#and there's no real sense of shared history

[rotting-ink]

can i just say that one thing i love abt the Royal route so far, is how well you managed to subtly portray just how detached from the real world the Royal is. like at the start, reading through your blog, and seeing that the Aide and Pasha both consider MC like a lost little lamb, i didn't fully get it? and then i played the demo and oh my god-

the contrast between specifically how the MC views the servants with that Pasha POV at the end. MC thinks they're all grown up, they even make a parallel between themself and Pasha as "sharing a secret" because they both left the house, but the way that they evolved from those experiences is so contrasting it actually gave me whiplash reading it. the way Pavel became so class conscious, realizing and despising the way he and his family would just take take take and meanwhile the MC doesn't even know who their servants are

it's genuinely fascinating to me. like you were right! the Royal has no fucking idea what it is like to live in the "real world". they're stuck inside a little safety bubble, coddled and pampered and told that they don't need to look outside, its ok, just close your eyes and think happy thoughts

makes me wonder if everyone else in the royal family is the same way, or if the Royal had it especially bad by being so sick all the time, treated like a glass doll from the moment they were born. i also love that their ignorance isn't treated as a synonym to innocence. they know violence, they have intrusive thoughts, they grew up surrounded by tragic stories and violent fairy tales and because of that they think they know how the world works

i don't blame the Aide for treating them like a clueless little puppy, honestly i'd do the same

I'M RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY ROOM!!! IM SO GLAD SOMEONE NOTICED!!!

Just wanted to quickly add in, that they have seen some horrible stuff at times, like in the side story with the Goodbye to Pavel. They are quietly reenacting something they accidentally saw, which is a peasant woman being tramped by Pavel's friend's horse, but they are mostly focusing on the senses of it, not the loss of life. The blood, the sound, the crunch, Pavel's hand over their eyes. I wish I could have added a Pavel pov, because while he'd also think back to the experience, he'd think about making sure the Royal stayed on Thunder as he checked on the peasant, watching her slowly die and quietly asking for her name while she struggled to breath, Feeling the moment she did finally bleed out and realising he had no idea how to help. That man's Guilt is endless and so fun to write about. Looking up and seeing one of his friends entertaining the MC and keeping their eyes off the body, while the other friend bemoaned his horse's hooves, caked in gore and the creature itself being spooked. While he himself doesn't even know who to tell that she died.

But it's so so fun. Because the Royal is morbid, even without meaning to. They are surrounded by violence- they can watch the Aide BATTER a man/woman at the resort, but all they think is that they couldn't get their first kiss and then the Aide can basically go down on them. They know violence, they know death, they have experienced pain, their culture has dark fairy tales, and strange history. Their ignorance is built off of never having to step down into someone else's shoes, even when their childhood companion basically "goes missing" and is hidden below stairs. Out of the two, Pavel knows what happened to them and ngl, that's why he remembers them so well.

ANYWAY! So no one in the family is as class conscious as Pavel. He does view his family as parasites who can take and take. Laszlo and Stas is a bit more aware, at least class wise. Laszlo came from a lower noble house in Magyar and his family skirted the class line from time to time. Luckily he's a gem and of course the Tsarina would want to ride him silly. Stas is only aware because he happened to develop a soft spot for a maid. He is curious about her, all things, and so does find out about her life, especially as a Serf. It does upset him, and since bringing her up in life to a Kept Lover, he tries not to think of it too much, given that "she doesn't have to go back there".

It's not that Albina and Abraim aren't aware, they just don't care. Good luck as a Servant with them btw.

The Royal and Tatsiana are... mirrors of each other. Aren't innocent but are ignorant. Focused on other things mostly. Aksana does somewhat know, but deem to give it attention, the world outside of her own. But she is more aware of disabilities, than the rest of the family. The self inflicted pain and hunger she does, but also her fiance. The way he was mocked in fact drew her to him at first, before deciding she wanted him the most. Inga and Kissy seem oblivious, but Inga does see more than she says.

And yes, The Aide does just pat them on the head, knowing they will never see or know as much as The Aide has.

[poibynt]

Tags by @moxnix-arts like yeaaah. OBVIOUSLY Father and his terrible, terrible children are keeping things under wraps. I could see this being done by most science in Amestris being heavily tied to military funding, not just alchemy. If there’s no money for archeologists to go poking around then like. Surely they won’t ? BUT this ignores the very real actual reality of Rich Assholes. For a long time, science was often performed just by anyone with money and a want for a hobby. Hobbyist scientists were super common in Ye Olde Europe. Especially around tracking genealogy and fun exciting things like ancient civilisations. We see Amestris as a country full of social stratification. There are so many rich weirdos hanging around with the time and personal funds to go terribly misuse dynamite off in the desert. Just like. Humans LOVE ancient civilisations. It’s something we’re drawn to over and over. We love history we love dreaming up the drama of the past and we also love thinking about our possible ancestors. You cannot convince me that at least a few notable Amestrians didn’t get obsessed with Xerxes and go prodding.

Mustang knowing could be him only knowing of it as a waypoint for crossing the desert to Xing. If I remember correctly it’s a common stop to make. It’s still… weird. That people like Mustang, a very intelligent Alchemist with access to like all of the funding he could ask for, was never like “I should go over there and see if we can learn anything about ancient alchemy.” Like SURELY this has occurred to a couple of people.

As for Ed being allowed to look, yeah. This ties into the much larger plot hole of mangahood that is: why the FUCK did father just let all the sacrifices wander around freely in the year or two leading up to the eclipse?? He had the means to just. Put them in jail or smthing until they were to be used. It makes no sense for him to just. Not do that. It’s such an unnecessary risk. Like yeah yeah humans are weak and below him and he doesn’t view them as a threat but really?? Really????

If I was Father I would have completely destroyed the Xerxes ruins. It doesn’t make sense to leave them lying around if he had the means to just disintegrate the evidence. I guess the only two reasons he wouldn’t is sheer arrogance or… some form of emotional attachment to the place. At least, maybe a recognition of Hohenheim’s emotional attachment. Father did make Hohenheim immortal and literally half his own power in some form of thanks or emotional connection over the shared blood.

Xerxes being treated as an ancient lost civilisation is always just SO WILD to me. Xerxes fell 400 years ago. 400. YEARS. That's what, like 13 generations?? 15?? In 2025 that's the 1600s. Over a thousand and a half years into the Common Era. From a Eurocentric perspective, that's the start of the early modern period. It's past the renaissance. You can go see baroque paintings super easily at major art museums. America is being colonized by then. It's not that long ago like AT ALL. Ancient Greece fell over 2000 years ago, Ancient Egypt only a bit earlier. Ancient Mesopotamia ended 4000 years ago. We know. So much. About these ancient civilisations, in comparison to what the general population seems to know about Xerxes in Amestris. Xerxes fell about 140-150 years before Amestris is founded officially, and its ruins are like next door to them by the early 1900s and no one seems to even claim the territory. (I do not know the rate Amestris expanded and I do not care enough to learn).

Xerxes is said to have been destroyed pretty thoroughly in text but like. There's a fuck ton of ruins just in the desert. There is a VERY OBVIOUS transmutation circle in those ruins. And you tell me that Amestris knows almost nothing about Xerxes?? That it's been almost entirely lost to time?? Does Amestris have the shittiest most underfunded archaeology/anthropology in FMA's world or do they just not care?? And this isn't even talking about how Xerxes was a country, not a city state and there were many Xerxan towns and settlements. We see parts of Xerxes that aren't in desert areas in the flashbacks, so it's pretty possible eastern Amestris has expanded into old Xerxian land.

"ooh yeah the possible birth of alchemy, a deeply important scientific tool in our country and a cornerstone of our military power. It might have had a direct impact on the founding of our country. We only have some storytales about it. Yeah, Frank dug up like a shit ton of inscribed pottery when he was building his shed. He just threw it out."

I am going to loose my MIND. WHY IS NO ONE OUT THERE WITH A SHOVEL.

[time-woods]

I WAS TRYING TO ASK HOW WOULD HIS EXOSKELETON UNDER HIS 'EXOSKELETON' LOOK BUT I PHRASED IT TERRIBLY AND MY PFP ISNT MAKING IT ANY BETTER

[dead-generations]

i think it's funny that I have a real interest in history and historiography and anthropology but I also have a specific neurology where I just do not remember dates or names well at all

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.

[missdynamighttt]

happy birthday to the love of my life, katsuki bakugo. hope he enjoys his gift for his easter birthday: his favorite little bunny.

it had started with a birthday plan. well—technically a birthday easter plan. the odds of katsuki bakugo’s birthday landing on easter sunday weren’t high, but fate had a sense of humor. and you? you had a sense of drama.

you’d already given him gifts for his birthday. his letter—handwritten, sealed with a kiss, full of sharp sarcasm wrapped around soft, sappy sentiment you’d never admit out loud.

he read it quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, thumb brushing over your kiss mark at the bottom. his brows furrowed in that way they always did when he was feeling too much but didn’t want to show it.

“you’re such a damn brat,” he muttered, voice thick, eyes refusing to meet yours. “but… you write good shit.”

“don’t cry, tough guy.”

he didn’t look up, just folded the letter carefully—too carefully—and tucked it into his nightstand drawer like it was something fragile. precious.

“shut up,” he said, voice rough. “you’re lucky i like your dumb handwriting. even if it looks like a drunk squirrel tried to learn cursive and gave up halfway.”

“aww. that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“don’t push it.”

he reached out, grabbed the front of your shirt, and yanked you into a rough, lingering kiss that left no room for misinterpretation. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“best fuckin’ letter i’ve ever gotten,” he murmured, low and soft like a secret.

a few small gifts were scattered on the dresser: limited edition all might merch, a new hoodie he’d been eyeing for a while (that he absolutely knew you were going to steal), and that spicy snack mix he always hoarded like a dragon with gold.

he stood there, arms crossed, doing his best to look unimpressed, but the way his ears turned a little red gave him away.

he eyed the merch first, holding the figure up with a raised brow. “…you been stalkin’ my browser history or somethin’?”

you grinned. “nah. just love you enough to pay attention.”

he shot you a look—equal parts flustered and fond. “tch. hoodie’s mine. you’re just gonna steal this in two days.”

“i give it one,” you said sweetly.

he looked at you, eyes soft but unreadable. “still wearin’ it anyway.” then he found the snack mix. “you didn’t eat any, right?”

you gasped, mock offended. “i would never.”

still, he leaned down and kissed your cheek before grabbing the snack mix and tearing it open immediately.

the cake? well, it was slightly lopsided, the frosting uneven, but it was made with love—and caramel with cinnamon. he didn’t say much when he ate it, just grunted, grabbed a fork, and took a second slice without a word.

you hovered awkwardly nearby. “so… good?”

he chewed slowly, gave you a deadpan look. “tastes like love and poor frosting skills.”

“rude.”

he grinned, leaned over, and pressed a sweet kiss to your temple. “still the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in years.”

“you say that every time.”

“yeah,” he said, mouth full. “and i fuckin’ mean it every time.”

now, though, it was time for the real present.

so when he walked into your shared bedroom after a long morning of birthday messages and half-assed hero paperwork, the last thing he expected was you, perched pretty on the bed.

pink bunny ears twitching with every little movement you made. a tight, pastel one-piece hugging your every curve. sheer stockings accentuating your thighs, and a fluffy little tail pinned to your lower back like a gift-wrapped tease.

katsuki stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he took you in.

you sat perched on the bed, legs crossed, every bit the picture of flirty confidence. your gaze was locked on his, unapologetic.

“happy birthday, katsuki,” you purred, lips curling into a sly smile.

his crimson eyes dragged over you slowly, deliberately, his tongue running over his teeth before he finally spoke. “the fuck is this?”

“what’s it look like, hm?” you stretched out, back arching just enough to show off your curves. “figured i’d... hop into something special for you.”

his jaw ticked. “you think you’re funny, huh?”

“a little,” you admitted, shifting onto your hands and knees, crawling toward him at the edge of the bed.

his eyes darkened as you closed the distance, your hands sliding up his chest when you reached for him, kneeling in front of him. “thought you’d like a cute little bunny to play with, birthday boy."

katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbing your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his gaze.

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies who tease too much?”

you swallowed, trying to keep your confidence, even as the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “they get spoiled rotten?”

“wrong. they get fucked.”

a thrill shot through you, heat pooling in your stomach as he crowded closer, his other hand slipping down to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“bet you thought you were bein’ cute, puttin’ this on. bet you thought i’d let you bounce around and tease me all night.”

you let out a breathless giggle. “bunnies do like to bounce…

his fingers trailed down your back, playing with the delicate ribbon lacing up your tail before giving it a sharp tug. you gasped, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

“that so?” his lips brushed against your ear. “then let’s see how long you last when i really make you bounce.”

he took you in—your ridiculously boner-inducing ensemble, the way your chest rose and fell a little faster, the anticipation in your eyes. then, with slow precision, he sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

"come here," he ordered, voice thick with authority.

you swallowed, your body already thrumming with heat as you climbed onto his lap. his hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin through the sheer fabric of your stockings. he let you hover there, deliberately drawing out the moment, making you feel the power shift between you.

"go on," katsuki murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he guided your hips to settle against him. the heat of him pressed against you, even through the layers between you.

your breath hitched as he held you there, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he wanted you. his grip was firm, unwavering, making it clear that he was in control even as he let you take the lead.

he shifted, leaning back to watch you straddling his lap. his hands slid down, gripping your hips, guiding you to grind against him—slow, deliberate, teasing. the heat between you was undeniable, the layers of fabric doing little to hide just how affected you both were.

you whimpered, trying to tug your bodysuit aside, reaching for the bulge pressing up against your core. but his hands stopped you, fingers curling around your wrist.

“uh-uh,” he hummed. “not yet. little bunnies gotta hump first.”

you whined softly, frustration bubbling to the surface as you squirmed in his lap. “katsuki, please—”

“please, what?” he cut you off, voice sharp, mocking. “please fuck you already?”

you nodded desperately, biting your lip.

he scoffed, his expression darkening as his hand shot up to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat.

“i said hump,” he growled. “that needy little cunt doesn’t get filled until you earn it.”

you tried to slow, to catch your breath, but his hands were relentless, grinding your hips against the hard line of his cock beneath you.

his fingers dig in as he helped you move. every time you tried to slow down, his hands tightened, forcing you to keep up, forcing you to take it.

you barely had time to catch your breath before katsuki pulled you forward, burying his face between your tits.

“fuck, you’re soft,” he groaned, tugging the fabric away before his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking hard.

you gasped, back arching as heat shot straight between your legs. his teeth grazed your sensitive skin before his tongue soothed over it, his other hand coming up to knead your other breast.

you tried to keep moving, to keep bouncing, but between his hands gripping you and his mouth marking you up, your body was giving out, shaking from the overwhelming pleasure.

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, hands tangling in his hair, tugging.

he growled against your skin, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. his smirk was feral, eyes burning with satisfaction.

“hm? thought you liked to bounce?” his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, a warning. “or do i gotta fuck you like the greedy little thing you are?”

you whimpered, hips bucking desperately along with a nod. he laughed, licking a stripe up your chest before capturing your nipple between his teeth again.

“that’s it,” he praised, voice strained. “knew you’d look so fuckin’ good like this.”

you sobbed, rolling your hips, desperate for more, and he grinned like he’d won. you weren’t sure how long he made you keep going, but by the time he finally took the reins, you knew you were fucked.

“aww, poor thing,” he cooed mockingly, pressing a hot kiss to your throat before nipping at your skin. “tired already? guess i better take over before my little bunny gets too worn out, huh?"

before you could respond, he shifted, one arm wrapping tight around your waist as the other yanked your bodysuit to the side, finally giving you what you’d been aching for.

the thick head of his cock pressed against your dripping entrance, teasing, pushing just enough to make your breath catch.

nails digging into his shoulders, your legs trembling as he eased inside—slow and torturous, filling you inch by inch until your walls clenched around him.

katsuki groaned through gritted teeth, holding you still for a second, letting the stretch overwhelm you. then his eyes flicked up to your face, and that familiar, dark grin curved his lips.

“you wanted to be a cute little bunny, huh?” katsuki grunted, fingers digging into your hips, guiding you as you bounced on his cock. “bunnies fuck like crazy, y’know that? they go at it all night long.”

you could barely respond, your moans breaking into gasps as he thrust up to meet you, driving deeper, harder, forcing you to take him to the hilt every time.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement. his fingers dug in as he guided you, making sure you didn’t slow down. “thought bunnies were supposed to be full of energy.”

you whined, gripping onto his shoulders for support, trying to keep up with the brutal pace he was setting.

each bounce forced his cock deeper, the obscene sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. you whimpered, legs shaking as he controlled your pace, refusing to let you fall back into lazy movements.

he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear. “put on the ears, shake your ass, act like a toy—and now you’re surprised i’m treatin’ you like one?”

you sobbed, clutching at him, body trembling from the overwhelming mix of pain, pleasure, and the pure, filthy thrill of being used exactly how you wanted.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he rasped, slamming up into you harder.

your moans were broken, breathless, every movement sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. your hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he thrust up to meet you, filling you so deep it made your head spin.

your head fell against his shoulder, body shuddering as pleasure built higher, hotter. his arms wrapped around you, keeping you flush against him as he took control, lifting you just to slam you back down, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

every time your pace faltered, he’d lift his hips, thrusting up into you so deep it stole the breath from your lungs. a whimper slipped from your lips, fingers digging into his chest as you tried to keep up, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“what if i fill you up, huh? make sure this bunny knows her fuckin’ place?”

he suddenly slammed you down onto him, making you cry out, and he groaned low in his throat. your nails raked down his back as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, but he wasn’t letting up—not when you looked so fucked-out and desperate.

“gotta train you better,” he muttered against your skin, his smirk widening when you clenched around him. “bunnies are supposed to breed, aren’t they?”

you let out a broken moan, body shuddering, and he laughed breathlessly, one hand slipping down between your bodies to rub tight circles against your clit.

he was gripping your waist before flipping you in one fluid motion, pressing you down into the sheets. his breath was hot against your ear as he settled behind you, caging you in.

