giving you space, just like you asked. “I’ll be close,” he says quietly, before turning and walking away, leaving you alone in the hallway with your racing thoughts.

As he disappears around the corner, you lean back against the wall, your knees threatening to give out. You’re not sure what scares you more, the stalker lying unconscious on the floor, or the realization that Logan isn’t just a man with a bad attitude and a dangerous past.

He’s something else entirely.

And you have no idea what that means for you both.

The next day is a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions. You wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, but instead of feeling rested, your heart pounds in your chest, and the events of the previous day come flooding back. Logan’s claws, the way he fought off that intruder, the raw power he displayed—it all feels surreal.

You spend the morning trying to distract yourself, throwing yourself into your usual routine. You have interviews lined up and a photoshoot to get through, but every moment, you can’t shake the image of Logan standing over that intruder, the fierceness in his eyes as he retracted those deadly claws. There’s a knot in your stomach, a strange mix of fear and something else you can’t quite place.

Despite your attempts at normalcy, you’re acutely aware of the absence of Logan. He hasn’t checked in, hasn’t texted, and that silence weighs heavily on you. You told him you needed space, but now, part of you wonders if you made a mistake pushing him away.

As the afternoon stretches on, you finish your last interview and head back to your apartment, an unshakable sense of anticipation coursing through you. The place feels different without Logan’s presence, quieter, more hollow. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for whatever comes next.

The door swings open, and you step inside. The scent of leather and Logan’s cologne still lingers in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance around, half-hoping to see him leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, that trademark smirk on his lips. But the space is empty.

You walk into the living room, the tension from the previous day still hanging in the air. You’re about to pour yourself a glass of water when a knock on the door startles you. You freeze, heartbeat quickening as you glance at the clock. It’s late, too late for anyone else to drop by.

You approach the door cautiously and open it, your breath catching in your throat as you see Logan standing there, his presence filling the doorway. He looks as imposing as ever, dressed in a black t-shirt that hugs his torso, the leather jacket thrown over one shoulder. His hair is tousled, and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw that somehow makes him look even more rugged.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and a touch uncertain.

“Hey,” you manage, heart racing. The tension between you two feels palpable, and you can’t ignore the rush of warmth spreading through your body at the sight of him.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his expression serious, but there’s an underlying urgency that makes your stomach flip.

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. He walks past you, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, sending a rush of heat through your veins.

Logan turns to face you, his expression shifting, revealing the storm brewing behind his eyes. “I wanted to talk. About yesterday.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “I mean…you didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “I’ve been thinking about you, and I… I didn’t like how we left things.”

The way he looks at you makes your heart race. There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a longing that mirrors the tumult inside you. But there’s something else too—something electric.

“I was scared, Logan,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just happened so fast. I didn’t know—”

“I know.” He steps closer, closing the distance between you, the heat radiating off him wrapping around you like a thick blanket. “But I’m still me. I’d never hurt you.”

You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you see is sincerity mixed with an undeniable hunger.

“I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this.” You gesture between the two of you, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hanging heavy in the air.

Logan takes another step closer, his voice a rough murmur. “What do you want?”

Your breath hitches. The question hangs in the air, charged and raw, and for the first time, you allow yourself to confront the truth of your feelings. “I want—”

Before you can finish, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that ignites the fire simmering beneath your skin. It’s not the same as before; it’s deeper, more urgent, filled with the need to reclaim what was almost lost.

You melt against him, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. Logan’s hands roam your sides, fingers skimming over your hips, drawing you nearer as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he pulls back, his breath mingles with yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. “You want this,” he says, voice low and rough, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “You want me.”

“I do,” you admit, your cheeks flushing as the words spill out. “But it’s complicated, Logan. We shouldn’t—”

“Who cares?” His fingers slide down your arms, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re not just some celebrity to me. You’re not just a job.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is a whisper, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive.

“I mean you’re you. I don’t care what the tabloids say. I don’t care about the age difference or the rumors. I want you.”

His words send a thrill through you, igniting a spark of something wild and reckless. You’ve never felt this way before, not like this. It’s heady, intoxicating.

“Logan, what if—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, more demanding this time, as if he’s trying to erase every doubt from your mind. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel every muscle in his body, the heat radiating off him in waves.

And then it happens again—the sharp, undeniable rush of want overwhelms you. The world outside fades away, and all that matters is this moment, this connection, this man standing before you.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless. “This is crazy,” you say, your mind racing, but the way Logan looks at you silences your doubts.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly. “But I’d rather be crazy with you than without you.”

Your heart flips, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You’ve never wanted someone like this before, and the thought sends a thrill of excitement through you.

“Then what do we do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, heart racing at the thought of what lies ahead.

Logan smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we start by not overthinking this.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your cheek, igniting a fire in your core. “And maybe just…enjoying each other.”

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing a path that makes your head spin. You lean into him, surrendering to the moment as his warm breath sends shivers down your spine. The world outside is forgotten, and it feels like you’ve stepped into a realm that’s just yours and his.

“Logan…” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, desire flooding your senses.

