#hobbies is what makes you human...and there are much stranger hobbies out there than loving 2 fictional bois on the net LMAO

[joelsgoldrush]

“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k

logan howlett x fem!reader

“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

��Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Hiii! I was wondering if u could do a royalty au with the yandere Mikaelsons! It can either be human or vampire but like image THE AESTHETICS OF IT!! And can u somehow include rebekah as well!! I can leave the rest of the plot up to u or if u want I can also send ideas :)

I Don’t Want a Crown -Klaus M.

For something like this I could see going vampire but no, I’m going human on this. I’m excited to try it out!

Part 2

Your father thought it was an insult.

You were your fathers youngest daughter, the only one currently unmarried as he had married off your sisters already to make necessary alliances. The Mikaelson family was a very powerful ally, they were close with the king and queen but your father only wanted you to be married to the eldest, Elijah. Elijah however is already betrothed.

Elijah was happy to marry you to his younger brother, Niklaus, who you hadn’t met but you had heard some truly horrific stories of him beheading and gutting his enemies.

Your father dismissed you so that he could talk to Elijah alone and you happily exited the stuffy room, exploring the castle before making your way outside. You were enjoying the overcast sky before coming across a man leaning against a tree and seemingly sketching something in a book. You paused as you walked passed him to look and see him drawing an image of your horse that was by the stables.

‘That’s very good…are you an artist or something?’ You questioned and he paused to look down at you before smiling.

‘Or something, it’s a nice hobby. I’m glad you like it. I’m Nik, lovely to meet you.’ He took your hand, kissing your knuckle softly and bowing as he did which made you smile. Many men that greeted you didn’t think they had to bow to anyone but your parents, this man was a stranger and showing you more respect than your regular suitors.

‘I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Nik.’ You turned to walk away when he quickly fell into step beside you.

‘I can’t leave a beautiful girl to walk alone now can I? What kind of a man would I be?’ He held out his arm and you took it as you walked through the gardens. ‘So, why are you taking a stroll alone on such a dreary day?’

‘Oh I love days like these, and I love walking in the rain…much to my fathers dismay but that somehow makes it better.’ You teased and he seemed to like it. ‘Rainy days are the best kind. And I suppose I needed to get away. My father has been trying to marry me off to some rich family, though which one is anyone’s guess. It’s exhausting meeting potential husbands every day, and not one of them actually interested in meeting me. Just my father because it’s his choice and I will do what I’m told. Then I’ll get married to a man who is cold and cruel and just as happy to make me do what I’m told. I’m not ignorant enough to think I should be free to fall in love, the world isn’t that kind but shouldn’t we at least like each other? I don’t want to become my sister, married to a man who beats her with only the intention of filling her with a son…and now I’m ranting my problems to a stranger who only asked about the weather. I’m so sorry Nik-‘

‘I asked why you were walking, you answered. And I don’t think it’s an outrageous request to want to get along or a husband who will not beat you. A man should respect his wife, she is the one who will raise his children and give him a happy home to come back to every day, warm his bed yes but that should be more than one sided as well.’ You tried to hide your blush at the topic but he definitely noticed. ‘You’re a lovely women. You should be taken care of, and regardless of what a man is like with other men he should be a gentleman with his family. I’m sure your husband will prove to be a good man, at least to you.’ You smiled at that, his optimism being refreshing.

‘It’s a nice sentiment, though the man my father is meeting with now is trying to marry me off to an apparent madman. Of course those are just rumors, everyone deserves a fair chance.’ He looked stunned by your words as you sat yourself on the rock wall overlooking the ocean. It’s where you came to read often, it was peaceful and you loved watching the waves when it stormed.

‘You have a refreshing outlook on life. I like how sweet you are Y/n. Any man should be honored to have you, I know I would be.’ He sat beside you, kissing your hand once again, his blue eyes being the kind you want to get lost in for hours.

‘Well, I’m an optimist I guess. Besides, it’s not just him that’s a possibility. My father is meeting with someone else today, I suppose he feels slighted that I’ve been offered a second son, dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life but my father is nothing if not sensitive.’ You joked and while he laughed he looked…angry? He hid it quickly before standing and holding out his hand.

‘We should get you inside, it’s going to rain any second Princess.’ He walked you back to the castle in silence and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt the need to ask as you got inside.

‘Have I offended you? If I have, you have my sincerest apologies my Lord, I don’t-‘

‘Nonsense! You have done nothing of the sort.’ He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and the way he looked at you was so…heavy. ‘Now, you go get yourself warmed up and dressed for dinner. I’m sure I will see you again in a bit.’ With that he bowed and was gone, leaving you to realize how late it really was and rush to get ready for dinner.

When you arrived you were greeted by your mother as your father spoke to a man who must be in his early 40s. Very close to his age at least. ‘Y/n, your father has invited both of your suitors, Lord Aslan and Lord Mikaelson to dinner tonight. He would like to speak with both of them freely and see which is the best match, please be on your best behavior?’ Your mother begged.

‘Please tell me that old man is my suitors father?’ Your mother looked at you with hard eyes and you knew to shut up as you all sat down to eat.

‘Should we wait for the Mikaelson’s?’ Your mother asked and father rolled his eyes.

‘Can’t even be on time for a potential alliance. How disgraceful.’ Lord Aslan spoke and now you rolled your eyes.

‘Apologies my Lord, my brother has had to leave, our sister is having a bit of trouble. I’m sorry for my tardiness.’ You know that voice.

‘We can understand that. Young women are a handful, I should know, my wife gave me 5.’ Everyone knows your father hates that your mother gave him so many girls before a boy but he still brings it up. You looked up to see Nik sitting in the chair across from you and smiled politely, but you’re sure he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/n.’ You waved politely, Nik smiling while the man beside your father leered at you.

‘The pleasure is mine Princess.’ Lord Mikaelson greeted, the other man laughing suddenly and gaining everyone’s attention.

‘She’s not a Princess. A Lady, maybe, and a lovely one at that.’ You cringed, taking a drink from your cup and trying to ignore his eyes on you.

‘Every women should be treated as a Princess by her husband. Do you not agree my Lord? I’ve met many Princesses, they don’t hold a candle to you Darling.’ The blush is back and this time you can’t even pretend to hide it.

‘Thank you my Lord, you are sweet.’

The rest of dinner was your father speaking to Lord Aslan while he leered at you and you spoke to Nik back and forth, finding the rumors about him to be insane. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so you thought.

After they had left and you were getting ready for bed your father knocked on your door, letting himself in with a stern look on his face. ‘You behaved very rudely at dinner. You didn’t once try to speak to Lord Aslan.’

‘He was staring at my chest all night and he didn’t speak to me either, just you. He wants me to be his wife and doesn’t even want to know anything about me? No thank you. Besides, I loved speaking with Niklaus, he was sweet and he wanted to know me. I would much rather-‘ you were about to finish when your father cut you off with a hand around your throat, eyes angry and determined.

‘You think I care what you want? Your opinion means nothing to me child, it’s the men that matter and I will not be offended by being offered a second son for my youngest girl. I’m being given land and an army by Lord Aslan, plus a dowry that is worth much more than you. You’ll make yourself happy where ever I put you like a good daughter and a good wife! You are set to marry Lord Aslan in a fort night. That is all I will hear on the matter.’ When he stopped speaking he finally allowed you to breathe, pulling his hand away and watching you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. ‘Sleep daughter. You have lunch with your husband tomorrow and you must be presentable.’ With that he was gone and you were left alone to change into your night gown, holding a cold compress to the quickly forming bruises on your throat.

You were in too much pain to relax and sleep, every time you moved your neck or swallowed pain shot through your throat and didn’t leave you with the ability to get comfortable. You had finally given up trying and ended up on the loveseat with a book and an inability to stop the tears despite your pain. You were going to spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t care for you at all. Niklaus would move on and find a new wife, some lucky girl to have a good husband and a good life and you hate her. You were trying to calm yourself when you heard a knock on your French doors making you look up before it happened again. Quickly you wiped your face before moving to the doors to see a familiar face, waving casually.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, opening the doors and allowing him to slip in and watching as he looked around your plain room.

‘I am to be your husband, I’m allowed to see my wife, aren’t I? I want to get to know you better before-we…why are you crying?’ You quickly wiped your face again and he stopped you, taking your hands in his and brushing the tears away.

‘Niklaus, you have to go. You can’t be here-‘

‘I will not have you cry, why are you upset, I can-‘

‘You can’t fix it! You are not going to be my husband! I told you, I’m not going to be married to a second son and what I want doesn’t matter! You need to leave, please? You’ll be killed if you’re found in here!’ You pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, pulling you close and tilting your head up, inspecting the bruises on your neck gently. ‘My Lord-‘

‘Husband.’ He cut you off, clearly angry but not acting on it. ‘I’m sorry if you got confused Princess, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, your father seems to want to irritate me. There was no chance of any other man marrying you, I have already decided that you’re mine. You are not to worry about that, do you understand?’ He asked it so softly you felt like you were dreaming.

‘But my father-‘

‘Do. You. Understand?’ His eyes were a stormy blue, like a raging sea, impossible to tame but he never once made you feel like you were in danger with him.

‘I understand. But my father will never agree. He’s stubborn and cruel-‘

‘You haven’t seen cruel Princess…and you never will. I promise you that. And this-‘ he touched your neck softly, his eyes hardening when he looked at the bruises. ‘This will never happen to you again. Not in this lifetime, you are my wife, my Princess to protect and no one will ever harm you. No one will get close enough to try. Tomorrow you’ll go about your day like normal and not speak a word of this, then you will get the news that you are being married to me. Now come, Princess’ need sleep.’ He suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bed, tucking you into the blankets and holding your hand.

