#because this is something i would want to get every detail into

[sceletaflores]

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight. 

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?” 

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off. 

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding. 

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does. 

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you. 

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat. 

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch. 

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue. 

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this. 

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly. 

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back. 

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips. 

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly. 

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating. 

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body. 

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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[audliminal]

It's just a game, right? Pt 2

pt 1

"It's like. Crazy, y'know?" Bernard's voice echoes in Tim's ears as he fiddles with his mask. "Like, when they started posting, I was kinda meh about it? I mean the first few videos they posted were just like. Basic shitty, scrambled audio, and the first clues were just like, real simple. Basic word replacement stuff; mostly vigenères, right? But now it's- they're using everything! The current drop is. It's layers, man. And I think it's intentional."

"Isn't it supposed to be intentional? I thought that was like, the whole point of an ARG."

"No I mean, like yeah obviously the clues are intentional, but like. The way the difficulty curve is just increasing. When this started it was so easy, but I don't think it was because they like, didn't know what they were doing or anything. Which, cool yeah that makes sense, you want people to buy in before it gets super hard or whatever, but there are, like all these threads that never went anywhere. And everybody kind of wrote them off as red herrings because they didn't seem to fit into the narrative that we had so far, but I can't stop thinking about them, you know?"

"I mean, they could still be red herrings, couldn't they?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but like. Why? It's one thing to have a dead end that maybe calls back to a previous clue or, like, reaffirms some detail from before but having something completely unconnected seems like a weird choice. Especially when the creator keeps telling us to dig deeper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tim asks with a laugh.

"No that's the thing!" Bernard's voice goes intense, and Tim momentarily stops putting his mask back together. "Literally every fucking drop those exact words are hidden somewhere in the mess of encryptions, and as things get more complicated, it's showing up more not less. And that together with all the fucking loose details that don't seem to fit in anywhere? I'm literally on the verge of going back to the beginning of the whole thing and solving it from scratch, bc I think we're missing a lot." Tim kind of forgets, sometimes, how similar he and Bernard are, but the in his boyfriend's voice is one he's intimately familiar with. That combination of obsession and frustration - and obviously it's not really serious because like, it's an internet game, but it doesn't matter what the stakes are, being stuck on a puzzle fucking sucks, and he can't exactly patrol what with his broken ankle, so maybe a fun, no-stakes challenge would be good for him.

"We were planning on hanging out on Friday, so what if you walked me through it from the start, and maybe together we can come up with some answers?"

"Seriously? Dude that would be so awesome! I will teach you everything I know about code breaking!"

"I mean, I do know some things, you know. You think I didn't have a spy phase as a teenager?" Tim smiles at Bernard's responding laughter. It'll be nice, he thinks, to mess with a puzzle where nobody's life is at stake.

[ovaryacted]

COMPLICATED

─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 3.2k

SYNOPSIS: You begin to realize Javier's position at the DEA is putting a wedge in your marriage. It was only a matter of time before everything you've built crumbled once you reached your breaking point.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. ANGST. Established relationship. Javier & Reader are Married. Marriage problems. Arguments & Confrontation. Thoughts of slapping Javi. Mentions to prior sex & intimacy. Javier is falling apart. Self-sabotage. Mentions of religion/faith. Mentions of the DEA & Javi's job. Both Javi & Reader are in Colombia. Reader's occupation is unknown. Spanish dialogue between Javi & Reader. Please proceed with caution if relationship issues/arguments/possible DV are a sensitive topic for you.

Disclaimer: I have not watched Narcos yet. This is all just my interpretation of another aspect of Javier Peña’s character. Therefore, it is not strict to the canon or details of the show.

A/N: I wrote this for @almostfoxglove's Angst Challenge for August and got Javier Peña, so this is what I came up with! I will admit, I rewrote this fic twice because my initial outline changed halfway, so I started from scratch and got this. It is angsty, and I do want to mention that this is a different take on Javier P., because I personally do not characterize him this way but I ventured out of the norm and put him through situations (I love him a lot though). Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You waited for him, the same way you always did.

Sitting on the couch and staring idly at the TV screen, you tried your hardest to find something to occupy your mind again. The cigarette comfortably sat between the index and middle fingers of your left hand, the weight of the two golden bands on your ring finger enticed you to take another drag.

You always hated how much Javier smoked. The stress from working at the DEA compelled him to go through two packs weekly, an ashtray present in every room of your quaint apartment, probably another on his desk at work. You didn’t predict there would come a time when you’d consider yourself a smoker, much less of cigarettes, despite recalling the multiple times you reminded your husband of how bad they were for his health.

“Those things will kill you before your job does, Javi.”

The irony in your words, a hypocrite of your own making.

You don’t blame him for not listening, either. Now you think you get the appeal of going through the cancer sticks one by one. You crave the high of the nicotine rushing through your veins with every inhale and relieving your jumpy nerves. The peace you’d feel for a few minutes was the only tranquility you could get in the hectic mess of your crumbling life.

You wish you knew how things got to this point.

The years blended throughout your relationship with the charismatic Javier Peña, a fine man you bumped into on your way home and accidentally sent all your groceries falling to the ground. Apologies poured out of your mouth repeatedly, and he bent down to help you clean up your mess, offering to cover the expenses of the ruined food you just bought with a faint smile.

The curl of his lips and the sparkle in his brown eyes bewitched you from the start, and you took the money he offered in your palm before he walked off, your sight trailing down on the cocky sway of his hips and the broadness of his back.

He dwelled in your mind like a phantom, haunting you in your dreams and inhabiting your senses. You didn’t anticipate to bump into him two weeks later while running errands, the smug look on his face at the sight of reencountering you so quickly didn’t go unnoticed. It was a simple conversation, a brief introduction followed by an offer for drinks when you both had time with reassurance that you would meet him under better circumstances.

The rest was history.

Sure, you knew Javier was a busy man, always on the run due to his highly demanding job you didn’t initially know of. From how he carried himself, you gathered he was associated with law enforcement, not from Colombia naturally, but perhaps the United States. You didn’t suppose he’d be affiliated with the federal government of all things, and the thought of what he was doing in the country worried you the first few months of being with him.

But all of your apprehensions about his professional occupation went out the window when you got into bed with him, limbs tangling into the sheets, and hushed promises whispered sweetly in your ear. All you cared about were the words he’d say as he took you every which way, claimed you his all over his apartment when you’d meet him late at night after a stressful work day.

That was the most intimate you knew him, in the throes of passion in which he seemed to be an expert. His hands strung your body with ease, pulling on the invisible red string that connected the two of you whenever his fingers wandered between your thighs. He drank every moan and cry of his name, hips moving against you so reverently others would mistake you for a place of worship.

It was a matter of time before dates turned to sleepovers, and your stay in his life became more permanent when you moved in with him. You didn’t object when he got down on one knee and popped the question you’d been waiting to hear after a year, jumping in your heels with a broad smile and tears streaming down your cheeks once he slipped the ring over your finger.

You never got the wedding you dreamed of since you were little, and you didn’t go on the honeymoon he promised you due to his prior commitments. Instead, you settled on going to a courthouse when you briefly visited Javi’s home in Texas and stayed in his government-covered apartment while in Colombia.

The signs of stress were there from the beginning of the relationship, but the rose-tinted shades you wore were a perfect fit. To you, ignorance was bliss, and you refused to pop whatever abstract bubble you found yourself trapped in with the man you’ve come to know as your partner.

You stuck by him when he needed you most, never opposing him when he sought after you for solace following the close calls he had while chasing down Escobar’s men. You kept your mouth shut when you saw him cleaning up the wounds he hid from you, locking the bathroom door behind him to avoid worrying you to such an extent. You didn’t utter a word when he started coming home later and wouldn’t give you notice, blaming the job and the intricacies of the caseload he was assigned to manage.

“I’m sorry. It’ll get better.”

You wanted to believe him, to think that somehow the craziness that was happening with the business of narcotics in Colombia would be slowing down, and your life would go back to normal, the way it should be. That way of life was gone. Sometimes, you think you’ve never had it to begin with.

You didn’t ask for this. Neither one of you did.

The disconnect between you grew after another close call on a raid, causing your first full-blown argument. The aftermath resulted in harsh kisses and bruises on your thighs from when Javi fucked you hard against the wall, holding you tightly as you scratched down his back. The subsequent times were like that; you could only communicate with him when your bodies engaged in the best way they knew how. All the pent-up frustration was released when he was inside you, groaning apologies and curse words as he filled you to the brim over and over, and you took it with a smile of forgiveness.

At some point along the way, there was no more fun to this game of tension you’ve created to ignore the elephant in the room. Not after the bickering turned into disagreements, your pillowcase growing wet with suppressed tears after a yelling match. The touches turned fleeting, the nights were lonely, and the animosity that wedged itself in your marriage thrived in the dismissive regard you both held for one another.

Your touch burned him more often than not; the last time he caressed you with care was lost to the ravages of his anxiety. All that remained was the past, the memories that you shared before shit hit the fan, and frankly, you don’t think you could take any more of this torture.

The other side of your bed stayed messy and cold, barely catching him when he left in the mornings for work. The caseloads kept piling on, the raids got more personal and farther from home, and the cycle continued to repeat itself. There wasn’t an end in sight, not soon anyway.

Stuck in your thoughts, you missed the instant the front door opened and closed, stubbing out your cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. You glanced over to see Javier stepping through the entryway, peeling his leather jacket off and tossing it to the side while holding your gaze momentarily.

“You’re still awake?” Javier asked you, hinting an edge to his voice as he spoke to you.

“Hello to you too,” you responded calmly, asserting your tone. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d wait for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Somehow, the faux concern made you chuckle dryly, watching him walk past you to head right for the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and leaving his back turned to you.

“And what else do you need me to stop doing?”

Your question forced Javier to pivot and face you, his glass sat on the counter as you observed him. Keeping your distance, you stood on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the archway and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Tell me. What else do you need me to stop doing, Javier?”

He remembers when you only called him by signature terms of endearment. Baby. Honey. Amorcito; he particularly loved that one. Now, you addressed him by his first name as if it were its own curse word.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he raised an eyebrow as you continued to speak, malice brewing inside as you itched to say the things you’ve kept bottled up.

“It seems you want me to stop everything. You don’t even come home anymore. I forget you live here sometimes,” you said, trying to be sarcastic, but your words were as sincere as they were hurtful.

“I do come home when I can. It’s been busy at w-”

“Work. It’s always about work and your fucking job. Work this, work that. Do you ever get tired of making excuses for yourself?” His eyes narrowed, staring you down as his body became rigid.

“Do you think me going out there every day chasing down these fucking pendejos is a godamn excuse? No estás pensando con claridad.”

“Oh, I’m the one that lacks sense. That’s rich coming from you.” You started to laugh, standing straighter and looking at your spouse vexingly. “You don’t think going down this goose chase with your head cut off to catch Escobar is crazy? Te has vuelto loco, Javi.”

“I do this for you. For us.” You know he’s trying to convince himself of this lie more than you.

“There is no us if you’re not here! You haven’t been here for months! I don’t know shit about you anymore, and this job has turned you into a different person.”

It was wrong to raise your voice at him; the previous quarrels usually passed through intense conversations, and he’d walk out the door to leave you for the rest of the night, but it was never this intense. You think this time would be the dreaded catalyst you’ve prolonged to avoid, and there was no turning back.

“You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. I told you what I do for work, I told you how this was going to be. It’s not fucking easy. You know this.” He took another sip of his whiskey, gulping it down all at once, hoping the buzz would give him the strength to handle the onslaught of words he knew was coming.

“So now it’s my fault that our relationship is falling apart? What? I should’ve known better than to fall in love with you? Should’ve known better than to marry you?” You were inching closer, your hands flailing around as you spoke exasperatedly.

“Yes. Maybe you should’ve known better.”

The only thing that could be heard in the kitchen was the clink of the ice melting in Javi’s glass, reaching a stalemate as you stared at him in bewilderment and heartbreak. You stepped forward to meet him chest to chest, imagining yourself slapping the words clean out of his mouth. You opted for putting your pointer finger under his chin, the tip of your nail grazing the underside of his jaw as rage washed over you.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything I gave up to stay here with you in Colombia.”

Tears graced your lash line when he looked at you again, your brows creasing as the mask you’ve worn for so long unraveled. You tried to stay the good wife; you did, but you were getting edged closer and closer to the breaking point. Javier wants to be surprised that you found the audacity to confront him like this, but he knows it was what he deserved. Perhaps he deserved worse for what he’s put you through.

“Why can’t you give this up? Why? You know how this is going to end. I’ll hear from Steve that you didn’t make it back from another assignment or worse. All of this and for what? Help me understand, please.” You begged him to see your pain, hoped to see things as he saw them, to understand why he was going to such great lengths to kill a man at the expense of everything else rotting around him.

“It’s complicated. Everything about this is complicated. The last thing I need is for you to get involved in this mess, too.”

“It’s always complicated with you.” You shrugged with a shake of your head, admitting your defeat.

“I sit here and wait for you to come home, and you don’t. You’d rather be out there, doing god knows what, while I stay and twiddle my fucking thumbs waiting for something to happen,” you looked down to the floor, staring at your feet as the emotions swirled inside you, losing control over the storm of their intensity.

“I don’t complain or say anything when you don’t come home. I get it, this is the job, this is what you have to do. But I don’t see you, Javier. You don’t talk to me, you don’t touch me, or even look at me…I don’t want this for us anymore.”

You didn’t think your words were getting through to Javi anyway as he remained quiet, the stinging bitterness festering before was forgotten and replaced by the dull ache of his heart. Hearing you say this to him hurt in ways grazed bullet wounds and rough tumbles to the ground couldn’t amount to. The self-loathing and anger that’s been building inside him after discovering all the corruption of his job settled in the pit of his stomach, bile rising to the back of his throat at the thought of it. He hated this.

“I don’t want this either. I don’t want to keep hurting you…”

I don’t want to lose you.

“Then why do you still do it?” You presented your left hand to hit his line of sight, gesturing to the two rings you wore, the ones he gave you when he swore to love you for the rest of your life. “Does this mean anything to you?”

It means everything to me. You mean everything to me.

The words were too heavy for him to say, refraining from confessing his true thoughts the way he wanted. His lips were sealed, but his eyes confirmed what you already knew. He was just too cowardly to do or say the right thing himself.