His lips brush against yours again, teasing, playful, igniting the tension that’s been building between you two. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “I promise I won’t bite…unless you want me to.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, and the air crackles with undeniable tension. Maybe this is crazy, but right now, with Logan’s warmth enveloping you and the world outside forgotten, it feels more than right. It feels like fate.

Days turn into weeks, and you and Logan become a fixture in each other's lives. What began as a chaotic bodyguard relationship slowly evolves into something far more intimate—something neither of you anticipated but both desperately needed.

You find yourself falling into a routine, one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. Every morning, he’s there, often making breakfast—his way of saying he cares, even if he does burn the toast. Every night, you curl up on the couch with him, sharing popcorn and movies, laughter filling the spaces where tension once resided. But it’s the moments outside those walls that change everything.

You don’t keep your relationship a secret, not intentionally, anyway. You both know the world you live in—the public scrutiny, the flashing cameras, the endless rumors. But Logan doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it emboldens him, a rebellious spark igniting in his eyes whenever you’re out together.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, you find yourselves strolling through a park in downtown Los Angeles, the kind of place where everyone is too busy with their own lives to pay attention to two people in love. But as you walk hand in hand, you can’t help but notice a few heads turning.

“Logan, I think we’re being watched,” you murmur, glancing around at the passersby. The mix of curiosity and surprise is palpable, but you also feel the warmth of Logan’s hand gripping yours, reassuring and steady.

“They can look all they want,” he grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss against your temple, his stubble grazing your skin. The contact sends a thrill through you.

“You’re not worried about the tabloids?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Let them say what they want. At least they’ll get my age wrong,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Besides, you think I care about some headlines? I’m more concerned about you.”

A warmth blooms in your chest, and you can’t help but lean into him, your heart swelling with affection.

But the cameras don’t stop. That evening, as you both enjoy dinner at a trendy rooftop restaurant, the whispers and glances become more pronounced. The waitress seems to be holding back a grin as she serves you drinks, clearly recognizing Logan and you. You glance around, feeling a little exposed but also exhilarated.

“This could be the new gossip for the tabloids,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “‘Famous singer falls for mysterious bodyguard.’”

“Or maybe ‘Local badass finally finds a reason to smile,’” he counters, winking at you. You laugh, the sound bright and airy, and it feels good.

You both savor the evening, leaning into the playful banter and the stolen glances that carry an undeniable spark. But when the two of you leave the restaurant, a group of paparazzi suddenly swarms you, their cameras flashing like fireworks in the night.

“Y/N! Is it true you’re dating Logan Howlett?” one of them shouts, voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Logan, how long have you two been seeing each other?” another calls, pushing closer, their cameras nearly colliding with your faces.

Logan’s grip tightens around your waist, and you can feel his tension rising. You glance at him, but he simply raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips. “Guess they’re interested, huh?”

“Yeah, interested in our personal lives,” you whisper, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“Let them watch,” Logan says, stepping closer to you, almost as if to shield you from the chaos. “Just remember—they don’t know the half of it.”

You share a glance, and there’s a spark of understanding in his eyes. With a deep breath, you face the throng of reporters. “We’re happy together,” you say, your voice steady despite the cameras flashing around you. “That’s all that matters.”

The crowd quiets for a moment, the buzz of excitement hanging in the air. Then Logan leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, and the cameras go wild. The moment feels electric, and as you pull away, you can’t help but grin.

“Wow, you’ve really got it bad, don’t you?” he teases, the playful glint in his eye returning.

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your heart soaring.

The reporters seem to be taken aback by the chemistry between you, the dynamic clearly more than just a simple bodyguard-client relationship. You can hear the murmurs among the crowd as you both walk past, the air buzzing with a mix of curiosity and approval.

“Do you think it’s serious?” one of them asks.

“I heard she’s been seen with him a lot,” another replies, voice laced with intrigue. “What a power couple!”

“Wonder how long they’ll last,” a third one scoffs, but you’re too high on adrenaline to let their words get to you.

As you reach your car, Logan turns to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nod, a burst of happiness washing over you. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he replies, smirking. “Because now you’re stuck with me. The tabloids might as well start preparing for a long-term feature.”

“Is that a challenge?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says, pulling you closer as you both settle into the car. “Just remember, if they start digging into our lives, I’m the one with the claws.”

You burst out laughing, and as he revs the engine, the world feels like it’s finally aligning. The chaos of the paparazzi, the gossip, the rumors—they all fade away. Because in this moment, it’s just you and Logan, ready to take on whatever the world throws your way, together.

[burner141]

My favorite movie genre is 2000s childrens movies (the clique, sleepover, 16 wishes, geek charming) very much girl, very much cliché. So here's what character trope I think the 141 guys would fall into.

