#not everyone is going to like what I write and that’s totally fine

[seventeenreasonswhy]

Super Shy ~ A JWW School-Life Romance Pt. 3

Star Athlete!Wonwoo x Shy Wallflower!Reader

Jeon Wonwoo... THE Jeon Wonwoo is... paying attention to you!?

~1.5k words

Read Part 1 + Part 2

Series content: fluff, first crush plot line, school-life anime vibes, slow burn/yearning, some light angst, classmates to friends to lovers, fem reader, reader is ~*super shy*~ and has low self-esteem, reader is kind of bullied (?), sweetie pie Wonwoo, appearances by Choi Hansol and more!, all characters are in high school so no explicit content (but probably kissing eventually).

My Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to everyone who has read, reblogged, and liked this little series so far! This part reveals more about Y/N’s interests and talents, which she’s afraid to share because she is insecure! But not for long with sweet Jeon Wonwoo around. Also she has a fictional younger sister named Daehee (not after anyone in particular, I just like that name). 😉 These two are so innocent and cute, I’m having such fun writing them! Enjoy!!

Taglist: @clownprincehoeshi @soffiyuhh  @wonwoos-wineparty @hamji-hae @junniesoleilkth @seokqt @haniinah @yangtyunhannie @cherrylovescheol @lukeys-giggle @cookiearmy @sojuxxi  @vixensss @lixisoul99 @mjpark15 @lelsforlino  @neivivenaj  @blvkkeddcc (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+

“Whoa you’re going all out on that, Y/N—”

Your younger sister, Daehee, had come down for breakfast with her bangs still in curlers, wearing her school uniform shirt over her Hello Kitty pajama pants. She was watching you as you concentrated on preparing various dishes at the stove. A thin omelet, grilled shishito peppers, vegetable tempura; it was pretty simple stuff, but you’d developed an urge to create aesthetically pleasing lunches these days.

You couldn’t really explain it, although somewhere in your heart you knew it probably had something to do with Jeon Wonwoo.

For the past week, Jean Wonwoo had been spending lunch on the roof alone with you.

The two of you barely exchanged words, really. Your longest conversation probably lasted only a few minutes. But not for Wonwoo’s lack of trying! You still wondered why he was spending his lunchtime up there at all—even more so why would he keep trying to strike up conversations with you? You guessed he really was just that nice. But every time you were around him you couldn’t help clamming up somehow.

“Are you in any clubs, Y/N?” he’d asked you the other day, between bites of his kimbap.

“Uh, no...” you answered quietly, your nerves frazzled from your total lack of conversational skills.

“None of them appeal to you?”

“Uh, not really that...” you didn’t know how to answer him. You’d ended up just looking at him blankly, like a fool. However, nothing in his facial expression or his tone made you feel like you had to necessarily come up with an answer... But his gaze was intent, and you found it hard to hold onto for more than about three seconds.

“What do you do for fun? To relax?” he followed up breezily, “You’re the class mystery.”

“Um,” the odd self-consciousness you felt at being called ‘the class mystery’ aside, you couldn’t really think of anything to say to him.

Actually, there was one thing that came to mind... but it wasn’t something you’d ever shared with anyone. Your one ‘hobby.’ Though to you it felt more like... squeezing a stress ball. It was what you did when you needed to turn your brain off.

He wants to know what I do to relax?

You couldn’t say what compelled you, but you pulled out your phone and found the photo album you had saved of your miniature paintings.

You worked with acrylic paint on very small canvasses, using very fine, small brushes to create miniature floral designs, portraits, landscapes... Your style was incredibly detailed. You had hundreds of tiny canvasses in little boxes and frames all over your room. You took pictures of most of these tiny paintings when you finished. You had even recorded a couple of time-lapse videos, showing you creating them in fast motion. You’d never felt compelled to create a social media account to display or monetize them, though. You painted because it was what you had done since you were a preteen—the careful, methodical process of dabbing tiny paintbrushes into your carefully mixed colors, getting the tone and shading of a poppy flower’s petal on a tiny scale just right... For you, creating these paintings was like a meditative practice.

By some stroke of inspiration—or insanity—you handed your phone to Wonwoo. His face became visibly more curious as he took your phone carefully in his hands.