“I love you Javier, I do. So much that it pains me, but this is not a life we should be living. Don’t you want more than this?”

Of course, he wanted more. When he slipped that ring on your finger, he had already envisioned the life he had dreamed of with you. A quiet life somewhere in the countryside, away from all of the noise of the government and countries that were running rampant with issues he shouldn’t be responsible for fixing. He saw the distant future, a kid or two running in the yard while you sat on the porch to watch them, a look of peace on your pretty face as you peeked over at him from across the ranch.

A happy home, a happy life. That was what he wanted, what he prayed for.

Javier despises himself for being unable to amount to his dream for both of you. He’s so wrapped up in this nonsense with the DEA that he’s had tunnel vision so profound he can’t see the light anymore.

“I know you’re not going to stop until all of this is finished, I know that. But I can’t do this anymore. So I’m giving you a choice, the DEA or me.” His eyebrows shot up at the sudden ultimatum you’ve proposed to him, eyes growing wide as he comprehended the hand you’ve forced upon him.

“You can’t make me choose this, that’s not how this works. I can’t just drop everything for you, not now when we’re this close. Don’t do this to me, please…” his hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing them to make you rethink what you said before doing something you may regret.

“I don’t want to do this, but I have to,” your eyes met the brown irises you used to spend hours looking at and admiring, the spark in them long gone. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself, Javi. I love you too much to witness that. Please don’t put me through that.”

Walking away from him and heading to the bedroom, you knew nothing else was left to say. You couldn’t save him, your love couldn’t save him either, and you thought maybe backing him into a corner would knock some sense that he’s been missing.

As you entered your bathroom to look at your reflection, you heard the front door open and close again, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’ll be outside for the night, maybe stop by a bar and drown his sorrows before going to work again as if nothing happened. Your eyes turned bloodshot as you cried, your hands covering your face to muffle your sobs as you sank to the tiled bathroom floor with your back to the wall. You brought your knees to your chest, comforting yourself and hoping something would come in the form of a miracle.

Maybe you’ll wait for him a little longer. Maybe you’ll leave your ring on the dresser with a letter, find your way back to the United States, and rebuild your life, forgetting all about Javier Peña. Maybe there was nothing left to give, nothing left to save. Maybe you just didn’t know what you were doing, and you went over your head.

You prayed for whatever God existed to give you the strength to persevere through this troubling time. In that silent prayer, you wished for the man you still loved to come back home to you, for him to want a better life for himself and to end this torment he continued to put himself through.

Slipping into the empty bed like you’ve done so many times before, you tucked yourself in the sheets that still smelled like him, glimpsing at the window to count the rays of moonlight that peeked through the curtains to help you doze off.

You dreamed that in the morning, you’d wake up to strong arms wrapped around your waist, apologies and promises muttered alongside kisses to your temple as he reclaimed you as his, the way he used to do before all of this. You desired to give him what he wanted, be the person he needed to show him better and save him from himself. But that was wishful thinking.

The man you knew, the man you loved, wasn’t here anymore, and there was no way you could bring him back.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Spanish Translation: pendejos - idiots, No estás pensando con claridad - you're not thinking clearly, Te has vuelto loco, Javi - You've gone insane/you’re crazy Javi.

[a-d-nox]

nox tests hypotheses: "saturn tells you what annoys you"

this is one of shawtyherbs hypotheses. this is how i feel this manifests for me in my chart and why i believe this hypothesis works. my saturn is located in my 3h, in taurus at 29°... let's take deep dive!

taurus saturn

a lack of discipline: i feel like i have a strong work ethic - i value hard work. i despised when i did group work in school and i was paired up with procrastinators or people who were unwilling to put in the necessary effort to achieve a good grade. it felt like every time i had my part done i would start getting anxious that the other person/people didn't. it felt like a manipulation - like we were playing chicken. if they didn't do it, would i do it for them? how long did they have to wait until i stepped in?

instability and unpredictability: sudden changes, chaotic environments, and erratic behavior can make me uncomfortable, anxious, and annoyed. i guess it's sort of like a trauma response from childhood except now i get irritable... everyone know my dislike for surprises.

wastefulness: i get easily irritated by wastefulness, whether it's wasting time, money, or resources. again maybe its from my childhood and having those experiences. but i am the type of person who arrives on time. if i buy something and don't like it i use it until it's gone, i eat it til its gone (even if its stale), or i use it til its paid itself off (if i buy a shirt and can't return it and it was $30, i am wearing it 30 times). it sounds strange - i know - but it is how i am...

superficiality: i really value authenticity. i feel like i am easily annoyed by superficial behavior, materialism without substance, and people who put on mask to fit in... like so what if you don't laugh at someone's shit joke, so what if i am happy with my hydroflask and want nothing to do with a stanley (it's all the same to me), and who cares if your true self is not everyone's favorite (you'll find your people a whole lot faster if you're your self).

resisting practicality: you know how much advice i have given throughout the years THAT WAS ASKED FOR and people did what they wanted anyway??? why even waste my time if you don't want outside perspective. or something its just kind advice to help with ease like hi you are using a stain on the deck, i recommend you wipe as you go so it dries quicker and you don't accidentally smear/smudge later. but nooooo.....

saturn at 29°

arrogance: you know it's okay to be wrong... it's not okay to pontificate about how you were right in some alternate scenario. just admit you were wrong in this situation and move on or better yet say nothing...

irresponsibility: when you say you are going to do something do it. if you are a leader then lead and know that you are responsible for anything you designate to someone you view as your subordinate (especially when you don't train them on what you want them to do for you). if you can't commit to having a task or being in charge than don't do it. someone is relying on you - it's 10 times worse when its yourself and you push goals to the side.

unfounded claims/criticisms: perhaps i am overly sensitive to criticism because i tend to take my work and my self a bit too seriously. but if you can't take yourself and what you do seriously, then who will? i take everything personally too. so when i get criticism and its said in a nasty way (at least how i interpret it) or there is a lack of explanation or no backing i will get annoyed. you bet my humor will be ill-tempered... you can't expect me to react well to a comment like "you're wrong". like wow okay so detailed, i'm glad you decided to write one word and a contraction to dismiss my 2k essay. like if you are going to criticize me or disprove me make it detailed and make it sound. and if i do something wrong its probably because no one told me how to do it in the first place (cough cough work) so don't snap at me, walk me through it.

lack of respect: now listen - i'm no angel, i was a teenager once - eyerolls and all. but now that i am a bit older (she said at 23) i am getting to the point where respect isn't freely given (unless its to build a good first impression) but instead its earned in a pre-existing relationship. i don't tolerate disrespect, no one is going to snap at me and tell me what to do. you do that and you will get the opposite reaction that you expect from me (speaking from real life situations). asserting dominance doesn't make you worthy of respect, it makes you a bully.

3h

superficial conversations: i said it why back when in one of my get to know me posts. i prefer deep, meaningful conversations and i find small talk / superficial chatter frustrating or pointless. like skip to the meat bruv - we don't have all this time for "hi how are you?" "good how are you?"

disorganization: a lack of structure, whether in communication, in a learning environments, or my daily routines, irritates me. i feel like it effects me most in the routine bit. weekends are my prime culprit because my schedule falls apart. during the week my meals and tasks are standardized, but on the weekend, i somehow manage to always get annoyed because i eat lunch late or what i had in my mind to do gets tossed aside...

gossip/rumors: i feel uncomfortable with gossip, i prefer facts and reliable knowledge. which i know facts seems shaky when i am posting the content i do... but generally facts over fiction in conversations. gossip and the like almost always gets me in trouble - i struggle with holding my tongue especially when i see someone regularly who has been gossiped about frequently. withholding information is a form of lying in my opinion - and lying makes me extremely uncomfortable.

impulsive decisions: i am trying to get better about this because i tend to carefully deliberate everything. but i don't like when others around me make impulsive decisions that effect me because it ruins the plan i already had in my mind. for example, last weekend i wanted to go to an all day fall festival with my mother (and yes i told her tuesday my plan) but last minute my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend said he needed her help with a project and it was going to be an all weekend thing. so friday night my plan went out the window. so quickly had to make a new plan consisting of paid readings, trader joe's, and shampooing my couch (fun stuff i know...).

a lack of respect for rules/boundaries: a disregard for social norms, etiquette, and established rules of communication annoys me so badly. like it is common courtesy (at least for how i was raised) to call or write in advance of stopping over at someone's house. my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend is the biggest perpetrator of this behavior. they aren't technically dating anymore so hello hi in my opinion he should be giving us a heads up if he will be stopping over. also switching gears when i say "no" or "i don't want to" i feel like a lot of people around me push me and test me to see if i will change my tune. i don't appreciate that in the slightest. i make clear boundaries in all the relationships i have (even here i have guidelines) - so yes, you bet i get frustrated when i vocalized or wrote my boundaries and yet they get ignored.

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[theoxenfree]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 2.8k

you're mystified by the strange noises coming from the basement. despite your uncle attempting to thwart your concerns, you make your way downstairs into the basement one night and come across an appalling sight, and soon enough, a blooming infatuation.

warnings; 18+, double penetration, explicit sexual details, imprisonment (not mc), some unsettling details, roughly proofread, repost from my old blog 2kmps.

this is a concept piece for a potentially long one-shot! pls answer the feedback questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps to develop a well-rounded story for y'all!

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Uncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, Uncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Uncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

"Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: so, this idea has unfortunately never been able to fully develop from a lack of ideas. with starting this new blog, I'm hoping to get enough interest and feedback to actually commit to this and bring a completed project eventually!!

are you satisfied with how the aquatic monster was written in this piece? what would you be interested in having added/taken away? what do you think could be improved upon/expanded? is there anything you're particularly curious about?

what sort of setting would you like to see this story take place? 19th century, the 90s, or modern e.g. 2010+? are you satisfied with the setting being in cape tellis? a location inspired by lighthouse coastlines with predominately dreary/cool/wet weather? if not, what type of setting would you prefer to see?

in terms of the storyline, are you more interested in seeing: 1) a relative goes missing, so you arrive at the lighthouse he owned to solve the mystery 2) mc being an underwater mechanic to fix a damaged dam 3) mc being part of a small group trying to capture proof of a "creature" lurking around cape tellis. 4) something else???

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

(For those wondering, Rita's Birthday is actually September 19th. )

Ironically enough, the reason why I wasn't able to post something on her birthday was because I was swamped with work thanks to an unrealistic deadline.

But hey, better late than never right?

As an apology to Rita and to you all, I wrote a "little" birthday story detailing how her "Birthday Cookies" came to be!

It was almost two weeks before the date when you found out Rita's birthday was coming up.

It was purely unintentional. You see, you spotted her open planner when she asked you to grab something off of her desk. Most of the days on her calendar had a note or two written in black text, however September 19th was the only exception. She had used a cute little birthday sticker that, you presumed, came with the planner.

At the time you made a mental note of it before fetching her the document she requested and getting back to work. However, that was the moment you knew you wanted to do something special for her. Like you, she had recently moved to the island and had really only focused on getting the bookstore up and running before getting consumed with work. From what you had seen she hadn't really socialized much outside of work, so the chances of her actually having birthday plans were slim.

However you intended to fix that! After all, she was the best boss you had ever had. She was kind, patient, hardworking, responsible, understanding, and made it a point to check in on how you were doing often. It was hard NOT to want to do something special for her given just how much you appreciated her.

During the following two weeks you made it your mission to learn as much as possible about her preferences. You didn't want to outright ask her, otherwise it would be too obvious. So, you would make sure to subtly bring it up with customers whenever Rita was within earshot so she would, hopefully, join in on the conversation, or you would be able to naturally follow up on the topic later that day.

Admittedly it was a pretty round about way of collecting information, but you really wanted to make sure your plans were a complete and total surprise

You also invited her out to the local bakery one day during lunch when she seemed to have a particularly rough day dealing with a bunch of annoying teenagers. It was then and there you had learned that she actually hated cake.

Marcelo, who was in ear shot when she made the comment, couldn't help himself and asked why.  According to her, she was never a fan of the "cakey" texture and she HATED frosting. Marcelo couldn't hide his surprise and began listing a variety of cakes, most of which you had never even heard from before. However Rita had not only tried all of them, but disliked each and every one.

Poor Marcelo had to return to work defeated while Rita and yourself remained seated sipping on your respective drinks.

" If not cakes, cupcakes, or pastries, then what kind of sweets do you like?" You questioned, praying that she would give you something, anything, to work with.

She took a sip of her black coffee as she considered your question. After a few beats she finally answered.

" Chocolate chip cookies."

" Really?" You questioned, surprised by the simplicity.

" I know, I know, It's a pretty basic answer... but I can't help it. It's always been a bit of a comfort food for me. Nothing beats a warm freshly baked chocolate chip cookie. " She paused for a moment before continuing, a soft wistful expression on her face.

"Growing up my grandma would make them for us on Sundays and... Well, it was the highlight of my week." She answered with a warm smile as she glanced down at her coffee.

" I mean, I can't really blame you. After all chocolate chips cookies are a classic for a reason." You commented with a smile, only to earn a gentle and affectionate look from the woman before you.

Fast forward a week later and you and a handful of coworkers quietly arrived at work nearly an hour early. Thankfully you had a key to the back door and was able to slip in without much effort. You all spent the next hour quietly decorating the break room without alerting Rita of your presence.

So when she finally descended the stairs an hour later, she was surprised to find you all standing in the dimly lit break room shouting " HAPPY BIRTHDAY RITA!"

She nearly fell down the stairs in shock as she stared at all of you wide eyed.

" W-what on earth...?"

It was then you stepped forward with a wide grin, pleased that your birthday surprise for Rita had been a success.

Well, at least the surprise part was anyway.

" It's your birthday isn't it? We wanted to do something to celebrate! Now why don't you sit down? We have a few surprises up our sleeves." You said with a smile as you grabbed her arm and gently led her over to the couch to sit down.

It was then all of your coworkers presented their gifts and cards to her, thanking her for being such a great boss and how they'll miss her once they returned home for the winter. Fortunately Rita had recovered from the shock by then and politely thanked them all, chuckling along and having a wonderful time.

Once everyone else had given her their gifts, you were up to bat.

" There's one more surprise, so make sure to close your eyes okay?" You said with a smile.

Rita raised a brow before doing as she was told, a playful smirk on her lips. " Oh? What's next? A piñata?" She teased gaining a few chuckles out of your coworkers.