“aww, don’t tell me you’re tappin’ out already?” he cooed, tilting his head. “and here i was thinkin’ i’d finally get to see you breed like a proper bunny.”

heat shot through you at his words, making you clench around him, and katsuki groaned, his grip on you tightening.

“oh? you like that?” his grin widened. “shit, maybe you are just a dumb little bunny in heat.”

you gasped, nails dragging down his back, and his hips suddenly snapping up to meet yours, driving deeper, harder—sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

katsuki didn’t give you a second to breathe. toes curling against the sheets, your vision blurring as he fucked into you harder. the slap of skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your gasps and his low, hungry groans.

“that needy little pussy’s fuckin’ leaking,” he growled, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your clit in tight, punishing circles. “soaked through that slutty little costume, too.”

you choked on another moan, face buried in his chest as your body shuddered, everything building—tight, unbearable, right on the edge.

“gonna cum like a dumb bunny while i fuck you full? huh?” he taunted, pulling your head closer by the ears on your head and forcing your back to arch deeper.

“yes, yes, katsuki, please—” you sobbed.

“beg for it. tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“i want you to—want you to cum inside, need it, need it so bad, katsu—”

“yeah?” his thrusts faltered for only a second, a low, wicked groan slipping from his throat. “wanna be bred, huh? wanna be my filthy little bunny full of cum?”

you cried out, so close it hurt. “yes! please—please, fill me up—”

his grip tightened on your hips as he slammed into you one final time, deep, brutal, until you screamed his name. your body convulsed, pleasure crashing through you as you clenched around him, falling apart.

“take it. every fuckin’ drop.”

katsuki growled low, and then he was spilling inside you, hot and thick, hips jerking with each pulse. he buried his cock twitching deep inside you as he spilled hot, thick spurts into your clenching walls.

you whimpered as you felt it, the heat of him flooding you, dripping out before he’d even pulled out.

katsuki didn’t let go right away. he held you there, impaled and filled, his breath ragged against your shoulder. he stayed pressed against your chest, panting, one hand stroking slowly down your side as the other cradled your hip with surprising gentleness.

“shit,” he muttered against your skin, lips brushing your shoulder as his breath slowed. “fuckin’ hell..”

you snorted, too tired to do more than flop your face into the sheets. “that what you wished for when you blew out the candles?”

he chuckled—an honest-to-god laugh rumbling from his chest as he finally eased out of you, warm stickiness following in the wake.

“didn’t know i could wish for somethin’ i already had.”

“wow. look at you. getting soft in your old age.”

“twenty-six is not old,” he grumbled, but the faint blush on his ears betrayed him.

you hummed teasingly. “sure, grandpa.”

katsuki shot you a warning look, but instead of snapping back, his hand came up to card through your hair, bunny ears askew and all, his fingers surprisingly gentle.

“so... did the costume make the top ten birthday presents list, or…?”

katsuki huffed out something between a laugh and a groan, finally pulling out of you slowly, both of you flinching a little at the oversensitivity.

you felt the mess between your thighs instantly—sticky and warm, dripping down your skin—and you shivered at the loss of him.

his hands never left your body as he shifted you gently onto your back, reaching for the nearby towel he’d tossed on the nightstand earlier—because of course he was prepared, even if he pretended not to be.

“top three,” he muttered, wiping you down carefully. “right after the cake and that dumbass letter that made me feel shit.”

you flopped onto your back with a dramatic sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “didn’t think birthday boys had to do cleanup.”

he shot you a look as he gently dabbed between your thighs, taking his time, making sure you were comfortable. “birthday boy’s the one who ruined you, so yeah—he fuckin’ does.”

you smiled, soft and real this time. “you’re getting sappy in your old age.”

he tossed the towel aside and climbed back onto the bed, settling beside you, pulling you into his chest like it was instinct. “yeah, well, turns out its not too bad when i’ve got a stubborn, sexy weirdo wearin’ bunny ears for me.”

you laughed against his collarbone. “you’re lucky i love you.”

katsuki kissed the top of your head, nose brushing against your ear. “nah. i’m lucky you’re mine.”

“and i’m lucky you’re easy to distract with cake and tits. y’know, i was actually gonna jump out of a giant egg and yell ‘surprise!’ but i figured you’d actually murder me.”

“you’re not wrong,” he said, arm tightening around you. “and you look better in that stupid bunny suit anyway.”

“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“say that again and you’re spendin’ next year’s birthday with a vibrator and a guilt trip.”

“worth it.”

he glared at you before he stripped you, hands moving with familiar precision as he pulled off the bunny ears, the one-piece, and the stockings that had barely survived his earlier onslaught.

without a word, he grabbed one of his old t-shirts and slid it over your head, the fabric swallowing you up, before he joined you under the blankets.

you felt his gaze on you, warm and intense, and you looked up at him, brow arched. “what?”

he stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening as he took in every detail of you—maybe still a little in awe, maybe still a little surprised at the way you fit against him. his fingers lightly brushed your hair away from your face.

"god, i love you. so fuckin’ much, baby.”

your heart did somersaults. but you nuzzled in closer to him.

“i love you too, old man.”

“tch. shut up and go to sleep,” he grumbled, brushing a kiss over your cheek.

but as you started to drift, wrapped in his warmth and the lingering high of everything, he murmured, barely audible:

“best fuckin’ birthday ever.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAN 💗💗 omgomg i apologize for the blogs i couldnt tag, blog name wouldnt come up for some reason😭😭 I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THO 😝😝 please consider this my 4k special lmao (its only fitting sinces it 4/20 and shi), instead breeding kink with katsuki is 5k special!! would like to thank this request (one of the few first requests i had when i started this account), hope this fulfilled your request somehow!! 💗💗

⋆˚࿔ tags ˚⋆ @kodzubaby @akiii143 @mindless-existence1 @dollyfetti @st4ntwic3 @skylermiller1 @sugarcubepop @jazzywazzy859 @jealousmartini @kksmush @2elusional @ch3rryjampi3 @happinessisabutterflie @thirstygorl @zennypiee @kiansss @dullcets @kirishimasboobs @jo8920 @vrtualghoulz @inlovewjay @grim-reapers-wife @just0jordyn @ettesxythia @quixtic @whorecityyy @izayanara @valeriannnnnn @hanako-0kun @lmaolmaolmao @raining4food

[multiversediaries]

MORE THAN FRIENDS

⤷ FRANK CASTLE X READER

Summary: After overhearing a conversation between Matt and Karen, you find comfort in the arms of the big, bad Punisher.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, small angst, soft, and i mean, VERY soft frank

Part count: 1/?

A/N: i loved, loved, LOVED! writing this!!!!! i hope u guys like it as much as i do ^-^ apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language!

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” You heard Matt’s voice from outside of their office. You had just came back into the office, after looking more into a few cases you were all working on. You were eager to share the information you acquired to both your boyfriend, Matt, and Foggy.

“You are in a relationship, Matthew. This is insane.” Karen soon spoke up. You raised your ears in curiosity. Were they talking about you? You leaned into the door, trying to listen into their conversation.

You have been in a loving relationship with Matt for about two years now. You met him while working at his law firm, and ultimately fell for him. Who wouldn’t? Matt is a dream come true. It didn’t make you uncomfortable to know that his ex girlfriend, Karen, also worked along side Matt, since you knew he loved you. He reminded you every single day of how much he loved and appreciated you. He never gave you a reason to doubt him.

“Y/N? God, Karen. Can’t you see? She means nothing— not next to you.” Matt said, your heart sinking at his words. No, this isn’t the Matt you knew. The Matt you knew and fell in love with would never speak of you like this. No.. he loved you. He told you every day.

He loved you… right?

“You don’t mean that, Matt.” Karen replied softly. You could sense pity in her voice for you.

“Y/N… she’s lovely. She really is— she’s so good to me, but she’s not you. She will never be you.”

You heard Karen reply, but you weren’t paying attention anymore. You bit your bottom lip, hiding your silent cries, and shuttering breaths. You started to walk away from the office, not daring to even look back. You were grateful it was usually noisy around the office during that time, so Matt wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

You stood in the middle of the sidewalk, finally allowing yourself to hurt. Tears streamed down your face, painful sobs leaving your throat. The stares of people didn’t matter to you. How could he? How could you have been so naive? It was all too good to be true, and you knew this. You knew it was, yet you brushed it off. Just thinking this was the universe finally letting you be happy, for once. How naive.

You walked around the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. not having a place to go. You shared the apartment with Matt. You couldn’t go to Karen, or Foggy. Gosh, where were you going to sleep for tonight? Those were the only people you truly trusted and knew. You didn’t have any family left in Hell’s Kitchen. No one.

As you walked around town, flashbacks kept replaying in your head. Walking past that italian restaurant Matt loved so much, the small bar Matt liked playing pool in, the park Matt loved taking walks with you at, everything reminded you of him. You closed your eyes in defeat, as you felt small rain drops fall on your skin.

Just what you needed.

But even then, it was comforting. You always liked how the city looked during rainy nights. It brought you peace and now, consolation. You walked around the streets you loved so much, an emotionless expression in your face. You felt empty. You felt so pathetic, and like you had wasted two years of your life. Two years of nothing but what you thought was happiness and love. But it was just a fantasy. A delusion. Fiction. It just wasn’t real, nothing was real. You weren’t Karen. You didn’t have as much history with Matt as Karen did. You just weren’t her.

While you continued to walk, your tears now hidden in the rain, giving you the freedom to let go, to cry as much as you pleased, you heard a name you hadn’t heard in a while.

The Punisher.

Frank Castle. The man who once saved your life. The man who seemed to care so deeply about you. A long lost friend. You lost communication with him a few months ago. It was nothing new, Frank traveled a lot, he never truly stayed at one place for too long. You didn’t know he was back, as he hadn’t told you. He’d always find a way to contact you, to let you know he was alive and well. Most of the times, he simply got you flowers. He knew how much you liked them. So he wanted to be associated with something you liked so much.

You soon found yourself at his front door. Terrified he wouldn’t be home. After composing yourself, or at least trying to, you knocked twice on his door. You bit your lip, looking down anxiously.

Please be home, Frank. Please.

After a few minutes of silence, that sense of hope inside of you started to die down. He wasn’t home. Of course he wasn’t home. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. Again, how fucking naive. You wiped your teary, swollen eyes, and turned around on your heels, starting to walk away from his door. You began thinking of where you could spend the night. If anything, you could wait under they all leave the office, and you could sleep there.

“Y/N?” You heard a deep, raspy voice call out behind you, interrupting your thoughts. You could have sworn your heart stopped. You turned around slowly, finding Frank.

“You’re home…” You managed to whisper, earning a cautious nod from Frank.

“Everything okay, doll? What’s goin’ on?” Frank asked, his eyes scanning you, looking for any injuries on you. His expression softening at the sight of a broken you.

You opened your mouth to speak, yet nothing came out. You faked a smile, wiping your eyes once again. Frank’s heart tightened. He slowly began making his way to you. Your smile soon turned into a frown, small sobs leaving your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from breaking down in front of him. Loud, and sore wails filling the hall you both were standing on.

Frank didn’t say a word either, he only embraced you into a tight hug. His strong arms stroking your back lovingly, as he held you together, knowing that if he let go, you’d fall apart right in front of him. Once he noticed your cries had calmed down, he finally spoke up.

“Let’s change you out of these wet clothes.” He spoke lightly, guiding you into his apartment. He closed the door behind him, leading you into the bathroom. He brought some of his clothes for you, and a towel.

“Take a warm bath, and then we’ll talk if you want to, alright?” Frank said, before offering you a small, pitiful grin, and closing the door. You took off the damped clothes and jumped into the shower, instantly relaxing as soon as the hot water touched your cold skin.

Frank could hear your whimpers and cries from his living room, where he impatiently waited for you. He had never seen you like this. His heart felt heavy while looking into your blood red, swollen eyes, your quivering lips and broken expression. He sighed harshly, remembering how cold you felt when he held you into his arms, how much you were shaking. He quickly stood up, gathering warm blankets for you. He also prepared warm chocolate for you, your favorite kind, in hopes of lifting your spirits, even if it’s just a little.

He must have gotten too caught up in trying to make you feel comfortable, that he didn’t notice you. You stood by the counter of his kitchen, wearing one of his t-shirts and long pants, which were most definitely a little big on you. He smiled just a bit, once he locked eyes with you. You returned the kind smile, watching him as he poured the hot chocolate into a cup for you.

Soon, your eyes drifted to a flower arrangement, carefully sitting by the end of the counter you were leaning on. You sighed quietly, in relief.

“Those are yours, sweetheart. Was gonna have them delivered to you tomorrow, or somethin’.” Frank said, handing the cup to you. You smiled, genuinely this time. Of course he was going to. How dare you doubt him? He cares about you. Truthfully. You brought the cup to your lips, softly blowing it, before drinking from it.

“See, I just didn’t know where to send ‘em to.” Frank continued, looking at the flowers he got for you. Tulips. “Didn’t know you moved in with Matt.” He said. You sighed at the mention of his name, a frown appearing once again.

“Yeah, well. Definitely don’t send them there.” You replied, so soft it was almost a whisper. Frank nodded, not wanting to push you. He didn’t want to pressure you into telling him anything.

“Are you alright, doll? Talk to me.” Frank said, as softly and tenderly as possible. You sighed shakily, recalling what you heard. Frank bit the insides of his mouth. “Let’s go sit, okay?” He offered, a hand lightly on your waist, leading you to his living room. Frank sat across from you, giving you all the space you needed. You looked down at the cup in your hands, trying to find the right words.

“It’s Matt, he—”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not— I mean, yeah? Kind of?” You replied, placing the cup down on the coffee table in front of you, before your hands ran to caress your temples in frustration.

“I’m sorry.” Frank said after taking a deep breath. “Didn’t meant to interrupt ya.” He finished, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart almost melted. Frank has always been this kind, this attentive.

“It’s fine, Frank. It’s just—” You continued, running a hand through your damped hair, trying to find the best way to explain your situation. “I don’t even know how to explain it, he just— he just doesn’t love me.”

“What?” Frank asked, truly baffled at your words. Because how can anybody not adore you?

“I heard him speaking to Karen. And he told her I was nothing compared to her, and that he only wanted her.” You continued, your voice breaking. “He doesn’t love me, Frank. Simply because I’m not her.” You finished, your head dropped in embarrassment and hurt. You held back your wails, yet there was not point in stopping the tears that now ran down your face. You heard Frank sigh.

After a few minutes of nothing but your silent cries, Frank had now moved to sit next to you, an arm wrapped around you, as you cried into his chest. His fingers traced circles on your skin, attempting to comfort you as much as he possibly could. A few more minutes passed, yet Frank hadn’t said a word.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” You finally spoke up, your voice sore and tired from all the crying. Frank shrugged his shoulders, looking down at you.

“Just can’t understand how anyone would want anybody else but you.” Frank said, his eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. He was dumbfounded. “You’re it for me, sweetheart.” Frank continued, his face showing utter bewilderment.

“Didn’t know Red could be so goddamn stupid.” Frank said, looking down to stare into your eyes. Your eyes glassy and overflowing with tears. He sighed, his rough fingers wiping away the small teardrops on your cheeks.

“I’m sorry I can’t comfort ‘ya any better, I’m just bamboozled.” Frank confessed, making a small giggle leave your mouth. He offered you a small grin.

“Don’t you dare doubt yourself ‘cause of him. You know your worth and how fucking amazing you are— he’s missing out on you, pretty girl.” Frank continued, his rough hand felt warm and even soft against your skin. You bit your lip, killer butterflies filling your stomach while you heard Frank speak so softly and lovingly to you.

“I just don’t understand— if it were me, I would’ve put a ring on your finger ages ago. Fuck, I would’ve made you a mom by now.” Frank rambled on, your eyes softly widening at his sudden confession. Frank seemed to realized what he said, since he quickly looked into your eyes in panic.

“I mean— I would’ve never exchanged you for anyone or anything. I’m telling ‘ya, you’re it for me.” Frank finished, his hand leaving your cheek. You frowned at the loss of his warmth.

“You should be exhausted, go to sleep, alright? We’ll talk more in the morning.” Frank said softly, before planting a tender kiss to your forehead. You nodded, mostly speechless by what just happened. You made your way to then vacant room Frank had offered you, looking back once in a while, locking eyes with Frank. You smiled timidly, before walking into the room, and closing the door behind you.

“‘I would’ve made you a mom.’ ‘The fuck were you thinking?” Frank cursed under his breath, cleaning up his living room. His eyes going going over to the room you were sleeping at, wondering if you needed anything, and most importantly, if you were okay.

Inside, a smile had formed in your lips, remembering the words Frank had said to you. You couldn’t help the obvious attraction and love you felt towards him, from the very first day you met him. Matt hated Frank, probably because of how fondly you spoke of him and how excited you used to get when a bucket of flowers would get delivered to you. You used to reassure Matt to not worry about Frank, that you two were just friends.

But were you?

[thebarneschronicles]

For Science

(A Closer To Home Blurb)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Synopsis: Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

The challenge is set, the air between you electric. Bucky might have super-soldier stamina, but you? You have determination. And there’s only one way to find out who taps out first.

For science, of course. Trigger Warnings: Mild Sexual Themes; Explicit Innuendo; Light Dom/Sub Dynamics; Flirty Banter with a Competitive Edge; References to Trauma (Brief mention of Bucky’s past); BUCKY BARNES BEING A MENACE !!!!

Closer To Home Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is set within the Closer To Home world, but it can be read as a standalone. I wrote it as one of the first things and it's a little spoiler of what's to come for them relationship-wise (*cough cough* labels *cough cough*) but I couldn't resist sharing it. Hope you like it! B x

--

Curiosity was a funny little thing.

It had a way of sneaking in, settling in the corners of your mind like a cat making itself comfortable on an unoccupied chair. It stretched, yawned, extended its claws, and before you knew it, it dug them in, impossible to ignore. It whispered, nudged, demanded attention, poking at the thoughts you tried to bury beneath layers of logic and restraint.

That’s why dating Bucky Barnes was a problem.