“Wowwww,” Wonwoo said, holding the screen closer to his face. He seemed absorbed in your phone—you even caught him zoom in on a few pictures. You could tell he was looking carefully through the album.

“You’re crazy talented!” he said after a while. He sounded genuinely impressed.

“No, haha,” you somehow laughed, coughed, and gasped at the same time, your heart accelerating out of embarrassment from his compliment.

“No, seriously—Y/N, these are really incredible!” he said. “They’re so detailed, and they’re so small! How do you even do that!?” His eyes were glued to your phone screen. A part of you was screaming inside, why on earth you would show these to him!? and urging you to snatch your phone right out of his hand, throw it over the side of the building even. You couldn’t believe that Wonwoo was seeing this, this... habit. And YOU had been the one to show him, of all things!

“I wouldn’t say they’re ‘incredible,’” you said, filling up with more and more anxiety over coming off as bragging or crossing some social boundary that you shouldn’t have crossed.

Wonwoo finally looked up from the screen, looking directly at you instead. You still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you felt his eyes on you. After a long pause, you dared to glance up at him...

But he quickly looked away from you.

Ugh, I’m probably making him feel like he has to be super nice or something...

“Oh, whoa—a time-lapse?” He said, quickly recovering from the somewhat awkward moment when your eyes had met. But his stumbling across the most recent time-lapse video that you’d made prompted you to snap out of your reverie and bolt to grab your phone out of Wonwoo’s hands.

“Ah, don’t watch that!” you lunged for your phone, but Wonwoo reflexively pulled his hand away, surprised by your reaction but still effortlessly dodging your attempt. He smirked down at you, and your heart almost stopped.

“Why not?” he said, and the deep resonance of his voice made you realize how close your bodies were—you were practically sprawled over him after reaching for your phone, his face just inches from yours...

Your whole body seemed to flush a deep shade of red before you catapulted backward away from him. You could have sworn that you saw that Wonwoo smiling to himself, but you were so flustered and anxious about the way you’d completely invaded his personal space that you couldn’t think straight.

“I won’t watch it,” he said light-heartedly, smiling at you as he tossed your phone back to you. “But you are super talented, Y/N. Painting is such a unique skill, too.”

And just like that, he went back to eating his kimbap like nothing had happened. His relaxed, friendly tone mercifully neutralized the atmosphere, but you just stood there clutching your phone to your chest.

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed,” you started, even though you couldn’t look Wonwoo in the eye, “It’s just—I’ve never shared these paintings with anyone except my family...” Your heart kind of ached for some reason as you said this to Wonwoo, who just continued to look at you in silence. What on earth had compelled you to share that with him?

Agh, say something! You willed for this pause in conversation pass, but it didn’t seem to be budging.

“Thank you for showing me,” Wonwoo said at last. His low, gentle voice seemed to shoot directly into your bloodstream, flushing you an even deeper shade of red than you thought was humanly possible. You looked at him briefly, and something about the way he was looking back at you...  

The moment had played over and over again like a movie in your head for the past few days. The directness of his gaze. The rich, sincere quality of his voice. The way he’d smiled to himself... you couldn’t stop thinking of that particular lunch hour.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Daehee watched you dip veggies in tempura batter and toss them in the pot of hot oil on the stove. You let your mind run through the questions it had been asking all week: why was he spending time with you like this? Did he lose a bet? Is there some kind of hidden camera prank you should be wary of? More than that, why was he being so nice?

“Hellooo, earth to Y/N! I said you’re really going to town on your lunches these days,” Daehee tried again to get a rise out of you.

“Oh,” you said, taking the last piece of tempura squash out of the oil. “I just like experimenting.” You weren’t lying, exactly—you did like exploring all kinds of different food and dishes. Cooking was fun to you, different from the calm of painting.

You would be lying if you said that an added bonus wasn’t Wonwoo noticing and complimenting your work.

You liked it when he praised you. It felt like he meant it.

No one could be that good at faking sincerity, could they?

You couldn’t help but hear that small voice in the back of your head, doubting Wonwoo’s intentions.

But he hadn’t done anything other than come up to the roof during lunch this week, mostly just eating in silence with you—the two of you simply looking out at the sky...

But after you had shown him your paintings...

Maybe it was since then that you had started to put more effort into your lunches.