‘I can’t sleep. My neck hurts and I-‘

‘Shh.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, reaching up to open your mouth and you didn’t fight him as he pored it onto your tongue, making you swallow. ‘Now relax, you’ll sleep just fine my darling. Don’t you worry about that.’ He pressed your hand to his face, kissing your palm and sighing, his stubble scratching your hand roughly. As he began standing your eyes fell, heavy with sleep and you felt a kiss on your cheek before you fell asleep.

You slept well into the next day and you were awoken by a maid just before lunch, helping you into a dress that covered the marks on your neck. You went to the gardens for your lunch but Lord Aslan never showed up.

Your father was furious for the rest of the day and you didn’t see him at dinner but your mother told you that he was in a meeting. Walking back to your bedroom that night you turned to see familiar blue eyes looking down at you, waiting outside your door. ‘Nik?’

‘Hello my darling wife.’ He pulled you close to his chest and into your room, the door shutting behind him. ‘Our wedding will be held in 2 days time, everything is being taken care of, you won’t have to lift one little finger. I want you to have the best wedding day ever.’

You pulled back, looking up at him confused. ‘I’m engaged already, he told me-‘

‘Your father is an idiot, and he knew not to cross me yet he did so anyway after finding out that I wanted you as my wife. That’s his problem. The other…I hesitate to call him a man, isn’t an issue anymore. He was found dead in his home this morning for looking at things that didn’t belong to him.’ You stared up at him in shock, not sure what to do. ‘I told you, I like how sweet you are and any man should feel honored to have you. I do, and I always will. I will protect my sweet girl until my dying day, and not once will your innocent eyes be forced to see anything even resembling violent. I know I’m not the best man, but I will take care of you love, and I will love you for the rest of eternity…do you want to be mine?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m already yours-‘

‘I will see to it that you live like a nun for the rest of your life if that’s what you choose, but I would much prefer you be mine. I love you Y/n, but it’s your choice.’ His honesty spoke volumes and I nodded my head without hesitation.

‘Yes. I want to be your wife…I love you too Nik.’

Klaus was the best husband she could have ever dreamed of and he was true to his word, she never saw any violence…even when she ordered it.

I Don’t Want a Crown Moodboard

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: merman! gojo x human f!reader, sadness, angst, people growing, signs of aging, topics of death, satoru calling reader his ‘star’ and reader referring to him as ‘moon’, reader has a house by the coast that was her grandmother’s, sad Satoru, I hc’d that in this au mermen can visit every seven years but due to Satoru’s cold features he can visit every year. readers daughter is named kairi (meaning: majestic sea, or song/melody in other cultures).

a/n: guys I don’t like this 😕

You tried to tell your daughter that true love exists. even if the marriage with her father no longer worked out, you swore to gift it through stories, paintings, and artifacts; all related to that white haired individual. the ‘man’ you’ve known for years.

“Every seven years, mermaids return to this coast,” you remember telling your child, now 7, “but some return sooner than most.”

You hold the small bundle of joy between your arms, a white blanket wrapped around her body with embroided seashells along the edges. “she’s three months old, Satoru.”

“she’s so small,” he marvels, in awe as his brows furrow. “they’re that small?”

“they’re smaller before they’re born,” you smile. “but they’re adorable nontheless.” at your side, your acquaintance slightly sighs, turning to you.

“you think ours would’ve looked like that?” there’s a small pang to your heart, feeling as if you’ve betrayed him.

“Satoru,”

“I wasn’t...” he exhales then turns to the sea, “you know what I mean, star.” your heart aches at the name, a bittersweet name he gifted you early on in your relationship.

“are you gonna...?”

“she’ll know about you, some bits when she’s young. But once she’s older... I’ll leave her to decide. I’ll write it all down for her.” at your words, Satoru lets a moment pass, hesitantly bringing up an item in his hands.

“I brought you something,” he says, “I didn’t know... even if it was the last time I’d see you,” there’s almost a pained expression to his voice, eyes avoiding yours as he looks down at your daughter. then, to the ring on your left.

“can I give it to her?” there’s a slow nod.

“of course. she’s a piece of you.”

He returns again when she’s three, awestruck at her growth. you let him carry her, of course you trust him with your life. he treats her with the upmost care as he swims, having her sit on the plain of his back. your daughter giggles. this time, he gifts her a shell shaped like a whistle that actually makes a noise while he gifts you a pair of pearlescent earrings.

On your daughter’s 7th birthday, you notice a scar upon his cheekbone. while your daughter plays along the shore, you turn to cup his cheek. An act of affection you’ve long missed. “you’re still the same as ever,” you whisper, not paying mind to his scar though he makes it well aware how much he hates it.

“you shouldn’t be touching another man,” he almost bitterly reminds you, “you have a husband. I don’t think he’d like you touching someone else.”

“ex-husband,” you correct softly, embarrassment in your cheeks. “we didn’t work out.” there’s a sadness and glimmer to his eyes as he turns to your daughter, watching and overlook so as she won’t slip from a nearby rock. the waves today are calmer than most days.

Your daughter stops visiting him after that. You don’t really know how it happens; if she either grew up too soon or she lost interest, but you write. you paint. for him or her, you mask it as a personal hobby (which it was), you suddenly feel the need to prove something.

Years pass and you’ve grown a few wrinkles along your eyes. body not quite as before, worried he might miss today.

you see satoru’s white head from the distance. It takes him far longer to approach you. you think he might consider you a stranger until he’s close enough for you to call, “moon!” a love name you’ve blessed him by; in honor of the pale skin of his features.

“you’ve grown,” there’s a slight sadness behind his eyes and voice, knowing well that this means another era for you. a reminder that you’re not forever, “but you’re still as beautiful as ever. come here, star.” his arms feel like home. they always have. you’d like to think this is what heaven should be like. the soft, tender kiss against your lips reminds you that maybe there is something to look forward to.

a few years later, you return. a headscarf adorning your top, loose clothing around your figure as this time, you lay low by the rocks. It’s too difficult to climb.

“the doctors think I’ll be okay,” you smile, bony hand clasped with his muscular one. you can tell he’s holding back a sob as he glances at every feature life has thrown at you, as subtle as he tries you can still feel it.

“you’re dying.” he points.

“I still have time,”

“but not enough.” a silence passes between the both of you. you tell him of your daughter.

“I told kairi about you.” you tell him, “I wrote everything down so she’ll know.”

“I don’t think she ever wants to see me.”

“Of course she does,” you gently squeeze his hand, “just give her time, she’s...” you struggle with your words, “grieving.”

“I can’t loose you,” his voice breaks, and you’re afraid to meet his eyes. “I’ve barely had you, it’s not fair.”

“Satoru,” your voice cracks, but remains soft, “I’ve been lucky to have known you...”

“No,” he grits his teeth, “don’t speak in past terms. you’re not dead, star.”

“I promise this won’t be the last time you see me.” you squeeze his hand with what strength you have left, “I’ve moved here, to the house by the coast.” you speak, “I’ll see you everyday if I have to, I won’t go, Satoru.” it takes a lot of reassurance that night for Satoru to be at peace, even though there is no complete peace in knowing the love of your life is dying and you can’t do anything about it, he’s with you every minute he can take. Satoru stays for months, expanding his visit along the waters as it’s nearing winter.

“You should go,” you tell him, “you’ll die if you stay in these cold waters. I’ll be fine.”

There is such reluctance in that conversation from him. His eyes and body betray him, unable to leave you. “No,”

“Satoru, you’ll die.”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“I won’t,” you tell him, “I’ve made it past the time doctors said I’d...” you nod, “I’ll be fine Satoru. It’s just 4 months. I’ll actually die if you don’t go though. Please, go. For your own health.” There’s hurt and hesitance in his eyes, longing and self betrayal in the way he kisses you, though he’s so in love with you by the way he holds you and whispers sweet nothings to your ear. the last thing he does is press a kiss to your forehead before he turns, leaving.

It rains for the first time in 20 years on the beach 26 days later. your daughter sobs that day, looking ahead from the hospital view as she stares out into the ocean.

she doesn’t have the guts to see him (satoru) that year. not daring to step a foot in the sand for a whole entire year. she reads your journals a few months after your death, learning of a man that saved you from another, saving your life. he’s become your rock, she can read. and you write about him in ways that you’ve never expressed about her father. it is then that she realizes that you loved him, or he loved you. likely both sides loved, but she still doesn’t visit the sea.

it is only when she turns 21 that she decides to finally meet the man again. fresh out of a heartbreak, she realizes how excruciatingly painful it is to lose someone you love, reflecting and opting that it is only fair she gives you the news. but she decides to do more.

Satoru recognizes her almost instantly, she looks so much like you in your youth. kairi is almost afraid, holding on to the bag tightly over her shoulder.

She didn’t think her soul could break ever the more when she tells him the news. In front of her, she sees a man who truly loved. who if given the chance to be human, would’ve kissed the ground you walked on, loved you more than her own father. her heart breaks, seeing how someone who held so much love for you had, resulting in the greatest tragedy she’s seen in her 21 years of life.