The most obvious one to me is Johnny being in a garage band. Black graphic tees, washed denim pants. Occasional crop top. Bad boy charm. All the older women swore that he was a loud nuisance in the neighborhood, but secretly swooned when he gave them that toothy grin. You're not so different from them, it seems. He tried to impress you with his drum solo (bc ofc he's a drummer), but you just commented on how sweaty he was. He tried to rub himself all over you, claiming his scent would keep all the other boys away. You told him how gross he was, but you gave a delighted squeal when he finally lifted you up in those muscled arms. Safe to say, bro was always trying to get you to watch him at practice. Surprisingly, one day, he took the mic from the lead singer and started singing his own song. Your awe was slowly overshadowed by confusion, then shock. The lyrics were incredibly explicit, and he hadn't broken eye contact with you for two minutes. No more band practice viewings from you...

Next is golden boy Gaz. He is the perfect son, friend, student, everything. He offers to help the younger neighborhood kids with homework and even offers to mow lawns. He chooses to mow your lawn for you on a particularly hot day, making a show of taking off his thin shirt and throwing it over his shoulder like a rag. Afterwards, as if there's no end to his stamina, he plays ball with the guys in the street, his every move perfect and precise - a parrot showing off his pretty feathers. When he lends a hand with taking in your groceries, your mom fawns over what a gentleman he is. You aren't so sure. Something about him is a little too perfect. Your suspicions only make him want to keep up his image more. If that's what it takes for you to pay attention to him, then he'll let you try and find a crack in his porcelain mask.

Now, Price, I'm not so sure how to fit him into this other than hot dad. Maybe he's a friend's dad or just the neighborhood dilf. He's just so nice to you, gentle with everybody, really. So, of course, you offered to babysit his kid. One day, you came up to his bedroom to offer him a small snack of sliced apples. You stopped dead in your tracks as you heard his gutteral laugh through the slight opening of the door. Uncharacteristically crass words flew out of his mouth as he laughed with a friend over the phone. You could't help but stand behind the bedroom door and indulge in every curse and innuendo that slipped out of his mouth. Once his call ended, you circled back to the stairs, grateful that the carpeted floor hid the sound of your footsteps. This was a secret you could keep. A side of him you'd personally heard. Not the other neighborhood ladies that pined for him, but you. Little did you know he could see you through the reflection of the window. Funny girl.

Ghost is... idk, some guy? Community pool lifeguard? Freelance mechanic? Weekend plumber? Nobody really knows what he does, but he somehow does it all. Local odd-jobber. He would most definitely do sumn strange for a piece of change. He comes over to fix your pipes, and you find yourself staring at him positioned under the sink. Is he... having trouble fitting under there? You reach out to ask if he needs help. He just grunts, pauses for a few seconds, then tells you to hold the flashlight over him so he can "see the bloody pipes." You can't tell if the encounter is more awkward or intriguing. Not often do you have a huge slab of muscle under you. Also, not often that you have to hold a flashlight at such an angle. You brain malfunctions for the next, um, 10 minutes? It could have been your determined focus with the flashlight or him bucking his hips upwards every now and then. You see him next week manning a lemonade stand.

[the-s1lly-corner]

7 Minutes in Slender Mansion (Opener)

that's right chat! We are going through with the idea! This is only an opener to what's to come, after the fic will be a poll for you to vote in! no characters, only items for you to draw! The winner of course gets a fic for the actual game! depending on how this and the first part goes i may make fics for the other choices! Characters: slenderman, splendorman, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, nina the killer, laughing jack, eyeless jack, puppeteer, bloody painter notes: reader is gn, speed writing this so the characters mentioned above may not be mentioned in this part BUT will be options in the poll!, this will be shared on AO3 after the first follow up fic is put up, takes place in the mansion we are getting silly in here, reader is implied to be a killer and/or non human due to their presence in the mansion itself cws: none word count: 887

The entire night had been chaotic- with the Halloween season drawing closer some of the more festive inhabitants of the mansion have taken it upon themselves to get into the holiday spirit. From decorating with their own touch of gore to roping in some of the more unwilling into their games and activities. 

You yourself were dragged into it by a hyped up Nina, who would not take no for an answer- even if you were already making your way downstairs in order to get in on the fun. 

Masky and Hoodie stood together quietly in a corner away from the chaos as Toby fought with Jeff over what game should be played that night. You tune out their bickering as you take account of who else had decided to join in that night. Laughing Jack was sprawled across the couch, accompanying Splendor as they both filed through candy. 

Actually, Splendor was the one doing most of the ordering- separating fruit candies from chocolates, as well as keeping ones with nuts far away from the other options. Laughing Jack was merely supplying the candy, drawing them out of a seemingly never ending stash in his pockets. 

You’d have to ask him about that one day… 

“As soon as those two,” Nina jerks her head towards Toby and Jeff, “figure out what game we’re going to play then we’ll get started… in the meantime get comfortable-” You watched Nina’s eyes light up as she spotted Eyeless Jack stepping into the room with a bowl. You couldn’t tell exactly what was in it from where you were standing, but at least it didn’t seem to be organs. 

Maybe.

Nina leaves your side to take the bowl from him, her voice melting into the noise of the space around you. 

You scan around the room again to try to find a free space, and as you take an absentminded step forward you bump into someone. In the brief moment you took to look around, Bloody Painter had found himself in front of you.