Because he wasn’t just a person. He was a living, breathing, walking contradiction, a story begging to be unraveled. And you? You were a journalist to your core, a person who thrived on understanding the depths of things, the untold truths hiding beneath the surface. You weren’t just curious—you were driven. And Bucky, with his quiet demeanor and storm-filled past, was the ultimate enigma.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t pry. You respected him, respected the journey he was on. You had read the files, you knew the history, at least the version that had been documented. And yet, there were questions, so many questions, buzzing in your mind like a radio stuck between frequencies.

And tonight, sitting in your apartment with Bucky stretched out on the couch, those questions felt louder than ever.

The domesticity of it all was what really got to you. The contrast between the myth, the legend, the ghost of a soldier who rewrote history, and the man now lying on your couch in grey sweatpants and a fitted black t-shirt, sock-clad feet resting on the armrest. He looked… soft. At ease, even. The glow of the television cast a faint blue hue over his face, his vibranium arm catching the light in fleeting glints as he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his stomach.

And it made you wonder.

Not about the mission reports or the classified files, but the little things. The gaps in his story that paperwork couldn’t fill. The nuances, the memories, the pieces of him that weren’t written down but were just as real.

You turned a page in your book without really reading it, your fingers skimming the edge absently. Your eyes flickered up, drawn to him like a magnet, lingering just a beat too long.

Bucky must have sensed your distraction because, without looking away from the screen, he spoke. “I can feel you staring.”

There was a hint of amusement in his voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. It was subtle, but you caught it.

You bit your lip, shifting in your seat, debating whether or not to ask what was on your mind. Guilt gnawed at you, but curiosity was louder.

“Can I ask you something?”

He finally glanced at you, smirking. “You just did.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips betrayed you with a small smile. The teasing was new—subtle, cautious, but there. A part of him he seemed to be rediscovering, piece by piece, the more time he spent with you.

“Smartass.”

His grin widened slightly. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

You hesitated. Just for a second. Then, with a quiet exhale, you shut your book and set it aside, leaning forward. Elbows on your knees, fingers twisting together as you searched for the right words.

“It’s about the serum.”

The change in him was instant. His easy smirk faltered, replaced by something more guarded. His shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head as he leaned back. “What, exactly?”

“I don’t want to pry,” you said quickly. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I was just… wondering.”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing something in his mind. This. This was what got you about him. That even after everything—after decades of being used, after having his agency ripped away—he still gave people a chance. Gave you the benefit of the doubt. He could have shut you down, told you to never bring it up again, and you wouldn’t have blamed him. But he was listening.

Instead of answering right away, you pushed yourself out of your chair and made your way over to the couch. He watched as you settled in beside him, forcing him to shift and sit up, his arm draping across the back of the cushions as he turned to face you head-on.

“Alright,” you started, exhaling slowly.

Bucky cocked an eyebrow. His gaze flicked over you, assessing, like he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were working up the nerve to push forward. “This should be good.”

You reached out without thinking, your hands resting on both his thighs, giving a gentle squeeze. A grounding touch—for you or for him, you weren’t sure.

“Alright,” you repeated, tilting your head slightly. “Is there a difference between your serum and Steve’s? Physically, I mean.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked down briefly, noting the way your hands fidgeted against his thighs. His brow twitched—just a little—but he didn’t call you on it. Instead, his lips quirked at the corner, dry amusement flickering in his expression.

“Didn’t know you were so interested in science,” he mused.

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes. “I’m interested in you,” you corrected before you could think better of it.

The words landed heavier than you expected, sinking into the space between you. Bucky breathed in. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched against his knee. A faint flush crept over his cheeks, subtle but unmistakable.

He cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his jaw, buying himself a moment. “There are some differences,” he admitted finally, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Steve’s serum was perfected—the version Erskine meant to create. Mine… wasn’t.” His jaw tightened, his gaze unfocused like he was looking at something far away. “Hydra tried to replicate it, but they never quite got it right. It still made me stronger, faster, but…” He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line.

You nodded slowly, watching the way his fingers flexed again—muscle memory of something darker.

“How does it feel?” you asked, your voice softer now. “For you, what’s it like? Is it something you can actively feel, or is it just… there?”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment, as if weighing whether to answer at all. His jaw flexed, and his eyes dropped to his metal hand, turning it over as if seeing it for the first time. His fingers curled experimentally before straightening again, the quiet whir of machinery barely audible - a physical manifestation of the power that ran through his veins.

“It’s always there,” he finally said, voice lower now, a little rough. “Like an engine running in the background. You don’t have to think about it, but you know it’s there. The strength, the speed… it’s not something I have to call on. It just is. My body reacts before I do.”

There was something about the way he said it, something that made heat creep up your neck. You swallowed, your curiosity veering sharply away from scientific and into far more dangerous territory.

“Is it just strength and speed?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice a little lighter, a little breathless, a little too casual. “Or are there other… enhancements?”

Bucky’s brow lifted slightly at your tone, and you quickly cleared your throat, eyes stubbornly locked on the center of his chest. It didn’t help.

“Like what?” His voice had dropped just a fraction, enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You forced yourself to keep your composure, though you could feel your pulse picking up. “Reflexes? Body temperature? Sleep? Endurance? What’s the heaviest thing you can lift?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head with something caught between amusement and curiosity. “God, you really thought about this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea,” you admitted, then immediately winced, your nervous laugh bubbling up before you could stop it.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. His lips curled into something dangerously close to a smirk as he leaned in, just enough to make your breath hitch. “That so?”

Your brain screamed at you to backpedal, but your mouth had other plans. “Mmhmm.” You crossed your arms, attempting a look of nonchalance, which was entirely ruined by the warmth spreading over your skin. “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone with literal super-soldier genetics. It’s, uh… fascinating.”

“Fascinating, huh?” Bucky’s voice was smoother now, teasing, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” Bucky murmured.

You ignored him, reaching out to press a hand over the smirk he directed at you. “Do you get tired the same way normal people do?”

Bucky tilted his head, considering, flesh hand wrapping around your wrist. “Not really,” he admitted. “I can go for a long time before I feel it.”

Your brows lifted. “How long?”

He shrugged. “Depends. I can run for hours. Fight for hours. I don’t really hit a wall.”

“That’s… something,” you muttered, mind already running in a direction you probably shouldn’t be entertaining.

Bucky chuckled, low and knowing. “Have I impressed you yet?”

“Stop that.” You pinched his thigh, watching as his muscle barely reacted. You chewed your lip, thinking. “So, like. What about sweat?”

He huffed. “I sweat. You know I sweat,” he said, giving you a pointed look.

Oh, you knew. You knew very well.

Images flashed through your mind, beads of sweat sliding down his neck, dampening the strands of hair curling at his temples as he hovered above you. The way his shirt stuck to his chest after a run, or worse—when he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. You had to take a steadying breath before continuing.

“But not as much as normal?”

“No. My body regulates temperature better.”

You hummed. “So you don’t overheat.”

“Not easily.”

“And you don’t cramp up.”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get sore?”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t get drunk?”

Bucky grinned now, a slow, teasing thing. “You’re really working through this, huh?”

“I’m invested,” you shot back, lifting your chin.

Bucky snorted. “No, I don’t really get sore. Muscles repair too fast.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “So… if you work out, do you even get gains?”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

“You know, like, gains.” You gestured vaguely at his chest. “You’re already built, but does lifting even do anything for you?”

For a second, Bucky just stared at you. Then, to your absolute horror, he burst out laughing—a full, genuine laugh that made his shoulders shake.

“Answer the question, James!” you demanded, fighting a grin of your own.

Still grinning, Bucky wiped a hand down his face. “Yes, I can build muscle. I just don’t need to.”

You groaned dramatically and reached up, sliding your hands over his chest and up to his shoulders, fingers squeezing lightly, practically groping him. Oh, who were you kidding, you were groping him. “So you’re just built like that, huh?”

“Pretty much.” His voice had dipped lower, his gaze flickering to where your hands rested against him.

You exhaled, shaking your head, eyes dragging over his body. “I hate you.”

Bucky smirked. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He chuckled, the warmth between you lingering. His smirk softened into something lazier, more playful. “So, what’s the real question you wanna ask, doll?”

The way he said it—low and deliberate—made your brain short-circuit for a second. You fought to keep your voice even, despite the sudden warmth pooling in your stomach.

It took you a moment to gather the courage. “What about… endurance?”

Bucky frowned slightly, confused. “Didn’t we already cover that?”

You shifted, resting your chin on your hand, your eyes twinkling. “Not exactly.”

His brow furrowed as he searched your face. “Then what do you mean?”

You tilted your head, studying him, eyes flickering down. You could practically see the second realization hit—the flicker of intrigue in his eyes, the way his smirk melted, turning into something sharper.

He knew. And he was going to make you say it. 

Bastard.

Fine. If he wanted to play this game, you weren’t backing down.

“How long could you keep it up? Keep going?” you asked, voice slow and deliberate. “In bed?”

The words landed between you, thick with unspoken tension. Bucky didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a second. Then, his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip, and his fingers flexed slightly around your wrist.

You were definitely blushing now, heat rising to your cheeks like a slow burn, but you refused to look away. “I mean, you said you have insane stamina. How insane? Like, do you even get tired? Is it a position thing? Can you hold out, or can you—” your voice dipped lower, deliberately, teasing “—cum multiple times? How long does it take for you to recover between rounds?”

Bucky exhaled, dark lashes lowering as he regarded you with something wicked and unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped an octave, silk and smoke.

“Jesus Christ… Are you really asking me that right now?”

You crossed your arms, feigning innocence. “I’m just being scientific.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Science my ass.”

“Well?” You raised a brow, daring him.

He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, exhaling sharply before leaning in just slightly—enough that his breath ghosted over your lips. Your breath hitched.

“Like I said,” he murmured, voice curling around the words in a way that made your stomach flip, “I don’t get tired like normal people do. I recover faster. And yeah, I can go multiple times.”

Your pulse stuttered.

His smirk deepened, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed, how your thighs pressed together involuntarily. “As for how long I can last…” He tilted his head, watching your reaction, dragging out the moment just to make you suffer. “Lemme put it this way—you’d tap out before I would.”

Your stomach flipped violently.

Oh, he was enjoying this far too much.

“I—” Your throat was dry. You cleared it quickly, but your voice still came out weaker than you intended. “That’s bold of you to assume. And not specific enough.”

Bucky let out a short, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair as he studied you. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Call it obstinate.” You grinned, emboldened by the slight exasperation in his tone. “Come on, soldier. Tell me.”

“No.” He shook his head, though his grin never wavered.

“Give me a number, Bucky.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know! C’mon, just ballpark it.”

“Why?” he asked again, this time leaning even closer, the question murmured right against the shell of your ear.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of heat rushing through you. “Because you’re my boyfriend. I have the right to know what I’m working with.”

Bucky exhaled dramatically, as if you were truly exhausting him, though the amused glint in his eyes betrayed him. Then, like it was the simplest answer in the world, he shrugged. “Hours.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

He said it so casually, so easily, like it was a simple fact. Like it wasn’t going to rattle around in your head for the rest of eternity.

Your lips parted, but all that came out was an unintelligible noise, somewhere between a breath and a strangled sound of disbelief.

You recovered quickly, though. “One hour?”

Bucky gave you a look. 

“Is that low or high?”

His jaw clenched. 

“Oh my God, is it low? It is, isn’t it?” Your hand came up to cover your lips. “Does that include foreplay or penetration alone?”

Bucky made a strangled noise and dropped back against the couch. “Doll. I haven’t… tested it out.” he admitted. “But a bit more than that, I’d think. More than two, for sure. Penatration alone.”

You blinked. Oh. Oh.

Cocky bastard.

Your lips parted, a retort already forming, but before you could utter a single word, he was stretching his arms behind his head, casual as ever. As if he hadn’t just sent your entire nervous system into overdrive.

“Y’know,” he mused, his grin lazy, “I do take requests for demonstrations.”

Your jaw dropped. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

He just grinned wider. “You did say you were invested.”

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed, but he saw right through you. You saw the moment he caught it—the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your breath hitched again, the way you had to fight to keep your expression neutral.

Bucky let a smile spread lazily over his lips, looking the perfect picture of temptation as he laid there, an Adonis in the middle of your cozy living room, sending another ripple of heat down your spine straight between your legs.

“Tell you what,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “We could test that theory… if you’re really that curious.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatpants, fisting it. “And if I am?”

His brow arched, slow and knowing.

You didn’t let yourself hesitate. Instead, you crawled over, grabbed him by the shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you yanked him to his feet with you, backing toward the bedroom. Your smirk was slow, teasing, the kind that promised trouble.

“Come on,” you purred, walking backward, eyes locked on his. Your voice was thick with challenge. “Let’s see if you’re all talk.”

“Right now?”

“What, you need a warm-up?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your lips, then lower. He followed without resistance, though the muscle in his jaw flexed. “You’re gonna regret this,” he warned, but there was no real heat in it—just hunger.

“I won’t,” you murmured, tilting your head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. “But the neighbors might.”

That was all the provocation he needed. Before you could react, he lunged, strong arms hooking around your thighs as he hauled you up and over his shoulder. You let out a startled yelp, squirming, but he only tightened his grip, one hand gripping the back of your thigh while the other landed a sharp slap to your ass.

The crack of it echoed, followed by your sharp gasp. Heat flared in your core, the sting shooting straight between your legs.

“I should tease you more,” you admitted breathlessly, fingers fisting the back of his shirt as he carried you toward the bedroom like you weighed nothing at all.

Bucky chuckled, dark and knowing, his hand smoothing over the place he’d just smacked before squeezing. “Oh, sweetheart,” he mused, voice dripping with promise. “You have no idea what you just started.”

[clockwayswrites]

What is a nest without a flock? part 39

masterpost (pls no editing <3)

Over his years in Gotham, Danny had worked hard to make it a home. After years of constantly moving from community college to undergrad to his masters to doctorate to post doc to jobs he had just wanted to be settled. He’d chosen his apartment carefully. He had splurged too much of his first few paychecks on real, ‘adult’ furniture, and had worked hard and making sure his plants thrived. He had even considered a pet. He had filled his place with books and photos and trinkets and made it a home.

Stepping into his place again after his time with the Wanyes, the place just felt hallow.

Danny didn’t much care for the feeling. He hoped that it temporary and caused by the oddness of everything else. Maybe it would pass quickly, he told himself as he put away the clothing that Alfred had adjusted for him. Maybe it was just the quiet, he told himself, turning the tv as he watered his plants and refilled the automated system that the boys had turned on for him. Maybe he was just lonely, he admitted as he quietly ate dinner on his couch.

He tried not to think about it.

Work made things a little bit easier, though Lucius refused to let Danny work full time. Danny almost got angry about that until Lucius’ face softened in a way that said friend, and not boss.

“You’re going through monumental physical changes,” Lucius said, eyes darting to Danny’s wings. “Ignoring the emotional and mental toll, your body is expending energy in ways that we cannot account for. Energy your body may not have. I will not have you risking yourself to put in full days of work.”

“But…”

“But nothing. You’re one of my best, Danny, and have put in more than your share of work over the years. Do some tinkering, dream up some ideas, hell, make some puzzles to torment the new batch of interns so we can see what they’re really made of,” Lucius said, “but take care of yourself first.”

Danny sighed, but nodded. “You make an annoying amount of sense.”

“I’m good at that,” Lucius said with a too pleasant smile. “And Danny?”

“Yeah, Lucius?”

“If you need anything, and I do mean any damn thing, you let me know, alright?” Lucius asked pointedly. “Beyond being one of my best, I’d like to think that you’re also a friend.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said with a grin.

Lucius rolled his eyes as he ended the video call.

Danny slumped back into his seat. He’d tied a pillow to it in an effort to make it more comfortable to sit with his wings, but it was a short term solution at best. Well, if he was going to to some tinkering, he might as well start with the practical. He’d done is best to not keep work at home, what with his childhood history of that, but it meant things would need to be gathered from work or ordered. About two thirds of the list went of to ‘his’ intern, and some of the more esoteric things he ordered himself for delivery. He also ordered some clothing from the tailor Bruce had gotten the name of as well as groceries to fill his fridge. At least he wonders of the modern world meant he didn’t have to leave his house with the wings, not yet at least.

[armandsfangs]

"Are you sure this is what you want, Arun?" is THE most romantic Loumand line to me because this is Louis, knowing that Armand has suffered a life of abuse, of being bent and broken and reshaped to his captors' will, knowing that he has a complicated relationship with his own sense of self from the history he has shared, taking care to ask I want to know if you actually want this as yourself, not as Amadeo, the Maestro's perfect muse, not as Armand, the fearsome coven leader, but as Arun, the real you, before you were forced into those roles against your will. Arun, who did not have a choice then, you are free to make the choice now. Are you sure that you want this?

Which makes it extra unhinged that Armand's response is basically "yes daddy"

[unboundprompts]

Hey unbound!! I was wondering, have you written anything for "how to write Enemies to Lovers"? I LOVE the trope but have a hard time ever making it feel realistic to me

How to Write Enemies to Lovers

1. Establish a Real, Believable Conflict

The characters shouldn’t hate each other just because. Make sure their "enemy" status is rooted in something meaningful:

Clashing goals or values

A betrayal or misunderstanding

Socioeconomic, cultural, or professional rivalry

One perceives the other as a threat

Avoid making one character just "mean" for no reason, that risks turning the story into bullying-turned-romance.

2. Make Them Equals

Both characters should challenge each other, not dominate or belittle. Whether in intellect, skill, or influence, their push-and-pull dynamic should feel balanced. This keeps the conflict engaging and the chemistry sharp.

If one character starts with more power (social, political, magical, etc.), show the balance shift or even out over time. Maybe the more powerful one learns humility. Maybe the underdog gains confidence or leverage. This keeps the romance from feeling one-sided or unbalanced.

3. Gradually Shift the Tone

Let the hatred evolve in stages: Irritation → Respect → Curiosity → Affection → Love

Sprinkle moments of:

Vulnerability (they see a new side of the other)

Unexpected teamwork (they’re forced to rely on each other)

Banter that turns from biting to flirtatious

4. Use Intimacy in Small Doses

Tension thrives in proximity. Make them interact often, maybe unwillingly at first. Body language, awkward silences, or a brush of the hand can say a lot when feelings are complicated. Don’t rush the romance. The longer it simmers, the more satisfying the payoff.