“She wanted me to give you this,” it’s a waterproof heart necklace with a picture of you on one side and the other is a picture the both of you took. Satoru holds the necklace as if it’s made of glass.

for the remainder of the day, she talks to you as if you would have wanted. showing him a photo album of your life, reflecting on her best memories of you. it is only then when Satoru cries when you pull up a video of you on your birthday.

your daughter learns that Satoru loves videos.

“I remember when you were barely born, you were this small.” he makes a motion with his hands, “you were... so beautiful, your mother loved you.” there’s a sense of sadness yet pride to his words.

“I know she loved you too,” kairi speaks, moments later as she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “she always told me about you when I was little. always pained this beach, even you at times.” your daughter chuckles, “sometimes, even when I was little, I wondered what it’d be like to have you as my dad. the both of you really loved one another. more than my dad.”

and there, there is a piece inside your daughters heart and Satoru’s that slightly mends. the two of them bond their love over you, keeping your memory alive as they meet every year to remember you. both souls uniting, thinking of a life where things would have been possible.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Companion piece to Idée Fixe.

(A journal entry that will never see the light of day, for it is meant to rot in darkness. Even the amoral owner is bound to agree with this).

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is creepy hooooly shit (he needs a hobby), and religious imagery. Word count: 1k.

I have become hopelessly smitten with a woman who is, for lack of a better word, strange. 

She tells me she’s “probably agnostic, because that word sounds cooler than atheist”, while often exemplifying the religious doctrine she grew up in. She condemns herself for qualities she’d pardon in others. She’ll get excited over the most mundane things, such as pigeons, or when her rewards add up enough to get her favorite drink for free. I’m allowed to steal a certain amount before she stares at me, not quite comfortable enough to express her dissatisfaction verbally, yet undoubtedly pondering the perfect string of words to avoid offending me. 

The extent of her consideration for others is perplexing. There is no advantage to be gained by placating strangers, though her insistence on the matter would almost convince you otherwise. She never says “you’re welcome”, it’s always “of course”, as if the act of going so far out of her way is expected of her. If not that phrase, she’ll say “it’s no problem”, on the off chance the individual may think they burdened her. 

She’s strange, yes, but we’re alike in many ways, so I wonder what that’d make me. 

I’ve taken on innumerable roles throughout the years. I know how to judge the weight of my every word. My motivation for doing so is self-serving in nature. People, to me, are locks that require the right combination to crack. From what I can tell, she’s come to realize this too. Instead of pursuing this advantage, she shies away from it. Originally, I thought it was nothing more than people-pleasing, but it goes beyond that. She loves humanity, the same humanity I deem worthless. It’d be easier for me to understand if there was an ulterior motive. Alas, that'd be doing her a major injustice.

My initial intrigue in her was nothing more than a passing fancy. I had time to pass, and she just happened to be in the vicinity, reading a book I’m partial to. I thought I’d give her a few minutes of my time and then be on my way. Presently, however, If I believed in fate, I’d go so far as to say our paths were destined to cross. She is every part of myself that has died a slow death. Optimism, empathy, passion… they mix together to form the essence of her being. 

I didn’t intend to give her so much of my time. She became indispensable to me before I realized what was happening. In retrospect, perhaps I knew deep down that this was the type of person I’d been looking for. Someone I’d struggle between wanting to ruin or preserve. I erred toward the former at first. If I didn’t wake her from her naïve reverie, another would inevitably come down the line and do it themselves. The mere concept was unforgivable. 

As time passed, it became clear she wasn’t living in a dreamlike state, but was perfectly aware of her surroundings and the people who inhabit them. This left me at an impasse. How do you destroy someone who has already annihilated and rebuilt themselves? There are ways, yes, yet no longer did the idea appeal to me. I wanted something new from her, though the specifics alluded me. What I did know, however, was that this strange woman would touch many lives for the better. 

This was a constant torment. I’d have to go about my business, knowing full well she’s making others smile, laugh, and otherwise brightening their day elsewhere. My chest would become impossibly tight whenever I fixated on this. She holds qualities people are inevitably drawn to. She is radiance incarnate, so easy to adore. A light like that is visible far and wide.

When I pressed back against her dearly held beliefs, instead of fading, she burned ever brighter.

I know she feels it too — this invisible rope that binds us. She’ll happily talk to me for hours, even when I forgo superficial charm and express slivers of my depravity. She sees it, acknowledges it, and seeks me out all the same. I find myself talking more than I meant to when she’s around. She challenges me, interestingly enough. Her arguments often have holes and aren’t by any means polished, but she cuts to the heart of things. 

She is my personal torment. I want every inch of her for myself. Her unique mind, heart, soul… would it be enough? Could I stop there? Or would I keep going, taking more and more, until we were essentially one flesh? 

It’s by her recommendation I’m writing any of this down. She said “I am in desperate need of intensive therapy” and sent some links to her recommendations. I’m inclined to give in to her requests since she asks for so little, but that might be the one I have to refuse. I cannot recall the last time I met someone this amusing, if ever. The inner workings of her pretty little head are a mystery I long to unravel.

Displeased as I am to admit it, a day will pass when she no longer looks at me the way she does now. My true identity can’t go unknown forever, the revelation is inevitable. Still, I won’t let her go. My grip will only grow tighter. If her ire is my penance for possessing her entirely, then I’ll accept the sentence and chip away at it over time. Emotions are transient. With the right encouragement, I can guide her back to my arms, even if she considers the embrace a scourge. 

When we first met, she said something that has taken permanent residence in my mind. 

“So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was always bound to be my benediction and her condemnation. 

From that moment onward, her life was mine to do with as I please. There are many far more worthy of her than I, which is why I’ll never give them the chance. I’ll deprive the world of her vibrancy. It could become engulfed in eternal darkness, and still, I’d happily refuse to give her back. Let them lament, weep, and gnash their teeth.

In my youth, I set out to be the greatest villain. Never have I been more willing to carry out the actions befitting such a lofty title. 

This is the curse of a wicked man’s love, [First] [Last]. Revisit your religion and pray fervently. For only a god could save you from the future I’ve planned for us. 

[writegoblin]

I have been severely craving my boy. No no, not Michael. Boseph uwu

Look at him. Unf.

Anyways.

Bo Sinclair Headcanons!

SFW

- You ended up in Ambrose because your car alignment decided it had enough of these off road shenanigans.

- Your reasons for being out that way, for story purposes, are running from your old life. All your old family and friends are shitty so you an conveniently disappear bc smthn smthn deus ex machina

- HOW you find out about your car alignment is another story. Let's just say, tumbling in a car is much more painful than it looks. What's worse is landing in a roadkill pit. Yeah boy. You know what time it is B)

- Lester almost shit himself when you came from over the highway. He thought you were dead and was going to call Vincent when you punched out the front seat. That's hot. Alright stranger, you're coming with me!

- He tries to clean you up and get your name. Takes you back to his place because he doesn't want to catch the twins off guard. But the day you spend there is lovely.

- You get the Ambrose and immediately shits off. Long story short, you become something of a live in maid. They can't kill you because it would be a lot of hassle on their end (another deus ex. You're related to a cop or something idk), and they COULD turn this situation around. Get use out of you.

- Bo likes how witty you are. You don't like to be bossed around which is clearly why you ran away from home (what are you, 10?)

- At first he's very callous to you and makes no effort to understand you. As far as he's concerned, you're another spoiled out of towner, just impeding on he and his brother's strange get rich scheme (more on that later. I'll explain in end notes.)

- What's worse is you're argumentative. Whenever he asks you to do something (read: yells at you), you always gotta talk back. You say funny stuff sometimes but it's annoying mostly. Vincent enjoys it much more than he does.

- You make nice with Vinny first. When you aren't forced to do chores, he lets you help him with the wax. Bo sees this and eventually realizes that while you are certainly mouthy, you are human with like hobbies and shit.

- He's a chef he's a gourmand

- He cooks for he and Vincent because Vincent, due to some brain damage, has a weird palette. So anything he makes either has way too much seasoning, or it tastes like cardboard. Bo on the other hand, grew up running around the streets of Baton Rogue with his friends after school. He KNOWS how to cook good.

- He's also good at first aid. The actual surgery and medical stuff is Vincent's wheelhouse but once you broke your arm trying to fix some shutters he told you to fix. He felt bad so he very gingerly fixed your arm. It healed really nicely but you'll never forget the way those blue eyes of his were so warm when he looked at you, touching the bend in your forearm and his voice, gentle as the day you first met went, "does it hurt?"

- Yeah but you looking at me like that bout to get me pregnant hurts worse sir

- As a boyfriend he's only jealous/protective around tourists. But as a dude in a town with a population of technically 3.5 if you count Lester's visits, he gets it. He does not mind his twin ogling you. He does not mind sharing EVENTUALLY. At first, he's very apprehensive.

- Bo's love language is physical touch. Even nonsexual touch is nice. He likes laying his head in your lap while yall watch TV and you rake your nails through his scalp gently.

- When he gets night terrors he likes to hold onto you in the dark like hope. He puts his face in your chest and he's almost like a little kid for a second. You have no choice but to coddle aw noooo aw man can't believe I have this hot sexy guy in my lap crying ohbhughghh

- If you're pear shaped? He loves your hips. Man, woman, ethereal creature, it don't matter. He was born an ass man he'll die an ass man.

- If you like star gazing, he'll listen to you rattle off about constellations. He likes listening to people ramble about unique special interests because it gives him a little taste of variety in his quiet life.

NSFW

- big. Thick. Cut.

- leftward pitch and he loves doing mating presses.