You slipped into her office where you had hidden away a plate of freshly baked cookies you had made earlier that morning. You popped them into the microwave one of your coworkers had relocated to Rita's office right before you started decorating.

Once they were rewarmed, you placed a little candle in the center cookie, thankful that the warm temperature allowed it to stick.

Once they were ready you finally headed out to Rita, carrying the plate of cookies. Placing the plate on the coffee table in front of her you told her to open her eyes before singing happy birthday as your coworkers joined in.

When Rita's eyes finally opened she was surprised by the lack of cake, only for her features to soften considerably once she realized why you of all people had given her cookies instead of a cake. Your coworkers had initially teased you for your choice, however after seeing her tearful and grateful reaction, it was clear that you had made the right decision.

The rest of the gathering went smoothly and despite it all, you all were still able to open up on time. Then most of your coworkers ended up leaving once the festivities were over since it was technically their days off.

It wasn't until nearly everyone had cleared out or gone to the front that Rita finally approached you.

" You know Y/N... I've never gotten birthday cookies instead of cake before." She commented playfully as her eyes shined with affection and mirth as she looked over at you.

" I know I know, an unconventional decision... You have no idea how much everyone roasted me once they realized what I brought instead of a cake." You chuckled remembering their reactions.

"but... I wanted to make sure the birthday girl enjoyed her birthday treat." You met her gentle gaze, a small knowing on your lips.

"Well, I'd say she more than just enjoyed it. Thanks Y/N. This is one of the best birthdays I've had in a really long time." And with that, she wrapped her arms around you in an incredibly warm and thankful embrace.

[chuuya-lillia]

🍷Chuuya's stages of dating -

This is my own opinion, it's long because I head canon Chuuya having trust & abandonment issues so it's harder for him to date.

First stage of dating Chuuya is getting to know each other, like non personal things. You would mostly be texting because he is very busy and it won't be consistent, but he will try to respond as soon as he can. He won't give you any gifts because you and him aren't official yet and he doesn't want to waste his money on a person that isn't close to him.

Second stage of dating Chuuya is the talking like friends, you would be talking about the small details, drama, and minor inconveniences. It will be a little more personal, but still not the deep stuff. You will still be texting him a lot, but you will also get late night video calls. He is not giving you gifts yet because you and him are still not official.

Third stage of dating Chuuya is the non official relationship dates, you would be finally going on dates with Chuuya, but they are small and inexpensive ones. He would take you to a cafe, getting ice cream, and go see a movie. Though this is probably going to happen like once a week so your main contact is texting and video calls. Still no gifts from him because to him the dates are the gifts so he doesn't feel like giving more.

Fourth stage of dating Chuuya is being together officially, you might tell him more deeper personal stuff about you while Chuuya won't because he's not at that level of trust yet. Chuuya would spend his lunch break with you and take you to all your favorite restaurants. You would still be texting him as main contact and have the late night calls. But both of you would share pictures of what you are currently doing like how you would do on Snapchat and on the days you don't have lunch with him in person, he would video call you. He will now start giving you gifts, small and inexpensive ones like your favorite flowers and candy.

Fifth stage of dating Chuuya is the doubting the significant other, Chuuya would start to doubt if you actually love him and it doesn't mean you did something wrong. It's more likely because of his hard time trust people and his fear of betrayal. He won't tell you that he's feeling that way, but he would start to text you more and question where you have been. He will take you out for lunch less because it's easier to hide your emotions through text versus real life. He would still have the late night video calls, but they will last longer than usual. He would stop giving gifts because of his paranoia and the fear that he will waste money on a person that doesn't even love him.

Part two of the fifth stage of dating Chuuya is reassurance, you probably picked up on his shift in attitude if you actually care for him and you don't bring it up to him right away. After about like two weeks of the same shift in behavior, you will confront him and at first he will deny it. You will have to comfort and reassure him that you love/care for him. It won't just take words to make him believe you so you will have get his favorite things, that will show you listened to him and that you cared enough to remember. Once Chuuya recognizes that you actually love and care for him, he will go back to the normal routine that you both are use to.

Sixth stage of dating Chuuya is getting more closer together, now Chuuya trusted you enough to tell you about deep personal things, but still keeps some personal things secret. You would also share deep personal things with him, if you haven't already. He takes you somewhere fun every Saturday and would take you on cute lunch dates on the weekdays, like a picnic, on a quiet beach, and the library. Chuuya would take you on night time rides on his motorcycle and go stargazing with you. He would still have the late night video calls, but he would also call you while he's in his office and during lunch, if you aren't having lunch in person that day. Chuuya would text you a good amount, not too much and not too less. He would buy you jewelry of your birth stone and clothes that you wished you had, but didn't buy because they were expensive. (but no expensive brands like Gucci)

Seventh stage of dating Chuuya is finally getting married, Chuuya wouldn't want a wedding and if he had one, it would be small. At this point Chuuya has been to your home, but you haven't been to his and he doesn't allow you to visit him at work. He will still not allow you to visit his work because he doesn't want you getting hurt, but he will invite you over to his house now that you guys are married. You guys will be living in separate homes for the beginning of the marriage. Chuuya will make a joint bank account for you two to share, but still will have his own bank account and you would too. Nothing really changes about what you guys do normally, expect for a few things, like being that Chuuya would start taking you shopping and another being that Chuuya would lower his working hours then he can spend more time with you.

Eighth stage of dating Chuuya is setting into the married life, you move into Chuuya's apartment and now able to visit him at work. He will be spending more time at home and with you. Those are the only things that changes.

Ninth stage of dating Chuuya is starting to grow a bigger family, you and Chuuya decide to start a family. Chuuya takes four months off near the end of the pregnancy because that's when it's the hardest and two months off after the baby is born. He also lowers his time at work again, but not a lot. Chuuya does not care if it's a boy or girl, he would love the baby no matter what. He's also against gender reveal parties and will just have a normal baby shower. Chuuya wouldn't like having a lots of kids, he would want four at max and one as the least. Chuuya will be there for you at all times, even if he's at work. If you have cravings, he will do the best he can to satisfy them and will cook for you. He would massage you if you are in pain, plus do everything in his power to make you comfortable and healthy. He would help change diapers and tend to the baby in the middle of the night then you can sleep.

Another version: Ninth stage of dating Chuuya is starting to grow a bigger family, you and Chuuya decide to adopt an pet.

If you get a dog, Chuuya will be very happy and spend a lot of time with it. He would buy the dog all the stuff they need and buy the best dog food. He will allow the dog to sleep on the bed with you two and sometimes snuggle with the dog in the couch.

If you get a cat, Chuuya will love it, but it would remind him of Dazai a little and will try to ignore that feeling. He would get the cat everything it wants and would be jealous if you spend more time with it then him. He won't allow it to sleep on your guys bed, but will allow it to sleep in the same room.

[goquokka00]

Hellooooo! Can I request bangchan x innocent!reader? Kind of like corruption kink, also, reader is a virgin. And can you pls pls pls add some overstimulation plss? Sending love 🩷🩷

Oh, definitely!!! Took me a bit to get actual good ideas and decide the flow and all that, but I think this one turned out really well. Hope it's what you were picturing 💗💗💗

Corruption

Summary: Chan was always aware of how innocent his step sister was. He was also aware of how good of a student she was, too. It always managed to feed into his imagination, and it didn't help that you were his ideal type. So imagine his surprise when he found the perfect blackmail to get his precious little sister to do whatever he wanted.

Pairing: Step Bro! Bangchan X Step Sis! Reader (F!)

Genre: Smut (MDNI!)

Warnings: Stepcest, Chan is manipulative, Reader is gullible, a little bit of bullying kinda? but they're step siblings so they're gonna pick on each other anyway, mentions of masturbation, nipple play, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, dirty talk, p in v sex, unprotected penetrative sex (please wrap it before you tap it everyone), squirting, overstimulation, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 5.3K

The first time Chan had ever met you was when his mom decided to have you and your dad over for dinner. At that point in time, your parents had been together for about a year and had finally deemed that it was time for you both to meet.

Now, Chan had been fully aware that his mom's boyfriend had a daughter. He knew that you were extremely kind and sweet, as his mom put it, and that you were a very good student. He had also found out that you were younger than him by about 6 years.

He was NOT warned about how beautiful you were. The second you had walked into his home, your crop top and very short shorts hugging your body in all of the right places, a sweatshirt tied around your waist as you took off your sandals and straightened your bangs out and tightened your ponytail...he already knew he was fucked.

You were the definition of his ideal type. A perky chest, curves, thick thighs...someone who was extremely kind and considerate, and wanted nothing more than to just help out where they could...god, you were perfect.

That night, during dinner, you paid attention to every detail him or his mom had said. What his interests were, what his mom liked in children, rules that they had in the household, and so much more. You took all of that information in and remembered it. Every question you were asked was answered with such...perfect answers.

How were your grades? All A's, with a few B's, but nothing too extreme.

What were you majoring in? No clue, you were just focusing on generals at a local community college until you figured out the career path you wanted to take.

What were some of your favorite hobbies? Writing, reading, drawing, sometimes even going on walks or going to the library to study on fascinating topics.

What chores did you usually do? Anything that had to be done, but you weren't a fan of doing the dishes because of the small bits of food that would touch your hand and scare the crap out of you.

You were like an angel from heaven. Even after dinner, when Chan and his mom were cleaning up, you offered to help dry dishes and tidy up a bit. It was unbelievable.

You were unbelievable.

Eventually, over the years, Chan got to know you better. And he got to understand that you were, in fact, innocent. You didn't know anything about sex, you didn't cuss, you went to church with your dad every Sunday at 9am, you've never done drugs or drank alcohol, and you had beliefs that prevented you from doing any wrong.

Upon finding this out, Chan realized something that stirred within him. He wanted to taint you. He wanted to corrupt you, make you the farthest thing from innocent. He fantasized about it, thinking up ideas on how he'd be able to get you to succumb to him. But he never acted on it.

But that feeling lingered. And it only got worse when your dad and his mom got married, which resulted in him and his mom moving in with you and your dad. Your house was bigger, anyway. It could easily fit the two of them.

But God, those feelings of wanting to corrupt you got so much worse. He was around you so much more often, seeing you do tasks so...seductively. And you weren't even trying to.

One time, the remote to the TV fell underneath the couch while you and him were watching an anime series. You had instantly got to the ground, got on all fours, and reached underneath the couch to grab the remote. And in the process, Chan got a whole view of your ass. Your perfect ass in those gym shorts, your pussy outlined just enough to give him ideas.

There was another time you had been doing laundry, and was just switching the loads around. Chan just happened to walk by when he saw you bent over in an oversized t-shirt, the only thing covering your cunt being your panties as you swapped loads.

What Chan wouldn't do to give you his.

It got to the point where Chan couldn't help but steal your panties when it was his turn to do the laundry and jerk off with it. It felt like the only way he'd ever get to even have you. Breathing in what your pussy could smell like, maybe even putting your panties in his mouth to try and get a taste...

It was getting bad. Chan knew he'd have to do something at this point. He had to get you, he had to have you. But how? You were perfect, you did no wrong. And you would NEVER just...do it because he wanted it.

Well, luckily for Chan, an opportunity presented itself.

See, you were in college. Both of you were, which was why both of you still lived at home. Better than the dorms, much better.

Because you were in college, you had to take a very important test for your major, known as the Literary Composition Exam, or the LCE. You had spent weeks studying for this test. You'd spend hours locked up in your room, going over every little bit of material that was available to you, doing whatever it took to make absolute certain that you passed.

Except...you didn't.

For whatever reason, when you went to take the exam, the material wasn't the same as the stuff you had studied. And so, while some of it was the same, you did your best to answer everything correctly.

But when you received the test today, you had seen that you had failed it. Miserably. Your heart sank, even as you took it out of your backpack once you got home. How were you supposed to tell your parents? You...you couldn't. You refused to share that with them.

You gently placed the test face down on your desk, putting a few papers over it before going to the bathroom. Maybe...maybe a warm shower would help melt that stress away.

But as you were taking a shower, Chan had gone into your room. It was his turn to do the laundry this week and was going and collecting all of the dirty clothing from each room. Your room was the last Chan had to go to, and then he could get all of the loads started.

But as he went to your closet, he noticed a paper underneath some others. It looked like all marked up, and he couldn't help but be curious. Weren't you supposed to get your results back for your LCE today?

Chan took that moment, reaching for the paper and sliding it out from under the others. Instantly, his eyes widened. This...this was your test. This was the test that you had spent weeks studying for, and you...you failed it. Chan couldn't believe his eyes as he grazed over all of the pen marks.

You, the perfect, most innocent daughter in your parents' eyes, had failed one of the most important tests that you'd ever have to take in your college career.

It was remarkable. Chan couldn't take his eyes off of it, looking at each question you had gotten wrong. There were so many...you usually aced every test that you ever took...EVER. Seeing how much you had gotten wrong was just insane.

And that...was when you walked back into your room.

You had changed into a sweatshirt and some gym shorts, your hair dried and in a ponytail. You had your dirty clothes in your hands, and had just wanted to lay down. But instead, you were met with the sight of Chan in your room, your failed LCE in his hands. Immediately, your heart dropped.

"Chan, what are you doing in my room?!" You were frantic, throwing your clothes to the side as you tried to reach for your test. But just before you could reach it, Chan held it out of your reach, raising a brow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I just wanted to look your test over. It's pretty interesting." Chan spoke. He went back to it, flipping through the endless pages. "It's not every day I get to see that you managed to fail anything, let alone one of the most important tests in your entire college career."

"Chan!"

"What, I'm just saying." Chan shrugged, continuing to keep your test away from you. You weren't amused, going to him and reaching for it, practically climbing onto his body to try and get the test from him.

"This isn't funny, give that test back!"

"No way, this is legendary."

"Chan, seriously!"

"I'm being serious! I already said I want to look at it, why are you so desperate to get...it...back...oh my god." Suddenly, Chan realized something. It was why you were so desperate to get that test back. "You haven't told mom and dad yet."

"No, and I really don't want to." God, just the idea of your parents finding out that you had completely bombed the single most important test in your entire college career made you sick to your stomach. But Chan? Oh, this gave him leverage. Something to hang over your head, to potentially use against you.

It couldn't be more perfect.

