#which only heightens my anxiety

[liyawritesss]

2 scholarships down....10 more left to hear from

[izzy-b-hands]

Checked my old med records re: transition dates bc today's Pl/Pa appt is probably going to be a fucking doozy where I anticipate being quizzed on my transition thus far and future goals for it

And double checked the year to find out A. my memory is shit and I was off a year but also B:

Next year will be my 5 year anniversary on T!!

[bluemoon-fever]

The First Time

pairing: ari levinson x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time with ari.

word count: 1.87k

prompt: ari levinson + "Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve."

warnings: fluff, light angst(?), allusions to anxiety/low self-esteem, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of oral sex (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation kink, D/s undertones, soft!dom!ari, size kink, aftercare, pet names, creampie, choking, MINORS DNI

a/n: this is my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 for their Cum Together: Community Revival Extravaganza. this is my first work in a minute (i have WIPs, but i'm still trying to figure out how i want things to go). i'm exciting to see what everyone thinks and i hope you enjoy! (also this isn't edited and don't steal or repost this)

You feel utterly ridiculous. You’ve washed your hands for what felt like ten minutes, trying to hide the clamminess of your hands. After your fifteenth cleanse, you dry your hands and resign to the fact that your nervousness would not subside until you got this over it. Ugh, fine, you muttered under your breath as you succumb to your nerves.

Before you go out, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror. You had your hair perfectly curled for your date tonight. The cute blouse and jeans that fit your hips and ass perfectly was in the hamper. You wore a short, pink silk nightie with matching lacy panties. You recently bought them for tonight and hoped they would work in your favor. You looked beautiful, but why did that not calm your nerves? Why was it not enough?

You felt bad for leaving Ari waiting, and he was so understanding. When you told him you needed to freshen up a bit, he softly kissed your forehead and lips before telling you to do whatever you need to do. It helped quell your anxieties a little, but as you got closer to the impending moment, your anxiety heightened.

You whispered to yourself in the mirror.

You got this! It’s just sex. If it doesn’t work out, it won’t be in the end of the world. You tried to rationalize despite every cell in your brain feeding into irrationality and fear. You hadn’t been this nervous to have sex since your first time, so for you to be an adult and panicking over doing it with your new boyfriend felt extra silly.

It had been a while since your last encounter… a long while. After the end of your only serious relationship, it had been hard to let anyone new in until Ari Levinson waltzed into your life. Even though he was patient, he was persistent. You wanted him, and he wanted you. But you were so scared of being hurt and alone again. 

He worked to prove to you that he wouldn’t do that. He showed you that he wanted you, wanted to cherish and take care of you. Pretty soon, you were falling for him and he claimed himself for you. He was waiting for you to do the same, and for Ari, he would wait however long he needed. You were worth it to him.

And so you let Ari Levinson into your life, and you’ve been the happiest you’ve ever been. For the duration of your time together, you and Ari had only made out and cuddled. He spent the night at your place and you at his, but there was no sex. He never pressured you, which you were grateful for, but you were scared to begin. You weren’t the most experienced. The sex you had with your ex was decent, but you didn’t want that. You had desires, some you were scared of sharing with Ari, but you knew you could trust him. He wouldn’t judge you for that, but you were worried. What if you weren’t good enough? What if it was so bad he left you?

Ari didn’t seem like the type to leave you because the sex sucked, but looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel out of his league. He was sex on legs, undeniably handsome. You’ve seen the way women and men alike look at him, hell you look at him the same way. Could you even keep up?

Before you could go further in your spiral, a soft knock brought you back to reality. “Babe, is everything alright in there?”

“Yeah! I’m about to come out!” Holy shit. It was now or never. You fluffed up your hair, quickly gargled some mouthwash, and gave yourself a last minute pep talk. You are a goddess. You got this! If you can survive half the things you have, you can have sex with your boyfriend.

You walked out of bathroom, but instead of inching towards Ari, you leaned against the doorframe, trying to look like the gorgeous actresses from the movies. Ari was laying across your bed, still fully dressed. He licked his lips as he eyed your form, looking like a predator about to devour his prey. Your body warmed under his gaze and a wetness begin to pool in your panties. 

“You like?” you ask in a sultry tone. Ari nodded and rose up. He towered over you, and though you hadn’t said it, you loved that his body was bigger than his. His arms traveled up your body before he grabbed your head in his hands and pulled your mouth into his. Immediately, he began to dominate you with his mouth. Your tongue attempted to fight for dominance, but Ari easily overpowered you. You could feel him guide you away from the bed and towards the mirror hanging above your dresser. Before you know it, he abruptly pulls away from you and spins you around to where your back is pressed firmly against his chest and growing bulge.

In the mirror, you see how swollen your lips are. Your face was red with passion and so was Ari’s. He wrapped his arms around your center and began caressing your body. “Honey,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Nothing,” you stutter, failing to hide your true feelings. Despite experiencing the most amazing kiss of your life, your mind was still running a mile a minute. Ari shakes his head, and you immediately tense. “I’m sorry!”

“Baby, your mind has been running a mile a minute since we got back to your place. There’s no need to apologize, but just tell me what’s going on,” he says as he begins to pepper kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. Your eyes roll back slightly as he begins his light assault, but when you’re quiet longer than he cares for, he stops. You whine, and he gives a stern look.

“I’m just… nervous. That’s it,” you tell him. You look down at your freshly pedicured feet. “I just want to be good for you.”