[iamtired10]

hold my hand

pairing - lee hyein x female reader

synopsis - hyein has always loved holding your hand, but today is somehow different—in a good way that makes your heart race.

genre - cute shit :/

warning - nothing here

word count - 828

a/n - i'm tired of writing fluff, but my ass can't seem to write angst :(

you and hyein had always been close.

like, really close.

holding hands wasn’t even new to either of you. but today?

oh, today felt different.

it wasn’t just the normal kind of hand-holding. there was something in the air that made it... ten times more awkward.

the two of you were walking back from school, backpacks slung over your shoulders, and you could feel hyein fidgeting next to you.

you glanced at her, catching her eye for a second before she quickly looked away, cheeks flushing pink.

“you okay, hye?” you asked, chuckling softly at how jittery she was acting.

“y-yeah! i’m fine!” she squeaked, her voice going up like two octaves. not convincing at all.

you raised an eyebrow, curious but too amused to push her further.

the group—hanni, minji, haerin, and danielle—was trailing behind, laughing at some inside joke, but hyein?

she was too focused on what seemed like a life-changing decision in her head.

you could practically hear her thoughts scrambling to make sense of what she wanted to do next.

it wasn’t long before hanni’s voice cut through the air.

“yah! y/n! are you coming with us or what? we’re almost at hyein’s house!” she whined, dragging the end of her sentence with that classic dramatic flair she always had.

“yeah, yeah, i’m coming,” you called back, waving her off, but that’s when you felt it.

hyein’s hand brushed against yours.

at first, it was like an accident.

or maybe that’s what she wanted you to think.

the second time it happened, though?

definitely on purpose.

you glanced at her, catching her nibbling on her bottom lip as if she wasn’t debating whether or not to actually hold your hand.

you smiled softly, finding her nervousness adorable.

“what are you doing?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer.

her eyes widened as if she had been caught in some kind of serious crime. “w-w-what do you mean?! i-i’m just… walking???”

you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. “uh-huh. walking.”

another beat of silence.

and then it happened.

she did it.

she grabbed your hand.

but it wasn’t the usual confident, playful hyein you were used to.

this time, her fingers trembled slightly as they intertwined with yours, her hand clammy from how nervous she was.

your heart did a little flip, and you smiled at her. “there, was that so hard?”

“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered, but her grip tightened just a little bit, as if she didn’t want you to let go.

suddenly from behind you, hanni’s voice rang out again. “OMO! are you two HOLDING HANDS?” her tone was dripping with mock shock as she gasped dramatically.

“wait, wait, i didn’t see anything. totally didn’t see you guys being all sneaky and cute or anything.”

minji and danielle snickered, with haerin simply nodding as if she was already way ahead of hanni’s realization.

hyein’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she instinctively tried to pull her hand away, but you held onto her tighter, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

“you’re not getting out of this now.”

“ugh, why are you guys so annoying?” hyein whined, burying her face in her hoodie sleeve. “just leave us alone…”

hanni wasn’t done. “i’m shocked! truly! our baby hyein has made her first move, everyone! hold the presses!”

hyein groaned, her face practically hidden now. “unnie, please…”

you chuckled, finding the entire situation ridiculously cute. “don’t worry, hyein, i think it’s adorable.”

she peeked out from her sleeve, still blushing but a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “you think so?”

“of course. besides,” you leaned in and whispered, “i like holding your hand too.”

her eyes darted to yours for a moment, a genuine smile breaking through her nervousness.

she squeezed your hand a bit tighter, and for the rest of the walk, she stayed close, even when hanni kept poking fun and pretending to be shocked every five seconds.

inside hyein’s house, the teasing didn’t stop.

you’d barely set your bags down before hanni started whining again.

“i can’t believe it. my baby hyein is all grown up, holding hands with y/n. what’s next, marriage?”

“unnie, shut up!” hyein squeaked, hiding her face behind a pillow as she threw herself onto the couch.

“or maybe… cuddles during the movie?” danielle added with a wicked grin.

“guys, please!” hyein groaned, her voice muffled by the pillow now. “i’m never inviting you again.”

you laughed, sitting beside her on the couch. “i’m fine with that. more cuddles for me.”

hanni let out a mock-offended gasp. “y/n, you traitor!”

the banter continued as everyone piled onto the couch, the teasing settling down only when the movie started.

you and hyein ended up sitting side by side, her hand slipping back into yours under the blanket when she thought no one was looking.

spoiler: they were all looking.