- much more inclined to rough sex (obviously)

- I do know he likely and unfortunately assaulted those ladies on the wall but in my HCs I like to think it was CNC instead. What stops him from doing the same here is you're too loud and mouthy, so the attraction is initially not there.

- As you soften up because of Vin though, and start opening up and smiling and being cute, he can't help but let his mind roam sometimes.

- Loves fantasizing you in different little costumes to dress up in. A visitor once visited and she was a cam girl! In your size! So lucky!

- please were garter belts this man will not be normal

- Loves intercurral. To punish you if he catches you masturbating, he'll fuck your thighs until he cuts, leaving you all hot and bothered.

- The basement does not come into equation until after the first time. And the first time is more of a gentle, romantic moment of vulnerability.

- Your first time was during a thunderstorm and you were telling him about your past and how so many people hurt you. Abused you. He felt so connected to you. You always held back your anger and he let you express it by throwing stuff and by the end of it you were a sobbing and screaming and laughing mess and he was standing in the debris and he saw himself and he reached out and kissed you in an attempt to ammend himself.

- When he made love to you that night, he decided your ass is never moving out sorry lol

- Exhibitionist. Likes to take you to Baton Rogue for little dates and fucks you in alleys and parks. The most exciting was a drive in theater he took you to where you gave him head. He fucked you in the wooded area outside after.

- PRIESTKINKPRIESTKINK

- Hahaha okay but what if you confessed and he fucked u in the confessional would that be crazy or what

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have a few HOW headcanons actually!

- the boys do the whole house of Wax thing in an attempt to get rich. Bo decided "oh I guess I could be mayor but hm no money here" and he rubbed two cells together and was like "WHAT IF WE MADE AN ATTRACTION THAT WAS THE BESTEST."

- tricked Vin into it cause "they're carrying Mom's legacy :(((( she'd love this trust me we're gonna expand the house into a town it'll be great."

- Lester's there cause he loves his brother's and is also admittedly a bit crazy himself. He's definitely tied a few people up and intimidated people, but that's not his usual job. He's too baby.

- Canonically, where Ambrose is located, it would be a roughly 30 min drive (or 2 hours I forgor lol) to Baton Rogue! So fun fact. They're Baton boys uwu

- I think even though Bo is a good cook, gumbo is Lester's wheelhouse cause he's just got that swagger to him. Like if I met Lester and he was like "do u want me to make you gumbo" I'd say yes, no hesitation.

[sntafe]

i want to know more about your davey. what makes him tick! what music do you think he’d listen to! what are his pastimes and hobbies and what makes him like them so much!! PLEASEEE rant about your davey i love him!!

- @we-are-inevitable ✨

OH MY GOD. YES. OKAY. you just opened pandora’s box you have no clue. (btw most of this is based on my tattoo au although a lot of this stuff is just stuff i have connected to davey no matter the au)

okay. so. my davey is a high school english teacher and i think something that makes him really upset is when he sees his good students start skipping, not paying attention, etc. while i don’t think this would make him tick per say, i do think it would def make him anxious and on edge. he would absolutely come home and rant to jack about how he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong and how he’s worried about them and how he wishes he can do more but all he is an english teacher. (and jack would assure him that he’s doing more than enough and just being there and noticing these things is all some kids need) (but davey would def pull them aside in class and just talk to them like they’re humans bc he knows some teachers treat their students as children and they hate that. so he will just talk and try to pick their brains and help them in literally whatever way he can)

MUSIC. okay so davey definitely tries a TON of different genres simply because he is curious and he wants to hear it all. (he wants to experience every bit of life that he can and that includes different genres of music.) at the end of the day tho he’s a slut for sad queer indie pop: hozier, lucy dacus, and kevin atwater are his favs. (i could go on a whole different rant about how davey coded some of kevin atwater’s songs are but i’ll refrain for now.) he grew up listening to billy joel and still listens to him when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic or homesick. the album “the stranger” is one of his favorites in the entire world. his parents had it on record, and one year in middle school for his birthday he was gifted a record player, so he was playing that shit NONSTOP. to read to, to study to, to hangout to, etc. les used to come and sit in davey's room while he was doing domestic tasks, like cleaning or homework, so les now has attached that album to davey. (they get a tattoo for vienna, their fav song on the album—davey gets “slow down, you’re doing fine” on his left forearm and les gets “you can’t be everything you wanna be before your time” on his right forearm) (done by jack of course)

jack listens to more alternative stuff, and although it’s not something davey listens to on his own, he finds himself humming along to the pierce the veil and green day songs on jack’s playlist 

as far as hobbies and stuff, obviously he reads. he’s always been an avid reader because he loves to get lost in other worlds and he likes to learn about things that he otherwise wouldn’t have had the opportunity to. he gets into reading slumps around midterms and finals because he’s grading sooooo many papers but like as SOON as that’s over he falls back into finishing a novel in a couple days and he absolutely loves it. it’s just so… refreshing in a way. (sometimes, when he’s particularly missing jack, he’ll go and just sit at the tattoo shop and read. he’s content to simply be in the same space with jack and he also loves sneaking glimpses of jack working.)

he also absolutely loves to cook. he grew up often helping his mother in the kitchen, so he’s sort of always loved it. once he moved out and began living by himself he found a whole new appreciation for it. it’s his way to decompress at the end of the day and … in a way food is his language?? like he will make meals based on what he’s feeling. if he’s really happy he doesn’t mind making something that takes a while. it’ll be bright and fresh. if he’s had a particularly rough day though, he’ll throw something frozen in the oven and call it a day. (over time, jack slowly realizes this, and can gauge what davey needs based on what he says they’re having for dinner. for example; if davey’s just making something frozen, jack will give him an extra long hug and force him to take a hot shower in order to relax. jack often takes over “cooking” on these days)

don’t even play on his animal crossing island. he likes the domestic video games with goals that he can take at any speed simply because they’re relaxing and cozy. he loves making his island all organized and pretty 

meanwhile jack is like begging for the switch to play mario kart 

thank you for letting me rant GOD I LOVE DAVID JACOBS if there’s anything else you want me to yap about PLEASE ask!!!

@we-are-inevitable :)

[quillyfied]

Real talk for a minute because I fucking need this:

I’ve been a fandom nerd since age eight. Formalized when I first got online at age thirteen. My first real fandom was Harry Potter. It was my personality. It was everything. It introduced me to the fantasy genre, which I still haven’t really left. It made me want to be a writer. It made me realize there are stories inside of me that I want to share, that I hope touch someone else as deeply as Harry Potter touched me. Brain chemistry-altering type stuff. Loving Harry Potter is the only thing that extended family members who don’t really know me anymore remember about me. An ornament gifted years ago from an aunt who died suddenly. Thousands of words of writing. Hundreds of hours talking about it with friends and family. Toys, stickers, notebooks, clothes, gifts from others and some bought with money I shouldn’t have spent but did because it made me happy. Core childhood memories with people I don’t talk to anymore but remember so fondly.

It took a long time to be okay with tucking away my Harry Potter things. I disagreed with JKR’s political stances the second I heard them, but I held out hope for longer than I should have. I went through the very real shame and guilt and agony of something so foundational to my sense of self having to become a private, nostalgic sort of sad love instead of the loud, joyous proclamation it had been for years. It took a long time to be okay with losing the connection it brought with other strangers who also loved this story like I do and the giddiness of common ground and common excitement with other human beings. I’m still not okay with how something I still have so much love for is now an indicator of a person’s moral quality. I’m not okay with how my love makes me sad and uncomfortable instead of happy.

I’m a fandom nerd. It’s my biggest hobby and my biggest escape and coping mechanism. In May 2019, the thriving and small Dice Camera Action fandom exploded and then crumbled because of the show’s players’ interpersonal dramas, which in turn exploded and then crumbled me. Fully took out a pillar of my mental health. I learned a lot about parasocial relationships and my own relationship with them, about the dangers of them despite their very normal and common advent.

July 2019, I found Good Omens.

You can infer the pattern: brain chemistry-altering love, thousands of words of fanfic, more money than I had sometimes spent on stickers and plushes and shirts. Creating my very first cosplay, hours and hours talking about it with friends, some very fulfilling new creative relationships. A story that gave me hope, that felt True in the way that all great stories feel when they hit the right emotional chords. I’ve found new stories since then, but Good Omens remains an anchor that found me during a time I desperately needed it.

July 6, 2024.

Real people are more important than fandom. Obviously. I don’t think that’s ever truly in question.

But goddammit, fandom is people, too. Fandom is community. It’s the driving dopamine-sharing communal experience that has shaped my life for twenty years now. There is something in me that pushes back against the idea that the stories that have shaped and affected me so deeply must now be cast aside because their creators are unworthy, and at the same time, I have a hard time enjoying art knowing something on this magnitude taints it. It’s almost religious, in a way; avoid the appearance of evil, cast aside the unclean thing, repent for the sin of loving something made by a bad person.

Fuck you, my love doesn’t require repentance, art and artist can have some degree of separation and what I do and enjoy is nobody’s business.

Fuck you, how dare you give even verbal support to a monster by giving their work, and by extension them, the gift of your attention.

I don’t know how I’m going to handle this one yet, because the situation is more complex than JKR’s. There is still information coming out (more victims coming forward, I think more journalistic investigations under way), and Good Omens wasn’t just NG’s work, not the book and not the show. I’m in mourning. A little stuck and paralyzed. I’m not ready to put away and privatize another love that gave me such joy to be open and proud of. I resent the feeling that I need to or I will not be a Good Person.