He hardly makes a sound when you make contact, and he only gives you a glance over his shoulder. He doesn’t say much before continuing his path to one of the few free chairs in the room, right next to where Pup was- leaning against the wall, pretending to check his nails. You could feel his golden eyes boring into you from across the room.

You shake the feeling, being only partly successful… 

You make a dull note in your head that Slenderman was in the room, alone and silent as he always was.

You take a step to the couch and Splendorman makes room for you, offering you a warm smile.

“Reader! I’m so glad you’ve decided to join us!” He nearly chirped as he continued sorting out the candies. Nina briefly returned to set the bowl she had taken from Eyeless Jack onto the table. 

It was only popcorn, thankfully. 

“So what’s the plan for tonight? Are we just going to play games and then that’s it?” You ask, leaning forward to snag a handful of candy. 

Your eyes dart around once more.

“Where’s Jane?” 

“Babysitting!” Laughing Jack chuckled as he dumped another large fistful of candy out onto the table, letting them slide and scatter across the surface. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Splendor’s smile tighten before relaxing in an instant. 

“She wasn’t interested in joining tonight… it’s a shame, she keeps to herself… but at least she’s keeping the little ones occupied,” Splendor said as he reached forward to get right back to his work.

“Ben would throw a hissy fit if he heard you calling him “little one”, you know that right?” You tease. Splendor only shook his head gently, but didn’t say anything else.

You heard footsteps behind you, prompting you to turn around in your seat to find everyone else beginning to gather around- Jeff snagged Splendor’s hat right off of his head and flipped it upside down and dumped something into it. 

“Okay-” He barked out and passed the hat around. “Put something in the hat, we’re playing seven minutes in heaven!” Jeff called out. Several voices broke out, but he shushed them all.

“Not my choice, blame Toby- lover boy here is hoping to get some with his crush- YOU FUCKER-” Jeff hissed as he spun to Toby, who merely looked away. You had heard the impact, he must have kicked Jeff. 

Jeff drew a sharp hissing breath through his teeth, and before long he shoved the hat into your hands. “Here, put something in… or don’t if you want to go first,” He flashed a toothy grin at you. The slits in the sides of his face made it look far more menacing than he probably intended… maybe. “You don’t have to play if you don’t wanna, there’s more planned for tonight,” Jeff added after you didn’t say anything for a moment. 

“If I don’t start it, who will?” You ask.

“Not it!” Laughing Jack immediately called out. In an instant everyone started calling out a variation of the phrase, leaving you dumbstruck and still holding the hat. 

Your mouth twists into a pout, but you don’t make a move to back out of the game.

You reach your hand and pull out…

[bellarkeselection]

Oh my, you're so right. There are not enough Will Halstead fics in the one chicago fandom. I would have an idea for this fine man. Maybe you like it.

It's the best fiends to lovers trope... I'm obsessed with this kind of stuff. They're both idiots in love but are too afraid to destroy their friendship when they would tell the other how they feel. Will is super protective of reader. Reader has a chronic illness (cause I NEED to see him in worried protective doctor mode) like a heart desase or asthma or epilepsy. So he always watches out for her helping her when she feels sick... One day he gets hit on at Molly's and reader sees him flirting with a girl. He starts to date the girl. The girl is super bitchy and is jealous of reader cause she's Wills best friend. So the girl tries to drive a wedge between reader and Will, maybe weave some lies, hurts reader mentally etc so that reader distance herself from Will cause she's hurt of what his girlfriend said to her or how she treats reader. That lead to huge emotional stress which flares up her illness. Reader is feeling bad both emotionally and physically. And it gets dramatic in some kind of way. Maybe Jay or another character notices reader getting worse and tells Will. And first he doesn't belive it, cause his best friend would tell him of she's super sick, wouldn't she? Until reader is admitted to Med or is found unconscious in her apartment or something else.

Sorry for my long rambling. This is just an idea maybe you like some parts of it.

❤️Love

Idiot Friends in Love

Okay so this is one of the longest requests I have gotten for Will so far. I honestly enjoyed writing this so so much and I truly hope I did as much as you asked for 🤗 🤗 🤗 🤗

@annieradcliff

When people talk about having a best friend you have to remember that no relationship is going to be the same as someone else’s. But when my friends think of a best friend duo they look at me and Will Halstead. We’ve been in the others life from the time we were five years old and haven’t left each other’s side since then.

He had went onto to become a doctor and I had persuade working in the same police department as his brother Jay had. Years ago when Will had a fight with his dad about wanting to go off to college I was there for the aftermath when Will stormed out. He told me the main reason he wanted to become a doctor was so that he could help people, especially people like me. I was born a few weeks earlier at the end of my mom’s pregnancy which gave me underdeveloped lungs and asthma.

Walking into Molly’s bar wearing some ripped blue jeans shorts and a white tank top I was looking for Will until I finally found him up at the bar. Striding over I was about to say something until I saw him with a blonde that I couldn’t really stand to be around. Her and I had gotten off to the wrong foot and she basically always made a point to lead my best friend away me. Heading to the bathroom I leaned my body into the wall just needing a minute to myself except to my surprise the very girl I didn’t want to see came up to me. “How long do you think he’s going to be there to babysit you hmm?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked her sensing some annoyance in her tone.