"You're not going to tell them? Really?" Chan raised a brow, looking back to the test. It was only for a moment, before he looked back at you, a smirk on his face. "Then I guess I'll have to break the news to them-"

"NO!" It was one thing for you to have to tell your parents, but if Chan told them first...? Oh, it'd be hell on earth.

"Well, they can't not know, Y/n."

"Yes, they can! There's a retake next month, and I'll be extra sure to pass this time, just...they can't know!"

"I don't know...keeping things from our parents is so...wrong, don't you think?" Chan then turned, starting to go towards the door. "I'm going to go and show them this. Keeping secrets is bad."

"Chan, please no!" Like that, you were wrapping your arms around his torso, holding him there in an attempt to keep him from leaving your room. He couldn't leave, or he'd tell. "Please...I-I'll do anything."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You really shouldn't have said that.

Chan slowly turned, not believing his ears. For a moment, his dick twitched, slowly starting to betray him as he looked at you, your eyes shining and begging him to stay and not go. To not tell your parents. Was this finally it? Was he getting the chance he had craved for so long?

"...anything?"

"Anything." You confirmed it, right then and there. You were really willing to do anything in order to keep Chan from blabbing to your parents. This was it. This was finally what Chan had craved for forever.

And he couldn't wait.

"Well then, I guess we can figure something out, can't we?" Chan said, handing you your test. You quickly took it back, moving to hide it once more. And you were going to hide it even better than you had. "I'll keep my mouth shut up until you've retaken the test and pass. But you have to do something for me, too."

"Okay, and that is...?" You asked, turning around. You weren't sure what Chan had up his sleeve, but you had said you'd do anything to keep the horrible grades a secret. You always kept your promises too, which Chan was very aware of. And so, he'd have to be careful about how he went about this.

"See, I was asked by a friend to do some research on how to best please a girl." God, he sounded so stupid. He sounded completely and utterly stupid. "And while porn exists and yada yada yada, I want to make sure that all of the techniques actually work. And since you said you'd do anything to keep this whole test thing a secret, I was thinking you could help me out. A favor for a favor."

Please work, please work, please work, please work, please work, please-

"Um, well I guess when you put it that way...I wouldn't mind, I suppose..." You bought it. Holy fucking shit, you bought it. Chan couldn't even believe his ears. "But I've never really...done anything like it before, so I don't have a preference."

"Oh, well...that's okay. I was thinking that maybe we could give some stuff a shot. Y'know, field test a bit." Keep squeezing the orange, Chan. He was so close; he was practically salivating at this point. "Obviously if you get uncomfortable, we can stop, but I just really want to help out my friend, you know? And you would really help me out in return."

Well, if that was the case, then you could understand why Chan wanted your help so bad. You were like a fly caught in his web at this point. He was simply asking for your help, and you trusted him.

"I mean, if it'll help out, then I guess I don't see the problem in it." Bingo. Chan couldn't believe that had actually worked. He thought you would've called him gross, that step siblings shouldn't do that kind of stuff. Part of him wanted to question you, figure out if you were serious or not. But it was only a small one.

He worked hard for this. He wasn't just about to give it up.

"Alright, then do you think you could clear up some time tonight? That way we can have plenty of time." Reality? Your parents were both leaving to be out of town around 5pm. They wouldn't be back until a few days later.

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense." God, just how gullible were you? Gullible enough to make Chan's cock throb, it seemed.

All he had to do was wait.

||

It took about 3 whole hours for your parents to actually leave. And while they only left thirty minutes behind schedule, it felt like hell on earth for Chan. He wanted nothing more than to get into your panties, play with you for hours and make you writhe and squirm and cry.

Chan wanted to make absolutely certain that they wouldn't be in the house, though. If your parents found out about this, he'd be in a whole world of trouble. Both of you would be.

And so, he waited a whole extra hour, watching the Life360 that your parents had forced you both onto, making sure they were far enough away to where he knew they weren't going to turn around. And once he was sure, he walked to your room and knocked on the door, stepping inside.

"Hey, you got some free time?" Chan walked inside, seeing you laying on your bed. You were only in an oversized shirt, thigh high socks, and panties, scrolling through your phone. God, just the outline of your cunt got Chan riled all over again.

"Yeah, what's up?" You asked, turning. You were so adorable, it hurt. Chan stepped inside more, gently shutting the door before walking over to you, before sitting on your bed.

"I was wondering if we could start trying stuff out. Figure out what pleases you best." Chan said, watching your face light up as you remembered what he was talking about.

"Oh, okay. Sure." You said, moving to sit up. Chan smiled, moving a bit so you'd have some room. "What exactly are we starting with?"

"Well, I wanted to start with playing around with your breasts a bit. I've heard that feels nice." Chan said, his hands fidgeting with themselves. They wanted to be on your body so badly. Finally touch something that was so pure.

"Okay." The second you gave him permission, Chan's hands were on you. He started by cupping the flesh through the shirt, gently massaging them as he watched you closely. Your breathing had hitched, your eyes watching what he was doing. But it was when he looked back down that his blood ran down to his cock.

"You...you aren't wearing a bra...?" Chan couldn't believe his eyes. Your nipples were perked, practically poking themselves through the shirt you had on.

"Well, yeah. Bras aren't that comfortable, so..." You just shrugged, before gasping as Chan brushed over them. He moved his thumbs back and forth against them, moving to pinch them gently. That got a whine out of you, and it was such a beautiful sound.

"Jesus...that feels nice?" Chan asked, watching you nod. That was good, and to him, an indication to go further. He carefully moved your shirt up, taking it off to see your bare chest in all of it's glory.

It was gorgeous. Nipples perky and stiff, your flesh round and supple. It was everything Chan could've wanted plus more. And when he touched your skin, it was so soft... it was soft and delicate and so perfect.

Every time his fingers flicked, pinched or messed with your nipples, you'd whine and squirm a bit, the sight always going straight to his dick. He was so hard, he wanted nothing more than to just flip you over and fuck you right then and there. But he wanted to take his time, too.

And that's what he did.

He moved his head down, eventually taking one of your breasts into his mouth, using his tongue to flick against your nipple and sucking on your skin. The feeling of it caused you to moan, arching your back into him more.

"Ch-Chan..." Oh, you moaning his name made him want to scream. He was so hard, you were so perfect, everything about this situation was perfect.

He eventually pulled off, looking up at you as he continued to mess around with your chest, giving you a cheeky smile. He knew what he was doing felt good.

"Good?"

"M-Mhm..."

"Mhm?" Chan couldn't help but laugh a bit, finding your reaction adorable. But he wanted to take things further. Just a little bit. "Can we go further? Want me to make you feel even better?"

"Ye...Yeah...Yes..."

"Alright...go ahead and lay down then."

As you laid down, Chan was finally able to see your panties for the first time. They were pink with white paw prints, a tiny little white bow on the front. They were so cute on you, practically signaling how innocent you truly were. And when Chan got himself between your legs, spreading your legs apart, he noticed the wet patch laying right over your cunt.

"Look at that...already so wet, and it's all for me..." Chan licked his lips, taking a hand off of your leg to your clothed pussy. Slowly, agonizingly so, he placed his pointer right where your clit should be, bringing it down to your hole. It was feather light, and it caused you to whine and squirm. "That feel nice? I bet it does, you're getting wetter by the second."

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. That wet spot got bigger the more he spoke, the more he barely touched you. It was agonizing, yeah, but god, it was amazing, too.

Chan admired it for a moment. One of the many panties he'd steal were right here on your body, forming one of the largest wet patches he'd ever seen in his life. It was wrong. But god, did he not care. He didn't care in the slightest.

He eventually leaned his head down, pressing a kiss right onto your mound, breathing in your smell. Musky, but so so sweet. And once that was committed to memory, he figured it was time to get rid of the panties and see the real thing.

"Let's get these off of you, huh?" Chan's hands moved as he spoke, hooking around your panties and bringing them down your body, his eyes not leaving yours once until the panties were completely off. And the second he saw you, his everything stopped. His brain, his heart...the only thing that was working was his dick, and that thing was throbbing.

You were beautiful. It was the cutest little pussy Chan had ever seen in his life, glistening wet. And when he spread your folds open, he was met with a pink that rivaled the panties you had on. Not to mention how your hole was clenching, and your clit was peeking out from under it's hood.

"God...you're so fucking beautiful." Chan couldn't even take his eyes off of you. He took his finger again, gently touching the pink muscle, touching your clit and pulling it back to get a better look. It made you squirm, your hole clenching. "You have such a pretty pussy...and to think it's on my step sister..."

All you did was whine, not really knowing what to say. The touch felt nice, but his words were nicer. You'd never heard him talk like that before. And the pit that grew in your stomach when you heard it was beyond amazing.

Chan took a moment to continue just touching you, watching how you'd react to certain touches, where you liked to be touched. But he knew he could do more. He could do so much more.

And so, keeping his eyes on you, he lowered his head and gently flicked your clit once, watching as your breath hitched, your hips flinch a bit.

"That feel good?" Chan asked. He already knew the answer, and it was only further confirmed by you nodding.

With that nod, he went back down, using his tongue to give one long lick up your folds, before flicking your clit and coaxing it out of it's hood, gently suckling on the small bundle of nerves. That got a nice, loud moan out of you.

"Oh my...god, Chan...!" Oh, the way you said his name in such a vulnerable way...it was absolutely delicious. It made Chan groan, his hips bucking into the bed.

His pattern was immaculate. He'd suck on your clit, using his tongue to tease it in the meantime while his hands went to spread your cunt apart. He wanted to make sure that you were nice and vulnerable so he could really get in there. And oh, the moans you rewarded him with. They were absolutely perfect.

Your taste was even better. Salty, sweet, just a tiny bit of tang but not too much...It made him realize more and more just how much he craved you, how much he just wanted to ruin you into nothing.

Eventually, he went further, diving his tongue into your hole to really scrape out your juices, his nose consistently bumping into your clit. And it made you cry out, your legs wanting to close, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. But Chan didn't let you. He gave your cunt one last lick before moving his hands to keep you spread once more, before looking up at you, licking his lips.

"Keep yourself spread, okay? I want you nice and wide so I can taste all of you." Chan spoke. You couldn't help but nod, feeling the need to comment.

"I...It feels really good, by the way. Whatever you're doing it...it feels really, really good."

"Does it?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah?" Oh, the smile on Chan's face when you said that. You probably gave him that input so he knew this was good for his friend to know. But he wasn't here for that. No no no. He was here simply to get you to cum over, and over, until you couldn't take anymore.

He eventually dove back in, plunging his tongue into you while his arms and hands kept you nice and spread, not wanting you to squirm around too much. And he kept going, even as you began to buck your hips, trying to squirm and get away.

"Chan, I...I feel weird..." You could feel the coil in your gut, a form of tightness as you neared closer and closer. Chan could feel it too, as your legs were really starting to shake.

"It's okay, you're just gonna hit an orgasm soon." Chan's voice was muffled, due to his face being buried in your delicate cunt, which was dripping more and more of it's juices into his mouth. "Get there though, go ahead and just release it, okay? Can you do that for me?"

You could, and you did. You moaned out, your hips bucking as Chan practically latched himself onto you. He continued to work you through your orgasm, watching as you panted and shook, the orgasm washing right through you.

"There you go, good girl..." Once you had calmed down, Chan debated on moving on. He could let you experience his cock, which had been painfully throbbing to get into the pussy it's been wanting for so long. Or he could simply keep going with this.

That's what he did.

The second you stopped squirming, he latched right back onto your clit, making your squirm from the oversensitivity, feeling something new. Something different. You couldn't look down, as your back was arched and your head was thrown back, in nothing but pure ecstasy, but the second you felt something inside of you, you gasped, before getting louder.

You didn't know what it was, as Chan's head hadn't moved at all. But Chan knew. He had slipped a finger inside of you, and he groaned once he felt just how tight you were. He knew you were going to be tight, but he didn't expect what he had felt.

"God, you're so tight...how are you ever supposed to fit any cock in there, huh?" Chan pulled back, watching as you took his finger, Chan adding another one to watch you really grip it. "You're practically sucking in my fingers...does it feel that good? Are you that needy?"

All you could do was moan as Chan plunged his fingers deep into you, eventually curling them up and rubbing that gummy spot. It only took two small movements with his hands for you to cum again, your body shaking once more as your back arched again.

"Oh, you're so pretty when you cum like that, sis...look at you, squirming around for me and everything..." Chan couldn't take it anymore. If he didn't put himself inside of you, Chan would go insane.

And so, he pulled himself back, moving to get his cock out of his pants. The poor thing was red tipped, angry. It was harder than Chan had ever seen himself. But it didn't stop him from lining himself up with your entrance. Hell, it encouraged him to do so.

"You're being so good, letting me figure out what feels best for a girl. You're such an amazing little sister, helping me out with this, all because you don't want our parents to know about some silly little test grades..." As Chan spoke, he rubbed his tip against your cunt, coating himself with your juices as you whined and squirmed, the pleasure already too much for you.

But then, Chan pushed in. And both of you moaned out. For you, it was the stretch. He felt amazing when he went inside and stretched you out. And him? You were so tight, practically hugging his cock inside of you, gripping onto him for dear life.

"Jesus christ, you're like a fucking vice, squeezing me like that..." Chan eventually began to move, thrusting in and out. He was slow at first, knowing that this was your first time, and that you hadn't taken dick before.

But from the way you were moaning, he could tell you liked it. And so he sped up. He moved quicker, harsher. And you couldn't help but moan, feeling him move so quickly nonstop, not taking any breaks to catch his breath. All you could do was cry out, feeling him practically pound into you.

It was when Chan lifted up your leg when you felt him reach that gummy spot again, hitting it every single time without fail. And that got you to cum for the third time.

"C-CHAN!"

Your body shook as Chan stopped, quickly spitting on his hand to go and rub tight circles on your clit to help you through the orgasm, watching as your body shook and writhed from the pleasure. But this time, he didn't wait for you to calm down. No, after a few seconds, he started up again, grunting as he felt your walls flutter around him while he moved.

"God, you feel so good around me, squeezing me while you're cumming...my dick is just that good, huh? Does that feel good?" Chan asked, continuing to harshly thrust as he rubbed tight circles around your clit.

You simply whimpered, your hips bucking with every movement. It's like you couldn't control yourself anymore. Everything Chan was doing was incredible. You didn't know how, or why, but...it was amazing. It was overloading your brain. You felt so good, too good.