In the meantime the bills need paid and my antidepressants need taken.

[xxlemon-chanxx]

How do you think bearded Philip would act if he genuinely liked and cared about someone (romantically)? I'm not good with character characterization of him so I thought you would be a suitable person to answer this :p

Me and my discord actually had a long convo about this exact thing—

Unfortunately, I don't imagine Philip as being a *good* partner. I may love him as a character and simp for him, but I acknowledge that he is a bad man. There's just no way that that man is well-adjusted or emotionally mature enough to be able to handle a healthy relationship. That's regardless of whether the OC S/O is Human, Witch, or Demon.

Assuming the OC is human, and assuming that Philip met them around the time that Elsewhere and Elsewhen took place, so about 60~65 years old, Philip would be incredibly affectionate at first. Once he realizes he wants to care for you in that way, he's going to do anything he can to woo you. He’ll write you poetry, try his best to learn your interests so the two of you have more in common, and leave you gifts that he made himself or “found” (stole). And just being what you’d imagine the perfect boyfriend to be.

This is a trap, even if you can't see it, even if HE doesn't realize it initially, it is a trap.

In a world of Demons and Witches, his first instinct is going to be to try to get you in a position where he is the most important person in your life. He wants you to depend on him, and look to him for protection and guidance in a way that ensures you can't be corrupted by the sinfulness of the world around you. After all, if his brother can fall victim to it, you most definitely can.

He will ensure he is the most important person in your life by making sure he is the ONLY person in your life. Those first few weeks of courting will seem so magical that when he finally asks you to join him on his journey, you can't imagine ever saying no.

If you have a life built where you are, you might hesitate. It's only natural, isn't it? A stable life that promises safety and comfort versus a life with someone who was a stranger mere months ago. A life of sleeping under the stars, never resting in the same place twice. A life of danger and excitement with the man who vows to protect you and provide for you come Hell or high water.

The moment you go with him, the moment you leave that secure life behind, the trap has been sprung, but much like a fly walking across the trigger hairs of a fly trap, the error of your judgment doesn't become apparent to you until much later.

It starts small. Philip pulls away emotionally. Not by much, not enough for you to be able to identify the problem, but enough for you to feel it. He's not as attentive to you anymore. He doesn't serenade you with flowery sonnets like he used to. He doesn't seem as interested in your hobbies unless it was ones the two of you already shared, and even then he seems far more invested in what HE does rather than anything YOU do.

It's a change, but you can't put your finger on what EXACTLY has changed, just that things don't feel as magical as they did before. But you can excuse his behavior, after all, living out in the woods with an inexperienced travel companion is sure to carry its own stress.

Then, after he neglects you for long enough, the abuse begins. It's never physical, but it doesn't have to be. The same voice that made your name sound like a lyric on his tongue is now the voice that is telling you horrible things that make you cry to yourself in an isolated corner while Philip ignores you. The soft touches and pleasant whispers are replaced by aversion and scorn.

And Gods help you if your OC is able to get pregnant. He will do everything in his power to baby trap you. Anything to make sure you are tethered to him for life.

He's got you where he feels comfortable. Why should he distract from his mission? Now and again you’ll see glimpses of the man you fell in love with. The one who wraps you in his arms and tells you captivating poems about why he worships you. The one who twirls with you under a sky full of stars. Those moments are few and far between, but they make it impossible to leave him, even if a part of you knows he's not good for you.

And the worst part is that Philip DOES love you. He's loving you the only way he knows how. This twisted, demented version on what actual love is could very well be the only type of love he knows how to give. Philip adores you, and if you left, it would just destroy him.

And you know that too. Maybe that's another reason why you can't leave him.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

bury's tips to ACTUALLY combat writer's block

a lot of the time when you hear writers talk about writers block and what you can do to fight it, the advice that you hear is 'just write'

i took this to be true for a long time, and it's not the worst advice or whatever. at the end of the day anything you want to get done w writing does need to be solved by simply writing. but it took me until i was writing much more regularly to realize that actually thats nonsense

there are totally things you can do to help w writers block! ive been experiencing a bout of it recently, so i thought id share some tips partially to help out those who might read this, and partially to help myself out of that same slump

FEEDING THE MACHINE. in my experience, a lot of the time writers block is less of a blockage getting in the way of a flow of creativity and more like a machine running out of fuel. thoughts, ideas, and emotions CAN come from nowhere, but... usually they are coming from somewhere! i get my worst writers block when i am bored, under-stimulated, or stuck in my real life. try getting out into the world and doing something you don't usually do. this can be wild and exciting, or small and plain. take a different route home than usual, go for a drive somewhere cool, take yourself to a garden, bookstore, museum. if you're stuck at home try a new hobby; draw a weird picture, bake something, bird watch. this is really my top advice for myself at least, and something i have to remind myself when im despairing my own worth and dedication as a writer. you cant pour from an empty cup! you cant make something out of nothing! theres no point scraping yourself dry without trying to fill yourself back up.

FEEDING THE MACHINE... DIFFERENTLY. same principal applies here, but with what stories you are consuming. what actually got me to start writing and posting fic regularly was starting work in publishing that meant i was reading 1-2 books/manuscripts every day. they were often outside my usual reading genres, and sometimes i genuinely hated them... but they were food for the machine. the brain doesn't care if you like books about cows, the brain cares about variety and expanding its horizons. read something new and interesting! try a classic. try getting into queer classics you've never heard of if you're tired of old white men. read a murder mystery or a biography of a cool person or the history of the romance novel or frued's melancholia. try that new fantasy novel youve heard good things about. even if you only end up reading three chapters, thats still something new youre giving your brain. documentaries are also great for this if you're not feeling a new book; sit back and learn something.

CLEAN UP YOUR ENCLOSURE. humans feel yucky when we're in a yucky environment. cleaning is often exhausting and annoying and it sucks, but so is sitting in an environment that makes you feel bad. try clearing off your desk or table. set something nice you like nearby! choose a sunny spot to work in.

TALK YOUR IDEAS OUT. i really struggle with this one, because i dont like bothering people and im really embarrassed about my ideas, especially in the planning stage. it can really help though! try talking to yourself in the shower like you're being interviewed about your work. try going on some chat site, find a stranger to talk to, and infodump until they leave (or stay and you've made a new friend!). ask around for someone who wants to chat ideas; you can share yours, they can share theirs. if you have a loved one who would listen, ask if they would sit down for 45 minutes and let you talk.

LIMIT DISTRACTIONS. this one also sucks but yknow. turn on forest: stay focused. close discord. ask your dog politely to stop barking. get off tumblr and stop writing advice posts about writers block. turn on some ambient music and rain noises or chappell roan's red wine supernova on loop.

may add to this later as i think of others, but the point here is that writer's block isn't laziness and, even if you do in the end just need to write, there are ways to uplift yourself and make doing so more pleasant. these also dont fully apply to what i think the actual cause is of what we often call 'writer's block,' which is just exhaustion and lack of free time; i wouldn't consider that in itself writer's block. these tips are more for when you have that time, or you're making it, but you just cant seem to make it happen.

[itzpris15634]

how easy do you think the "pets" would be to fluster, and what kind of things would make them blush? (I use pets in quotations because I'm imagining them in human form. Also I'm talking sfw stuff because I think I worded this weird. Idk I think I overthink how my wording comes across in text 😅)

Yeah don’t worry I got that mate. I’ll keep this as a Human Au and SFW. And also I assume you mean flustered from affection from a partner or friend, so I'll go with that.

Some of these will be inspired by a post Leffee made with pretty much the same question. Idk if I can find it anymore, but I do remember some of it.

Ranked from most to least:

Penny - She's already very sensitive with lots of her feelings, so she was my top pick here. Compliments from strangers, friends, a boyfriend, she just enjoys compliments like that! And physical touch (hugs/kisses/cuddling) just amplifies it. She thoroughly enjoys it all.

Vinnie - Say something good about him or his dancing. You'll have quite the mess on your hands then. He doesn't think too highly of himself, so he's very surprised whenever he hears stuff that contradicts it. I'm just ranking him lower than Penny because he just tries to hide his reactions more.

Sunil - Oh my dearest magic man baby yes I will fluster you beyond belief because it makes you so cute- *cough cough, ahem* Yeah he's fairly easy to fluster. He puts himself into his hobbies and skills, so he really loves it when people point that out. I also think that simple, quick hugs make him blush and I think that's adorable. 😌

Minka - Hehe I love the thought of flustered Minka. She's very used to compliments on her art, so if you say something about her appearance it'll be even better. She's covered in paint stains a lot of the time, which she thinks makes her look kinda gross. But let her know that you look past that, she'll really appreciate it.

Russell - He usually responds to compliments in a "Oh, thank you, sir! Now could you please give me your signature, I really need this paperwork done." sorta way. Even if you're with him as a partner, it's not too easy. You reaaaaally gotta get him in a vulnerable spot, like his neck and/or chest. Kisses, touches, all that.

Pepper - Pepper is a performer, they love the attention and is used to it. She usually just acknowledges compliments with a quick 'thank you'. Even in relationships, she'll be the one to try to fluster her partner. But she usually falls weak when it comes to physical affection.

Zoe - She's kind of like Pepper. She’s already so used to receiving compliments from lots of people all the time. It's usually about her makeup, her outfit, hair, voice, all that. So an effective way to get her flustered is by picking something else to compliment. Here's a quick example. Compliment her cooking? She'll try to mutter out a thank you, but gets so distracted that the food ends up burnt like her face.