The blonde named Brooke snapped. “I mean he can’t babysit you and be your best friend forever. He is an ED doc and now spends most of his time with me.”

“Did he tell you this?” I questioned her knowing my friend was very busy as was I since I was doing everything I could to someday become a paramedic for Firehouse 51 with my friend Sylvie Brett who had recently joined the team.

Brooke rolled her eyes like I was an idiot or something. “He’s just spending time with you because he’s a doctor and feels it’s his sworn duty to protect you and make sure you’re well.”

“Will and I have been friends since we were five years old. So, I think you’ve got your thoughts mixed up.” Responding to the girl I had faith in my friend way before I would ever believe what this woman was saying.

She throws her hands away from her sides. “I’m just saying he clearly doesn’t have feelings for you like he does for me.”

“How would you know huh. Can you see what he is thinking inside his head cause I certainly can’t.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve seen your little asthma attacks the first time I met you at this bar. Do you seriously think that he’s gonna want to be with somebody with a disability.”

“I’m done talking to you.” I began walking away from her until she yanked me back by my forearm.

“Just face the facts and realize you’ll just be another patient to him and nothing else.”

Yanking my arm from her grasp I stomped away not bothering to talk to her or Will for the night. The next few weeks I had basically been avoiding Will’s phone calls or texts figuring that she was right that I would always be a patient in his eyes. I decided to take a walk and see Brett so headed to the firehouse seeing her stalking supplies inside the ambulance. “There’s my favorite paramedic.”

“Hey Y/n! I wasn’t thinking I would be seeing you today. How have you been?” She climbed down out of the ambulance coming over and embracing me in a hug.

I wrapped my arms around her hugging her back. “I’m good. How are you and Casey?”

“We’re doing good. I’ve been meaning to ask how are you and Dr. Halstead. I’ve been meaning to ask lately.”

I raised a brow at her question. “Me and Will. I – I don’t understand.”

“Oh please. There’s something clearly going on between you two.” Brett rolled her eyes like I just said something completely ridiculous.

I raised my hands waving them in front of my chest not believing that there was something going on between me and my friend. “I don’t think you understand the relationship that he and I exactly. We are just friends and nothing more. Besides I’m fairly certain he doesn’t think of me in that way.”

“Pfft I’m sorry but that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She made a noise snorting out a laugh. “Have you missed the signs where he sends you those lovey doe eyes, looking out for you, and I’ve never seen you hanging around anyone else but him since the day I met you two.”

“Look Brett, I appreciate you being hopeful. But there’s never going to be anything romantic going on with me and Will.” I felt my eyes beginning to water and I ran my fingers through my hair slowly feeling a tightening in my chest. I grabbed my chest gasping for air not expecting this to happen. “I mean why would he ever go for me. He has a girlfriend, regardless if she’s a bitch. But it’s fine – argh!”

Brett rushed forward catching my body before I could hit the concrete. “Y/n! Hey, hey, woah, woah. Kelly! Casey! I need some help out here.” She shouted before my eyes got heavy and I loosened my grip on her arms passing out on her.

I’m not sure how long I was out for by the time I slowly blinked my eyes opened and saw some bright lights that clearly looked like the hospital lights. I sucked in some breaths feeling a mask over my nose and mouth meaning asthma medicine was getting pushed into my body. The curtain drew open and I saw Rhodes enter the room carrying a chart underneath one arm. “Hey Y/n, you’re breathing seems to be doing better. I’ll just slowly take this off now.”

“Thanks Dr. Rhodes – uh where’s Brett – at?” I coughed after he pulled the mask down from my face and helping me sit upright more on the pillows.

He glanced towards the curtain answering my question. “She’s outside by the nurse desk. Will is actually with her too.”

“He is?” I asked leaning up feeling hopeful for a brief second.

He nodded walking out into the hallway waving them inside the room. Brett came in and smiled brightly hugging me and I hugged her back pulling away letting my best friend have my attention more than her. “I’ll let you two talk for a bit. Come talk with you afterwards.” She stepped outside the room back into the hallway leaving the two of us alone.

“I was so worried about you when I saw Brett bring you in like that. I mean I thought we had a better understanding going here. That – that we – “He stuttered out his words frantically running a hand through his auburn curls. “You’re my best friend so I thought you’d tell me if something bad was really going on with you.”

I did my best to lie, biting my lip unknowingly. “Will, I just had a small episode. You know flare ups can happen from almost anything.”

“I’m aware of that. But that’s not the point.”

I snapped. “The point doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does matter.”

Shaking my head I wished he wasn’t so argumentative like I was. “No it doesn’t. Look I’m fine now so we don’t have to have this conversation anymore.”

“Yes, enough of this. Okay I know you’re lying o me about something and I’m hurt that you didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to me about it.” He raised his hands in the air.

I rolled my eyes wishing this wasn’t happening right now between us. “You don’t need to know all of my business, William!”

“We’ll excuse me. I thought us being childhood best friends meant we were much closer than you think we are!” He raised his voice at me in frustration.