[the-bi-space-ace]

Sometimes people are going to leave mean comments on your fics. It’s not a fun thing to experience. It’s not nice, it’s not funny. It hurts and I’m not afraid to admit that. But for every mean spirited comment there are ten good ones. For every person who tried to make me feel silly or stupid for my writing or my choices there were ten more leaving sweet messages and emojis and trying to pour positive energy into the world.

So it hurts. It hurts and it’s hard and it makes me feel like a failure on my worst days. But seeing all the positive things, the kind words, the excitement, the joy. That makes it better. That makes it something worth continuing.

So if you’ve ever thought your kind words don’t matter or that your heart emojis and exclamation points don’t make an impact please know that they do. Every heart and smiley face and keyboard smash and comment makes my world a little lighter.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[shreddeddescent]

ok ok one last insanity check for everyone ok this is a lil different. like lemme just say im clearly someone who likes to go to the dark zone but also try and claw my way back out. i do sappy funny shit most of the time. and the writing of this thing has gotten long and insane, timelines have jumped as i try and parse events. as in i started w a scenario where raph nearly got sold out to his father and is rescued by his brothers immediately. we go to a place where he wasnt and is rescued later. theres been inbetweens where hes rescued but bad things happen despite that. all of this has led me to like his inner turmoils (diagnosis) and the other characters inner turmoils more. how they feel about each other how theyve coped. its good to jump around so im glad i havent said too much as if its all set in stone. im glad im not trying to write a fanfiction to SHARE if that makes sense.

my current shit that has gotten the longest was from the worst case scenario of his lack of rescue and i feel like... i dont need to say what that was? but i think i should point out that descent has a second meaning. its not just the spiralling downward, its also the root word of descendant. that was my feeling about the poetry of it.

so ill say i do feel like im in the danger zone of being fucking murdered for this but i wanna say it anyway cuz i think itll be ok. i think you guys will get it cuz ur being nice. im exploring shit and having fun. it gets raw, it gets hard, but its working out.

so i started writing this au as "ok so heres a scene where raph is just hanging out w casey, hes trying to tell her to control her anger, and theyre fighting a bit. and he fucking flashes back and realized hes a csa victim. let the story unravel from there"

and im currently in the. insane writing area of "what if ur presumed aborted kids come back from the future/pocket dimension to take care of u cuz theyre like 30 and have coped w what they are and know you have no adults around who give a shit. and theyre amazing and kind and want to help you."

shits.......... gone off the rails. idk what else to say. i am having fun exploring insanity and seeing if i can reign it in. if i didnt do that i wouldnt have come up w half the shit i have. so like. uh. idk if youll see anything of said thing okay. its weird i know it is. but honestly i feel like the insanity and seeing how real i can make it feel, how i can parse feelings over it is working well. maybe this all sounds spoilery or weird. i was really thinking "ill just draw out things chronologically" but im struggling with that for some reason. but this au is on my mind uh 24/7 and its good to just be like "ok, heres where my head is at, if thats not what you wanna hear about it the unfollow button is right there"

but i also feel like ive been OVERLY POINTING OUT. that this isnt a story for kids. so please try not to judge me too harshly. its just a fucking.... how insane can i go and tell you about it thing. i guess.

[berryblu-soda]

Anyways update i just didnt bother to post earlier:

fr God is good and the whole car crash my parents got into last week was so incredibly mild in terms of injuries!!!! worst was a bruised knee im pretty sure

ALSO-

*taps mic* HUG YOUR FREAKING LOVED ONES OR SO HELP ME!!!!!!!

[ofcowardiceandkings]

the sinus headaches are already not great but Extra Shit has been added to the pile and im just sat on that right now trying to figure out what the fuck to do

[cephalog0d]

Me: I'm not going to keep reading Gotham War as it releases, I'll just wait until it's over and just get angry once at the end instead of being angry every week.