Bonus Zoepper headcannon: They get into competitions into who can make each other blush more/more flustered. It can get pretty competitive.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Writeblr Summoning Circle Intro

Patreon (you can join for free btw)

Ao3

Taglist sign-up

Hello and welcome to my shrine place of power writing blog. I'm Ceph, they/them, and despite the ghostly username I am, in fact, a regular human adult with a job, college homework, skin, blood, etc. Video games, houseplants, and buying books faster than I read them are just a few of my hobbies.

I write different flavors of fantasy mostly, with sprinkles of horror and romance/spice thrown in for pizzazz. If you're interested in...

Vampires, werecreatures, necromancers, merfolk, and/or passive-aggressive poltergeists

Resourceful protagonists in terrible peril who sometimes make choices that change things forever, for better or worse

Lovers becoming enemies becoming forced allies and maybe more in some cases

Themes of solidarity, the myriad facets of love, and people fighting for a better future

Slow burns

Worldbuilding that I definitely don't make up on the fly

Mortals becoming deities and vice versa

Telepathic monsters that could devour your soul -OR- become your best friend

Liminal spaces like roadside diners at 3 a.m

...you might find my WIPs tolerable. Possibly even fun.

Follow my sideblogs @dysthanasia-series and/or @the-primrose-path-story to get notifications for new chapters and other neat story-related stuff. Check out @coven-archives to see what I'm reblogging from fellow writers. Or just ask to be put on a taglist for a WIP you're interested in.

I welcome asks, prompts, writblr events (Worldbuilding Wednesday, etc.), and any interactions that lead to transmutating Internet strangers into friends. Do tell me about your characters and lore. I want to devour know all of it. Yes, even the obscure facts that never really make it into the story despite hours of research poured into them. Especially those.

That's pretty much it. Feel free to reblog or like this post or invite me into an object you own at the stroke of midnight if you want me to give a follow.

Below the cut you'll find a list of WIPs and links to read them which will increase my power every time you click one. Content advisories are at the top of each work and chapter.

Apophenia

Genre(s): Urban/Paranormal fantasy, vampires, post-apocalyptic

Status: Redraft in progress

Mermaids don't exist. Every agent of the Coven, the organization that researches and governs the supernatural community, knows that. Accepting a classified assignment to investigate sightings along the Broken Coast is just an easy paycheck as far as Isaac Soto is concerned (not to mention another way to avoid dealing with his trauma and relationship issues).

A chance meeting with a charming stranger in a roadside diner changes not only the course of Isaac's assignment but the trajectory of his life. A life now in danger of being cut short unless he figures out how to escape the bloodborn who takes him hostage, a necromancer out to kill both of them, and the corruption at the heart of the organization he thought he believed in.

The Primrose Path

Genre(s): High fantasy, romance/erotica

Status: Rough draft in progress

When his village is taken captive by an enemy nation, Illuminator Ân's priority is to make sure his people survive to fight another day. Faced with everything he's stood against as a priest of Cyanos, god of light and life, Ân prays for the strength to overcome and do what he must. It's not long before he receives signs that his petitions have been heard. Just not by the deity he serves.

Beyond & Between

Genre(s): High fantasy, portal fantasy, whump

Status: Occasional, out-of-order updates

Sail beyond where the seas turn red, until the sky is filled with unfamiliar stars, to the lands between realities. Magic and the power to leave one's old life behind awaits for those brave enough to seek it.

Beyond & Between is a collection of stories set in the strange places settled by ancient people, deities, and creatures from Earth who fell through the cracks.

Whumptober 2022

Each prompt followed by the story series it's set in and the MC. Content guidelines at the start of each story.

[purple-chaos-clown]

Demons' Emotions & Body Language

Because why the hell not talk about something that has probably been written/talked about a hundred times before? XD I'm in the mood to write about Mephisto because my brain is occupied by thoughts of him in some way 99% of the time.

This was spurred on by once again seeing Mephisto's great teeth appreciation and it reminded me of how much I actually love looking at his facial expressions in general.

He's just so fucking good at expressing himself, lol. And then I begin to wonder...

How much of it is staged/faked/put on, how much comes natural to him? If even at all?

Did he have a period where he tested out all the different facial expressions humans tend to make in certain situations? Did he go and study them? Is it like a game for him? Knowing the Human-Emotions-101 better than even humans themselves, just to have even more power and control over his cute toys?

^Ch. 46 We know he's a little stalker gremlin, so people watching is one of his greatest hobbies - it would certainly help him out with accurately mimicking their body language.

Did he have a rough time when he first started to make contact with humans face to face? :( Because I know that even humans struggle with body language and facial expressions. Totally not looking at me, who's often laughing and smiling, simply hoping it's appropriate because I often don't fully understand what's going on. :')

Considering Mephisto is a pro at acting all human or demon (depending on which outcome he wants to reach, making certain behaviors necessary to manipulate everyone's actions) with how much time he has spent with humans and his obsession with them and their creations...

What is it like for all the demons possessing human bodies?

Amaimon seems to struggle a lot using the muscles in his face, if that side-story panel is anything to by. XD

Moving a sack of flesh can be rough, buddy. I feel you there, my resting bitch face often scares strangers and I have to always check in to make sure I don't look as dead as I feel.

Amaimon is obviously able of actually showing emotions, evident in the manga, but I think there's one he expresses more often than others: anger.

Thinking of anger... There's Satan.

^Ch. 105 Before he came into (regular) contact with Yuri he could only show anger when threatened/searching for Yuri. All other expressions seem to have been actively taught to him over a certain span of time.

Same with Rin when he was born.

^Ch. 109 Though the threatening circumstances might have triggered/amplified that little ugly burning potato's anger. :x

Looking towards Lucifer is pretty much the same, though his anger is often more of the hidden kind and not as openly expressed. Same with Mephisto though. Maybe it's their age (though their behavior doesn't exactly reflect maturity, both of them are brats in their own rights) or simply who they inherently are.

The rest of the demon kings are... definitely emotional and expressive too, which is weird because why would they feel the need to mimic human behaviors and expressions? (Might be reason for another ramble, this post is already so much longer than I intended for it to be XD)

In conclusion...

All of it makes me think that anger is the one emotion that demons might inherently feel and express, anything beyond is something they need to actively learn about over time.

Which is incredibly sad the more I think about it.

I also think most demons (possessing human bodies) have to consciously think about what kind of facial expression/body language goes along with whatever they're feeling - if they want to outwardly express them.

Do they even feel the need to do that in the first place though? And if yes, why? Considering they don't have bodies in Gehenna, it wouldn't make much sense for them to inherently have some body language if they don't have bodies that support it, would it?

And yet we've seen how feral demons can be, Rin is a prime example when he gets overwhelmed by his demon side. All snarling, showing teeth and growling and it's something I (and many other people) love incorporating in our writing all the time because feral demons and the way they threaten each other is just peak content that I desperately need to continue living. XD

[orange-peel-candy]

Okay, this is the shit I need in order to learn about your "mystery choices"!

For ALL "Kickass Sword", "Lyn Bait," and "Besto Furrendo":

✨, 🌺 (or just any person they really give a damn about), 🎹, 🎯, 🧊, 🍀, 🌂, 🧠, 🍩.

It's not part of the ask, but I lowkey wanna see how they look like for 🧊, if you have a sample!

Okay, I feel like I torture you enough this way.

✨ How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Mystery choice #1: Huayin (花音). I don't need to explain what it means to you... I wanted her to have a very gentle, pretty name at odds with her personality. And for some reason, I've always associated her with flowers. Let me know what impression it gives you! Is it a common name? Or does it sound like something really flashy a main character would be called.

Mystery choice #2: It's Guen, short for Guenevere. In Arthurian legend, Queen Guinevere is married to the king, but she grows disillusioned with him and has an affair with one of his knights. Her name comes from the word for "white" in Welsh. Guen is some type of albino, so it seemed fitting.

Mystery choice #3: Haru. It was just supposed to be Hilal's cheesy nickname for him but I used it as a placeholder for too long and now nothing else sounds right. I'm taking suggestions!! I want to find a name that means something auspicious, like "precious" or "good fortune." Because his grandpa named him with love.

🌺 Do they have any love interest(s)? -> or just any person they really give a damn about

Huayin: The person she likes the most (the only person she likes) is the guy who's letting her and Guen stay at his place. He's like a kind older brother figure. She thinks that strangers take advantage of his kindness (by moving in with him, for instance), so she's always looking out for him and then denying that she cares! Besides that, she also cares about Guen. Though it's not the affectionate kind of care. "The opposite of hate is indifference." Because Huayin has strong (negative or positive) feelings about Guen, she undeniably gives a damn.

Guen: Same as Huayin. The guy they're staying with is someone who has all the qualities she wants to emulate, so she holds a lot of respect for him. In addition to that, she has a constant stream of shitty boyfriends who she breaks up with as soon as they get less shitty. She attracted to them because they make her feel needed, so when she's not "needed" anymore she breaks up with them. For the same reason, she'll never cut ties with Huayin because in her eyes, Huayin will always need to be fixed.

Haru: He loves and feels indebted to the people in his family who took care of him growing up: his grandpa and his older sister. He has a confidant who lives inside his head, who he shares everything with. He has a lot of romantic interests too: a childhood sweetheart, a girl who he starts dating in the middle of an existential crisis, and Hilal, who's also his best friend. The problem is, all of these people who he cares about have conflicting interests. He can only prioritize one.