Clutching my hands into fists punching the hospital bed sheets shouting up at my best friend with some tears falling down my face. “Gosh damn it Will just stop it. I don’t want to be your friend who is always a patient in your eyes. I know that’s all I’m ever going to be!”

“What. Who, who told you that?” Will made a confused face at me.

I scoffed. “That blonde girl named Brooke you’re dating. She told me facts that you clearly aren’t comfortable saying to my face.”

“Why would she say those things. We’re not together anymore.” He responded.

I parted my lips thinking he was joking. “You’re not. Why – why not?”

“She just liked the idea of dating an ED doc. I broke up with her last Friday. That’s what I was wanting to talk with you about in my multiple phone calls. But I guess I got my answer when you never answered.” His gaze lowered down to the floor and he went to leave.

I gently called his attention. “Will, wait a sec. What was the calls about?”

“They were about my feelings for you.”

Sucking in a shacky breath I wasn’t sure how to feel about what he was about to say. “Will, are you saying that you think of me more than a friend?”

Rather than giving me a verbal response he strides forward climbing up onto my bed with his legs on either side of mine. He gently grabs my face in his hands crashing his lips down onto mine not giving me a chance to say anything. It took me a minute before I ran my fingers up his arms wrapping my arms around his kissing him back.

Threading my fingers through his hair, tugging on it hearing him moan into the kiss. I thought this was a dream for a brief moment until he broke the kiss resting his forehead against mine. “You’ve always been more than a friend to me. I just - didn’t want to say anything and ruin what we have if you didn’t feel the same. And don’t ever think for a minute that you’re just a patient to me. You’re anything else but that Y/n.”

“It’s crazy that my reasoning for not telling you how I felt before now is the same reason as yours. It’s a relief we both come off as idiots in love.” I smiled chuckling resting my other hand on his cheek.

He sent me a cheecky grin. “Well can this idiot in love officially ask you out on a date tonight?”

“Yes, yes I’ll go on a date with you.” I leaned forward beginning the next kiss we shared. We were entirely too worried for nothing and it wasn’t too long after a few dates that Will was already working on having me become his Mrs. Halstead.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[indras-wife]

Indra, Ashura, Madara, Obito with an s/o who's stronger than them and immortal too?

Yayyy, another character makes debut in my page!🥺💖🥺And yay another Obito request. I love him so much because he is such a complex character to write! Hope to receive more requests with him later on. And thank you anon for requesting this, also for having to wait a long time for me to publish your request.😓💖 I kind of lost motivation to do any writing but I am trying to push myself to reply to every request even if its slow🥺💖💕

Indra

Absolutely hates and cannot tolerate his s/o being stronger than him. He feels very jealous and angry over the fact that he isn’t stronger than them. Indra feels like his s/o being stronger and immortal on top of it is straight up cheating and unfair. His s/o did nothing to get that power so why does she have it? AT first he did noteven want to pursue anything romantic with her, but he changed his mind, knowing he can bend her to his will.

He wants to be stronger than his s/o because Indra finds that a man must be stronger than the woman in any relationship. His ideal woman for instance is someone who relies on him to protect her and help to guide her to the true meaning of life. Someone who is much stronger than him doesn’t fit his ideal of s/o. Of course he does not want someone who has zero survival skills or insticts as it would annoy him to babysit his s/o, but he also does not want a s/o who doesn’t need his help and protection. Part of time wishes his s/o had no powers, o he could protect her from any threat she could face.

He doesn’t care how beautiful she is, Indra will try to change her. He will scold her every time his s/o tries to use her powers or mention to anyone else about her immortality and abilities. If Indra hears her talking about it to someone, be t a stranger or no, he will give his s/o a piece of his mind, maybe even a punishment to remind her of her place. A genjutsu entrapment sounds like a nice punishment for him, especially when his s/o cannot escape from it.

Indra always worries about the immortality of his s/o a lot. Despite being a demi-god, he does not have immortality and will die one day, while his s/o will continue to live. In eternity it is impossible to stay faithful to one man and he knows if he dies, some centuries later his s/o will search for someone new. He does not want that. His s/o belongs to him only and if any other man touches her, he will get up from the grave and haunt the new man forever. To avoid this, he instructs his s/o to find ways to make him immortal too. “You are stuck with me forever, whether you want it or not.”

Indra’s jealousy and protectiveness becomes almost unbearable when his s/o gets pregnant. He now even prohibits her fromgoing outside alone, she has to spend her time with reading books or taking walks with him only. If she disobeys, he of course find ways to punish her again. He cannot use his visual prowess, so his punishment is giving shoulder to his s/o. By this time, his s/o is already molded perfectly to the woman he wants so receiving cold shoulder from him kills her mentally.

With her state, she cannot tolerate being away from Indra, so she is always listening to him and trying not to make him angry. In the end, Indra fully succeeded in turning the woman, who was stronger than him, to obey him and his every rule.

Ashura

Unlike his older brother, Ashura is actually very happy and open to the fact his s/o is stronger than him. When he first learnt that he was more than surprised, it was almost that he was proud that a soft hearted woman like her is so strong.