Also me: *does not do that, keeps reading the garbage fire, keeps getting angry*

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

okay so like two things about this particular line.

one: i like the irony in claude telling someone to trust more.

two: HOWEVER, dimitri has literally absolutely no reason whatsoever in the name of yeehaw fuckity to not trust claude. i hate the way the game tries to absolutely force the things gw/sb claude does into ag when it doesn't even exist at all in ag. he never made a single hint of planning to just betray/harm the kingdom and this is literally at their first war meeting. not just that, but claude chose to go to faerghus himself and didn't ask them to go to leicester (which he specifically states being the one to choose to go to faerghus), so there wasn't anything indicating he might be up to something at all.

then we've got this stupid nugget:

each side lacks trust and is expecting foul play? the church expects foul play from the kingdom? from the alliance which has done nothing to them in this route, and that's bad enough... but the fucking kingdom too?

the kingdom and alliance watching for foul play even though they're allies and never had a history of being aggressive toward each other?

i know i've talked about it before but... i just hate how they tried to force this "claude is always scheming something terrible" plotline, even where it doesn't belong. then they also added in the dumb bit here about even the church not trusting the other armies, even though they've... literally been helping them, gratefully, this whole war. they also didn't have to fight but chose to out of gratitude for being sheltered.

suddenly after the timeskip they just... don't trust each other?

like i totally get just being in it to reclaim gm and go home and not really in it for someone else or anyone else, but the distrust is just an asspull to make the church seem BaD as usual.

claude just walked in and wasn't trusted. they also keep hammering it in right through the whole second half of the route with lots of kingdom allies (including playable ones) not trusting him. even if they relatively trust the alliance and the soldiers helping them that were integrated into their army, they specifically do not trust claude at all and are apprehensive about him.

dimitri agrees here if they can't be trusted, but he doesn't mention just personally distrusting them a whole lot. he agrees that they should be cautious if what the others say is true, but he also just shrugs it off as "they'll be enough to deal with the alliance if so". he seems unsure at first and kinda goes back and forth, but by the end he's the only character who faithfully believes that claude isn't just fucking around and leading them on (which literally, right to the very very very end, every single character except him is still very vocally doubting claude).

but like... why? there's... just... nothing to distrust him because of in this route. man literally exists and the game wants us to believe he's untrustworthy.

yeehaw wtf??? why would anything happen between the kingdom and alliance after the war? why would anything need to happen? even if you try to argue that claude is gonna try to uwu depose of the top church officials, if the church is watching the kingdom like hawks like dimitri is apparently aware of, why would the kingdom get involved? why would they care? clearly the church doesn't trust them all that much after all, or at least anymore since the timeskip for some unknown reason, and the kingdom has now, after this war, paid back any debt it owed the church.

so like, why would they suddenly rush to the church's aid and help them if the church doesn't trust them? if they were friendly/allied it would make sense if they still wanted to help, but if the church is expecting foul play from the kingdom, why would the kingdom even care what happens to the church? they could turn a blind eye and pretend they don't have the resources to aid them anymore and that their own territory is still busy recovering.

even if you argue what they discussed at the very beginning of the war, the church either A: didn't ask for aid in this second conflict, or B: even if they did, the above stands. i don't think there would be any riots or anything like that in those cases if the kingdom didn't help the church. it's one thing to help, but it's another to just fight at the back and call of another territory, which dimitri clearly expresses he won't do in gw because he puts the safety of his people first. no matter what his feelings are on the matter, he knows he's a king and that he has a responsibility to his people first and foremost, as would be expected of a king (to protect his own people first and foremost).

while i could see claude wanting to talk after the war and get things straight, and while i could see dimitri there as a mediator, there's just... literally no reason for bad blood after all this. even if they don't trust each other, there's just no reason - and that's aside from the fact that it's total bs that they all just don't trust each other.

lorenz just asks if shez has confidence in them. doesn't mention claude. shez though just... randomly is like oh yeah btw just not claude. totally unprompted.

lorenz distrusting claude has been part of his character since houses so his part of it is reasonable. normally i'd say it's really pushing things with claude not being trustworthy for someone to say they feel bad for shez/the kingdom army for the implication of having to deal with claude even as an ally, but the only reason i give this a pass is because it's an understandable and reasonable character who says it.

still though, it's like the game throws it in at every single possible opportunity for no reason at all. they don't give us any indication that claude is this big bad evil guy. he doesn't trust the church. like... that's it. he made that clear even in ag (even without the zaharas chapter), and that's just... it. the rest of this makes it seem like claude is going to just up and invade the kingdom after this war and try to unify fodlan (i.e. just go what edelgard's been doing this whole time).