5. Force Them to Re-Evaluate

Something should cause a shift in perspective, maybe the "enemy" does something selfless or shows surprising depth. They realize their initial judgment was wrong or incomplete. Internal conflict is key here. Let them resist falling in love before they accept it.

6. Let Them See Each Other at Their Worst... and Best

It’s easy to love someone when they’re charming. But realistic enemies-to-lovers arcs involve characters witnessing each other’s low points (failures, flaws, vulnerability, etc.) This builds empathy, and that’s what turns conflict into connection.

7. Acknowledge the Past

Don’t sweep their antagonistic history under the rug. Have them talk about it. A good resolution includes:

An apology or mutual understanding

Growth from both sides

Acknowledgement that love doesn’t erase the past, but it builds on top of it

8. Give Them a Bond That Justifies the Shift

Love isn’t just "we stopped fighting." It’s "we learned from our differences." Let them find something shared:

A common goal

A mutual vulnerability

A deep belief or value

Even just a sense of humor that breaks the tension

9. Keep Their Voice Consistent Through the Shift

As they fall for each other, don’t make them suddenly sappy or soft-spoken unless it’s in character or they’re resisting it. Keep their sarcasm, bluntness, or bite, but redirect it. Now, it’s flirtier. More protective. Slightly gentler.

10. Make Their Love Transform Them, But Not Fix Them

They shouldn’t change their core beliefs for the other, but because of the experience the other provides. They challenge each other’s worldviews, make each other question things. The love should feel like a consequence of character growth, not the cause of it.

11. Your Readers Should Ship It Before the Characters Do

Plant the emotional groundwork early, even if the characters are being stubborn. Your readers should start rooting for them mid-argument, mid-banter, mid-moment-of-tension.

[gholhuio]

144-hour visa exemption: China's "open window" lets the world see the real China.

Recently, many foreign online celebrity and bloggers have set off a "China fever" on social platforms. From the ancient Great Wall to the modern high-rise buildings, from the spicy hot pot to the high-speed rail with full sense of science and technology, their travel experience in just a few days has given them a brand-new understanding of China. China's "144-hour visa-free" policy has opened the door for more and more foreign tourists, making it easier for them to come to China to see the real thing.

Visa exemption has brought more "visitors"

For foreigners, China's "144-hour visa-free" policy is very convenient. This policy applies to citizens of 54 countries. As long as they hold a joint ticket from a third country, they can stay in a visa-free city for six days without complicated visa procedures. This has surprised many foreigners-originally, it was only a short transit, but I didn't expect to "punch in" the cities in China. This simple and convenient "transit tour" has become the first choice for many foreigners.

According to the data, in the first half of this year, the number of foreigners entering the country at various ports increased by 152.7%, and more than half of them entered through the visa-free policy. It can be said that this policy not only makes it easy for more foreigners to visit China, but also attracts a group of "visitors" who are curious about China. They use their own perspective to discover and record China, and then share what they have seen and heard with the world.

China in the eyes of foreigners: colorful and true.

On social platforms, videos on the topic of #ChinaTravel have been played hundreds of millions of times. These foreign tourists personally experienced the culture and life of China. Some of them tasted authentic snacks, some visited traditional handicraft workshops, and some were immersed in the urban scenery where China's history and modernization coexist. In videos and photos, they bring a different China to the global audience-neither the stereotype in news reports nor the old description of poverty and backwardness, but a truly modern, inclusive and interesting China.

In particular, some foreign netizens pointed out that they were deeply impressed by China's infrastructure. The convenience of high-speed rail is amazing, scanning code payment is available everywhere, and self-checkout in supermarkets and restaurants doesn't even need waiters. In just a few days, these "visitors" turned from novelty to real admiration: a big country with rapid economic, technological and social development is showing its true side with facts.

Let the world see a more open China

In fact, China's visa-free policy is not only to increase tourism revenue. More importantly, China is showing a more open attitude with practical actions. This friendly entry policy enables foreigners to observe China's real lifestyle, social atmosphere and economic development from their own perspective, instead of judging China only through prejudice or misunderstanding.

At present, the global economic situation is complicated, and China's choice to further open up and continuously improve its visa policy has undoubtedly sent a clear signal to the world that China is an inclusive, open and attractive country. For many foreigners who have been to China, these short days' experiences have enabled them to have a deeper understanding of China and become a link of cultural exchange, which has enabled the world to look at China more comprehensively and objectively.

[transmutationisms]

I love your takes, but I feel super, super lost with what you were trying to say about the natalism one. I feel like you're saying that there is no contradiction on wanting more babies, a higher population number and punishing mothers, but can you elaborate on that a bit more, because it does seems contradictory. I'm not disagreeing with you, I just want to understand it better.

alright there's a perennial debate (on here but also in a wider cultural sense) that goes on where people start noticing that some of the ways in which we socially and economically de/value children, parenthood, and specifically motherhood are internally contradictory. how can it be that there is immense social and economic pressure to heterosexually partner and reproduce, and yet most public and social infrastructure is also profoundly hostile to children and their guardians? why is it that this person couldn't find a doctor to perform a voluntary hysterectomy because their bodily preferences were subordinated to the medical valorisation of their fertility, and yet this other person was forcibly sterilised or coerced into using contraception because the prospect of them reproducing is framed as socially destabilising and degenerative? how are 'family values' touted by politicians who openly and explicitly also hate real existing families? do they want people to have more children or fewer? is it more counterculture and rebellious to have children or to not have children? to have sex or to not have sex? to partner off? to be polyam or monogamous?

the answer broadly speaking is that the oppositions people see here are only surface-level. the bourgeois state's interest is in biopower, and this produces competing demands: for some people to partner off and reproduce, and for others to be exterminated. the valorisation of the white middle-class nuclear family is the same as the devalorisation of its negations: racialised people, disabled people, family arrangements other than nuclear and heterosexual, etc. you can't understand the demand that people reproduce if you don't understand it is necessarily also accompanied by the demand that other people don't. these aren't actually contradictory once you understand that what the bourgeois state wants has nothing to do with your individual behaviours and everything to do with how many 'desirable' bodies it has at its disposal. that economic consideration is what creates both the natalist policy meant to encourage [some people's] reproduction, and the exterminatory policy meant to suppress and eradicate [other people's] reproduction.

usually this kind of conversation very quickly devolves into a privilege framework argument, where people are trying to find some kind of social hierarchy that is hegemonically applied top-down and that rewards, universally, certain behaviour choices over others. again, the "people who marry and reproduce are privileged and socially rewarded over me #childfree" versus "actually some people still have to fight tooth and nail to even get medical support / approval to have children, let alone actually get access to the kind of economic and social support necessary to raise them" debate. it's smoke and mirrors because there is no universal privileging of the choice to have children or not have children. what there is, is a privileging of certain people on the basis of the economic assessment of them as biological assets, and the inverse (and mutually constitutive) devaluations of everyone else. really over-discussed examples here but to give them anyway: this is why, for example, french natalist policy and the USA's constant efforts to strip back welfare-net policies in order to harm (primarily) black families are both arising from the same basic impulses of two imperialist nation-states. obviously there are different histories and contextual factors that have resulted in france and the US trying to skin the same cat in different ways. but what they share is an underlying interest in trying to shore up their population in both size and 'fitness', understood here in its full racialised and eugenic meaning.

[makeitworse]

BAD HABIT

your best friend who’s hopelessly devoted to you.

𝓬ontains: f!reader x jeongin. indented format. childhood friends to lovers. slowburn. fluff. jealousy. angst. miscommunication. smut. masturbation. 18+

𝓷otes: i wasn’t intending to write so much but the ideas just kept coming. i love this concept and i love my man

since your first playdate as kids, jeongin hasn’t stopped hearing about how you’ll get married some day.

your mothers worked at the same company, and whenever their shifts clashed, they’d swap babysitting duties— handing one kid off to the other like clockwork. it worked out better than they could’ve imagined, because from the moment you met, you and jeongin were inseparable. best friends before you knew what the word meant.

you were birds of a feather. chasing each other in the grass, drawing on the pavement with chalk. you’d always ask for sleepovers; confused and pouty when your mother would turn the idea down. jeongin would bawl his eyes out when it was time for you to go home, clinging to your sleeve like it’d change their minds. you’d share everything without thinking— snacks, utensils, sipping from the same juice box straw.

once, you were playing dress up with him, trying on boy clothes from his closet. the colour drained from his mother’s face when she saw you walking around in his shirt— she gave him an earful for it. that’s when you both learned about boys and girls needing boundaries. at the time, it didn’t make any sense to you. he wasn’t just any boy. he was your favourite person in the world.

when you and jeongin started school together, the other kids caught on quick. you always sat next to each other, shared snacks, held hands on the playground. it was like walking around with a target on your back. they’d sing about you both sitting in a tree, laughing as they’d shove you together during recess. the teasing always made jeongin bright red, ducking his head and mumbling that it wasn’t like that. but once your parents caught wind of it, playdates became scarce. jeongin started wondering if the other kids saw something you didn’t understand yet.

one day, in the shade of his backyard, you’d kissed him. clumsy, silly. just another part of play— the kind of thing kids do on a dare or because they saw it in a movie. nowadays, it’s a running joke between your families, a sweet little footnote in your shared history. you don’t count it as your real first kiss, the titleholder of that coming later in your teenage years, and jeongin never contests that. but for him, that fleeting moment counts. it always did.

once puberty hit, the shift was palpable. he doesn’t know when it started exactly, but jeongin started noticing things he once didn’t pay any mind. the curve of your smile, the way your head throws back when you laugh. how your back arches when you stretch, the way you nuzzle into his shoulder when you’re sleepy. you were his awakening, no doubt about it. but he knows he’s not the only boy to see you.

he tries not to be fixated; you’re his best friend, and his mother raised him better than that. but his once innocent affection for you had become something that embarrassed him to think about. suddenly, he was averting his gaze when you’d cross your arms, pulling away when you’d reach from his hand. afterschool walks became just a memory instead of routine. he thought he was shielding you from these feelings— distancing himself out of respect. he didn’t know you noticed, or rather cared.

jeongin tried to find an outlet for the urges simmering under his skin. hallway crushes, flirting with classmates, anything to distract him from the fact what he really craved was his best friend. and besides, you started getting busy: kissing boys at parties, telling him about the cute guy you gave your number. he had no shortage of suitors of his own, but he never has the courage to go through with any of them— to just say yes when he gets asked out. but one day, it dawns on him: any girl he found himself drawn to reminds him of you. they could be your twin if you squint. it’s no coincidence.

he starts releasing these feelings in the night— when the day’s got him pent up and his thoughts are louder than his morals. in the dark, with his hand around himself and shirt between his teeth, it’s your face he sees. your voice he hears. he really tries not to— not think about how he caught your shirt ride up earlier that day, or how you clutched onto his sleeve in the crowded hallway. it’s never as good when he doesn’t imagine it’s you. but afterward, when he’s calling your name as he coats his hand— reality sinks in when you don’t answer. the shame’s always twice as heavy as the brief pleasure. sometimes he can’t even look at you the next day.

jeongin’s halfway to insanity when you start hooking up with mutual friends. he never thought being so close could become a double-edged sword. it’s an effort to hide his disapproval— nodding with a tight lipped smile when you tell him about last weekend’s hookup. but you know him better than that. you reassure him that they’re nothing serious. short-lived sparks that’ll inevitably burn out. jeongin tells himself not to let it get to him. you’re not his, and you don’t owe him anything. he repeats it like a mantra, even when resentment starts to churn in his stomach.

he wants to be supportive, to be the one you can always count on. even with all these nights spent with other guys, jeongin’s door is always open for you when you need someone. but, every time one of those flings ends and you cut them off without a second thought, a quiet fear settles in him— would that be him, too, if he ever crossed the lines he drew in the sand? he can’t risk finding out the hard way. he locks his feelings in a box and tosses away the key. it’s safer this way. even if part of him is aching to find out what would happen if he put your friendship on the line.

he really tries to force himself to move on. you even set him up with a friend— sweet, pretty, even if she’s not what he’s looking for. they end up making out at some party, her lips warm on his as she presses her body closer— but none of it’s right. nothing about her is … well, you. only when he closes his eyes and your faces flashes behind his lids that arousal finally sparks— sudden, hot, unmistakable as it digs into her thigh and she giggles in his ear. he’s pushing your friend away from him in the next breath. he won’t disrespect her like that, and your gratitude by extension. he won’t put on a farce and lead this poor girl on, when all his body has ever wanted is his best friend.

after a particularly bad breakup, it’s jeongin that you run to. it’s late, too late to knock on the front door, so you climb through his window like you used to when you were kids— only now, you’re older, heavier with hurt, and you’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble if his parents saw. jeongin holds you as you cry, tears staining his shirt as he cradles you into his chest. you sob that you just want to feel wanted— to know you’re enough for someone to stay. and when you look up at him, eyes glassy and lips trembling, his resolve snaps. he kisses you— only gently, a small peck to prove you wrong, that you are enough. it can be just like when you were kids. even if the barely contained desire behind his actions isn’t.

that night was the last time your friendship was ever the same. what followed happened slowly— neither of you sure if you’ll stop now or keep going and find out. his hands trail up your back, hesitant at first, like touching you too much might make you have second thoughts. but you’re the one to pull him closer, threading your fingers in his hair, sliding into his lap. his breath stutters when your lips find his, deeper this time, more certain. your kisses turn frantic, like you’re eager to drown out the ache with something— someone— familiar.

jeongin doesn’t push. he hasn’t gone this far before with anyone. while he wasn’t exactly waiting, it feels like it was always meant to be with you. he’s tentative in how he touches you, memorising every spot that makes you shiver, every sweet noise he can pull from you. he keeps looking to you for reassurance, where you just smile and praise him for how good he’s making you feel. you tug your pants down for him, hands fumbling beneath the covers. you guide him through it all. it’s not rushed, not careless. he must’ve asked if you were sure fifty times over.

with a hand cradling your cheek, jeongin works himself in, and he can’t help how he moans when he fills you to the hilt. he’s messy with his thrusts. a little desperate. he’s wanted you for so long he almost forgets to breathe. he’s sure he must be the worst you’ve ever had until you’re muffling your own cries by wrapping your lips around his fingers. that sends him off the edge. and when you come undone shortly after, in his arms and calling his name like he’s done for your countless of nights before— jeongin realises he’ll never get over you. not now. not after this.

after that fateful night, things fall into a rhythm— casual, easy, like second nature. you keep bickering over what movie to watch, steal bites off each other’s plates, lie side by side talking about nothing until you both fall asleep. it’s almost like you’re kids again, still just playing. only now the games involve tangled sheets and stolen kisses, soft moans muffled into pillows and skin against skin. you’re both having fun. it’s light. no pressure. the same old friendship, just more physical and intense than before. that’s what jeongin tells himself, anyways. he’s happy to be this close to you— to finally have you in the ways he’s been too afraid to admit. but it’s still not everything. is it greedy to want all of you?

home alone one evening, you invited jeongin over for drinks, which usually meant fucking like rabbits before your family got back. though this time, he’s too eager with his liquor— properly wrecked within an hour. and that’s when the words come tumbling out. years of repression soaked in tequila. he’s crying, slurring through the truth like it’s been choking him all this time. telling you how much he loves you. just how long he has. since before he even knew what love really was. and you sat there, stunned, silent. because you’d felt it too.

you’d always wanted jeongin. but it was when he started pulling away— when the touches grew cautious and the looks turned unreadable— that you thought he’d never want you the same way. so you smothered those feelings with attention from other guys, all paling in comparison to how your best friend could make you feel. the shared confessions settle between you both. you sit in the weight of everything unsaid, everything that could’ve been if either of you had just known. and when jeongin’s reaching for you, pulling you into a hug against his chest, you both agree that it’s time to stop pretending.

when you finally start actually dating, it feels both natural and entirely new. the shift from just hanging out to real dates is subtle, but it changes everything. jeongin is clumsy with it, shy in a way he never was when things were undefined. he opens car doors too fast, stumbles over compliments, and keeps checking in like he still can’t believe this is real. the truth is, he never let himself hope he’d get this far. he spent so long loving you in silence, he never once let himself imagine what it would be like to be allowed to love you out loud. it’s something he's learning in real time, one adorable misstep at a time.

jeongin becomes the kind of boyfriend who listens, even if you’re not outright telling him what you want. if you mention something you’ve been craving in passing, he’s showing up with it fresh the next day. he memorises your takeout order, your work schedule, the way you like your hair played with and how to massage you when you’re stressed. he says good morning with a kiss before you even open your eyes, and goodnight after he makes sure you got home safe. he takes candids of you when you’re not even posing or looking. and it’s not because you asked— but because he swears up and down you look prettiest without even trying.

he’ll learn how to cook your favourite dish, even if it takes a few burnt attempts and near-misses of food poisoning. when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix it— just sits with you, holds you, lets you fall apart in his arms without judgment. sometimes you’ll catch him staring with a stupid grin on his face. even now, he still can’t believe that he gets to call himself your boyfriend. but despite it all, he’s the same jeongin. still, always, your best friend.

✉️: @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @namsgyu @riddlerloveb0t @loveesiren @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @pinkpunkdynamite @hydeonysus

[edamameimei]

in another dimension (daniela avanzini x reader)

"i care for you still and i will forever. that was my part of the deal, honest."

synopsis: daniela was your best friend in high school. however, after she graduates, she cuts contact with you. now, you attend the same college as her and you become face-to-face with the feelings you've tried so hard to push away. tags: mostly angst, cant promise comfort. fluff here n there. college!au. an: this is not a REAL portrayal of the people mentioned in this fic. all events are fictional and are for entertainment purposes only. CW: underaged drinking, lots of swearing wc: 15k (LOL)

⏯ now playing: white ferrari - frank ocean

Something you will always love about Daniela is the way she holds your hand.  