Before receiving his father's power, the gap between their powers was very big, with Y/n outleveling him n everything, without even trying. This inspired Ashura to work more and improvehis skills.

Knowing of his s/o's powers, he asked her to train him, something that his s/o was initially against. Despite being stronger, she was too shy and too hesitant to consider her worthy to train him. But with Ashura pestering her all around, she had no other choice but to actually train him however she could.

To her surprise, he was a good student, dilligent and smart, he just needed to believe in his powers more and train more. His improvements were seen little by little and their training sessions also brought them closer.

One thing that pained Ashura however was her immortality: he knew it was selfsh of him wanting her to spend her life only with him, a mortal, but he was too in love to think about anything else. Secretly, he wished there was something he could do to become like her, an immortal being, to spend eternity with him but there was nothing he could do.

His s/o was already aware of his desires and she was finding ways of her own to make him like her: an immortal being. She was not fully able to find a solution, but she was not giving up and was doing continuous research to give her lover the immortality that they both desired to have.

After Ashura recieved his father's powers, he had higher chance of achieving immortality. Not to mention his power also increased, making them both nearly the same level. His s/o however, being a celestial being was still stronger than him but Ashura did not care. All he was worried about was his s/o being with him as long as he lived. Their love and support for each other was enough to last as long as they both lived together. A truly loving couple with no ounce of jealousy towards the other.

Madara

Madara is not the one to care about women and their power/abilities. He is a man whose powers are god like and he thinks there is nothiing that can surprise him. He however is surprised when the cam in contact with the celestial woman he was always hearing about: a holder of otherworldly beauty and strength who is also kind to everyone.

His interest was piqued for sure, but he did not show it. When fate made those two meet up, he could not believe his eyes. The woman that was said to possess strength like no other looked weak and fragile. He was hoping to have a nice duel, to show his own strength and status as a godlike man, but he simply couldn’t. After all what adult goes full power when fighting weak women and men?

He was getting ready to unleash a fast technique to knock the woman off, but to his surprise the woman evaded his attack faster than lightning. Just as he was about to unleash the second attack, he found him pinned on the ground, with the woman standing next to him. “Next time do not judge someone based on their looks. I may look soft, but I won’t hold back from showing you your place” she said. Madara was surprised: his back touched the ground because of a woman for the first time.

This experience led to him obsessing over the idea of fighting and winning her for a long time.

Madara would go to the same destinations as Y/n, seeking to learn more about her and of course to fight with her. While he was obsessing over the idea of fighting with her, Y/n was paying him no mind. His every attempt of initiating a fight was in vain. And even if they did fight, Madara was always losing to her.

They were bickering always, behaving like children who couldn’t come to a conclusion in any matter. From the side, their interaction looked very funny to strangers, Some even found it cute how they were arguing like that.

After multiple failed attempts, Madara became more focused on training more to beat her. He would train 16 hours a day, leaving the rest of the time to sleep, eat and relax. Y/n, witnessing all of his hard work in secret, felt how much more interesting the man was becoming for her. He had a dedication to do whatever he put his mind to and he wanted to become even stronger. Of course, he maybe wanted it to only beat her in the battle, but Y/n did not care. She rarely saw such dedication in a man and she felt obliged to help him.

Madara refused to let a woman train her, considering it insulting. But after weeks of Y/n asking, he gave up. He was however very surprised when the training was indeed helping him become stronger . He noticed his improvements after a mere week of training. Y/n taught him new techniques, taught him how to make his jutsus even stronger and helped him evolve his fighting strategy.

They became closer than expected as well, with both of them sharing their lives with the other. Madara realized that he really loved her company and her voice, which was very soothing and sweet. But he was still pretty jealous of her and her powers.

Their interactions lasted for months, turning into a year. Y/n now feeling more sure of her true feelings, told him about how she felt. She was expecting Madara to mock her and not recognise her feelings but to her surprise he was also in love with her.

Madara did really like her, but as his lover he did not want Y/n to be given more credit for her powers than him. Hence he made a plan in his mind to keep Y/n next to him, while still being considered the stronger one. His manipulative tactics slowly derived Y/n from the ability to train, trying to make her dependent on him. He loved having a woman rely on him. Y/n did not want to be like that, but her feelings for Madara were so intense, she decided to do as he told her to. She was happy about it too considering she was tired from so many training and now that she had Madara with her, she didn’t need to deal with issues herself.

Obito

Obito isnt the person to be jealous about someone being stronger than him. He has better things to worry about and he is not as self-conscious as others. He knows perfectly that he is powerful and a woman who is said to be stronger than him does not bother him at all. Her powers do interest him though as he rarely sees a woman who can be considered this strong. He had no idea about her being immortal that time.

His childhood tendencies of being a curious person resurfaced again as he one day saw Y/n training. Her skills and techniques created such beautiful and harmonious effects that he found himself being mesmerized by her.

He slowly felt himself come back to the earth, remembering that he should not be staring at her like that. He composed himself, making him turn back to not see her face which made him feel all funny inside.