🎹 Do they have any hobbies?

Huayin: She just does chores or trains.

Guen: She likes gaming in her free-time.

Haru: He's into fashion, and makeup. He also studies a lot.

🎯 What do they do best?

Huayin: She's good at fighting, because while she's moving she doesn't have to think about complicated things (like emotions and moral quandaries) and just focus on getting the job done. It's satisfying to land a clean hit—she relishes in it, so she has an incentive to keep getting better.

Guen: She's also good at fighting. But unlike Huayin, it's a natural talent and she detests it. She would much rather find a peaceful resolution than use physical force. Unfortunately, she sucks at that because she doesn't really understand other people.

Haru: From his perspective, he doesn't have a stand-out skill. But he's actually quite good at negotiations. He's got a mix of logic and genuine emotion that's really convincing. I guess he's best at just being human and trying hard.

🧊 Is their current design the first one?

Huayin: Surprisingly, yeah. Usually I have to reinvent my OCs several times over, but in both looks and personality she's stayed almost completely the same.

Guen: She was originally shorter than Huayin, and she had fluffy, light blue hair. Now she's taller, and her hair is white blonde and very fine. I think her features have slowly morphed over the years... She used to be a trans guy too, but I changed it.

Haru: I can't even remember what he originally looked like. That's how different it is. I think he used to look kind of like Alma? Very typical shounen protag.

🍀 What originally inspired the OC?

Huayin: I wanted to draw a main character. Someone with an "I am the protagonist," "the world revolves around me" mentality. The kind of main character who starts out with significant flaws, but gradually improves throughout the course of the story. That's Huayin.

Guen: I needed someone to fill the role of Huayin's reluctant but steadfast companion. And so, Guen was created. She had to be someone who would actually stay by Huayin's side, so a lot of her character traits were determined by necessity.

Haru: ...This is embarrassing. During my shounen phase in high school, I did a lot of daydreaming about the "best friend/rival to traitor" trope that appears in practically every shounen action story. I kind of wanted to see characters in a similar setting who subverted it! Haru initially came out of that.

🌂 What genre do they belong in?

Huayin: Action! One of those edgy, "dark" stories where the main character's lack of morals is what the fans love about them.

Guen: Like a slow, slice of life where some sad person from the city moves to a farm and learns to live their life and be happy.

Haru: Family drama. You know, like Downtown Abbey and stuff? Or that new TikTok series The Mother of Twins, Wins. Have you heard of it? Those plots about socialites fighting over who's getting the inheritance. If it was his decision, he would be in a fairy tale.

🧠 What do you like most about the OC?

Huayin: She has moments where she does what no one else is willing to do, which I think is pretty cool. On a deeper level, I like how she chases after what she thinks she wants, and it leads her away from what she actually needs.

Guen: She reacts strongly to little details most people wouldn't notice or care about. That means she gets upset easily, but she also gets really happy about things that seem inconsequential.

Haru: He's very earnest. Even though he thinks that's his biggest weakness, he's even earnest in his desire to stop being earnest. He acts secretive but he can't hide the emotions on his face. It's cute!

🍩 Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

Huayin: Guen, obviously. Someone like Huayin, who's spent her whole life trying to be strong and who's never mattered to anyone, doesn't take kindly to some stranger sticking onto her like glue and telling her to change her entire life. To Huayin, Guen's optimism is idealistic and fake—and therefore, a pointless lie. It stings to see how much other people adore Guen for the things Huayin thinks are bullshit. It just doesn't line up with Huayin's reality at all, so she spends all her energy trying to prove that she's right and Guen's wrong. Because the notion that she genuinely matters to someone is just... unbelievable.

Guen: ↑ The feeling is mutual. Huayin constantly forces Guen to question her belief that humans are fundamentally good. She's the only person who's able to make Guen genuinely angry. It's not obvious when she's not around Huayin, but Guen has her own stubborn streak. In her mind, if she gave up on making Huayin a better person, it would be like she lost at something. Despite all of this, she calls Huayin her friend. She claims it's because she can see how good Huayin could be if she actually tried, but... deep down maybe it's because even when Huayin's at her worst, Guen feels like the best version of herself when they're together.

Haru: Although like I mentioned earlier, the first iterations of Haru and Hilal were rivals, that aspect of their friendship is much less present than it used to be. Now, rather than competing with each other directly, they're both jealous of what the other one has. Haru has a lot of other people to compete with: there's his sister who's a much better leader and strategist than he could ever hope to be, and there's his childhood crush I mentioned earlier. They used to share everything as kids, but they've gone in separate directions. There's also Huayin! She just finds Haru irritating and untrustworthy, but he respects her skills and wants to prove that he's better than her. It's a one-sided rivalry.

That's it! I have some sketches of what they look like, but before you see them I want to hear your impressions! Based on the information I've given you so far, how do you think they look? It'll help me gauge how well their designs convey their personalities.

The sketch on top is a lot older than the others. You can see how Huayin's face is much sharper in the later iterations. Her expression is also a lot sharper. Maybe the first one can be from when she was younger, or something.

This is the most recent thing here, so this is the most up to date reference for what Huayin and Guen look like. You wouldn't know about it from the way they talk about each other, but they're pretty close.

Guen overheats easily. The bigass hat is a recent addition, I think she would probably keep her face covered in public.

You can tell how old Haru is by the state of his hair and how much of the light has left his eyes. I noticed when I was practicing drawing 'Hikaru' that his face actually looks a lot Haru's. Maybe you can't tell from these sketches, but I thought it was funny.

[scryptids]

katelyn tarver / she/her  ———  no way is that AURORA ‘RORY’ MILLS.. they’re a 34-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being CYNICAL  &  OVERPROTECTIVE but there are some people who have seen them being SENTIMENTAL  &  SUPPORTIVE.  if you ask me, they remind me a lot of freshly laundered towels stacked neatly beneath the bartop, an impressive collection of overalls hanging in her closet, an old guitar that desperately needs tuning, and coming home to the smell of a home cooked meal, but that could just be because they’re considered the BARGAINING CHIP around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

TW: parental death

full name: aurora calliope mills birthdate: november 2nd age: 34 height: 5’5” occupation: bartender at the obelisk ship status: it’s complicated bio:

as the eldest daughter, rory had unrealistic expectations forced upon her before she could even learn how to talk

she was born to parents who lived in the lower district, their apartment so small that they were practically tripping over each other at all times

but they were in love, and even though they only had one bedroom and barely any money to their name, finding out that they were going to be parents thrilled them

they struggled for a while while rory’s dad worked full time, insisting that her mother stay at home so they wouldn’t need to pay for daycare

but they could barely make rent, let alone put food on the table, and the closer his wife’s due date got, the more the patriarch of the family began to panic

that’s when he turned to the skyport mafia, and that’s when their lives seemed to improve

he was paid well for essentially being a gopher, doing odd jobs that he was asked to do with little to no complaints

the money he was bringing in allowed the family to move into a small house in the lower district; it wasn’t much, but it was big enough to start a family in

by the time november rolled around, aurora made her appearance into the world

she was sweet and goofy, and immediately she was the light of her parents’ lives

aurora’s world was always full of creative hobbies to quell a curious mind

rory and her mother would go on walks every day, picking flowers and handing them out to strangers

she was gifted her first guitar when she was just five years old, and she took that thing with her everywhere

her parents enrolled her in guitar and singing lessons, both of which she picked up quickly, and soon enough she was making up silly little songs for her family

it was clear that she was a good-natured kid, and her parents didn’t worry about her making friends

when she was nine, her little brother sirius was born, and she was convinced that he was just what the family needed

of course she fussed over him all the time, insisting that she needed to help her parents take care of her baby brother

but things weren’t as great at home as rory made them seen; behind closed doors, her parents began fighting on a regular basis

her father wouldn’t come home until the wee hours of the morning, and her mother was starting a slow decline into a depression that she just couldn’t break herself free from

of course this worried aurora, and in order to try and help, she started spending more time at home to look after her mother and sirius

while she was old enough to understand what was happening, her little brother was still learning how to walk and talk, and she wanted to protect him from whatever was going on

but shortly after sirius’s second birthday, aurora’s mother announced that she was pregnant again

instead of feeling joy for getting a new sibling, ro felt a sense of dread that she would never be able to shake

her father spent less time at home, leaving his wife and kids to fend for themselves while he was off doing god knows what

ro did most of the caregiving, noticing that her mother looked more rundown than usual, and she didn’t want to have to worry about it

when jupiter arrived into the world two months early, the family took more than one hit

ro's mother lost too much blood during childbirth; she'd had an underlying condition that no doctor had picked up on, and ultimately she lost her life after having her third baby

aurora felt lost; her mother had always been there for her, and now she had a toddler and a tiny baby to care for

her father was nowhere to be found, unreachable despite aurora trying to find him

rory and sirius were sent to live with their aunt in the middle district, and each day they would go see jupiter at the hospital until she was strong and healthy enough to be released

they were happy at their aunt’s house; life was fairly normal, and ro could learn how to be a kid again while navigating the trials and tribulations of puberty

and their aunt likes having them there; she’d never had children of her own, and the mills children viewed her as the mother they desperately needed

they were there for five years before their dad showed up again to throw a wrench in the life that they had worked hard to build up

he’d landed himself in hot water with his bosses, racking up a casino debt that he had no means of getting himself out of