And before you even knew it, the fourth orgasm hit. And it hit hard.

At this point, you were so wet from all of the other orgasms and Chan's saliva that Chan slipped out, accidentally pulling out too much as your body trembled. And that was when it happened. You felt a new sensation, almost like a liquid was shooting out of you, and onto wherever it was landing.

You don't know, you couldn't think. But Chan knew, because it landed on him. Just seeing that made him groan as he stroked himself.

"Mm, you just squirted everywhere....making a fucking mess because my dick is just that good, yeah?" Once you had stopped, Chan was back inside of you, almost relentless at this point.

He just couldn't handle it. Seeing you squirt on him, on his cock, something that was so wrong and foul...it made him feral. He just couldn't believe it. He was surprised he didn't just cum from watching you do that.

But you...oh, you were so overwhelmed. So overstimulated. Everything felt way too good, and you were completely lost within the pleasure to even know what was happening. It was way too much, and your body was well aware of that.

"S'too much, I can't....! I can't, Chan, I...too much...!" It's all you were chanting at this point.

But Chan...he was finally getting the fantasy he had thought up for so long. Finally, you were here underneath him, absolutely wrecked and overstimulated, tears going down your cheeks from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was bringing you.

"Give me one more...just one more, sis...please? You can do one more, I'll even go with you this time...please, just one more." At this point, he was getting desperate, too. But all you could do was shake your head, completely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure coursing into your body.

"I can't-"

"You can, I promise...I know you can, just one more..."

Before he even knew it, you came for the last time, screaming out his name from the sheer bliss. And this time, your walls fluttering around him was what did him in. He just groaned loudly as he filled you, still pumping into you as he rode both of your highs out.

Once he had come down from his high, he simply pulled out, flopping down next to you, pulling your shaking form next to him, both of you breathing heavily. Nothing was said, and nothing had to be said.

All that was known was that this definitely wouldn't be the first time this would end up happening.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d

[alvivaarts]

Internet Safety Tips for Folks Under 18! <3

I'm writing this because it was brought to my attention that at least one of my followers/readers is 11! Years! Old! How do I know this? Because they publicly announced it! AHH!!! OH NO!

This made me practically lose my mind, because holy shit, internet safety is NOT taught like it used to be!! Are there no more assemblies or class gatherings where you watch internet safety PSA videos anymore? Or learn about it in the library? Like shit!!! Anyway, here is, in the simplest terms, tips I learned when I was under 18 that have kept me not only alive, but thriving and happy on the internet.

What Information is Appropriate/Safe for Me to Share Online?

Very little! Very, VERY little! It would be easier if I told you what NOT to share online! DO NOT SHARE: -Your age/that you are a minor. -Your state, province, or country of origin. -When you are going to school/if you are starting school. -Establishments (restaurants, activity places, etc) that may or may not be in your local area. -Any medical diagnoses (mental or physical). -Any traumatic events or triggers. (We'll come back to this). -Any other details of your day-to-day schedule. -Details about your relationship with family members. -What you are/are not allowed to do. -Passwords or personal emails/phone numbers/contact points.

It's completely fine to share: -Your interests. -Fun anecdotes from your day. -Things you are excited about (not relating to your daily schedule). -What you're eating/drinking/making. -Etc.

I know it sounds cheesy, but you should make it your goal to be unidentifiable online. People do genuinely want to use this information, information about YOU for bad reasons. We already know that data brokers exist- and that there have been massive data leaks in the last few years regarding adults/18+ folks personal information. Those people usually have the agency and ability to reclaim some of that privacy and get their lives back on track. You don't. In addition to that, sharing little snippets of information about yourself from the 'do not share' category can build up over time. It might not feel like much at the time, but it can become pretty easy to identify you with even two or three of those pieces of information. We've seen no-profile having folks on TikTok be doxxed with less.

By that extent, I recommend minimizing the images you post of yourself online, especially if you cannot monitor/approve of who follows you. It can be equally as easy for strangers to figure out where you live based on images you share online, especially if those show your face and places your frequent. We can doubt that the GeoGeussr guy might not use his powers for evil, but plenty of other people absolutely can.

Who is Trustworthy Online?

Short Answer: NO ONE!

If someone you meet in a server says they're your age? No they're not! If someone says they want to be your friend and give you free things/games/etc? No they don't! If you think someone is safe enough to share something personal with online? No they're not! If someone randomly adds you for the purpose of making friends? They are not your friend! If someone says 'you're mature for your age'? No! You're! Not!

It's easy to form attachments to people online. It might be because everyone is 'anonymous' (which is also not true, no one is every truly anonymous online) that it's easier for you to imagine a stranger to be a certain way. Or you might look up to someone a lot because of the things they make or produce. These people, even if you get along with them or share interests with them, are not your friend- and will never be 100% trustworthy. (Of course, there are very rare acceptations- I don't want to be a hypocrite. Two of my very best friends are people I met online and have now met in person. When you become an adult and are able to more easily move around and escape situations -via transportation, access to your own money, not needing to rely on others/adults to assist you, then you can decide to proceed with relationships.)

Additionally, people online especially will never offer you something 'for free'. It will always have a cost- that might be your time, your personal information, or access to you via video or audio call or other personal things.

1- Never accept random phone, audio, or video calls on any social media platform. Do not accept random friend requests either. 2- It is absolutely okay to say 'no', to block people who you don't like or make you uncomfortable, even if those people get mad. Your safety comes before other people's happiness. 3- Never accept 'gifts' from online friends, especially if they are much older than you. 4- Do not click on random links sent by friends or shared on uncertified websites, especially download links. Even mod packs or pirated games can hide viruses, malware, or phishing links- things that can steal your personal information saved to your devices, or that can destroy your devices from the inside out. 5- If you feel uncomfortable or unsure of how to handle a situation, report and block the person involved, and/or contact a moderator, site-manager, or trusted IRL adult.

Online harassment and bullying is also quite scary. This can come in many forms: -People trying to steal information from you. -People shaming you for your appearance. -People shaming you for engaging in the things you enjoy. -People shaming, name calling, or ganging up on you to make fun of you. -Targeted crap-talking towards groups of people by other groups or individuals. -Being told to harm yourself, or that life would be better without you (not true!).

If this occurs to you, block and report the user/s. If you happen to know the person harassing and bullying yourself and others in real life, inform someone in real life as well. Make sure to take screen shots and save them! However, make sure you understand the difference between bullying and someone trying to correct bad behavior or help you. Both can feel very embarrassing at first, but most of the time, people trying to help improve online communities (and you!) will not be shameful, harassing, or bullying. It's okay to feel embarrassed for not understanding particular rules or community standards, but do not take that embarrassment out on others.

Managing Your Own Online Experience

This one might sting for some folks, especially adults who haven't learned it yet, but: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCE!

We're circling back to telling people online what your traumas and triggers are. Of course, a lot of things happen offline. It can be frustrating to come online as an escape and find something that triggers you or reawakens trauma, or even things that simply discomfort you. When it comes to things that traumatize or trigger you, block the source: Block people who cross your boundaries. Report those who break site guidelines (not people who do things you don't like- who break site guidelines). Block pages that might show things that frighten you. Do not visit websites that are known for certain traumatizing/inappropriate content. Turn on SafeSearch features. You don't even have to inform these people- do not engage, just disconnect. It's not cringe to want to optimize your online experience for your own safety, happiness and comfort!

When it comes to things that make you uncomfortable: Understand the difference between things that are traumatizing/triggering, and things that make your unhappy/uncomfortable/that you personally dislike. There is a difference. While you absolutely should have a safe and comfortable online experience, it is not appropriate or safe to approach people telling them to change X Y Z thing about what they post, discuss, or share. It's not appropriate to threaten, harass, or shame others for engaging in content that you might not like personally, or even engaging versions/aspects of that media in a way you might not yourself. The easiest way to avoid it? Don't engage with it. The instant you start to comment and complain, you're potentially outing yourself as a minor, AND telling the website algorithm that you want to see MORE of this thing you dislike, simply by engaging with it. It's a double whammy. Remember that, while your happiness and safety comes first, that does not come at the expense of other's wellbeing or enjoyment, unless that wellbeing or enjoyment is an active risk of physical or genuine harm to you that you cannot otherwise block yourself.

Finally, keep in mind that Adult Spaces/18+ spaces ARE NOT DESIGNED FOR YOU, WITH YOU IN MIND, OR FOR YOUR BENEFIT! It might feel and sound very exciting and even satisfying to get into an adult space unnoticed. However, these spaces are not meant for you- they often do NOT have all of the same safety tools as other 'public' online spaces. You are also putting yourself and the adults in the community at risk: Adults who may engage with you as an adult, because it's an adult-only space, without knowing you're a minor- as well as potentially engaging with adults who won't care whether or not you're a minor. Be especially mindful if an adult has a DNI specific to minors: that person DOES NOT want to engage with you. You wouldn't want your boundaries crossed, right? Don't cross theirs!

Some general rules to monitor your own online experience: 1- Block any potential sources of trauma/triggers. However, do not report them unless the subject matter genuinely breaks website rules (these differ DRASTICALLY depending on the site. Understand them before making any reports). 2- Live and Let Die (or Ship and Let Ship). Especially in fandom spaces. It's okay for you to have a particular take on a media, character, or ship. It is not okay for you to demean or diminish others for engaging in that media, character, or ship differently than you would. It isn't a competition about who's 'right'. Just enjoy yourself! 3- Turn on SafeSearch and Private Account settings. This minimizes potential triggers/uncomfortable subject matter, and allows you to monitor who engages with your account. 4- Do not actively pursue 18+ spaces. You don't have to stay 'in the kids zone', but don't try to insert yourself in a place where you cannot control what you might encounter.

----

I think that's about it! I'm sure there'll be other folks with plenty more to add, but these are the basics. Keep them in mind and try not to let yourself learn the hard way like I (and many others) did that The Internet as not as safe and fun as you might think it is. Of course, it is- but it's also full of unfun, or even dangerous things and people. Take care of yourself!

[frostiwars]

day 2!! first kiss!!

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO I DID IT

say hello to my kirby gijinka yaoi doujinshi manga

prose version will be under the cut! i'm so proud of myself for getting this done on time!

King Dedede and Meta Knight trailed through the halls of the palace, a cool tension still hanging between them. Meta Knight and Kirby had recently returned from their escapades in the Mirror Dimension, and Meta had just finished telling Dedede all the relevant details. A tumultuous mixture of pride and irritation swam through the king’s chest. 

“Yeah, that’s great ‘n all, but why didn’t ya tell me you were headin’ out on a dangerous mission like that?”

“...It didn’t seem relevant. I intended on dealing with this issue on my own, and it was only through sheer coincidence that Kirby happened to be nearby.”

“More like luck. You woulda been dead right now if it weren’t for that kid.”

“That is highly unlikely,” the knight retorted. “I would have been able to escape and take them down eventually.”

“And while that happened, Dreamland mighta crumbled without ya!”

“What, are you saying that you and Kirby wouldn’t have been able to keep things in shape if I weren’t here?”

Dedede spluttered. “N- no! I just- I don’t like the idea that-” He suddenly halted when he realized they were finally at his chamber doors. He eased them open roughly, mumbling to himself. The king only spoke again when they’d slammed shut behind him and Meta Knight. 

“I don’t want ya t’get hurt is all.”

“I am a warrior. Getting injured is inevitable.”

“NO! Not- that ain’t what I meant! I care about you, ya moron! I care about all my subjects!”

Meta Knight heaved a sigh. From Dedede’s perspective, it seemed he was dismissing whatever affection he had for the Voidborn…

But truthfully, Meta Knight wished the king’s care for him was more than just a king loving his loyal subject. He wished… No, it was selfish of him to want such a thing. He should be grateful enough as it is that Dedede accepted him back after the stunt he pulled a year or so ago. 

“I appreciate the sentiment…” was all he could muster up in reply. Dedede scoffed and sat down roughly on his bed, crossing his arms. 

“I guess that’s all I’m gonna get with ya, huh? Sheesh…”

A silence fell over them. Meta Knight clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure of whether to release his cape from his grip. If he really desired affection from the king that much, then shouldn’t he at least make some effort to show some vulnerability? The least he could do was stop hiding behind his cape like a child. But no, he couldn’t even do that…

“I… was just… trying to make things up to you…” he eventually murmured. 

“...Huh?”

“I didn’t want to ask for help. This was… this was supposed to be part of my atonement for my misdeeds against Dreamland. Against… you. But I see now that was a foolish endeavor.”

Dedede diverted his gaze away from the knight, opting to stare out the window at the sunset. Again and again, he tried to forget that incident with his best knight never happened. But he kept… bringing it up! What was his problem anyway? It was a damn embarrassment, more than anything else. For BOTH of them. Why Meta didn’t want to just forget about it was beyond him. 

“I don’ really care about that, y’know. You don’t gotta keep kickin’ yourself for somethin’ I already…” He didn’t want to say he ‘forgave’ him for it. Because he couldn’t forgive someone for something that they never explained to him. He just… wanted to ignore it. Like he ignored all his problems. 

“You may want to forget it, but I don’t wish to make the same mistake again. The only way that I can end that incident is if I properly atone for it.”

Dedede clenched his fists. “Y’know what would REALLY help atone? Actually tellin’ me WHY you did it in the first place!”

“I already told you why.” Meta Knight had to resist every urge in his body to not shout back at his king. Arguing like this would not help matters. “I disagreed with the lazy lifestyle of this country and your lackadaisical approach to ruling your people. I thought I would be better suited for the throne. It was a ridiculous notion. That was all.”

“NO! No it AIN’T! That CAN’T be it!”

“WHY?” he finally snapped back, letting his cape flow loose behind him as he gestured with his arms. “What reason do you have to believe that??”

“Because I- I mean I was TRYIN’! I was doin’ better! I- I tried to stop Nightmare and I- I almost did- I-” Dedede crossed his arms and gripped the fabric of his coat. “I tried t’fight back against that Dark Matter creep and- I- I know I didn’t win, but I tried my best… I was really tryin’ to be a better king for once. And- and what do I get for it?!”

He pointed accusingly at Meta. “My best knight tries to overthrow me! NO! I DON’T get it! Was I not ENOUGH!? Should I’a just TRIED HARDER?! Oh, sure, let me just STOP MYSELF from gettin’ possessed next time! That was MY FAULT, wasn’t it?! It was MY FAULT Kirby couldn’t just keep t’themself and had to go huntin’ all across the country just cuz a couple brats couldn’t stand a few bad dreams! Yeah- I shoulda TRIED harder!!”