For days, Obito tried to evade Y/n, not talking to her or looking at her. Every time their eyes met, his insides felt like burning and yearning for more. He had goals to reach and he tried to not falter in his steps. As much as he wanted to talk and communicate with Y/n he held himself back.

Y/n, being wiser and more understanding than he, took the steps in her hands. She knew what he was feeling and what he was battling with. In her eyes, Obito was a very soft person and deserved everything in his life. Seeing his love die in front of his eye shattered his heart and soul and Y/n was sure she could help him.

Obito would first protest, ignore all her attempts of trying to talk with him, but he felt that it just made her more determined. Her desire to talk, to be with him just melted his heart. He could not take it longer and finally broke, ending his silent treatment.

He felt that Y/n was just like Rin, her personality was calm and kind. Around her he felt good and happy, something he thought he cannot feel for a long time. Obito would try to spend as much time with her as possible, talking about many things. He also mentioned that he found her powers to be interesting and that not everyone are that powerful.

She was surprised with mentioning about her immortality too, which she saw as nothing more than a curse. Obito was surprised to find out. Being immortal was a good thing in his mind, but he did not belittle her feeling about the matter, because she most definitely had her reasons for feeling that way.

They bonded very fast and deep, allowing each other to grow in harmony. Unlike other, there was no once of jealousy or any expectation from each other, which made their feelings bloom further.

Y/n was giving him what he missed: warmth and love. She knew that he wasn’t a cold or rude person, he was just broken inside. Obito was giving her what she needed: acceptance and equality. She did not want to be seen as a goddess only, she wanted to be seen as a human with feelings. Her immortality and powers did not matter to her much and she simply tried to live among humans as a human. Obito was helping him make her dream come true. His simple act of kindness and love nourished not only him but him as well, opening his eyes again to see the beauty of the world

[witch-from-a-block-of-flats]

The first half of episode 2 deserves more attention.

Warning! Yapping ahead!

(Also sorry for any potential english errors, it's not my first language)

He brings that up so casually. Honestly I don't blame him, because who would believe you if you said you have some sort of special ability? Only other people who know that superpowers actually exist. It's was kinda smart of Liu Xiao if you think about it. Dropping the word superpower and then watching people's reaction to it.

Now that's interesting. Because Liu Min is our villain from season 1. You know, that guy:

If you remember season 1 and begging of season 2, you know that Liu Min had a difficult relationship with his father (Liu Jing) who wished he "had half the ability of his younger brother" - younger brother being Liu Xiao. Does Liu Jing know that his younger son has superpower or was he just talking about his intelligence?

Also how on earth Xiang had met Liu Min when LM was a kid? Was he babysitting or something? Why does he mention Liu Min when Liu Xiao says "You know boss Liu (Jing)?". You know, his DAD.

Superpower user spotted?

I still don't know how to interpret this moment. Just an artistic representation of deduction/prediction? But the eye... the eye color change... Are they doing this on purpose? Are they trolling us? Powers related to the future finally appear? Am I reaching? Will we learn more about Xiang? I hope so, since he knows about Cheng Xiaoshi's dad.

Ok ok I know that this moment roughed some feathers and almost no one is buying that Liu Xiao's power is just hearing other people's heartbeat. I'm not sure what to think either. I mean his song is literally called "Manipulator" I wouldn't be surprised if that was a lie.

But let's say he is telling the truth. You may ask why would he revealed his power to someone who clearly doesn't like him and could use this info against him? I think that this isn't a stupid move. His power is simple and not as powerful like time travel through photos for example but... you can't really do anything about it. Like what are you going to do, stop your heartbeat? We don't know the exact rules and limits of this power yet. Is there a distance limit? Does it work through phone calls? Does it work on recordings?

After thinking about it, personally, in my humble opinion, I think it's good for the show that we have someone with less spectacular power. Because:

It shows how diverse powers can be.

It forces writers to be more creative about how Liu Xiao deals with the obstacles.

There is certain charm to a character who is "weaker" on paper but is going toe to toe with someone who has a powerful ability. Sometimes it's not about pure power, it's about creativity.

I am genuinely curious how this man looked at his power [hearing heartbeats] and thought "yes, I will be the one to merge all the parallel lines".

Besides, we already had a power not related to photos - Li Tianchen can possess people he touches - so I don't think it's doing much harm to the series.

And now we go back to CXS's dad. There are so many questions. Why is he so important to Liu Xiao? What's his connection to Xiang? Is he still in Bridon? IS HE STILL ALIVE?

Xiang was terrified when Liu Xiao mentioned him so maybe he had/has a powerful ability? I think Xiang had something to do with Cheng Weimin disappearing. My current theory is that someone dangerous was after Cheng Weimin and his family (maybe the superpower police?) and Xiang helped him in some way but that's just a gut feeling. It's just as likely to be true as a version when Xiang helped people who wanted to get rid of him (or maybe capture him and use him? so many questions, not so many answers).

And to end this post that is already way too long...

WHAT DOES THIS BEETLE THING MEAN? P.H.? DO WE KNOW SOMEONE WITH P.H. INITIALS? If it was H. P. I would pull out my lovecraftian hat but it's not (unfortunately).

Paris Hilton is that you???