it's just like... here, nobody trusts claude at all in this game just for simply existing. you don't even have to bring him up, because someone else will do it for you and shit talk him to remind you he's the biggest piece of shit the game can offer! meanwhile, we've got marianne who is concerned about edelgard (implication is her well being no less!) because the empire's army ain't doing so hot. poor indading aggressor! sure hope she's doing okay! fuck our leader though, he's the biggest steaming pile of bullshit garbage to ever exist (marianne didn't say that, but that's what the narrative is going for: poor edelgard, it's so sad that the invader is having it rough right now. anyway fuck claude he's literally as evil as tws).

i love ag but i'd say this is one of if not the worst hiccup in the writing. when it comes to faerghus itself and its characters, it's mostly fine and even great, but when it starts going into other territories/characters it ends up taking a nosedive in quality.

siiigh

[friendofthecrows]

TW extremely triggering dark topic but with a positive message, I promise. I just needed to get this out somewhere.

It's not about whether you deserve to be happy. "You deserve to be happy" type messages never rung true to me, because sure, other people do. But me, I've been told I'm a monster, that I deserve to die. But very recently, as in today, I've realized it isn't about that. It's about whether you can be happy. If you can manage it. If you can scrape together moments of joy, then you should. Whether you deserve it or not, you can be happy, and you will, and that is worth it. All that matters is that it is possible.

You have to be alive to see if you can.

[shararan]

Types of comments I've gotten on my swedish fics after I started posting them:

I can't believe there's swedish fics in [fandom], and I liked it

I am learning swedish so it was really helpful to read something from [fandom]

I am so desperate for more of this pairing/trope that I put the entire thing through a translator

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[pathologicalreid]

hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!

a league of your own | S.R.

as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!

“He flipped him over the table?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriend’s maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspect’s forehead, but you hadn’t heard the story of how he had gotten it – until now.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencer’s ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but that’s what it felt like.

You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasn’t until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. “And that’s three,” Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.

Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.

There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you weren’t naïve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. “You better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,” Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.

“What?” Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.

The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. “They didn’t have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,” Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “That’s fine, thank you.” You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.

If he noticed anything odd, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossi’s conversation on ASMR.

As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, “What?” You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.

The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, “Rossi’s headed out. He was just saying goodbye,” Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, “Have a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.” You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.

As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencer’s hand settle on your thigh. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his head to you, “What’s up with you tonight?”

Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didn’t have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you weren’t concerned with anyone actually taking Spencer’s attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.

You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. “Nothing’s up,” you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.

“Are you sure? You look flushed,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.

Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR – Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didn’t necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lean into you.

Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, “Can we go?” You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.

As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.

Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Are you alright, love?”

Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, “You shoved a guy on a table?”

His face fell, “Is that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. He pushed Tara, it’s not that at all,” you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. “It’s just… you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and you’re getting hit on by people in bars and you’re dressing differently and I’m just… me.” You hold your hands out as if you’re on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.

“Are you jealous that I’m getting attention from other people?” He asked, “Because I’ve never encouraged anyone.” That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.

Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, “No,” you groaned, “What’s that term for someone who can’t name their emotions? That’s me. Right now. At this moment.”

Spencer chuckled at your frustration, “It’s called alexithymia, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess I’m just feeling left behind,” you admitted. “You’re a changed person and there’s nothing different about me.”

He tilted his head to the side curiously, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.

“Did you love me before?”

You froze, looking up at him, “Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “And you love me now?”

Nodding, you stepped closer to him, “Very much so.”

“Then there’s nothing else I could possibly ask of you,” he told you, smiling as you blushed. “You don’t need to change in time with me, and – since we’re being honest – I’ve always felt like I’m the one lagging behind you. So, maybe I’ve just been playing catch-up.”

You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, “Well, now I feel ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he murmured, “Just human,” Spencer amended.

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

••••••••••••••••••••���••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[akiranzee]

headcanons, maybe? Muzan with a reader that is the TOTAL opposite when it comes to personality. Sweet, kind, optimistic and forgiving. things like that! feel free to add more to it, though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ MUZAN WITH A SOFT S/O!!