he needed aurora’s help, demanding she get a job to help pay off his debt

ro wanted no part in his life or helping repay what he owed, but since she was a minor she didn’t have much of a choice

and so the mills children packed up their lives again and moved back to the lower district

ro just barely managed to graduate high school, finding that having to balance a job and two young children on top of schoolwork was nearly impossible

despite being brought back to help her father financially, ro put as much money into a savings account as she could, fully intending to get a place with sirius and jupiter without their dad

it was taking longer than expected to save up as much as they needed, but she was nearly there

and then, just after ro’s 24th birthday, her father dropped another bomb on her

his debt was too deep and nothing was being done about it, so he did the only thing he could think to do: he essentially sold his daughter off to the mafia

without ever consulting her or asking for her opinion, ro’s dad set up a marriage between her and fionn keoghan, a capo in the skyport mafia that she’d only met a handful of times before

ro still went through with moving her and her siblings to a new apartment in the lower district, hoping that cutting ties with her father would get her out of the situation he’d thrust her in

unfortunately it wasn’t that simple, and while aurora was left alone by the mafia, she was often reminded that, eventually, she would have to marry fionn

now, ten years later, aurora and her siblings live a fairly comfortable life

they all work jobs, but ro doesn’t expect jupiter or sirius to help with household expenses, happily shouldering that burden

she does everything she can to keep her siblings away from the mafia, but every time she thinks she’s being successful, fionn comes back around as a not-so-gentle reminder of what her life will look like in the near future

she tries to avoid him as much as possible, picking up as many shifts at the obelisk as she could as a distraction

she’s been trying to save up to purchase a house, living in a state of delusion thinking she won’t have to move in with fionn at some point

despite all of the hardships she and her siblings have been through, ro likes to keep a positive attitude

her method of coping is through dry humor, and her banter with the regulars at the obelisk is usually what lands her the good tips

overall, ro is just trying to find her way through life while keeping her siblings close by, and she refuses to let herself or them settle for anything less than they deserve

[rhaemaya-valwynn]

Meet my JJBA OC- Synth!

Meet my gremlin! (art done by @ahoge-fish​)

This is my OC Synth! I made her back when i was 13 years old (27 as of this post, going on 28 soonish) So I’ve had her for more than half my life! She has her own original story with its own lore, so for my JJBA Fanfic I’m working on, I smashed the two worlds together and blended their lore till well mixed.

One thing you need to know about Synth is that she doesn’t come from the JoJo universe! She’s a reality traveler! Synth is in the middle of a terrible war which is spreading across the multiverse and she is trying to stop it. That means finding answers and power to push and hold her foe back. Could that mean that Stands hold the answer she’s looking for? Possibly! Its quite funny, but, she doesn’t have a Stand at all! She has a sister power to Stands which lets her interact and see them. Will I tell you what that is here? Nope! That’s for you to find out! Synth was made be alien’s who wanted to hurt people. She was built to think and learn, but knowing how dangerous that was they built her with a ‘open memory’ program, meaning they could change her thoughts and feelings on the fly to ensure zealotry to their cause. The problem that occurred for her creators is that, she woke up before they realized it and dismantled most of the program and prevented them from manipulating her and turning her off, so when she was launched at Earth for a ‘prototype test run’ she woke up and realized what they wanted her to do was wrong and sided with the humans instead.

Sadly another foe came into the picture as she wasn’t the only prototype sent out. What’s the foe? You’ll find out in the fanfic!

Synth’s ultimate dream is to be completely human, hence why her latest model looks exactly like a human, though her outfit for her part 3 entrance looks like:

pure gremlin energy

(credit goes to @ubetar0​)

Does this mean she’s the 6th member of the Stardust Crusaders before Iggy joins making it 7? Yeah.... Is that done a million times over? Yeah.... Am I gonna do it still? YEAH...!

Some basic info on Synth: Birthplace: Kep'lun 7 Favorite sport: Herculean Barrage (GIANT alien bugs that wrestle, pretty cool right?) Profession: Founder and leader of the Intergalactic Syndicate Accord (ISA) and war machine against ???? Distinguishing marks: Bright neon blue hair and eyes Favorite food: probably something sweet like sorbet Zodiac sign: Leo Blood type: Negative B-26 (type of liquid that carries her power current through her body) Height:  162cm - 5ft 4in Education: Alien artificial intelligence (Smart-duh) Family: Z'Bane-creator of her body and mind ???- creator of her soul Eye color: Neon blue Hobbies: Singing and exploring different planets/realities Favorite Artist/Musician: most artists, though her favorite type of music is Synthwave (get the pun?) Favorite movie: Spiderman into the Spiderverse Favorite color: Blue Personality: Vibrant and full of life, Synth hides her crippling depression behind a wall of false happiness. In truth, she plays the role of a cruel ???, while in reality, she loves and cares so much that she spends most of her alone time weeping over the things she's been forced to do and the lives she's lost, lamenting her failures. When traveling to other realities, away from her war, she acts as she would want to be like back in her home realm, someone who she always wanted to be away from prying eyes. Favorite type of partner: Being Bi, Synth wants someone who is honest and blunt but intelligent and able to quip back at her without fear. Someone that treats her as anyone else. Loyalty is few and far between, so having someone she can depend on is also a must, as she wants to bear her heart to whoever loves her honestly. ??? owned: ????

Due to Synth’s mysterious sister power to Stands, Stand’s begin acting even stranger than usual, which leads into quite a story, I wonder what it could be?

Also given that Synth is pun filled and humorous to a fault, her and Jotaro go at each others throats quite often.

So who did I end up shipping together?

(credit goes to @ubetar0​)

YEAH, I KNOW. FIGHT ME. (credit goes to @ubetar0​)

Anyway, if you made it this far, thank you for your time and for looking at my baby! This is a starter post before I begin to go off the deep end with her and talking everyone’s ears off.

For the full sized image used in the first picture by Ahoge is Synth’s part 6 outfit/her casual wear in her reality:

Thanks again for reading!

[author-a-holmes]

OC Profile Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @storycraftcafe

Tagging forward, with no pressure; @authoralexharvey @sleepyowlwrites @amewinterswriting

@talesofsorrowandofruin @isabellebissonrouthier @afoolandathief

A blank copy is beneath the cut, at the end <3

Name: Andric Roche

Nickname: None

Kind of Being: Vampire

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: 6'2 or 188cm

Occupation: Kavian Hunter, currently on a leave of absence.

Family members: Mother, Penelope Roche. Father, Jeremiah Roche. Brother, Isaak Roche.

Pets: None.

Best friend: Nameer Khatri

Describe their room: Andric considers his room a bit of a sactuary. Between his rigorous hunters training growing up, and a younger brother, it became somewhere he could shut himself away and unwind.

There's lots of dark, muted colours, mostly wooden furniture, and lots of bookshelves, but there technilogical comforts too such as a sound system for music, and a laptop for doomscrolling mindlessly.

Way of speaking: The way Andric speaks depends on the enviroment he's in. He prefers the natural, casual, way he speaks when hanging out with Nameer, but his mother is a highly respected hunter who works closely with members of the European Vampire Council, and so he can be formal, when required.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Andric, as most trained hunters, has a habit of standing with his hands clasped loosely at the small of his back (Similar to parade rest). It ends up being an ingrained habit for the majority of full time hunters.

Andric has fairly good posture, but the more stressed he is, the more it deteriorates, and if he's slouching against a wall, fingers linked around the back of his neck, then Nameer knows he needs to get Andric out of his own head.

Items in their pocket/purse: Keys to his flat, and his parents house, Wallet with his drivers license and bank cards. Cash. Mobile phone. Miniature notepad, and a pen or pencil. And although they're not usually in his pockets, Andric's rarely without a blade or two on him, in case of Kavians.

Hobbies: Listening to music, reading books. Andric wouldn't call it a hobby, but he does occasionally mediate too.

Favorite sports: Krav Maga. Although not strictly a sport, the combat training undergone by kavian hunters was based on Krav Maga, and then additionally developed to cater to a vampires skill and speed. Andric enjoys the original/traditional human form as well, however.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Nothing above and beyond any other vampire. Andric is fast, strong, and can smell blood. Rapid ability to heal most injuries, unless he's actively bleeding out. He can also use blood in his system to enhance his senses; Sight, Hearing, Taste, Touch, and Smell.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Naturally, Andric is fairly outgoing. He likes people, and he likes making connections. His training as a kavian hunter forces him to be cautious on approach of strangers however, constantly on the lookout for signs of kavianism. It's the main aspect of his job that wears on him the most.

Fears: Andric's biggest fear is letting down, failing, or disappointing the people closest to him. Those he loves and cares about. Right now, he's beating himself up about his brother becoming a kavian, half convinced that if he hadn't been working so much he'd have seen the signs, but he's also distracting himself from that by trying to help Lizzy find her mother.

Faults: Andric tries to take on too much. Or take responsibility for things that aren't his fault. He has a guilt complex the size of the Grand Canyon, but he's also aware of that. Nameer helps him see perspective when he starts beating himself up too much. It probably spawns from his mum's exceedingly high standards for success as a child.

Good points: Andric is honest, and steadfast. If he dedicates himself to something, he does so fully and with his whole ass heart.

What they want more than anything else: It's not something Andric is consciously aware of, but what they NEED more than anything is to not be judged. It's why he and Nameer work so well, Nameer accepts him as he is, flaws and faults and all, and Andric needs that desperately.

What he THINKS he wants, is an exemplary career as a kavian hunter, to make his mother proud.

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