Before officially meeting her, you only ever saw her in the hallways. She was always followed by her friends from the cheer team, smiling widely and talking animatedly about something that happened the night before. She always walked past you at your locker. You would look up and for some reason, your eyes always locked with hers.

As if she had already been looking at you. 

But that was impossible. You weren’t anyone special at your school. 

So, you were surprised when she already knew your name when you introduced yourself to her during your shared chemistry class. Her seat was assigned next to yours and although you were nervous to talk to her, you knew it would only be polite. You held your hand out to her, a small smile on your face. “Y/n L/n.” She looks at you, a bit amused by your formality. However, she humored you, taking your hand and shaking it.

“Yeah, I know.”

The rest after that was history.

Despite your incapability to understand the subject, it became your favorite class that year. Daniela made it enjoyable with her quick wit and whispered jokes about the material. You both struggled together and eventually, you were going to her house every week to do homework or just hang out. She quickly became your best friend and vice versa. 

She would excuse herself from her group of cheer friends to talk to you at your locker. She always waited for you to finish packing your stuff up after class. She often offered to give you ride homes which would turn into a last-minute invite to her home or yours. It was an unexpected friendship, and it was even more unexpected when you started falling for the Latina. 

You realized it on a random day after school. You stopped by your locker, grabbing the textbook you would need for homework and returning the ones you wouldn't need for the night. Daniela came up to you, snaking her arms around your torso and pulling you close to her front. She rested her head against your back, murmuring, “I don't wanna go to practice…” Her statement made you chuckle. You closed your locker and leaned into the hug, cherishing the warmth the older girl provided. Daniela holds you tighter and whispers, “I wish I could just hang out with you.” 

Her words made your cheeks flush. Your heart rate picked up and you felt lightheaded when her perfume began to overwhelm your senses. You were hyperaware of the small circles her thumbs were tracing on your sides and just her presence was sending you over the edge. To your disappointment, she let go, sighing loudly and dramatically. You turned around to face your best friend and you felt your words get stuck in your throat. 

Her cheer uniform looked especially nice on her this day. 

She got on her tippy toes, kissing your cheek before bouncing off to practice. You heard her yell over her shoulder. “I’ll come over after, okay?!” 

You nodded, slightly dumbfounded and more fucked than usual. 

It was a secret you kept to yourself for years and a secret it will continue as you sit with her on her back porch after her graduation festivities. Daniela is finally done with high school and is now ready to start her new chapter. You try to give her your undivided attention as she excitedly talks about her dorm decor ideas but you can’t seem to find the strength to hear her words. 

You know you should be happy for Daniela but she’s leaving you in a few months to live an entirely different life than yours. She’s going to thrive while you stay stuck at your high school for another year. 

You don’t notice when she goes suddenly quiet. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when she grabs one of your hands, squeezing them gently. You look into her eyes and see concern in them. She tilts her head, frowning slightly. “Hey… you okay?” 

You nod, shifting your body so you can have a better look at her. Your shoulders touch and your knees bump into each other. You feel Daniela fidget with one of the rings on your fingers, a habit of hers that you’ve picked up on. You place your other hand on top of hers, caressing it gently with your thumb. “Of course. I’m happy for you.” She rolls her eyes, tilting her head even more to give you a look. 

“You can be sad, you know?” She looks down at your connected hands and sighs. “I’m… kinda sad too.” You furrow your brows at her confession. You lean closer to her, a pout on your face as you squeeze her hand tightly.

“What? You just graduated, Dani…” She looks up at you, her eyes glistening. Your throat tightens at the realization that she is on the verge of crying. You immediately cup her face with your hand, your thumb caressing her cheek gently. She leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering close as she lets out a shaky breath. She whispers, “Everything is gonna change, isn’t it?” Your heart drops at her words. 

You know you should tell her the truth. Deep down, you know she’s right. Everything will change, it’s inevitable. But a part of you likes to believe she loves you enough to not allow your friendship to fade. You like to imagine that the distance wouldn’t matter and even if she did make new friends at her university, you’d still be her favorite person. But sometimes, not even love is enough. 

You lean closer to the older girl, resting your forehead against hers. You let go of her cheek and raise your pinky in front of her. She giggles, bumping her nose against yours cutely. She links her pinky with yours and smiles widely, her dimples coming out after hiding all night. You whisper, “Nothing. Will change between us. Okay?” 

She nods, letting go of your pinky to pull you into a tight hug. She buries her face into your neck, her breath warm against your skin. Her lips ghost over your neck as she murmurs, “Okay.” 

Your hold on her becomes tighter as if scared this is the last time you'd ever get to have Daniela in your arms. 

But it isn’t the last time. 

The last time is in her newly moved-in dorm room. She held you so tightly, her tears staining your shirt. She whispered against your chest, her voice breaking, “You can stay a little longer if you want. You can help me decorate…” Your heart broke at her words. You knew if you stayed any longer, leaving would become much more difficult. 

So, you pulled away. You kissed the top of her head. And you bid her farewell. 

You thought, after this, there would be more opportunities to help her decorate. However, days turned into weeks without a word from her. Suddenly, weeks turned into months. 

And then your birthday passed and you foolishly hoped for at least a text. 

Then came graduation and pathetically, that was when you finally gave up on Daniela Avanzini altogether. 

If it weren’t for the full-ride scholarship you got from the same university as Daniela, you would have moved far away from Georgia. But a full ride is a full ride�� and a university campus is much larger than a high school’s. 

After settling into your new space, you decide to take a stroll on the quad, needing to decompress after a very long day of traveling and moving. Your headphones are on as you look around your new surroundings. You take your time, wanting to familiarize yourself with the campus you’ll come to learn for the next four years. You glance up at the sky, getting lost in the different shapes of the clouds. 

You’re shaken out of your daydreams however when you accidentally bump into someone. 

Your eyes widen, your head snapping toward the person who had to become a victim of your recklessness. You open your mouth to apologize but when the person looks back at you, your words lodge in your throat. 

It was Daniela, in all her glory. 

Her hair is now blonde and you note how her hair isn't straightened, now full with her natural curls. She widens her eyes as if finally processing who was right in front of her. You can’t hear her, but you see her lips mouth your name. 

You shove your hands in your pocket, keeping your head down as you walk past her hurriedly. You make your way back to your dorm, pretending the interaction never happened. 

After that day, you’ve avoided walking anywhere on campus that was full of students. You know it’s ridiculous, but the thought of seeing Daniela once more annoys you. Thinking about the Latina in general puts you in a bad mood. Since she cut contact with you, bitterness began to fester in the pit of your stomach. Even though you knew it would happen, it still makes your heart ache when you think about that night after her graduation. 

For someone who seemed so broken at the thought of losing you, of things changing, you would have thought maybe she would have put at least a bit of effort into keeping you around. But unfortunately, it was another thing you foolishly believed and you would be damned to allow yourself to do that again. 

On the first day of class, you tiredly make your way to the science building on campus. You don’t understand what possessed you to sign up to take Organic Chemistry at 8:30 AM but here you were. You’ve heard horror stories about this class from your peers within your major. It was required for nursing and the thought of going through this class for a whole semester makes you want to switch what you’re studying entirely. But it was only the first day, how bad could it possibly be? 

As soon as you walk into the classroom, it becomes one million times worse.

You immediately spot Daniela sitting in the back of the classroom. She had her headphones on and her phone in her hands as she touched up her makeup. You grip the straps of your bookbag tightly, looking around for an open seat that is nowhere near her. Luckily for you, the class takes place in a mini-lecture hall. It’s not as big as your other intro classes, but compared to your English 101 classroom, this one had enough seats for you to choose from. 

You decide on a spot a row away from the front, knowing it would be best to have Daniela nowhere in your peripheral vision. You quickly sit down, unpacking your notebook and other materials to take notes. You lean back in your seat, taking a deep breath. You try to compose yourself, closing your eyes to pretend that the girl who meant everything to you at some point wasn’t right behind you. However, your attempt is futile when you hear a loud squeal at the front of the room. You open your eyes to see two girls standing at the entrance, waving enthusiastically. “DANI!” One of them yells, quickly walking to the Latina with the other girl following right behind her. 

You slouch in your seat. You came to college to escape high school and now here you are— getting a strange sense of deja vu. 

Once the class ends, you quickly stuff your belongings into your bookbag, zipping it up and throwing it onto your back. You leave the classroom with a huff, doing everything in your power to avoid seeing Daniela or even hearing her voice. Questions run through your mind such as: why is she even taking Orgo? She’s a dance major, why is she wasting her time? You shake your head, tears brimming your eyes as you continue walking to your dorm. 

As soon as you walk into your space, you immediately throw your bookbag onto the floor. You run your hands through your hair frustratedly, the tears you’ve been holding in are now falling freely from your eyes. You pace your room for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. You feel like you’re on the verge of a crashout and it has only been a day in college. However, in the middle of your breakdown, a soft voice breaks you out of your head. “Are you… Like, good?” You turn your head toward the voice and your cheeks flare up in embarrassment. You forgot you are now sharing a space with someone. 

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” You manage to say. You sit down on your bed, looking down at your lap. You wipe your tears, not wanting your roommate to feel any pity for you. Also, you only met Megan a week ago and you didn’t want to give her the impression that you were always like this. If anything, this is the farthest from who you are, especially in front of people. 

“No, really. Are you okay?” You look up at Megan, a forced smile on your face. “Yeah. I just– I just came back from my Organic Chemistry class…” Megan nods at your response, taking it at face value. She closes her laptop, placing it at the foot of her bed. The ginger girl sits criss-crossed on her bed and gives you an apologetic smile. 

“God I heard that class fucking sucks,” She throws her head back dramatically, looking up at the ceiling. “I’d be in tears too. You were real for walking in like that.” Her words make you laugh. You sniffle, wiping away the remaining tears on your cheeks. She looks at you again, tilting her head in curiosity. “You’re in nursing, right?” You nod, rubbing the back of your neck anxiously. 

“Yeah… I think I’m starting to regret it.” She laughs and gets up from her bed. She walks over to you and gestures toward the door. “Do you wanna get food with me and my friend? It could cheer you up.” You’re grateful for the offer but you shake your head, looking down at your watch on your wrist. “That sounds awesome but unfortunately… I have like, 30 minutes to relax before my next class.” 

“What’s your next class?” She asks. You smile sheepishly at Megan, responding, “Statistics.” 

She widens her eyes. “Dude, do you hate yourself?” 

You sigh, flopping onto your back on your bed. “Something like that, yeah.” 

The worst thing about Organic Chemistry is that it’s not just a class– it’s also a lab. 

The night before, your professor sent an email detailing lab expectations, assignments, and lab partners. 

You look at the attachment on your laptop, scared to click on the ‘read more’ tab that contains your fate for the rest of the semester. You take a deep breath, clicking on it. It was now or never. 

Group 2-B: Y/n L/n, Daniela Avanzini, Meret Manon Bannerman, & Sophia Lafoteza. 

Group 2-B Partners: Y/n L/n & Daniela Avanzini, Meret Manon Bannerman & Sophia Lafoteza. 

You slam your laptop shut. Megan jumps at the sound, looking at you with wide eyes. 

When you walk into the lab, you can’t help but roll your eyes when you see Daniela sitting at one of the lab tables with the two other girls you saw from class. You feel your anxiety build as you walk toward the table, the grip on your bookbag straps tighten when Daniela looks up and sees you. She smiles but you can tell it was forced. You look away, taking a seat across from her. The girl next to you extends her hand, smiling widely. “Hi! You must be Y/n, I’m Sophia.” 

You take her hand, shaking it awkwardly. “Nice to meet you…” As soon as you let go, the other girl– who you assume to be Manon, waves at you, giving you a friendly smile. “I’m Manon and this–” She puts an arm around the Latina, pulling her close to her side, “Is Daniela!” 

Daniela gives you an awkward smile and a wave of anger spreads throughout your body. You grip the hem of your shirt, trying to remain calm. You simply nod, forcing a smile as you look away to unpack the materials needed for today’s class. The girls continue their conversation, loudly discussing their escapades from the night before. You try to keep your focus on your notebook but Sophia taps your shoulder, grabbing your attention. “What’s your major, Y/n?” 

You clear your throat, your eyes still trained on your notebook as you respond, “Nursing.” 

You hear Manon gasp. “Wait! Me and Dani too!” You look up, surprised. You look at Daniela with a raised eyebrow. “Really?” 

Manon nods her head excitedly. “Yeah! We’re both sophomores right now in the program.” Daniela looks at you and you can’t help but notice a tinge of sadness in her eyes. You ignore it, looking away again once you see the professor walk into the room. 

“That’s cool.” You respond, trying to remain nonchalant. You feel Daniela’s eyes still on you and you pretend it doesn’t bother you. It shouldn’t bother you– it’s been a year without the girl in your life and you managed to make it this far. But hearing her voice again, seeing her right in front of you, it ignited something inside of you that you haven’t felt in so long. And maybe that’s what bothered you the most. 

Manon and Sophia continue pestering you with questions as Daniela sits silently. She nods along to whatever they ask, responding when she feels it’s right to. You find the situation humorous. You and Daniela were playing characters that didn’t know a single thing about each other. The person in front of you doesn’t know where your parents live. She has never seen the room you grew up in and she has no idea what you were like in high school. 

The character you play brings you comfort. As you say your lines, you avoid her eyes, afraid you’ll mess up.

Because she does know what your room looks like. She knows you still sleep with a night light. 

The nursing building was not your favorite place to be in.

Due to it only being your first year, you don't find yourself inside its old and intimidating walls very often. But when you do go, you’re always filled with an overwhelming feeling of dread. Nursing in general is very competitive– known for its difficult curriculum in the first two years solely to weed out the people who aren’t dedicated to the profession. 

That’s why many professors suggest finding your, “people.” There’s no point in struggling on your own. 

But unfortunately, you have come to find out that some nursing students aren’t the kindest individuals to be around. There’s a dog-eat-dog attitude amongst some of them, making alliances purely to benefit them in the long run. Classes have only been in session for two weeks now and there are already several rumors going around. It’s only a matter of time until your graduating class becomes a part of the rumor mill. 

It’s a bunch of bullshit, you think. You’re grateful you never intended to make friends. 

You make your way toward your foundations class, your headphones on to avoid being flagged down by a classmate. You walk to one of the elevators, pressing the “up” button. You wait, your hands finding the straps of your bookbag to grip them tightly. When the elevator doors open, you grip them even tighter when you see Daniela walk out. Her eyes widen when she sees you. 

“Oh, hey…” She says awkwardly. You roll your eyes, pushing past her to go inside the elevator. However, she grabs your arm, tugging you back gently. You breathe out, agitated as you turn around with a glare. You reach up to take your headphones off. “Dude, what?” 

Daniela crosses her arms at your tone. She speaks, a slight irritation in her voice, “Can you stop making this weird?” You give her an incredulous look. You gesture between the both of you, chuckling sarcastically. 

“I genuinely want nothing to do with you, Daniela.” Your eyes look around the hallway, your expression in disbelief. You look back at her with a sharp look in your eyes as you point at her. “We aren’t friends and I’d like to keep it that way.” She frowns at your words and uncrosses her arms. She gestures to you in exasperation, her eyes wide as she whispers loudly, “Can’t you just! Let it go, Y/n? I mean, we’re in college now–“ You hold your hand up to halt her from saying anything further. 

You speak harshly, “That literally doesn't mean anything.” You take a step away from her, your hands finding the straps of your bookbag again. You look at Daniela with a cold expression, your tone low. “Just because we’re in college now doesn’t erase what happened.” You shake your head with a huff. You look down at your shoes as you continue, “We’re only lab partners. Unless we’re in class, leave me the fuck alone.” You don’t give her the chance to respond. You turn away, your lip trembling and on the brink of tears as you walk toward the stairwell. 

A week passes and Daniela has been respecting your wishes. 

For some reason, it hurts more like this. You were the one who told her to leave you alone. But then again, there was a time when Daniela never left your side. You could push her away over and over again yet she stayed. Her unwavering loyalty paired with your stubbornness was what allowed you to let your walls down in the first place. And now, you were both strangers.

You sit at your desk in your dorm, studying notes you took from your Organic Chemistry class to prepare for the lab that awaits you in two days. As you continue highlighting the most important parts, you begin to hear the Fortnite loading screen on your roommate’s side of the dorm. You turn around with a raised brow and an amused smile on your face. “Megan?” She looks up from her Switch, eyes wide. She looks away, murmuring an apology as she turns down the volume. It only makes you laugh, shaking your head. “No, it’s okay. Is that… Fortnite?”

Your familiarity with the game makes her eyes light up. She nods, looking at you with a wide smile. “Dude, yeah! Do you play?” You shrug your shoulders, leaning your shoulder against your desk chair. 

“I used to. I don’t play anymore.” Megan gets up from her bed, padding towards you with excitement. She crouches next to you and shows you her screen. Your eyes glance at her current level on the game and you can’t help but snort, covering your mouth. “Level 110?” The Chinese girl quickly puts her Switch down, looking away in embarrassment. 

“Wait– Don’t judge me,” She brings her Switch back up, pressing a button to indicate she is ready to start a match. She looks at you with a twinkle in her eyes. “Take a break and watch me get a victory royale.” You open your mouth to decline but as she gets put into a lobby, you can’t help but become distracted. You turn your head slightly to check the time on your laptop. 

“Why the hell not? Sure.” She lets out an excited squeal, looking back down at the screen to lock in. You watch her with amusement in your eyes. Something you’ve learned about Megan in the last few weeks is that she is a very silly person. You’ve never seen her open a single one of her textbooks and you always find her in bed, playing a video game on the TV, on her Switch, or her laptop. Sometimes you wonder if she ever actually went to class but then again, with your schedule being so packed, it would make sense for you to never see her anywhere else but at the dorm. 

You watch Megan land in the game and before her character can take a single step, they are taken out with a headshot. In the corner, you notice an achievement, congratulating her for being the first person out in the game. You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your snickers. She groans, placing the Switch in your lap. “I wanna watch you try.” You raise an eyebrow at her, taking another glance at the time. You jump when you feel Megan poke at your side. “Just take a break! There’s a gamer inside of you, I can feel it.” Her words cause you to laugh loudly. You bite your lip, grabbing the Switch to start a new match. 