───────────── ♡ ─────────────

༘˚ this man is a busy man, but he always makes time for you.

༘˚ and when he can’t, he sends at least one or two people to accompany you. ༘˚ why? because you’re too naive. muzan’s words. ༘˚ it wasn’t until he found out that you almost got scammed on an obvious scam. miyazaki mango for ¥2000? what kind of crap is that??? and now, he makes sure that he’s with you whenever you go to the market. ༘˚ also, that one time when your purse got snatched and the snatcher hadn’t even stepped a foot when muzan already grabbed him by the neck and you’re just; “muziee, stopp, he’s probably just having a hard time.” and then you give the snatcher some yen from your purse and muzan’s just like ???? ༘˚ so now he gotta up his security even more, glaring at anyone who tries to woo you :((. ༘˚ man’s also got the audacity to tell the old woman to get out of her seat on the train and let you sit instead when you’re literally fine. ༘˚ he also sometimes forgets his responsibilities and routines when he’s with you, time seems to slow down, he says and wonders. ༘˚ when raining, he tends to just take his coat off and drape it on your head, or if he didn’t wear one, he’ll cover you with his whole ass body. ༘˚ and when it’s a hot ass sunny day, he’ll always make sure to keep you hydrated and ask someone to fan you when you don’t even need him to. ༘˚ your relationship is more of a butler x princess. ༘˚ he’s like following you around in his free time that everyone around you will already know where you both are. ༘˚ also, anyone who dares to verbally abuse you will literally be sent to hell. he’ll either ask someone to beat them up while you cry in his arms, or he’ll beat them up himself while you cry in his arms, but it’s always the latter. ༘˚ now, as for cuddle time, he’ll usually be late, catch you already asleep, as again, he is a busy man, so he’ll just silently scoot inside the blanket and tuck you in his arms without surprisingly waking you up, and press a soft kiss on your forehead, the last of his duties as he too, drifts off to sleep. ༘˚ he also can’t stay mad at you for too long when you do something dumb or clumsy, ‘cause your pretty little doe eyes will just stare up at him and he’ll just... soften up. ༘˚ so, in conclusion, this man becomes soft when only and only he’s with you.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

a/n: this is my first time writing a headcanon lol. i also dk if u wanted this modern era or not :((.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Hey there! I love the grumpy x sunshine trope for Logan. What if someone has been bothering reader or something happened, and because of it, she’s just not acting like herself and Logan starts picking up on it. He tries to let it go, but it sort of just gets worse and worse, and he becomes really worried for her. So he finally confronts her about, and she has a total breakdown about it- he knows that she’s been upset but not to this extent. So her comforts her and she finally opens up about what’s been going on. That’s kind of all I have, so I’ll leave the rest up to you. I love how you write for Logan, thank you for all the time and dedication you put in. 🫶🏻

When the Sunshine Fades

The Xavier Institute had been bustling with the usual mix of chaos and camaraderie. Students running through the halls, the occasional burst of mutant powers misfiring, and, of course, the ever-present banter between teammates. But through it all, one constant had always been your presence—your sunny disposition that seemed to brighten even the darkest corners of the mansion.

You were the kind of person who could find the silver lining in any situation, always quick with a smile or a word of encouragement. It was one of the things Logan admired most about you. The way you could light up a room with your laughter, the way you saw the good in everyone, even in him—a man who had spent so much of his life battling his inner demons.

But lately, something had changed. The light in your eyes had dimmed, and Logan couldn’t help but notice.

At first, he’d told himself to let it go. Everyone had their off days. Maybe you were just tired, or maybe something minor was weighing on your mind. He wasn’t one to pry, especially since you’d always been so good at bouncing back. But as the days turned into a week, and your usual cheerfulness continued to fade, Logan found himself growing more and more concerned.

You’d stopped laughing as much, your smiles were forced, and there was a heaviness in your eyes that hadn’t been there before. You weren’t spending as much time with the team, opting instead to retreat to your room or find some quiet corner of the mansion where you could be alone. You still tried to keep up appearances, but it was clear that something was wrong.

Logan wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the other X-Men had asked him if you were okay, assuming that he would know since the two of you were so close. But Logan didn’t have an answer for them. He didn’t have an answer for himself, either, and that gnawed at him more than he’d like to admit.