At this point, the king was on his feet and practically in a rage. Meta Knight clenched his fists and tried not to step back. He had to stand his ground. But… but he didn’t realize…

Well, of course it made sense. He thought that Meta Knight thought he deserved it. That wasn’t what he meant at all… but he never told him that either. 

“It wasn’t your fault…” Meta Knight spoke in a low, almost gravelly tone. “That was the entire problem.”

Dedede’s breath still huffed in rage, but he waited for the knight to continue.

“I… those things never should have happened the way they did in the first place. You hid the truth of what you did to the Dream Fountain because you didn’t think the people could handle it. You were possessed by that demon because no one was keeping a proper eye on you… No one was doing their damn job. It was JUST you… just you and Kirby… and Kirby is a mere child.”

“What’re you sayin’??”

“I- It’s not just that. There was more. So much more I didn’t even know about. I looked into the history of Dreamland, and I looked into… your past as well.” At that, Dedede flinched, imperceptibly to himself but noticeable to Meta Knight. “There was so much, so many piled up incidents that I realized… you’re not… you’re not safe being the king of Dreamland.”

Dedede grit his teeth and his eyes widened. “Are you sayin’ I’m too WEAK to handle this shit?! Are you KIDDING ME!? THAT’S YOUR EXCUSE?!”

Meta Knight backed up against the wall as the king drew closer, his utter hatred fully palpable. “N- No- that’s not what I meant at all! I just-”

“You can’t just- I can’t BELIEVE you! What do you think I am?! Do you think I’m some pathetic kid that needs t’be coddled or something?!”

“Of course not- I don’t- It’s not as if I still think that- I really did- DO want what’s best for you-”

“HA! That’s the biggest pack of lies I’ve heard in a LONG time! And that’s sayin’ something, considering how much you lie to me ALL THE TIME.” King Dedede slammed his foot against the ground, almost leaving chips in the tiled floor. Meta Knight pushed past him and ran off a few feet, trying to escape the increasingly claustrophobic atmosphere. But he was still in the same room. All he did was run closer to the bed. 

But Dedede didn’t follow him. He just… glared at his back from across the room. Meta Knight leaned over, trying to calm his hyperventilation. This never would have happened if he had just… been honest with himself. King Dedede was right… he was right about him, all along. All he ever did was lie. 

He spoke through deep breaths. “You’re… right… I’m still lying to you… even now… I can’t ever… just be honest with myself… can I..?”

Dedede didn’t reply beyond taking a few steps closer to him. He reached forward to turn Meta Knight around so he would quit hiding from him, but his hand froze in the air.

Meta’s hand reached up and unclasped the latch holding his mask to his head. The bit of hair normally tamped down by the leather sprung up… his mask… now dangled loosely by his hip.

But he didn’t turn around.

King Dedede had never seen Meta Knight’s face before. Well, strictly speaking, that wasn’t true, but they were both kids at the time. He didn’t know at all what he looked like now, or why he so desperately tried to hide his face at all times. 

What was his game here?

“You’re right… my king. I have been hiding so many things from you. I’ve been lying to you, and I’ve been lying to myself. For almost a year… maybe more…”

“Uh…” This time, Dedede was the one who had to resist the urge to take a step back. The shock of Meta Knight removing his mask, even if he couldn’t see his face, was more than enough to cool down his head. “L- look I… I didn’t mean t’- I shouldn’ta said those things. I’m sorry- I’m sure you didn’t mean it like that and I- uh- I don’t even care anymore-”

“Now YOU are lying,” Meta Knight shot back coldly. “This has been bothering you for a while. And it will continue to bother you until I speak honestly. Correct?”

Damn him… of course he was right. But he didn’t WANT to admit Meta was ever right about anything. “Look, if you drop it, I’ll drop it.”

The knight’s voice shook in a way Dedede had never heard before. “No… I really shouldn’t keep lying… I might never see you again after this. But I need you to know my most honest, genuine self before that happens.”

“Wh- wait- wait what’dya mean I might not-” He didn’t want to go THAT far! He was just a bit mad, he didn’t- 

In one swift motion, Meta Knight spun around to face his king and grabbed his face in both his hands, pulling him down to his level. He stood on his toes and practically smashed their lips together, locking them in his with an intense, almost burning warmth. Dedede’s eyes shot wide open, but all he could see was his knight’s eyes creased shut, an almost pained expression on his face.

For a split second, Dedede considered resisting… but in an instant he realized what this meant… the implications of this kiss paired with the declaration of worry for the king’s safety… to such an extent that he would try to take his place… 

It’s not just because he thought he was weak… no… it’s because he genuinely cared… about HIM. He… was in love with him.

Someone was in love with King Dedede so much that he would tear the world apart to keep him ‘safe.’

He’d never felt such a painful joy in his heart before. 

Had… had no one ever made him feel loved like this before..? Is that why it hurt so much..? Or was it Meta Knight’s misguided plan that hurt even more? Did he really misunderstand him so much that… he didn’t realize Dedede wouldn’t want something like that?

No… he knew he was wrong… he’d proved himself to Dedede twice over now. He protected this planet during the Crystal Shard Hunt, and just now, he managed to save the Mirror Dimension from Dark Mind. He proved that he could be trusted. And he’d made it clear time and time again that he knew he was wrong.

Dedede pressed his hands against Meta’s, holding him in place and leaning into the kiss. He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in this sensation he didn’t recognize.

This love he didn’t recognize.

Is this what love feels like too? This burning in his chest? This pounding of his heart? He did value Meta Knight as his best warrior up until now… and he didn’t realize they could ever be more than that. He felt as if a whole new world of possibilities had opened up to him. Like seeing color for the first time after a lifetime of gray.

If this was what love felt like, he’d be more than happy for seconds. 

Eventually, Meta Knight pulled away and gently opened his eyes. As Dedede did so as well, he was instantly struck by the knight’s face.

He was… beautiful.

Those glowing, golden eyes framed by sun-darkened skin and deep-blue locks… that deceptively youthful face contrasted against the harsh, visceral scarring… 

It was just like him, wasn’t it? Of course a person with a nightmarishly deep voice would come out lookin’ like the cutest man this side of Pop Star. He couldn’t expect anything from him, could he?

The man lowered his head, shadowing his face in his bangs. He sounded on the verge of tears as he spoke. 

“I… I understand if you never want to see me again…”

“Wh- NO! No, don’t go!” the king shouted with such desperation that it made his heart ache. He couldn’t just show him what love was and then abandon him! 

“I don’t- I- I understand- you wish to punish me, of course-”

“NO!! NO, no, don’t go- don’t leave- I- I mean- I like- I liked it!!” was all he could splutter out, baffling both of them in the process.

“You… what…?” 

“I mean I- I don’t want you to- I get it! I get it! You… oh geez…” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing up his crown in the process. He didn’t even bother to catch it as it fell to the floor. “I didn’t even realize you felt this way… man, am I dense…”

“No, my king, this isn’t your fault! I- I was hiding it from you all this time because… well, I don’t even know anymore. I couldn’t express myself properly. I couldn’t just be honest…”

“Pff- yeah, you’d rather overthrow the government than just say ‘I like ya.’ SHEESH.” Dedede harrumphed lightheartedly and plastered on one of his classic cheery grins. It was enough to make Meta Knight’s heart skip a beat… and remember why he fell in love in the first place.

He was so happy… all the time, despite everything.

“I love that about you… You really do just… manage to push through everything, don’t you?” 

“Ehaha~ I try my best!” Dedede scratched the back of his head. There was that word again… ‘Love.’

Somebody loved him… He didn’t know that was possible.

Just the very idea made him want to explode. How could he possibly turn this down? Already, the very idea of being in love made his heart race.

Meta Knight… strong, brave, beautiful, determined Meta Knight. His most valued court member, without any doubt. He’d been his best friend at the time of the Fountain of Dreams incident. That was why he trusted him with the pieces.

Even after the betrayal, it only hurt so much because he cared about him so much. Even now, he wanted him safe… The idea of him getting stuck in a creepy alternate dimension… sure, it would frighten anyone… but the whole time, he couldn’t help but think if Meta Knight would make it out alive. Wondering if he’d never see his dear knight again. Wondering if they’d end off their relationship on a tense, unsatisfied note. If they’d never get to reconcile…

It wasn’t unnatural at all, was it? Maybe he just needed it to be put into words. Even admitting it in a roundabout way was good enough, yeah? He wanted this, he realized. He wanted this. 

King Dedede laughed again. “But, uh, t’be honest, you ain’t too bad yourself! I mean, I didn’t even know we COULD be in love but… all the reasons you’re my best knight? They’re the things I like about YOU!” He placed his finger under the knight’s chin, and that gesture alone made both their hearts nearly explode. “So… I guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

Meta Knight chuckled. “Is that how we want to phrase it?”

“Pfff, alright, since obviously YOU’RE not gonna say it!” Dedede took another step closer. “D’you wanna kiss me again?”

This time, Meta Knight hesitated.

“You’re not… you aren’t disgusted by my face?”

“What? Of course not! You look gorgeous!”

Meta Knight’s blush stickers lit up like fireworks at that compliment, accentuating the natural blush flushing his face ever-darker. He lowered his head once more and had to clench his fists to stop himself from burying his face in his hands. “Th- thank you, my king.”

“No problem ya big dork. Now… why don’t ya… uh…” Eh- heheh… as excited as he was about this, he wasn’t any good with pretty talk. This was his first experience after all. Crap, how do you say ‘kiss me’ in a way that makes someone actually wanna do it?

“Why don’t you show me that love again?”

Yeah… that seemed good enough..!

[destinationtrekk]

young wesker who gets drunk and giggly with reader. at first he had been so... cold, so expressionless and absolutely cluelessly bone-dry on how to go about doing anything but a daylight two-step move-his-arms-a-little to the dance music blaring from somewhere, but that's okay, reader can show him.

and he enjoys it... and he's laughing, and his face is flushed, and the scent of vodka is deep on his tongue, and he has severely miscalculated his drink, but that's okay, because reader keeps him safe and happy and distracted the entire time.

at the end, as he begins to sober up, they can't seem to get out of him where he's supposed to go to now (perhaps he is trying to revel in it, this one normalcy, just one event he took on to learn how to behave like everyone else and got taught more about himself and his own interests than he'd ever planned, a snapshot of a life he could have lived if only--) so they take him back to their house and snuggle him up in a blanket burrito on the couch, making him drink water, take an advil, a tylenol.

and as he gets back to himself and they smoke a cig, talking about life as he gets rather quiet and inward again (for he cannot share, he has nothing positive or appropriate to), they do something unexpected and yet wholly welcome, a gift to close out the night: they give him a quick, brief and fleeting shotgun kiss, hand warm on his cheek, before they send him off for a nap, telling him to stay the night so he'll be well and sober the next day to depart. free breakfast if he's still around by then, otherwise, they take no offense.

he has no way of telling them the truth of this fragile matter. he has no way of divulging his life, which would undoubtedly ruin whatever scrapbook memory he is currently creating, and certainly no way to hold onto this awfully pleasant being who he can, apparently, trust in his total ineptitude with heavy inebriance. and he can't keep seeing them again after this. and his view on how ruthless and manipulative human beings are when faced with vulnerability has been shaken to its' core, and he can't say it, and he wants to, but...

instead he asks them to stay a little while he falls asleep (just one final, little test, he muses to himself), and they oblige. he's laid on the couch, head in their lap, his (admittedly not quite so soft after all the gel has hardened) hair being carded through by soft, ever-eager, sleepy fingers. he will never get a moment like this again and he pushes himself to take it in, revel in every second that passes, commit to absolute memory (no matter what he had earlier in the day) every detail of this sightly, sweetly saint's face.

he ends up falling asleep feeling cherished. he will remember this day forever. years to come he will still have tabs on this person, and their life will still be unexpectedly, oddly lucky.

maybe one day he'll find it in him to thank them properly, face-to-face...

nshtn can i say i love you? because i love you and every time you come in my inbox i get so excited

first and foremost i don't think he even would dance at a party. he very much is the kind of guy to find a spot and linger there with a group he's only half listening to. once he meets you though his night gets much much more interesting

he's never really had chances to drink, except maybe whiskey or something expensive with Spencer during their talks about Umbrella and the future, so when you start handing him all kinds of seltzers and mixed drinks and straight shots of vodka, he is very overwhelmed

he can't show it though! so he dutifully takes most of what you hand him, a few drinks are two sweet for him, and he is very quickly wasted tbh. you're so nice though, and you drag him in the middle of everyone dancing and show him a few easy things and soon enough he's bouncing around with everyone else

every time he starts to think about what's going to happen tomorrow you're immediately there to distract him. it's almost like you can read his mind - you know just the right things to say and how to push people out of the way and he just thinks you're perfect under the flashing lights

finally when it's time to go home, he knows for a fact he can't show up at his place looking messed up as he is - what if Spencer or Birkin or some nameless Umbrella employee saw him and ratted him out? so he takes your offer to go to your house gracefully as he can this drunk

he knows now that you're a party expert, you immediately make him drink water and wash his face and take preemptive tylenol for the hangover. your fleeting kiss and warm hands on his sweaty skin are so sweet he can't bear to think about it longer than he has to. he knows he should leave before you wake up tomorrow and forget this wonderful night ever happened (he'll never forget you, not even on his deathbed)

you give him every courtesy and kindness you can offer and he decides to take just one more, one last sweet touch to take with him into the night. you smile sleepily and open your arms for him to fall into - the blanket covering his shoulders is a little too hot and you both smell like beer and liquor and sweat but your lap is so soft, it makes the ache in his back and shoulders from carrying the world lessen a bit, and your fingers in his hair send him into a beautiful and silent sleep

the next morning it physically pains him to untangle from your body on the couch. he stands and watches you for a moment, his heart clenching and pounding in his chest, until he forces himself out the door before you can feel his absence.

when he meets you again, what feels like a thousand years later, his heart pounds just the same. you recognize him, his twisted dark smirk and deep eyes, and when you smile and say his name he's suddenly twenty-something all over again and dizzy and drunk in your arms - he never wants to leave you again

[crossdressingdeath]

Okay seriously people actually have decided wholeheartedly we only get the worldstate choices visible on the summary screen??????? It's not a joke??????? Guys, there has been no point in the series where we've been able to see every single choice on one screen. ...I mean in DA2 we don't get to see any choices because save import but the descriptions of the default worldstates don't mention every single detail. Because it's one screen. Even in the Keep with the tapestry we don't see every single choice for each quest/location on the main page. Because that would be ridiculously long and terrible design. There's this thing Bioware does where they don't put everything on the same screen because that would be awful design. Like, I'm sorry, I know I'm really harping on about this, but it's just such an absurd assumption to be making based on one screen in a part of the game's setup that we are not allowed to see more of. I just... why, why are people just assuming that that's it? Why would Bioware block the playtesters from talking about it beyond the couple of screens we've seen if those couple of screens were all there was? Why would Bioware drop the ball this hard on something they've always done well? It would be one thing to have concerns about the choices (I definitely want to see the full worldstate customization) but to just decide based on a summary screen and the romance tab and literally nothing else that there's nothing else to see and that's all they've given us is... I'm sorry, but it's ridiculous and stupid and frankly unfair to Bioware to assume they'd fuck it up that much based on so little evidence. And I'm also getting increasingly sick of people whining about Bioware telling us too much and then immediately turning around and whining about them telling us too little. Seriously, do you lot even want this game? Because you don't have to play it if you're so desperate for excuses to say it'll suck!