“I haven’t played since my junior year so don’t give me shit if I’m terrible.” She salutes you, leaning her head against your chair. You shift the Switch so she can have a better view. Finally, you are now in the game. When your character lands in a town, you begin to feel somewhat giddy. 

As you move your character around, Megan begins to engage you in a conversation. From the corner of your eye, you notice her playing with a lock of her hair. “So… How’s nursing?” You shrug at her question, your excitement increasing as you find a chest in the corner of the house your character is currently occupying. 

“It’s… nursing.” You find yourself saying, moving your character into a completely different area. You continue looking for better weapons, not removing your focus from the screen. 

You hear Megan ask, “Are you always this quiet?” Her question causes you to look down at her briefly. She widens her eyes, raising her hands in quick defense. “ I mean like– You aren’t that quiet but, compared to me, you don’t talk much.” You nod at her words, chuckling. 

You look back down at the screen, locking in once again. “I know I’m quiet, it’s okay. I just… don’t really like talking to people…” You trail off as someone attempts to shoot at you but you quickly turn your character, shooting at them until the game notifies you of their elimination. Megan whispers a “nice,” under her breath. You keep moving forward, not wanting to get lost in the storm. 

“Why don’t you like talking to people?” You wrinkle your nose at both her question and the fact you got caught in the crossfire of someone else’s battle. You quickly retreat in the game, your heart rate picking up as you get hit multiple times. Fortunately, you make it out alive and you let out a sigh of relief. 

You realize you haven’t answered Megan’s question, clearing your throat. “I just don’t really like making new friends.” You shoot another person, eliminating them as well. You smile small to yourself, noticing there are only 15 other people in the game. 

Megan grabs your shoulder and shakes you excitedly. “Dude! What the fuck? You’re a liar! You are good at this game!” Her words make you laugh loudly and before you can say anything, you are taken out by a sniper. You two sit in silence as the screen displays your place in the match. Megan covers her mouth and snorts. The sound causes you to lean forward, clutching your stomach as you laugh. You might not be open for friends, but Megan could easily be given a pass. 

You hand Megan her Switch back with a smile. “Thanks for letting me play.” Your roommate takes it from you, a silly smile on her face. You notice how her dimples are shaped like whiskers and her eyes form crescents as she continues smiling. 

She tells you, “You know if you ever wanna make new friends, me and my friend Lara don’t bite.” You chuckle, turning back around to look at your laptop. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The lab doesn’t go terribly. It actually goes a lot better than you had anticipated. You managed to work well with Daniela, Manon, and Sophia. Despite Sophia and Manon’s constant questions about you, you survived. And as soon as the lab finished, you were out the door, not sparing another glance at the group of girls. 

Once you get to your dorm, you are greeted by both your roommate and another girl sitting at Megan’s desk. Your roommate sits on the floor next to the other girl, her eyes lit up at your return. Megan’s friend turns her head toward you and waves. “Hey, you’re the roommate?” You nod, setting your stuff down on the ground. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”  Megan’s friend– who you assume to be Lara, watches as you walk to your desk, sitting down in your chair. You reach for your Nursing Profession textbook, intending to study for an hour or two. But as you open it, you hear Lara snort loudly. You look over at the girl with a raised eyebrow. “What?” 

Lara waves her hands dismissively, pursing her lips to contain her laughter. “I’m sorry, Megan was literally just telling me how you were an academic weapon– Going straight to work after class is crazy. I want your motivation…” You chuckle at her words. You lean back against your chair, crossing your arms.

You look back at your textbook with an embarrassed smile. “I don’t like feeling unprepared.” You quietly say, your cheeks burning even more. In high school, you were never on top of your assignments. Each and every one of them was turned in with a lack of effort but you managed to keep a high GPA. But once you settled on your major and did more research, you realized the summer before your first year, if you didn’t pick up the slack, you were going to crash and burn before your second semester even started. You couldn’t tell if it was motivation or just the fear of falling behind. Or it could be the fear of not being good enough. That one lingers in the back of your mind every other passing second. 

Megan’s laugh pulls you out of your thoughts. You look at her, a playful smile on your lips. “You’ve been talking shit about me?” You gently tease. Megan sticks her tongue out at you and lets out a dramatic sigh, tilting her head to the side. “No, Lara was just asking where you were. And I told her you were out, “Being an academic weapon.”’ She says the last part with air quotes, letting out a soft giggle at the same time. 

You roll your eyes, turning your head toward Lara with a small smile. She looks back at you, amused by the interaction between you and Megan. She turns her head to look at Megan, her eyes widening slightly. She grabs the Chinese girl’s shoulder and covers her mouth. Her words are stifled but you can still hear them through her hand. “You should invite them to the party tomorrow night!” You narrow your eyes as Megan looks at you, a familiar glint of excitement in her expression. She grabs Lara’s arm and looks at her with a dimpled smile. “You might be onto something.” Your roommate’s words cause you to wave your hands, dismissing the scheming that’s happening right in front of you. 

“No, no. She isn’t. I’m not going anywhere…” Megan groans dramatically. She crawls over to you, gets on her knees, and clasps her hands together. She pouts, giving you her best puppy dog eyes. You look at her with a deadpan expression. “Megan, I am saying no.” She pouts even more, leaning closer to you. “Y/n! Please? It’ll be fun! And you said you’d hang out with me this weekend…” You shake your head, turning away from her to face your desk again. “I will but just not at a party.” You look back down at your textbook, trying to ignore the girl’s persistence. 

However, Megan doesn’t give up. She stays in the same position with the same expression. Her eyes burn holes into the back of your skull and you are very hyperaware of the fact Lara is now smirking at the both of you. You clench your fists, sighing loudly.

You throw your head back in defeat. “Oh my god! Fine! I get to leave whenever I want– Even if that means I was only there for five minutes!” Megan squeals, jumping to her feet. She wraps her arms around your neck excitedly and you roll your eyes when you hear Lara’s laugh from the other side of the room. 

The party is full of people you don’t know and you fear no amount of alcohol could make you enjoy yourself for even a second. 

You stand with Megan and Lara in the kitchen, your eyes looking around the new environment anxiously. Your hands tug at the hem of your shirt then rub your palms against the fabric. The music was too loud and the whole house smelled like cheap beer and sweaty frat boys. When Megan finishes making your drink, you take it from her quickly, chugging it. Your roommate watches you with wide eyes. “Damn, we just got here!” Once you finish your drink, you place the cup back down on the counter and glare at the Chinese girl. “Gotta get through this night somehow.” Lara laughs at your words and pats you on the back.

“Trust, you’ll have fun with us.” She extends her pinky toward you and you stare at it, hesitant to trust her promise. Against any other rational thoughts though, you link your pinky with hers, rolling your eyes as the two girls pull you out of the kitchen and shove another cup into your hands. 

Against all odds, you have to admit, you were having fun with Lara and Megan. 

You find an open couch to sit on, grateful that they follow your lead. They begin to tell you stories about their friendship and how they met in middle school. The conversation is mostly you listening in amusement as they bicker back and forth about how a story truly happened. You’d occasionally take sips from your cup, drinking it slower due to the light buzz you already feel in your head. At some point, Megan reveals herself to be a lightweight, leaning her head against Lara’s shoulder and mumbling nonsensical things such as her stupid English 102 professor and how happy she is to have you and Lara in her life. 

You watch as Lara pats her head gently, wrapping an arm around Megan’s shoulders. “How is it always you the drunkest at the end of the night?” Megan mumbles a response to Lara’s question, wrapping her arms around the other girl’s torso. The interaction causes you to look away, suddenly feeling jealous over their friendship. It reminds you of Daniela and thinking about her changes your mood drastically. You raise your cup to your lips but realize it’s empty. You sigh, leaning forward to place your cup on the coffee table. You turn to Lara and Megan, a small smile on your face. 

You stretch your arms. “I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air.” You say, needing an escape. Lara nods in understanding. She points at Megan with a playful smile.

“I’ll be here and babysit,” Lara says and it causes Megan to whine, insisting she isn’t a baby. You laugh, shaking your head at the antics of your roommate. You get up from the couch and navigate your way through the crowd to find the back door. Once you find it, you quickly open it and step outside, the cold air sobering you slightly. You close the door behind you, taking a deep breath. 

In the backyard, there’s an old swing set. Your eyes light up and decide to take a seat on one of the swings, your hands instinctively wrapping around the swing’s chains. You look down at your feet as you sway back and forth, a lazy smile on your face. The breeze feels cool against your skin and for a second, you feel at peace. Your moment of silence is ruined when you hear footsteps coming toward you. Your head snaps up to see the intruder and your eyes begin to narrow when you realize it’s Daniela. You’re about to stand but Daniela stops in her tracks, looking at you desperately. 

“Wait. Don’t go,” She lets out a shaky breath and continues. “I just. Can I at least sit with you?” You stare at her, keeping your guard up. A sigh escapes your lips as you look away from the Latina. She takes it as an answer and continues walking, sitting down in the swing next to you. You sit in silence, gripping the chains of the swing tightly. You feel overwhelmed by her presence, wanting to be alone for once. But for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to tell her that. So you keep your mouth shut, your eyes finding the ground again. 

She breaks the silence despite your building irritation. “Parties are your thing now?” You purse your lips at her accusatory tone, your grip on the chains becoming even tighter. “What if they are? You wouldn’t know.” Your tone is harsh and you can feel a lump beginning to form in your throat. That bitterness you’ve been feeling the last few weeks intensifies, eating away at you as Daniela continues trying to engage you in a conversation. 

“I literally had to fight you to get you to come with me to a party in high school…” Her voice is soft as she speaks, her words a bit slurred. Your jaw tightens as you try to push down your emotions. You don’t want to reminisce about high school– especially with Daniela. You close your eyes as you hear her talk again. “I can’t imagine you liking them now, I mean, you always–” 

Suddenly, something snaps inside you. The ugly feeling is finally being released as you speak,  “You don’t even know me, Daniela. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Your knuckles turn white as you grip the swings. There are tears in your eyes but you keep yourself composed. Your voice is steady as you continue, “You don’t fucking know who I am anymore.” You stand up, turning around to face Daniela for the first time since she sat down with you. You point at her as if accusing her of a crime. “So stop pretending you do! I told you to leave me alone!” You yell at her frustratedly. Your hand falls back to your side as you breathe heavily. 

You take her silence as an answer, turning around to walk away from Daniela, to give her a taste of her own medicine. However, her next words cause you to stop, knocking the wind right out of you. “I can get to know you again then!” She yells. You turn around, your eyes wide in surprise. She is now standing and there is a look of determination in her eyes. She takes a few steps forward and you make a move to step back but you can’t help but feel frozen in place. Once she is only a few feet away from you, she speaks softly, “I got to know you once. I can do it again.” 

You stare at each other, the silence deafening. Your voice shakes as you finally respond. “My- My friends are waiting for me inside.” 

Daniela steps closer to you as if challenging you. She nods. “Okay.” 

You don’t move though. You stay where you are.

You nod, whispering, “Okay.” 

The way she interacts with you changes slightly. 

You can tell she’s holding back as if scared of doing something wrong. But you also wonder if it’s also the influence of Manon and Sophia and the other nursing students. 

Apparently, you’re not very liked. What the reason is, you aren’t sure. You deduce it’s because of your attitude 

It’s not that you weren’t kind, but you also weren’t making much of an effort to get to know your peers within your major. You found it quite useless– if everyone was against each other then what was the point altogether? You’re already against the idea of making real friends, why would you make fake ones just to get through your program? That sounds like a recipe for disaster that you simply don’t have the energy to spend on. Every time you walk into the nursing building, you find everyone in their respective groups, either studying for the next exam or discussing the latest gossip amongst the major. 

So far this semester, only a few classmates have asked you to join their study group– including Manon and Daniela. But you always declined. It’s nothing against them (well, except Daniela), you were never the type to study in a group. You like working alone. It was quiet and you didn’t have to take off your headphones every ten seconds just to hear what someone said. Group projects were always a weakness of yours and that is one of the few reasons why you hated your Organic Chemistry Lab. 

And so, studying at the library is meant to be a solo activity for you. However, Daniela comes to join you randomly one day. She doesn’t ask, simply sitting in the chair across from you and setting her bag in the other chair next to her. You narrow your eyes at her. “Hello?” Daniela looks at you with a small smile and waves. “I saw you in here and decided to join.” You roll your eyes, looking back at your laptop screen. 

You subtly watch as she unpacks her things, taking out her laptop and notebook. She pulls out her glasses case from the front pocket and you feel your heart skip a beat. You’ve always liked Daniela with her glasses on. She always wore them during your shared Chemistry class in high school and for some reason, it always distracted you. You think about the days when you’d lay with her in bed, her glasses on, as you both read a book together. 

Well, it was her mostly reading the book, you always fell asleep in the middle of a paragraph. 

After a few minutes, Daniela gets up from her seat and looks at you expectantly. You look up at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m getting coffee. You want one?” She asks and you want to say no. But after spending so long already inside the library and nowhere near close to stopping, you sigh, nodding your head.

“Yeah… Actually, can you get me a—“ Before you can finish, she’s already turning around, walking to the small cafe that’s inside the building. You stare at her back, your brows furrowed. You let out a sigh, tearing your eyes away from the Latina to continue studying for your exam. You’re in the middle of one of your readings when Daniela comes back, setting your coffee next to you on the table. You briefly look at the writing on the cup, not registering it completely. Once you realize though, you take a double take, grabbing the cup to get a better look. 

You feel your cheeks burn as you look up at Daniela with a surprised look in your eyes. “You… Remember my coffee order.” It’s supposed to be a question, but it comes out more like a statement. A statement that confirms Daniela still remembers the little things about you and a statement that shows that maybe you didn’t change as much as you thought you did since high school. The Latina looks at you, a twinkle of hope in her eyes that aggravated you but also made your heart race at the exact same time. 

“Of course I do.” She whispers, looking back down at her notebook. You notice how she bites her lip, trying to contain her smile. You narrow your eyes, looking everywhere but at Daniela. You cross your arms and scoff. “Why though?” You ask, looking down at your lap. Your hands clutch at the sleeves of your sweater, gripping it tightly as you prepare to hear her answer. She’s silent for a moment and you begin to bite your lip, scared that you may have offended her in some way. Even though it annoys you that she is trying to sneak her way back into your life, a small part of you is hopeful that she will succeed. As pathetic as it may sound– Daniela was your person. And maybe, she still is. 

You hear Daniela sigh. “I don’t think you just forget those types of things, you know?” You grip your sweater tighter. Your jaw tightens as you keep your eyes on your lap. You want to ask if she got an iced vanilla latte with almond milk. You want to ask her why she changed her major. You want to ask her why she stopped talking to you, why she didn’t want to be your friend anymore after she left. You almost tell her that, for the first time in your life, the loneliness after she left killed you. 

Instead, you shrug your shoulders. You return your attention to your laptop, shaking your head. “I forgot a lot of that stuff, to be honest.” 

After that day in the library, Daniela joins you often. She brings you a coffee every time and never disturbs you, just settling for sitting with you at the table. You both talk sometimes, usually about Orgo, but it has never gone deeper than that. You can tell she isn’t trying to push you and although you’re grateful, you still can’t help but keep your guard up. While playing a game with Megan, you feel your phone vibrate against your leg. You glance at your phone, your eyes widening in surprise to see a text message from the Latina. Megan looks at you curiously, pausing the game. “What’s up?” You look away from your phone, shaking your head at your roommate. 

“It’s nothing,” You say quietly. You turn your attention back toward the TV, sitting up straighter. Your hands grip the controller in your lap tightly, wondering what Daniela could have possibly said to you. Megan reaches out, placing a hesitant hand on your shoulder. “You can… Talk about it.” You turn your attention back to Megan, a faux smile on your lips. “It’s really stupid dude, trust me.” But she doesn’t give up, waiting patiently for you to open up. Another thing you have found yourself liking about Megan is her patience. She might be impulsive and rather reckless in her actions, but she knows when to be serious. 

You groan. You knew this would have to come up eventually, especially due to your growing close friendship with your roommate. But, you’ve never talked about Daniela. Friends from high school often asked you about her and you always lied, not wanting to tell them the truth. You thought saying it out loud would make it real– the fact she was gone and left without even saying a proper goodbye. It was a conversation you jumped through hurdles to avoid. You look away from Megan, not wanting to look her in the eyes as you confide in her. 

“There’s a girl in the nursing program…” Megan lets out a loud “oooh” at your words and it causes you to scoff, waving her off. “Not like that! Just–” You rub your face with your hands, struggling to let the words leave your mouth. Your hands cover your face as you say, “There’s a girl in my program that I was best friends with in high school, and now… We’re like. Not that anymore?” You uncover your face, crossing your arms. You continue, keeping your eyes on your lap. “And she’s trying to be my friend again but it’s… Fucking scary.” 

Megan scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. She rubs your arm comfortingly and asks, “What about it is scary?” You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head. You respond, “I don’t know. Maybe getting hurt again?” Your roommate leans her head against your shoulder. She whispers, “Was she like. Your Lara?” You glance at Megan, your eyebrows raised. Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble from your mouth, “Are you in love with Lara?” 

Your question causes Megan to widen her eyes, sitting up straight. She shakes her head frantically. “Wait– Oh my god, you’re in love with this person? That is not what I was trying to say.” Your admission causes you to widen your own eyes, your cheeks flaring in embarrassment. You look away and try to backtrack. “No, no! I mean– Fuck.” You throw your head, groaning. “Fuck. Like. I guess? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Your roommate frowns at your words. She leans her head back against your shoulder and sighs. “It totally matters. Especially if she wants to be a part of your life again…” She continues, her voice soft, “It’s up to you but… I’d keep my walls up. If she hurt you once, then you make her work for it.” You nod at Megan’s words. Make her work for it. You let it linger for a moment before shrugging Megan off of you and pushing her away. You give her a small smile as you wave your controller in front of her face.