Finally, after nearly two weeks of watching you withdraw more and more, Logan couldn’t take it anymore. He’d always been protective of you, but this went beyond that. He was worried—genuinely worried—and he couldn’t stand by and watch you suffer in silence any longer.

It was late in the evening when he found you in the mansion’s library, curled up on a chair with a book you hadn’t even bothered to open. Your eyes were distant, and you looked so small, so fragile, that it tugged at something deep inside him. Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself as he approached you.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could manage.

You looked up, startled by his sudden presence, and tried to muster a smile. But it didn’t reach your eyes. “Hey, Logan.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down across from you, his eyes never leaving your face. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

Your smile faltered, and you looked away, focusing on the pattern of the carpet beneath your feet. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, darlin’,” Logan said, his tone a bit firmer now. “You’ve been actin’ different. Withdrawn. And I know somethin’ ain’t right. You’ve barely been yourself for weeks now.”

You swallowed hard, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine, Logan. Really. Just... been a little tired, I guess.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. He hated that you were trying to brush this off, trying to pretend like everything was okay when it so clearly wasn’t. “You ain’t fine. I know you too well for that. Talk to me.”

You bit your lip, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. Logan felt his heart clench at the sight. He hadn’t meant to push you this hard, but he couldn’t back off now, not when you were clearly on the verge of breaking.

“Please, sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening again. “Just talk to me.”

That did it. The dam you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally broke, and a choked sob escaped your lips. You covered your face with your hands as the tears began to fall, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions.

Logan was out of his chair in an instant, crossing the small space between you in two strides. He knelt down in front of you, his large hands gently pulling yours away from your face. The sight of your tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips made his chest tighten with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing away your tears. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just let it out.”

You shook your head, trying to get a grip on yourself, but the floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping it now. “I-I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out between sobs. “I didn’t want to bother you with this... I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “A burden? Darlin’, you could never be a burden. Not to me.”

You took a shaky breath, your hands clinging to his arms as if he were the only thing keeping you grounded. “It’s just... everything’s been so overwhelming. There’s been someone... someone who’s been bothering me, saying things that just… they won’t leave me alone, and I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s been getting to me. And I don’t know how to handle it anymore, Logan. I’m just so tired.”

Logan’s eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Who’s been botherin’ you?”

You shook your head again, fresh tears spilling over. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to drag you into it, but I can’t... I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. I just feel so lost, Logan.”

Logan’s heart ached at the sight of you, so vulnerable and broken. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a protective embrace, his hand cradling the back of your head as he pressed your face against his chest. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’m so damn sorry.”

You clung to him, the sobs wracking your body as you let everything out—the fear, the frustration, the exhaustion. And Logan held you through it all, his arms a fortress around you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm.

“I shoulda noticed sooner,” he murmured into your hair. “Shoulda done somethin’ before it got this bad. But I’m here now, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded weakly, your tears beginning to slow as the weight of his words settled over you. You’d been carrying so much on your own, trying to keep up the appearance of being okay, but now, in Logan’s arms, you finally felt like you could let go.

“I’m scared, Logan,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

Logan tightened his grip on you, his voice low and fierce. “I know, sweetheart. But you don’t have to be scared anymore. I’ll take care of it. Whoever’s been messin’ with you, they’re gonna regret it.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No one messes with you and gets away with it. Not while I’m around.”

You managed a small, tearful smile at that, the first real smile Logan had seen from you in what felt like forever. “Thank you.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t ever have to thank me for lookin’ out for you. You’re too important to me, darlin’. I don’t want you to ever feel like you gotta deal with this crap on your own.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin, chasing away the lingering cold that had settled in your bones over the past weeks. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Logan.”

“Lucky for you, you don’t gotta find out,” he said, a hint of his usual gruff humor returning to his voice. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the last of your tears drying on your cheeks. “I’m glad.”

Logan gave you a small, reassuring smile before pulling you back into his arms, holding you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the strong, sure beat of his heart a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in far too long.

For a while, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other as the world outside faded away. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what came next, you wouldn’t have to face it alone. You had Logan by your side, and that was enough.

Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, Logan pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Come on,” he said softly, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s get you to bed. You need rest, and I’m not leavin’ you alone tonight.”