[yandere-romanticaa]

There's something so oddly sweet about the "childhood friends to lovers" pipeline in fiction, but with Aemond Targaryen it takes such a deliciousy dark turn that my mind couldn't help but to linger on it.

Aemond can still recall every single harsh word his family has even thrown his way, how he can still feel the way his eyes would get wet but he had to hold it all in, because he could not afford to let himself to show even an ounce of weakness, not even to himself. Countless hours were wasted with him staring off into the distance somewhere, admiring the noble beasts which were flying high above in the sky, far away from the reach of anything and anyone.

Those were the times he was most envious of not having a dragon of his own. The green little beast known as jealousy would take over, causing him to want to step off the deep end.

Just as he felt the skin of his knuckles threatening to rip due to his tight grip, a warm pair of hands would make their way to him and hold onto him gently, as if he actually mattered somehow in the grand scheme of things.

Most of the time he would just stand there and let you embrace him, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest as his luscious blonde was carried by the wind. Although, if he had a particularly rough day, he would sometimes simply melt into your embrace. Cheek against cheek, Aemond could feel the worry radiating off you in spades.

It was dreadful how absolutely euphoric that made him feel.

You were his only real playmate growing up, causing him to become dreadfully possessive over you. It got so bad that Aemond outright forbade Aegon and Haelena of all people from even looking at you, let alone actually seeking you out. None of the other children in court were safe either as rumors spread fast that they ought to steer clear far away from you, lest they wished to suffer Aemond's thorny wrath.

The little paradise Aemond had cultivated for himself was not meant to last. One the same night he finally claimed his dragon, you had vanished along with your family.

He still remembers how excited he was to share the news with you, how he wished to tell you that once he was skilled enough he wished you to be the first person who would fly with him on his dragon.

No one else had the right to that privilege, absolutely no one.

But, things didn't go to plan. And truly, when do they ever?

Aemond had lost a lot that night and gained just as much. He had claimed a dragon, Vhagar, one of the largest and strongest dragons there were. In just one evening he became a one man army, there was nothing that could hold him back.

He can still feel just how tight the chair was he sat on as the maesters stitched his damaged eye, how hot the cracking fire next to him was, just how loud everyone was being... It was all irrelevant. The moment he could, he was going to seek you out and tell you everything, share each and every detail he could about his dragon...

... Until his mother told him the news.

Your family relocated due to some personal reasons and as Alicent went on and on about that, little Aemond felt his world shatter in a heartbeat.

He would rather take ten thousand cuts and stabs to his eye than ever face the pain he felt once he learned of your departure.

"It's for your own good too..." he can recall his mother saying, her voice sounding a little defeated.

"You shouldn't tie yourself to one person like you already have... I worry about you, Aemond."

That dark and stormy night, Aemond had made two vows to himself, vows he was going to sign with his own blood if he had to. The first was that no matter where in the world you were, no matter how far your family may try to take you, there would be no distance he would not tread, no man, woman or child he wouldn't slay just to hear the sound of your voice, to feel your soft skin, to be with you.

And the other was that he would make due on his promise of giving you a ride on Vhagar. He was in your debt for even trying to claim the mighty beast, it was only fair.

Aemond Targaryen took those two vows and kept them under lock and key, hidden deeply in his dark, which grew darker and darker. At the rate he was going, he would turn into a more terrifying beast than the actual dragon he had. Although, even dragons had their hearts.

You just happened to be Aemond's.

And he was going to come to you one day, soaked in the blood of his enemies, his arms open wide as he makes his way to embrace you once more.

[sturnsdc]

ART CLASS AU!

pair: Carl Grimes x fem!reader

synopsis: Yn has feelings for her classmate, Carl, but she never does anything about it. However, things seem to work in her favor when they have to work on a project together for the art class.

warnings: no TWD scenes, just fluff, slight angst, somewhat obsessive behavior ??

words: 2,4k

A/N: to make the narration clearer: at all times, Yn is writing in her diary, which is why at times she will speak about Carl, and at other times it may seem like she’s speaking directly to him (but she’s not)!! For the most part, it’s just a bunch of fragments from her diary, as she explains a bit at the end.

this came to my mind suddenly; i apologize for it being so short.

the words in italics are the lyrics of the song !!

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist carl masterlist

YN´S POV

you look pretty good today

is it me or did you shave?

sometimes i wonder if it's normal, if it's real. With each passing day, he seems to become more handsome, and like a magnet, he keeps drawing my gaze again and again. It feels like i can't control it.

i notice when he wears a new shirt, or when he’s wearing the same pants from a few days ago. I notice when he forgets something, when he’s focused, or when he gets distracted.

i just can’t stop noticing him.

good, you've been looking at me twice as more

so i can see your face

when we make eye contact, i feel like i’m going to die. My heart races, my cheeks turn red, my hands sweat, and i stop breathing. Even my stomach tightens, my whole body tenses up. The first time it happened, i thought i was having an attack.

secretly, i enjoy it because when i feel his gaze, i have an excuse to turn my head, look at him, and smile. I don’t even know where i find the courage, but he smiles back at me, with tight lips, then looks away after a few seconds.

my friends told me not to overthink it, that maybe i’m just misinterpreting things. They say if “i keep analyzing every time we make eye contact”, i’ll end up falling for him, and then he’ll break my heart by not feeling the same way.

you sit across from me in the classroom

but do you even know my name?

then i tried to avoid him. He probably doesn’t even know who i am. Does he even know my name? i doubt it; they hardly ever say it out loud in class. I don’t even know everyone else’s names.

but then everything seems to align, and the teacher walks to that side of the room while giving the lesson, as if she knows i’m following her with my eyes. And there he is, on the other side of the classroom, in his plaid shirt and with those pretty eyes, taking notes on everything she’s saying… while i lose my breath and forget what i was listening to.

Carl... i do know your name.

if you want to ask me how i am

don't hesitate

it was a couple of days after the teacher announced the final project. The art class would have to hold a fair, showcasing our own works, from paintings to ceramics. It had to be in pairs, but we couldn’t pick our usual partners. We had to step out of our bubbles and take a risk.

i thought about him, but my embarrassment consumed me, so i let the days pass. And just two days before the next class, i ran into him in the hallway. He seemed surprised. His blue eyes looked at me in a strange way, almost like he was unsure of something. Then he made a move to come closer, and i started to get nervous.

he did it; i didn’t expect him to. He spoke to me, asked if we could pair up, and all i could do was say yes, with a dazed look and stumbling over my words. Then he smiled, like i’d never seen him smile before. His face lit up, and he walked away, happy.

did i do the right thing? how am i gonna focus if i could barely even speak to him?

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

i have to admit, Carl Grimes is a special guy. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the little details i’ve noticed, about the brief interactions we’ve had. It’s like my world is starting to revolve around him.

he’s a gentleman—so masculine yet so gentle. He speaks to me with such care, even though i’ve seen him outside of class, joking roughly and arguing with his friends. He’s the complete opposite.

i like this side of him, when he focuses all his attention on me, asks for my opinion, and smiles at me. I haven’t seen him talk like that with anyone else. 

should i get my hopes up?

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

we started talking about the project.

he’s so smart, coming up with amazing ideas, and i stress over not knowing which one to choose. however, he doesn’t seem worried; he waits for my answer patiently, as if we had all the time in the world, which isn’t true since we have to submit the work plan by the end of the class. but he doesn’t pressure me—he asks for my opinion on each idea and helps me weigh the pros and cons.

we chose one together, and then i started writing our plan.

but… something… feels off. We keep making eye contact, and i smile like a fool, watching as he does the same. Is this really happening? i feel like we’re in a bubble. time no longer exists, air isn’t even necessary—just us.

and then i find myself hoping that he feels the same, because i love how it feels to talk to him, to be the center of his attention, even if just for a moment.

an art class

an art class

art class used to be my escape from other subjects, a room where i felt safe. Then i saw him, and it became more than just that. Thinking about art class sends tingles through my body and instantly puts a smile on my face. My heart races like crazy, and i’m filled with excitement. And it’s all because of him.

now, art class has become something that makes me genuinely happy, motivating me to go to school.

even with the project, i’ve never been this excited to work on an assignment before, but now that i’m at his house, meeting his dad and his sister, and then heading to his room to start working on our project… i feel like i love classwork.

why do you always stick to smiling

and sit still being so quiet?

i feel like he's in the hallways more often now, because i see him every day. Sometimes i'm just turning a corner, and there he is, with his group of friends, laughing and being the smiley guy i used to see only once in a while. 

he's everywhere, all the time. What's going on?

now it's impossible not to notice him, because he's always there. Sometimes i don't even have to see him, because i can hear his laugh, or his friends', and i know we’re in the same place. 

how can he be so loud, but so damn quiet in class? i don’t get it.

it's like a completely different version of him, but i don't mind at all, it's just... weird. 

i've been pretty distracted for some days

and it's ruining my diet

the days go by, and each time i get to know him more and more. He's amazing, funny, super smart, mature, and adorable. I've also gotten to know his family better, and i understand more where that calm and controlled side he shows in class comes from.

everything seems wonderful, and i know my feelings are only growing with each passing minute, but he's starting to occupy my mind all the time, and that's becoming a problem.

my friends talk during lunch, but all i can think about is our conversation from the day before, when we got sidetracked from the project, and he started explaining the story of one of his comics. I can remember how his eyes lit up as he told me about it, and i just kept asking questions, even though i already knew the stories. I love the passion with which he spoke about it. I remember his tone of voice, the way he moved his head, and how his eyes looked at me so attentively. I recall almost every word, but then, when my mind is at its peak, i see my friends getting up from their seats, looking at me with puzzled and concerned faces.

lunch ended, and i didn’t even touch my food.

Carl Grimes, i need to figure this out soon.

if you don't take the hint already

i'm afraid i'll start a riot

i’m trying to figure out if it’s just me, Carl, but i really don’t understand—do you look at me the way i look at you?

now i try to avoid looking at you if i don’t have to, but then i feel a constant gaze, and when i turn my head, there you are, trying to look away as quickly as you can. Am i imagining this?

i feel the frustration building inside me, Carl. I need to know.

today, i try wearing different clothes, the ones i save in my closet for occasions outside of class, the ones i wear when i feel confident. But this time, i don’t feel that way. This time, i’m scared. I want you to notice. I want to know if you care, if you’ll say something.

'cause you make my whole world go crazy

yeah, your smell just sends me flying

and you did, Carl. You told me i looked good, then you got nervous and said i always look good, just that this time i looked different. If you only knew how much that meant to me.

since then, days have gone by, and i feel like you’re paying more attention to me— or have you always done that and i’m just now noticing?

you also started wearing a new cologne; it’s stronger and lingers in the air when you pass by me. Is that on purpose? now i can’t stop thinking about how good you smell, and that alone is enough to keep me floating, my mind in paradise, thinking about how much i like you.

'cause you're my cru-cru-crush

and i like you very much

today i told my friends how i feel about you. They looked at me with pity and talked to me like i was a little girl. They say you don’t feel the same, that i’m imagining everything, and that i’ll end up hurt if i keep this up.

am i really that out of my mind? they say i’m obsessed, that i’m seeing things where there aren’t any.

but they were the ones who told me the first time you looked back at me.

and i'd appreciate if you'd like me back

but it's okay 'cause you make my heart

i've spent some nights crying, and now i’m trying to avoid you. It's so hard when we still have to keep working on the damn project.

i’m scared of getting my hopes up. I started this on my own. you’re not to blame, but now i wish i didn’t have to see you for a couple of weeks.

an art class

an art class

and yet, that day of the week arrives, and along with the anxiety, i can feel the excitement trying to break free. My heart races, my hands sweat, and i can’t catch my breath.

“art class,” says the sign on the door, and just that is enough to shake my entire world and bring back the feelings i’m trying to ignore.

all my days

been trying to find a reason to stay

i keep hearing my friends' words every time i see you, and now i feel guilt, embarrassment, and a horrible pain in my chest that settles in my heart, right next to the happiness you bring me. It makes me feel sick and confused.

you've asked me a couple of times if i'm okay, but how could i answer you with the truth?

say my name

and i'll go ahead and pick a date

i'm okay

if you understand that this is fate

the day of the exhibition arrived, and i’m nervous, and you notice it, so you take my hand and smile at me. You told me everything would be fine, that we did great, and that we would do really well.

you were right. Of course you were...

we spent the whole day there, answering questions and receiving compliments. We really did a good job, and everyone keeps saying that.

now i feel exhausted. All day i had to manage my emotions—the mix of anxiety, the pain in my chest, happiness, satisfaction... and love, the damn love. I feel like handling all that drained me more than talking to so many people and repeating the same words over and over.

finally, we can leave, but then you take my hand again and make me look at you. This time you look more serious, and i start to get scared, but you don’t say anything bad.