“Can we keep playing, please? I still need plates.” Your roommate gapes at you, swatting your shoulder playfully. “Y/n! I’ve been asking you to bring me my fucking bread for the last five minutes, are you joking?!” You place your controller down next to your phone, the text message from Daniela long forgotten as you begin to argue with Megan over the video game. 

Another week passes and you sit outside the lab classroom. Your knees tucked under your chin with your arms wrapped around your legs. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to ground yourself. Your brain felt like mush and none of the material made sense. After you argued with Sophia over the calculations, you stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind you. 

It’s fucking overwhelming. Everything is so overwhelming.

You sit there in silence, a crushing weight on your shoulders. You know this feeling all too well, yet it still hasn’t become easier to manage. You know it isn’t that deep— everyone else was struggling with the lab instructions. The argument with Sophia was unnecessary but her constant questions and pestering made you go insane. In high school, this wouldn't have phased you. You would have shrugged it off and took the C. But for some reason, this meant so much to you. 

If you didn't do well in Orgo, then what would that mean for the next three years? 

The thought makes you hug your legs tighter.  You feel tears brimming your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You wonder if this was a sign that maybe– maybe you made a mistake. 

You hear the lab classroom door open but you don’t pay attention to it. You assume it’s your professor checking on you. However, the person sits down next to you on the floor. You glance over, seeing Daniela’s manicured nails. You sigh, your irritation building. You close your eyes again, suddenly feeling exhausted. You two sit in silence for a moment, as if waiting to see who will speak up first. Suddenly, you feel Daniela’s hand grab yours, causing you to open your eyes. You narrow them, attempting to pull your hand away from her grasp but she holds onto you tightly. You open your mouth to say something but she speaks first. 

“Squeeze my hand.” Her voice is so quiet that you almost don’t hear her. She looks at you softly, her brows furrowed. She whispers again, “Squeeze my hand. I don’t care.” You glare at her as your tears begin to spill from your eyes. You feel them roll against your cheek and without even thinking, you grip her hand tightly. You whisper, your tone harsh, “Fuck you, Daniela.” She doesn’t flinch at your words. You feel her thumb caressing the back of your hand. 

“You can squeeze tighter.” And you do, your grip getting tighter around her hand. You close your eyes, shaking your head frantically. You use your free hand to wipe your eyes, but the tears continue falling. Your shoulders begin to shake as you give up, crying freely. Your voice breaks as you speak bitterly, “I hate you so much. I hate you.” 

She lets you grip her hand tightly as she responds, “I know.” 

“I’m so fucking mad at you for leaving.” 

She responds again, keeping the same soft tone. “I know. Mi amor, I know.”

“You were supposed to be my best friend.” You cry, finally looking up at her. The pain in your eyes is evident as you continue, “You were my best friend and you left me! You made me promise nothing would change but you went and did that bullshit!” You feel as though you were crushing her hand but Daniela doesn’t show it. She looks at you, her own eyes glistening. She whispers, “I’m here now, right?” Your lip quivers at her words. 

Your voice cracks as you respond, “Don’t do this to me right now. Don’t.” 

“Then tell me to leave.” You stare at her, your eyes challenging her. She keeps your gaze, her tears falling from her eyes. 

You pull her into a tight hug. You sob loudly as Daniela holds you. You can’t help but feel familiar with this warmth as if it’s home. You wonder if this is home. 

The next day, she shows up at the library and joins you at one of the tables. She sets her stuff down, turning away to go to the cafe but you lean over the table, grabbing the Latina’s wrist. “Daniela.” She looks at you and your breath catches in your throat. Her eyes have always been so mesmerizing to you. Daniela is captivating, catching the eyes of everyone around her. It always surprised you when she always sought you out amongst crowds of people in high school. It was surprising, but also made you feel so god-damned lucky. 

“I got you an iced vanilla latte with almond milk.” You say it quickly, but Daniela hears every word. She looks down at the table and sees the coffee cup sitting on the table. She looks back at you with a dimpled smile. 

You whisper, “You don’t forget those types of things, you know?” She nods, looking into your eyes.

“I know.” 

It’s been a month since you decided to make peace with Daniela. 

Although you were still guarded, it was a nice change to have Daniela back in your life. It felt as though nothing had changed. Conversations were still easy, her energy still had an effect on you. Seeing her in a room full of people made you light up, your heart racing. She smiles at you and your fists immediately unclench. Slowly, the guard you had came tumbling down. And the Latina was now officially back in your life. 

After being so used to her absence, it ends up becoming something you have to adjust to. 

You are currently at a house party with Megan and Lara. You three stand in an empty hallway, red solo cups in your hands. Lara talks loudly about a girl she saw in the dining hall, distraught over the fact she may have lost her chance with the “goddess on campus.” You listen to her, occasionally taking sips from your cup with an amused smile. Suddenly, Megan’s eyes widen and she grabs your shoulder, shaking you frantically. “Do you remember that girl from my Biology class I was talking about?”

You nod, even though you have no earthly idea what she is talking about. She begins talking about the girl from Bio, her hand still on your shoulder. Whenever her voice gets louder, she tugs at your shirt and every time you stumble slightly. Megan’s enthusiasm always amuses you. She is sunshine and everything good, and you can’t help but think you are the complete opposite. Megan as your roommate didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t think of anyone else you would rather share a space with. She always manages to cheer you up with her stupid jokes and incessant need to play a video game together. 

Her constant rambling keeps you up most nights, but she knows you don’t mind. Something you like the most about Megan is that she never pushes you. Becoming her friend was natural, and it was at your own comfortable pace. If you had to go to bed early, she would put her headphones on so her games wouldn’t disturb you. You feel lucky to have Megan as your roommate and you hope she feels the same way. And with the way she always looks at you while she talks, making sure you’re still listening, she probably does. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela walk by with Sophia and Manon. You briefly look away from Megan, your breath catching in your throat when you see the Latina. She wears a short, strapless black dress with heels to match. Her curls bounced with every step she took and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She is always a sight to see but every time she planned to go out? You really were no better than a man. 

Your thoughts make your cheeks flush, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from the older girl. You look back at Megan who is still talking at 100 words per minute. You lean against the wall behind you, taking a deep breath. Lara notices your slight change in demeanor and tilts her head at you, her eyes furrowing in concern. “Are you good, Y/n?” Your eyes widen at her question. You attempt to hide your blush by taking another sip from your cup. 

You pull the cup away from your lips and look inside of it. It’s empty and the desire for a refill overwhelms you. You look back up at Lara with a small, forced smile. “Yeah, my cup is just empty.” You flip it over, shaking it with emphasis and it causes Lara to laugh and shake her head. Megan looks up at you, her eyes slightly glazed and sparkling. She finally lets go of your shoulder and takes a step away from you. 

“I’ll come with you to get another!” She grabs your hand without waiting for an answer. She turns her head toward Lara with a lopsided smile. “Do you need another?” The Indian girl shakes her head, giggling at how tipsy Megan seemed at the moment. 

“Nah, I saw a friend from class just walk in so I’m gonna say hi real quick.” You and Megan nod, waving goodbye to Lara before your roommate pulls you with her toward the kitchen. Her hold on your hand is tight as she navigates through the crowd of people. She moves so quickly that you almost walk past someone calling your name. You turn your head, stopping in your tracks when you see Daniela walking toward you. Megan walks up to you with a curious look in her eyes. Your hands remain connected when Daniela finally catches up to you. 

She reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” She looks past you and sees Megan. Daniela tilts her head, looking down at your hands. You notice how she bites her lip and looks back at you, her eyes narrowed. “Who’s your friend?” For some reason, the tone in her voice sends shivers down your spine. You look at Megan, then back at Daniela, a soft smile on your face. 

“This is Megan, she’s my roommate.” Megan waves, her enthusiasm present. Daniela waves back to her with less excitement, responding, “I’m Daniela.” You stand awkwardly between the two girls. It feels like your worlds are colliding and it gives you an uneasy feeling in your stomach. You feel Megan tug at your hand and you look back at her, your eyes softening when you spot her whiskered dimples. “Can we get our drinks, please?” She continues tugging at your arm and you smile gently, looking back at Daniela who does not look too happy. 

“Can I join you guys? I need another drink too.” The Latina says. You nod, and before you can process it, Daniela walks ahead of you and Megan, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Megan’s grasp. You look over your shoulder, relieved to see Megan isn’t affected by Daniela’s cold demeanor. She follows behind, the happiness evident on her face. You turn away and allow the older girl to lead the way. 

Once you’re in the kitchen, Daniela lets go of your hand. You look back at Megan and notice she got distracted on the way. She’s talking to someone you aren’t familiar with and you wonder if it’s someone she knows or she became friends with along the way. You call out to her, feeling a bit weary at the thought of Megan not being close by. The Chinese girl looks over and smiles widely, she points at the person. “Friend from class!” You sigh in relief and nod, giving her a thumbs up. You turn away to face Daniela but her back is turned. She’s at the counter making herself a drink and you eye the heavy pour of liquor in her cup. You walk over, your nose crinkled slightly. “Someone wants to have fun tonight.” She rolls her eyes at you, taking a sip. She grimaces at the taste and hands the cup to you. “Trying to have fun at least.” 

You raise an eyebrow at her, taking the cup from her hands. “You aren’t having fun?” You take a sip and the alcohol immediately burns your throat. You cough loudly, handing the drink back to the Latina. “Jesus– are we having fun or blacking out?” Daniela laughs at your words, shrugging her shoulders playfully. She is about to say something back but Megan inserts herself in between the two of you, grabbing one of the cups on the counter to make a drink. You briefly look at Daniela who has a slight scowl on her lips. You can’t help but wonder what her problem is. 

The thought doesn’t dwell on you for too long because Megan tugs at your shirt, getting your attention. You look down at your roommate and she shoves a cup into your hands, giggling. “That one is yours. Taste it.” When it comes to Megan and mixology, you aren’t very trusting. You take a sip and you’re taken aback by how strong it is. Megan looks up at you, her brown eyes big and hopeful as you hide your grimace, not wanting her to feel bad. “Not bad, Meiyokie.” She beams at you, grabbing her cup from the counter. 

“I’m gonna go talk to that friend from earlier! Text me if you need anything, okay?” You nod and she hugs you quickly. Before she leaves, she leans close to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, I can understand why you aren’t over her.” You push her away, giving her a quick glare. Megan only laughs, waving goodbye, and leaves you and Daniela alone in the kitchen. You turn your head back to Daniela who still stands with an unhappy expression on her face. Her demeanor causes you to sigh, placing your cup down on the counter. 

You cross your arms and look at Daniela incredulously. “She’s really nice, you know?” The Latina scoffs at your words, bringing her cup up to her lips. After she takes a sip, she places it on the counter and leans against it. She avoids your eyes as she responds, “I never said she wasn’t.” You roll your eyes, leaning against the counter as well. You’re very aware of the fact your shoulders were touching but with how buzzed you feel, you can’t bring yourself to care about the proximity. You look down at her, a teasing smile on your face. 

You bump your shoulder into hers, your arms still crossed. “It feels like high school again.” Your bold words cause her to snap her head toward you, her brows furrowed. She has a slight pout on her lips and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of them. The urge to kiss her is strong but you know better than to give in. It felt ridiculous to you– how quickly your feelings for the older girl resurfaced. It lay dormant in your heart, hidden by all the anger you felt instead once Daniela stopped talking to you. 

But here you were, shoulder to shoulder, with that stupid, familiar fluttering in your chest. 

Your face inches closer to hers and your eyes twinkle with amusement. “You always got so mad when I gave my attention to other people,” You tease. You know the game you’re playing is dangerous. You know it would reopen wounds you’ve tried so hard to heal on your own but secretly, you loved this side of your best friend. Daniela can be possessive and somewhat overprotective, but it makes you feel wanted. And you were so desperate to be wanted by Daniela Avanzini. 

She clicks her tongue, taking another sip from her cup. She grabs your hand and holds it tightly,  turning her head to face you. Her face is so close you could smell the alcohol on her breath. Daniela tilts her head, still pouting her lips. You glance down at them, the color of her lipstick becoming more enticing by the second. You tear your eyes away, hoping she didn’t catch you. She only smirks, whispering, “You’re my best friend, Y/n.” She lets go of your hand, reaching up to cup your cheek. They burn at her touch but you blame it on the alcohol. You open your mouth to respond but she beats you to it. 

“I was here first.” 

“Did you ever find another best friend during your senior year?” The Latina asks you one day. She sits in the passenger seat while you drive to your shared hometown. It was fall break and it only made sense you two went together. Your mother was ecstatic to hear Daniela was in your life again, boasting about how happy the older girl made you. She asked you to bring her over for dinner one night and for some reason, it brought you anxiety to allow her back into your childhood home. But when you asked Daniela, she jumped on the offer, telling you how much she missed your mother. 

It was weird, as if nothing ever changed at all. 

You take a brief look at Daniela before keeping your eyes back on the road. You shrug your shoulders. “I mean. I had friends.” From the corner of your eye, you see Daniela pull her legs up onto the seat, tucking them to her chest. She hugs them while she stares out the window, watching the trees and billboards pass by. Her voice is quiet, as if scared to hear your response. “But like, were they anything like me?” The question makes you chuckle, quickly covering your mouth to stifle the sound. 

She snaps her head toward you and glares. “I’m being serious.” Her tone is sharp but you know there isn’t any genuine anger in her words. If anything, you too were curious if she had ever found a person like you during the year you two were apart. The closest person you’ve seen so far to Daniela is Manon but even then, you wonder if their connection is remotely anything like the one you’ve built with the older girl. You run a hand through your hair, thinking about her question. You set your hand back on the steering wheel and grip it tightly. 

“No one could ever be like you, Dani.” You whisper, your eyes narrowed at the road ahead of you. Daniela reaches out to you, grabs one of your hands from the wheel, and holds it close to her chest. Her thumb caresses the back of your hand, as if silently telling you to squeeze. And you do, tightly, feeling scared she may walk away again. You were scared that these words were all for nothing. That opening up to Daniela again would end up with you sobbing in your bed, wondering what you could have done differently to get her to stay. 

You keep your eyes forward as you feel the Latina bring your hand up to her lips, kissing your skin gently. She whispers, her lips ghosting over your hand, “No one is like you, Y/n.” 

On the last day of fall break, you and Daniela decide to spend the night in your old room together. You two sit on the floor, giggling while looking through your old yearbooks and sharing a bottle of wine that you managed to steal from your father’s liquor cabinet. Daniela rests her head against your shoulder, taking another sip from the bottle. She watches as you turn the page and she immediately lights up, setting the bottle down to take the yearbook from your hands. She places it in her lap and points at one of the photos in the “Homecoming Week” section. “Oh my god! Remember when I forced you to dress up with me?” She exclaims loudly. You shush her, reminding her that your parents were asleep. You look down at the page and you can’t help but snort. 

It was a photo of you and Daniela participating in one of the themed days of Homecoming Week. The theme was “Perfect Duo” and Daniela convinced you to dress up as Winnie the Pooh and she was Piglet. You chuckle at your painted-on bear nose, remembering how Daniela did it last minute in her car. She kept scolding you to stay still that morning and cooed at how “adorable” you looked the entire day. You smile softly at the memory, your fingers touching the photo as if to go back to that day. 

“I was always making you do stupid shit.” She says softly, picking the wine bottle back up to her lips. You shake your head, taking the bottle from her once she takes her sip. You look at Daniela with a sincere expression. “I didn’t care, you know?” You take a sip of wine, putting the bottle down on the floor beside you. “I think I secretly liked all the stupid shit you made me do.” She slaps your shoulder playfully and you laugh, rubbing the area in faux pain. “What? You’re the one who said it was stupid!” She gapes at you, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“You weren’t supposed to agree, asshole.” She reaches over you, grabbing the wine bottle again. Daniela scoffs, taking another sip without breaking eye contact. She passes it to you and you take it from her, holding the bottle in your lap. You look at each other for a moment in silence, your eyes both glazed slightly and soft smiles on your lips. You get a sense of deja vu looking at Daniela. In your head, you’re both still in high school and nothing went wrong. You pretend no time was lost. It’s just you and Daniela against the world and that’s what the universe intended. 

But then the Latina grabs your senior year yearbook from underneath your bed and the bubble you were in pops. 

You take another sip of wine and place the bottle back onto the floor. You watch her open it slowly as if she’s scared to see what you were like without her. She makes comments about the different teachers she sees, laughing when she sees photos of peers she didn’t like back then. You talk about the gossip she missed out on, telling her the outrageous stories you’ve heard from others that year. The mood is still light despite the underlying tension between you and the older girl. Daniela turns the page and your breath hitches. It’s the beginning of the senior section. She flips through the pages, her eyes searching for your photo. She finally finds you and it makes you chuckle. 

“God, I hate that photo…” You reach for the yearbook, intending to take it from her but Daniela grips it tightly in her hands. You watch a tear fall onto the page and you look up with wide eyes, realizing Daniela was crying. You place a hand on Daniela’s shoulder, your brows furrowing in concern. “Wait, what’s wrong?” You ask and Daniela covers her mouth, shaking her head as more tears fall from her eyes. She launches herself toward you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Daniela buries her face into your neck and cries softly. You sit there, stunned. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around the Latina, holding her tightly. You ask again quietly, “Dani, what’s going on?” 

Her voice cracks as she speaks, “Y- You were my best friend, Y/n,” She clutches the back of your shirt, gripping it tightly. “You were my best friend and I left you.” There’s a lump in your throat as you hear her sob. Your chest aches hearing her in pain. A few months ago, you would have reveled in this sight. It would have been satisfying to see Daniela hurt like this over you. But now, seeing it right in front of you is painful. 

After a few minutes, her sobs subside and she begins to sniffle quietly. Your heart races as you ask softly, “Why did you leave?” Her body feels heavy in your arms as if exhausted from a fight she had been a part of for too long.

“I was scared.” She responds, her fingers now playing with your hair. You sigh, pulling away from Daniela slightly. Your hands stay on her shoulders as you look into her eyes, desperate for an answer. “Scared of what, Dani?” Her lip quivers as she looks back at you. She leans her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as her nose brushes against yours. It reminds you of the night of her graduation. The night when everything changed. The night when you both made an empty promise. You wanted to kiss her that night, and you want to kiss her now. 

“I thought losing you would be unavoidable,” She says weakly. “So, I left first to make it easier.” 

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts that run wild in your mind. You raise your pinky and whisper, “This time, no one is leaving.” 

She locks her pinky with yours tightly. “I love you, Y/n.” 

“I love you too, Dani.” More than you will ever know. 

You’re lying in bed with your headphones on when Megan returns to the dorm. You sit up when she walks through the door with her luggage, your eyes lit up to see your roommate finally back from home at last. When she sees you, she immediately lets go of her things, jumping onto your bed to attack you with a tight hug. You giggle loudly, the force of the hug causing you to lay back down with Megan in your arms. You hold her tightly, happiness radiating from both your bodies. She pulls away slightly, pulling your headphones off your head. She leans close to your ear and yells, “I missed you!” 

Her loud voice makes you push her off of your body, sitting up with a glare on your face. “Megan, you’re so loud.” She ignores your words, hugging you once again. She erupts into giggles when you try to push her off once again. 

“Admit it! You miss me!” Her hold on you is tight and you admit defeat, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. You squeeze her, looking at her with sincerity in your eyes. “I missed you, Meiyokie.” She smiles widely at you. She rests her head against your shoulder and asks, “How was the break with Daniela?” You smile softly as you think about the time you spent with your best friend over break. Megan catches this and shakes you gently. “Oh? Am I invited to the wedding?” She teases. You groan, pulling away from your roommate. You lay back on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. The Chinese girl lies next to you and looks at you with amusement in her eyes. 

“You think she worked for it?” You continue looking up at the ceiling and you have the urge to ask Megan if you two could put up glow-in-the-dark stars. You find yourself glad to have found someone like her. You turn your head to look at your roommate, a soft smile on your face. 

“Yeah, she did.” Megan nods, turning away to look up at the ceiling. She says, “I think we should put those glow-in-the-dark stars up here.” You giggle loudly, your eyes crinkling in excitement. 

“You read my fucking mind, Ms. Skiendiel.” 

It’s considered crunch time at your college and the work is becoming much more difficult to manage. After one of your library sessions, you and Daniela decide to take a walk around the campus. The walk consisted of you two reminiscing on memories from high school. She talked about her freshman year and how awful it was. You told her how your last year in high school was nothing special. At some point, you end up at the quad, and it makes Daniela giggle. You look at her curiously. “What?” 

She shakes her head, walking away from you. She steps onto the greenery and sits down, patting the spot next to her. You chuckle and follow her command. As soon as you sit down, she lays on the grass, pulling you down with her. Your curiosity is still piqued as you look up at the sky. “Why’d you laugh?” Your question only makes her giggle even more and you roll your eyes. “Dani! Tell me!” 

She bites her lip, trying to stop herself from giggling even more. She looks at you, a twinkle in her eyes. “Remember when you bumped into me that day? It was here.” You look away from the sky to look at her, your eyes widening in realization. You remember how angry you were to see the Latina. It sent you over the edge and you couldn’t believe how bitter you used to feel. You frown slightly thinking about it and Daniela notices it. She grabs your hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry.” She says, her eyes full of worry. You squeeze her hand back, a sincere smile on your face. “Don’t be. It’s all good now.” She smiles and looks away to look at the sky. You mirror her actions, feeling at peace. 

After a few minutes, you decide to ask a question that has been on your mind. “Why’d you change your major?” She’s silent for a moment and begins to fidget with one of the rings on your finger. She responds softly, “I wanted… To be more realistic, I guess.” You raise an eyebrow at her words. “Realistic? You are so good at dancing though…” You say, chuckling at the absurdity. You always attended Daniela’s dance competitions in high school and she always remained on top. Everyone knew she was talented and it wouldn’t have been a surprise if she became big one day. 

Daniela shrugs, she turns her head to look at you and you turn your head as well. You notice the same sadness in her eyes from when she first told you she was a nursing major. It makes your heart drop. You realize you weren’t the only one struggling last year. You feel horrible for only thinking about yourself. There were things Daniela had kept to herself and you didn’t think for a second how she must have felt to be here, all alone. You lace your fingers with Daniela’s, squeezing her hand gently. 

“I’m so sorry…” You whisper. She shakes her head, a bittersweet smile on her face. She responds quietly, “I did it to myself.” There’s a slight waver in her voice. Her usual confident demeanor is replaced by something you’ve never seen from the Latina. She looks so unsure– almost as if she’s lost. She looks away from you, looking back up at the sky. 

“Maybe in another life.” She says, wistfully. You keep your eyes on her. Daniela closes her eyes as if basking in the current moment. You memorize her features, the gentle smile on her face, the way her chest rises and falls with every breath. Her hand in yours— something you’ve always loved, her hand holding yours. 

You continue staring at her, a longing in your chest. “Yeah. In another life.” You whisper. 

Before you know it, your first semester in college comes close to its end. 

You walk into the science building, a pep in your step as you walk to the lab classroom. The final lab report sits completed in a folder in your bookbag. After a few long nights and many caffeinated beverages, you and your group finally completed your last assignment for the god-forsaken class. You stayed up the night before, making last-minute edits and ensuring everything on the rubric was added to the final draft. You yawn, stopping at the doorway of the lab to check your phone. Daniela usually waits for you in the hallway so you both can walk in together but she’s nowhere to be found. You wonder if the girl is running late and it makes you chuckle to yourself quietly, knowing Daniela hates this class more than anything. 

However, you hear her laugh inside the room. You light up, pocketing your phone to meet her inside. 

You hesitate though when you also hear Manon’s voice. She talks loudly, as if her and Daniela were the only ones inside the lab. “I can’t believe we’re gonna actually pass this class.” You hear Manon say. Daniela laughs, responding, “Me neither. We can thank Y/n for that, honestly.” Your heart swells at the compliment. You smile to yourself, feeling giddy over the fact Daniela mentioned you. 

“No, literally. I don’t know how you did it, but becoming their friend was like, the best idea you ever had.” Your smile falters at Manon’s words. Your hands find the straps of your bookbag, gripping them tightly as you continue listening to their conversation. 

“Someone had to do it,” You hear Daniela scoff, “If none of us got along with them, we would be stuck taking this class again.” You feel tears forming in your eyes. You stand there, letting her words sink in. For some reason, you can’t breathe. Daniela wouldn’t do that to you, she would never. 

But Daniela giggles loudly. “The attitude they have is literally gonna get them nowhere, it’s terrible.” Those words become your last straw as you walk in, a look of betrayal on your face. You glare at Daniela, your voice shaky as you say, “You only spoke to me again because… You wanted a good grade in Orgo?” Your heart breaks with every word you say. You furrow your brows at her, your knuckles going white as you grip your bookbag straps even tighter. 

Daniela gets up quickly from her seat, her eyes wide. She steps toward you carefully, her hand reaching out to you. “Y/n… Wait–” You take a step back, cutting her off. You yell, “Are you fucking joking, Daniela?” Hot tears spill from your eyes as you look at the person you gave another chance to. She tries walking toward you again but you’ve had enough, turning around and walking out of the room. You speed walk down the hallway, ignoring when Daniela calls out your name. 

She manages to catch up to you, grabbing your wrist but you pull away, turning to face her. “Don’t fucking touch me,” You spit out, suddenly blinded by anger. Daniela shakes her head with desperation in her eyes. “Y/n, please. It’s not what you think.” She pleads, trying to reach out to you once more but you push her away. She stumbles slightly as you raise your voice, “So, what the fuck was Manon talking about?” She shrinks away at your tone. Her voice trembles as she responds, “I– At first, that’s why I did it, okay?” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you try to leave again but she grabs your hand, gripping it tightly. 

“But then I really did want you back in my life, okay? I still want you in my life.” Daniela tugs at your hand and continues speaking, sounding helpless, “Y/n, please. Please. You have to understand.” You nod at her words, pulling your hand out of hers. You take your bookbag off your shoulders, unzipping it to grab the folder inside. You throw the report at her feet and zip your bookbag closed. You gesture at the papers, chuckling bitterly. “Well, there it is. I hope you get a fucking A+.” 

You look back up at Daniela. With your dignity gone, you decide to deliver one last blow. “I was fucking in love with you, you know that?” Her eyes widen at your admission and it makes you smile sadly, letting out a shaky breath. You put your bookbag back on your shoulders, shaking your head. “I was in love with you and you made me look like a fucking idiot.” You scoff, taking a step toward Daniela. She steps away from you however and you know it’s over. 

This is goodbye. 

You whisper, your voice steady, “Don’t you ever talk to me again.” 

You turn away, walking away from Daniela for the last time. You’ll make sure of it. 

You walk into your dorm quietly, knowing Megan is still asleep. You tiptoe toward your bed, making sure to avoid the squeaky floor tile on your side. You glance at her side of the room and notice how she is underneath her blanket. You can tell she is awake by the way her blanket is illuminated by a screen. 

You look back at your bed, wanting to get under the covers to avoid the world. But for some reason, the usual desire to be alone is trumped with a need to be around a friend. You look at Megan’s side and pad over, wondering if she had her headphones on. You slowly sit down at the foot of her bed causing her to jump out from under the covers, her eyes wide. You look down at her lap to see her laptop open– on the screen is a Roblox game. You chuckle, looking back up at her. Her eyes have softened and she stares at you with a mix of curiosity and concern. 

You can tell she’s trying to read your expression. As much as you try to hide your feelings with a fake smile, your swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks tell her everything she needs to know. Megan scoots over, patting the spot next to her. Without any words, you slip your shoes off, crawling over to the empty space. You lean against her headboard as she places her laptop on both of your laps. Megan leans her head against your shoulder, silently clicking through her game once more. She glances up at you with a smile. “Wanna watch me work at a pizza place?” You let out a soft laugh, nodding. You lean your head on top of hers, watching her change the game. 

Your heart aches at the thought of another broken promise. A second chance given so freely but left you so quietly. The worst part is that you almost believed it was wrong timing and you had the rest of your life to make up for it. 

At the end of it, it was just the wrong person. It was never going to be Daniela. 

You wipe your eyes and wrap an arm around Megan’s shoulders, sighing shakily. 

“Sure. Got nothing else left to do.” She remains silent, playing her game. At some point during the quiet morning, Megan’s head moves onto your chest, and your arm is still wrapped around her. She cuddles into your side, now watching you play the silly Roblox game. Not much has been said between you two but it was comforting nonetheless. 

As you play, you hear Megan whisper, “I think you deserve better.” A soft chuckle escapes your lips. You look down at your roommate with raised eyebrows. 

“What’s better then?” You ask in a teasing tone. She looks up at you, her eyes twinkling brighter than the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. There’s something in her eyes you can’t quite put a finger on. 

She looks away and grabs your hand that isn’t on the keyboard. She laces your fingers together. “I don’t know, but you’ll find it someday.” 

You find yourself squeezing her hand. It’s not a tight squeeze, it’s more gentle. You whisper, “One day.”

an: the president of frown town is back! hope u all enjoyed, lmk what u think <3

requests are open

[retrosabers]

𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬.

*relationship hcs written with fem!reader in mind*

contains: a little bit of everything. some relationship fluff, a bit of angst (mentions of death and past trauma), very flirty and filthy logan, 18+ CONTENT AT THE BOTTOM. MINORS DNI (body worship, praise kink, pain kink, dirty talk to the nines.)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: not me posting something for the first time in a) over a month and b) in 2025 😍😍

it’s been ROUGH in the brain and writing department for me, and this is the best i could come up with right now. i hope i can get back in my real groove soon, i miss writing real bad.

in the mean time, please enjoy my wolvie brain dump. feel free to share any of your own personal hcs in the comments or reblogs!!

GENERAL/PERSONALITY:

he’s secret tea drinker. always drinks coffee (no cream no sugar; nasty ass) in the morning but also drinks tea at night. though nothing can fully calm him down in the evening, the tea does relax him in some capacity, and logan takes whatever reprieve he can get. plus it was one of the first things you started doing together, so it’s become a part of his routine he can’t be without.

typically the first person up, and the last person in bed. you’d think logan wouldn’t be a morning person, but he’s surprisingly at ease in the early hours. as relaxed as someone like him could get, anyways.

likes to read a lot. he was in complete awe of the mansion’s library the first time he saw it. will often sneak in when no one’s around and read for an hour or two by the window if he’s got the time. when you discover he’s a secret bookworm, you start to leave a book on his desk that you think he’ll enjoy every once in a while. it’s a small gesture logan holds very near and dear to his heart.

can’t remember people’s birthdays or important dates to save his life BUT can recall something minor in a fleeting conversation from a long time ago. also remembers very random useless facts that have actually come in handy on more than one occasion.

if and when logan sleeps, he snores. so. fucking. LOUD, to the point where it can wake people up depending on how close quarters are. he denies it constantly.

likes to make sure his deodorant and cologne have the same general scent (i just know he smells like a sexy ass manly man URGH).

a lot of people hc him as a history professor but i have a hot take: gym teacher logan. not in the typical “let’s run laps and play dodgeball” way, but in the sense that he teaches the kids how to control and utilize their mutations to their advantage (with help from the rest of the xmen of course), and maybe even some light sparring to practice self defense. i personally just don’t see the history teacher thing working out because i fear he would subconsciously be reliving a LOT of trauma.

gets really anxious whenever someone is sick or injured. he’s been gravely reminded before that not everyone is indestructible like he is, and it scares him to see others get hurt in any capacity, because he’s terrified of losing them. the first time you get seriously wounded on a mission? logan damn near wears his boots down to the sole from pacing back and forth outside the medbay so much. he can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t focus on anything other than you. time stops for him; and won’t resume until he’s certain you’re going to be okay.

legitimately purrs like a cat if you scratch his head just the right way. he will once again deny this until the end of time, but with less resistance and a much more flushed complexion.

“whatever,” he mumbles into your stomach, while guiding your nails back to his scalp.

hates ANY music made after the year 2000, but anything before that he’s pretty keen on. he’s got his preferences for sure (a little country, some rock, and maybe a bit of bluegrass), but isn’t above admitting that a pop tune is a little catchy from time to time.

IN A RELATIONSHIP:

you better not even THINK about ever opening a door for yourself ever again because if you do he’s taking personal offense to it.

he may be a slut in the sheets but he’s a near perfect gentlemen in the streets. i’m talking walking on the outside of the sidewalk at all times, always helping you out of the car even if you don’t need it, carrying your jacket or shoes after a night out, making sure you’re obscured from view if you need to adjust a revealing top; any chivalrous boyfriend thing you can think of, and he’s done it. with suaveness, might i add.

“here honey, gimme that, i got it.”

“hold on a second sweetheart, your strap’s all twisted.”

the definition of “you fell first but he fell harder.”

makes it a point to take you on a “real date” outside the mansion once or twice a month because he knows how much you enjoy getting dressed up for different occasions. whether that be dinner, dancing (yes, if you beg hard enough he’ll go dancing with you), and maybe even a trip to the museum or planetarium.

both the big and little spoon, it depends on the day, but he’s an insane cuddler either way. a human teddy bear for you and only you. this? he won’t deny, not for a second. and he’ll tell anyone who cares to tease him about it to fuck off.

always touching you in some capacity. a gentle caress on the back of your neck, or cold palms sliding underneath your sweater, logan has no qualms about being a bit handsy.

“if your girl looked like this, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off her either.”

his favorite (and yours too secretly) is a hand in the back pocket of your jeans. there’s something equally sweet and sultry about it that makes your stomach flutter every time. a slightly possessive gesture, that when coupled with a cocky smirk and a shameless squeeze, never fails to drive you wild.

you thought he was a worry wart about your safety before you were dating? it amplifies by a million when you’re together, almost to the point of annoyance because he’s adamant on not letting you out of his sight. eventually after a few arguments and a scolding from charles, you remind him that you’re perfectly capable of handling things on your own, and yes, sometimes he does need to look out for you, just in case.

SMUT:

handsy logan = body worship logan. this man will make it his life mission to appreciate every single inch of your body. he doesn’t care if you’re tangled in between sheets for hours on end. you’re not leaving the bed until you know just how much he’s smitten with every part of you.

pain kink king who will cum significantly faster if you break skin with your nails raking down arms or back. gets an immediate hard on when you slap him in the middle of a dangerously intense argument, and implores you to do it again in a dark, lust driven tone.

to make up for the fact that you can’t mark your territory, with logan’s regenerative capabilities and all, he goes above and beyond to mark his. this man leaves hickies everywhere, and i mean everywhere. your hip bones, your navel, damn near the entirety of your sternum, your neck essentially a human canvas that he gladly paints in brilliant hues of lavender.

he may be a man of few words with most, but with you? logan can never shut the fuck up about how good you make him feel.

“look at you. doin’ so good for me honey.” “y’feel like fuckin’ heaven, you know that?” “my perfect girl. made just for me.”

cannot handle when you return the favor. immediately shoves his flushed face into whatever part of your body he can find and picks up the pace. praise is another surefire way to get logan to blow his load in record time. he thinks it’s a little embarrassing but you think it’s SO HOT.

loves a good tummy bulge OOP who said that

really enjoys sex in the shower or bath. there’s an additional layer of intimacy with it that makes logan particularly warm in the chest. will often suggest round two in the bathroom so he not only has the pleasure of ruining you again, but helping gently put you back together with a tenderness reserved only for you.

the ceo of teasing. loves to watch you get all flustered and squirmy so you best believe he’s teasing the fuck out of you any chance he gets. logan’s got wandering hands and a filthy mouth and that he uses to his advantage both in and out of the bedroom.

“what if i bent you over this desk, right here right now, hm? would you like that?”

“your skirt’s real pretty baby. think it would look a lot better on the floor of my room.”

“been thinkin’ about you all day. gonna let me fuck you real good later?”

aftercare is a learning curve. he’s not completely careless the first time you have sex, but he’s not as caring and attentive as he knows he probably should be. logan was used to quick one night stands, not getting intimate with someone he had romantic feelings for. once he realizes how in-deep he is with you, he takes the time to learn the ins and outs of true aftercare.

* for more smut headcanons, check out my logan nsfw alphabet here*

thanks for reading! <3