“i’m going to be honest, Yn, i loved working with you on this and getting to know you better. Since i saw you in class, something about you caught my attention, but i didn’t know how to approach you. This was the perfect opportunity, and i took it. I understand if you don’t feel the same way i do, but if you do... i’d like to get to know you more and see what can come of this.” that’s what you said, your face blushing and your eyes looking everywhere but at me.

if you only knew that when i got home, i cried, feeling so happy, kicking my legs on the bed like a tv character, and squealing into my pillow so no one would hear me. with my face red and a huge smile.

now we’re going on a date, and i just hope this turns out well.

Carl Grimes, what have you done to me?

art class

art class

i don’t even know when i started smiling, but i finished reading aloud and looked around. Carl, beside me, was smiling widely, and our two little ones had tears in their eyes; apparently, they were moved by the story of how it all began.

i recently found my diary from when i was a teenager, and i told Carl about it in front of the girls, and they both begged me to read it to them. Of course, i paused at the perfect part, at the true beginning of our relationship, but within those pages is everything, including the story of our first time and countless anecdotes from our school days.

i will always be grateful for that class because that’s how i got to know the man who makes me happy.

Carl Grimes is more than my words can describe, but i think i did a good job explaining how i fell for him.

who would have thought that a couple of years later, this would be our life?

in the end, maybe it was part of our destiny.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

While I don’t think the senti-kid story necessarily works if the writers wanted to keep the show focused on kids, I think it would’ve gone over a bit better if it was just Felix who was the senti, rather than also Adrien and Kagami (especially Kagami, she was a complete retcon in that regard).

Picture this:

Gabriel, Emilie, and Natalie find the Miraculous (Butterfly and Peacock) because they have an expensive hobby (archeology/collecting rare items, as wealthy people like to do), not because they need the magic at all. They just heard a rumor of an old Tibetan monastery and wanted to check it out, got lucky in finding the two jewels. The Peacock doesn’t even have to be broken.

We can keep the basics of the backstory shown in Representation- minus the detail of Adrien being made with the Peacock. Gabriel and Emilie conceive Adrien normally, but Colt and Amelie aren’t able to like in canon, so Colt has that same jealous outburst at Gabriel. Because Emilie feels bad for her sister, and Gabriel sees an opportunity to make a deal, they lend, or maybe trade, the Peacock to them to create a child. As in canon, Colt uses it, and his jealousy makes Felix a physical copy of Adrien.

Emilie gets sick for non-magical reasons. (I wouldn’t mind having her use it for funsies and not realizing it was broken, but it’s very obviously cracked, and I can’t imagine at least one of their two kwamis not giving them a warning.) As for what happens to Colt, I’m on the fence about him being alive in present times because that kind of abuse is really heavy, so maybe he just dies for unsaid reasons (though I vote Amelie poisoned him or something).

This version would allow for a really cool contrast between Adrien and Felix’s stories and characters. You have Adrien, a normal human, capable of disobedience, but who bends easily under others and is a people-pleaser. Versus Felix, a senti being magically compelled to obey orders of whoever has his amok, but fights to be free every chance he gets. That contrast would also further Felix’s frustration and jealousy of Adrien, in addition to his own father’s hatred of him and being identical to his cousin, because Felix would kill for Adrien’s free will, but he squanders it. But then there’s also the issue that he’s essentially victim blaming Adrien, not realizing that magic isn’t the only way to force obedience- not to mention ignoring the times that Adrien did stand up for himself (like running away to school). I think that would be a really great discussion of free will, how jealousy can blind you, family conflict (and resolution), and how different kinds of abuse/trauma aren’t automatically better than each other just because they’re opposites (ex: someone with heatstroke shouldn’t be jealous of someone with frostbite. Both suck.) The intensity might be worse for each circumstance (since Felix has magical abuse and physical+verbal abuse), but he would be in the wrong for saying Adrien has it easy.

(I think at this point my ADHD is over-explaining, so I’ll leave it at that lol)

Do you think a route like that would’ve improved the show at all? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

The sentiplot has many issues and one of the big ones is that it's not a great fit for a show where Marinette is the one and only main character. They've given Kagami, Felix, and Adrien this massive weight that begs for them to take center stage for at least a few episodes, but probably a whole season or two. The show isn't going to do that, so it's near impossible to really fix the sentiplot without truly massive changes to canon.

That being said, I think that this idea would have vastly improved the sentiplot in its current form! Right now, the senti thing truly doesn't matter to Adrien's character. His mom could have gotten sick for any random reason and the only meaningful change would be that Gabriel couldn't use the rings to keep Adrienette from kissing that one time. Outside of that, Adrien's status has no meaningful effect on the story. It doesn't even keep him out of the final! He does that on his own! The senti thing is just there for cheap drama.

There's also the issue that the current storyline makes the Agreste's look awful which is clearly not the story's goal. Emilie is supposed to be an angel and Gabriel is supposed to be a grief-stricken man who loves his family. That doesn't fit with the kind of monsters who would make a magical designer slave to be their child and then wear his control rings around as daily accessories. Remember, they picked their freaking wedding rings for his slave collars! Most people wear those every day. The implications are nasty!

It makes way more sense for the Agreste's to have the peacock for more mundane reasons and for Colt to get it somehow. Maybe even have him steal it after he finds out about it to really remove the Ageste's from the perfect slave child issue. This allows for the contrast between Gabriel and Colt that canon so clearly wanted, but failed to write. It also makes Felix's actions towards Adrien make way more sense. It feels like canon Felix hates Adrien and we still don't know why that is.

As nebulous as Felix's character is, he still feels like the kind of character who needs to be tied to something like the sentiplot. It's part of the reason I don't think I can use him in my own stuff. The sentiplot is - or at least should be - such a major, defining thing for him that the only possible way to use him is to keep that plot or to give him a plot about freeing the Kwamis since they're also slaves and his abusive childhood could make him feel a bond with them.

Focusing the sentistruggle on Felix instead of spreading it out to include Adrien and Kagami would also keep the sentistuff from dominating the story. Making the male romantic lead an artificial being without true free will whose creation killed his mother is a massive thing that needs to be the focus of his character for the rest of the story. People are on the edge of their seats waiting for Adrien to learn the truth and want this to be a big plot. I do not think they're going to get that, but they should.

Having a side character be the artificial human allows this to be something that is dealt with and then Felix either leaves or fades into the background once his story is over because his story allowed to have an ending whenever they want it to. That's not true for Adrien. Adrien's ending is happily every after with Marinette and the sentiplot needlessly complicates that plan because it means that Adrien's character is always going to be center stage, making people want the sentiplot to mean something since it's apparently impossible for him to ever be a real boy who has true free will. That's such a massive thing that it begs for Adrien to be the main character, which is an asinine writing choice. I have no idea why they keep giving Adrien all this massive narrative weight. You don't do that if you want the female romantic lead to be the main focus! You do it if you want them to be true costars or if you want the male lead to get the majority of the focus. This is writing 101!

As you said at the top, I'm not sure how well this works for a show aimed at five-year-olds because it's still a pretty heavy stuff, but as a general idea, I'd be down to watch it! I didn't have a ton to add to this one because your pitch was already excellent!

[fiddlefordisms]

Canon Details and Analysis of Fiddleford McGucket Part 2

See the first part here

Let's flash-forward to what we know about Fiddleford after college. At some point, he got married to Emma May Dixon, and they had a son together (Tate McGucket), they live in Palo Alto, and Fiddleford seems to be self-employed: McGucket's Computermajigs. Now, don't get me wrong I enjoy Fiddauthor quite a lot (and I'll give some in-depth analysis and theorizing and thinking of possibilities about that particular relationship in that context at the very end), but I want to focus on Fiddleford's character and what we do know about his wife and child.

We know from Journal 3 that Fiddleford keeps a picture of his wife and son on his desk because he says it helps keep him "grounded." It's very important to note that this picture includes his wife - if they really wanted to imply that Fiddleford's relationship with his wife was on the rocks, they could've easily made it just a picture of his son. We know that Fiddleford must have had strong feelings for his wife because in the Gobblewonker episode of Gravity Falls, Old Man McGucket claims that when his wife left him, he built a pterodactyl-tron (building giant death robots is something he does when he's upset or wants attention). If he was wanting to leave that relationship, he would not have been upset about her leaving him.

In another page of Journal 3 when Fiddleford quits the portal project, Ford writes about how he should "go back to his doting family." This tells us that while Fiddleford and Emma May did have a fight over him not getting her a Christmas present, Ford still somehow had the impression that his family was "doting." I think it's important to point out that Fiddleford has been erasing his memories since the Gremloblin incident - and the fight scene with his wife happens very shortly before the big portal test. We know the memory-erasing gun has side effects. So, anytime Fiddleford "forgets" something should be looked at as highly suspect and indicative that his memory-erasing gun is affecting him.

We know that Fiddleford must have been a good father before he left to work on the portal for Ford via context clues. In the show, despite Tate's original home being in Palo Alto, Tate chose to pack up his things and live in Gravity Falls where his mentally-addled father now lives. He chose to do that and seeing what became of his father, even though he's the town's biggest embarrassment with a reputation for being a crazy old man - chose to stay. In Shmeb U Unlocked, we're informed that Tate is extremely intelligent and capable of predicting lottery numbers.

He could literally go anywhere he wanted if he wanted. And yet, he stays in Gravity Falls where his father lives. He must have really loved his father despite it being so hard with his father's mental state and the fact that he has every right to be angry that his father left. We know that Fiddleford must have really loved his son because of that picture on his desk, because much later even with all of his memory problems, he still remembers his son, and he's desperate to spend time with him, and in the end, they're able to repair their relationship and spend quality time together.

Now, let's talk about a couple of details that I think a lot of people overlook. During the stargazing scene in Journal 3, Fiddleford mentions offhand that he'd like a place where "the screen door ain't broken." I think this is a VERY interesting detail because it makes it sound like Fiddleford's business hadn't quite taken off yet and that he might have been struggling financially because he can't afford to get his door repaired.

This opens a doorway into a theory of mine that Fiddleford is being paid for his time as Ford's assistant. Now, we're not told this outright in Journal 3, but I think we can gather this from a little thing I like to call context clues. After all, Ford probably thought the exact nature of payment deals for his assistant didn't need to be included in his research and personal journal. There's nothing interesting about it. Additionally from a narrative standpoint, it might have come across as looking like Ford had to bribe Fiddleford to help him, and that's not the vibe they wanted for Fiddleford. They wanted to emphasize that these two are at the very least good friends and that Fiddleford is the type of person who will set aside his own personal projects and self-sacrifice to help a friend at a moment's notice.

We know from the show and Journal 3 that Ford was given grants to study the anomalies of Gravity Falls. Presumably, this money would not only cover the costs of field research equipment and a research base (the shack) but also money for a research assistant if needed.

Fiddleford's wife would have to be the most permissive, most doormat wife in THE HISTORY OF EVER to allow her husband to go up to Oregon to work on a project leaving her to not only take care of her son by herself but also have to pay all the bills and rent/mortgage by herself. We know this is not the case because she (rightly) did NOT let it slide that her husband forgot to get her a Christmas present.

Fiddleford would not have had much time to work on his own business while working on Ford's portal. At this point in his life, he has his mental faculties intact, he's proven time and again to be considerate and sweet (Alex Hirsch even refers to him as a sweet soul). He's big on making thoughtful gifts, he wants to help others (in Journal 3, he is seen fixing up the ferris wheel at the carnival where he meets Ivan, although it was definitely wrong - he had good intentions in wanting to help people with their bad memories, even in the show - Old Man McGucket shows up in the sap-hole with the dinosaurs having fixed a broken lantern - Fiddleford is exactly the type of person who would see a broken-down car on the side of the road and pull over and get out his toolbox and help that person out), and he loves his family very much. He would NOT let them go unsupported and floundering for themselves while in his right mind.

So, this leads me to believe that to help convince his wife to let him help his old college buddy with his project, he'd be getting paid for his help. Ford likely would've found this reasonable and might have suggested it himself if Fiddleford expressed wanting to help but not being able to leave his family without any support. It probably wasn't a lot, but it might have been a bit better than what he was currently drumming up via his own business. This could also be why Ford is so adamant about referring to Fiddleford as his assistant in the journals rather than his friend.

Do I think his wife might have still had some reservations about her husband going to Oregon and could be a fertile field for argument later? Yes. Absolutely. But I think the fact that she let him go in the first place and the fact that Fiddleford is self-employed rather than more conventionally employed generally shows that she was a supportive wife and trusted her husband.

I absolutely DO NOT think, as some have posited, that Fiddleford abandoned his wife and son (especially his son whom he dearly loves) to have a "Brokeback Mountain" situation with Stanford. That is a terrible misreading of Fiddleford's character AND the situation. Again, Fiddleford is the type of person who HELPS people, and how much more so for someone who is likely his best friend? Not only that, but his FIRST EVER friend. A friend who Fiddleford probably knows has been alone in Oregon for years and who also has a hard time making friends, a friend who probably doesn't call him enough because he's "busy" with his research (Ford even says in the journal that he "has no choice but to call Fiddleford"), a friend who is probably stubborn about asking for help who is asking HIM (the guy who helps) for help?

Fiddleford might even already be worried about him.

And this is a "project" - a project has a beginning and an end. Fiddleford was NOT expecting to stay in Gravity Falls. He was going to go there, help Ford, and then go back to his family whom he loves. I'm not saying complicated feelings couldn't have arisen (again, I am a Fiddauthor shipper), but I am saying that Fiddleford didn't go to Oregon because he was running away from marital problems with his wife (on an additional note - people are free to write what they want - But what is WITH bisexual erasure and villifying / ignoring female characters? I mean, just because she wasn't in the show or talked about much doesn't mean we should do female characters a disservice) and intending on cheating on her.

Because again - A) He loves his family (family photo on his desk which doesn't exactly scream "Make sweet love to me Ford") B) His anxiety issues C) His empathy - he doesn't have the narcissistic traits cheaters generally have D) He's likely Catholic and all the religious hang-ups with that - (also adultery being a sin is mentioned waaaaaay more than homosexuality) E) The hostile time period for queer folks.

Also, Stanford "I find romance baffling" (Journal 3 - stargazing scene) is probably one of the biggest indicators that no cheating went on (but I'll throw you "cheating Fiddleford" headcanoners a bone much later on in which I think a possible "cheating" scenario could have realistically occurred - and I'll tell you my reasons for why I personally don't believe that happened either, but I'll begrudgingly accept a "possibility" and let you guys go nuts with the idea.)

More to come in later parts.