At that moment, Ari grabs your chin and pulls his lips into yours. The kiss is passionate like the one previously, but there’s a tenderness in this. It’s intimate like the ones you have during your late night cuddle sessions, but there’s an underlying hint of desire when you feel him nip at the bottom lip. Your toes curl, and the wetness in between your thighs grows.

“You are always good for me. You’re perfect for me.” He parts from you, turning your chin back to your reflection. “Look at you. I am so lucky you’re my girl.”

Before you can retort his statement, you gives a light slap to your ass, making you jump. “And don’t question it.”

“Ari,” you begin, locking eyes with him in the mirror. “It’s been a while-“

“I know, baby.”

“I wasn’t done.” He smiles at the little fire building inside of you. “And I’m worried about tonight. But if we can, I do want to try some things.” Your timidness returns, and something in Ari blooms. 

“We can do whatever you want tonight, baby. Can I you do something for me?” he asks. You nod fervently. “Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

The sounds of your and Ari’s blended moans fill the air. You lost track of how many times Ari made you come, but all you know is that you were thoroughly fucked out. He had made you cum with his hands, mouth, and cock so many times. You begged to let him suck you off, but he refused. Tonight was all about you.

“Alright, baby. Can you give me one more?” he asks softly as if he hadn’t tore you apart and used your body all night. He kisses his way up your torso, pressing open mouth kisses on your breasts and neck.

“No, I can’t,” you pant. Ari chuckles at your whines. They were the prettiest sounds he ever heard. “Please, no more.”

“Are you sure, sweetness?” he asks as he strokes his cock. His fingers slip between your folds and tease your entrance. He watches as they attempt to clamp down around nothing. “Because she wants some more.”

Ari lines himself up and slides into your channel. He bottoms you out but freezes, wanting you to feel him everywhere. You squeeze around him and cry out. You knew he was big, but you were shocked that he was able to work himself in. He fit deliciously around you. Ari wraps his arm around your neck, something you had asked excitedly him to do. You learned (and prayed for) that Ari was more dominate in the bedroom. And while he had been able to pull the sweetest sounds from your body and take control, you knew he was holding back from his true form.

“Just cum for me one last time, baby. I know you can do it. Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asks giving you a sly smile. While you had disclosed you wanted to try this with a partner, Ari more than obliged at feeding into your desires. He was more excited than you expected. Despite your pleas, you give a small nod.

He begins working into a steady rhythm, starting slow. Before you know it, his pace quickens. He pulls all the way out before he slams back into you. You cry, nearly yell, out as he begins his brutal, relentless pace. His hold around your neck tightens, and you feel yourself growing slicker.

“My pretty girl,” he says. You preen at his words, loving his praises especially when he has so much control over you. “You have no idea how addicted I am to you. Everything about you.”

He picks up the pace, and his hands move to pick up your legs and change your position. You feel him reaching into you deeper and you know you don’t have much longer until you’re about cum.

“Ari, Ari, Ari!” you cry out. “I’m about to c-cum!”

“Cum for me, baby,” he orders. Your toes curl into the sheets, and you let out a scream as your earth-shattering orgasm washes over you. As Ari fucks you through your high, you feel his pace slow and pretty soon he’s roaring as he cums into you. 

When Ari comes down from his high, he sees he fucked you to sleep. He looks down at the mixing of your juices together and smiles. He could never get enough of this. He pulls out softly, missing the feel of you around him. He grabs a towel and cleans you up softly, careful not to wake you even though you whine from the feel through your sleep. Then, he climbs into bed, pulling your smaller body into his chest before pressing a soft kiss to your head and joining you to sleep. You sleep entwined with him, the sounds of your soft breaths lulling him to sleep with a smile on his face that you were his and he was yours.

feedback is much appreciated!

[brokenmutations]

Night Shift

Logan Howlett • She/Her Pronouns • Mutant!Reader [Heightened Senses] • POSSIBLE DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS • Joining a new timeline didn’t stop the nightmares from occurring. But at least, he doesn’t suffer alone…or at all after some time • ANGST/SFW/NSFW • TW: Major Injuries / Blood Loss / Nightmares / Anxiety

“Another nightmare?”

Logan looks away from the scene that was New York City late at night to catch the eyes the voice came from, which happened to be Y/N. She had stepped out onto the fire escape for her own reasons and to her surprise there was Logan on the escape of the apartment next door.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that”

“Better than Wade sleepwalking. Had to save him from you cutting his head off for almost grabbing your balls” Y/N scoffs, bringing herself to sit in the stairs of the escape looking out to the same scene. “Should give you some rope to tie him to his and Al’s bed because who knows when he’ll sleep walk”

“If you’re offering, I’ll take it” Logan scoffs leaning over the railing listening to the noise that he both misses and wishes it would stop. Which really makes him miss his home in the woods…back in his timeline with his Y/N.

“I know you’re not one for charity, but if you ever need a good nights sleep or company after a bad night…my door, or window is always open”

“I’ll think about it next time, bub” Logan pulled himself away from the railing to bring himself back inside as Y/N remained outside taking in every single sound of New York before wincing and putting her headphones back on while heading back inside.

Logan thought a few nights with a nightmare each time that he could handle it. But staying up after every occurrence only made him grumpier and Wade wasn’t having it for the most part.

“I can tell just by your baby hand that Logan didn’t sleep well”

“All I ask for this writer is to give him SOMETHING, but no! Who cares about plot nowadays we all saw his fucking Hawaiian roll buttered up abs” Wade groans behind the mask wishing he didn’t agree to this mission with Y/N. “Sorry. Kitty was angry this morning because of the lack of sleep he’s been having.”

“I got that much, Wilson” Y/N frowns rubbing circles on his back before suddenly taking his katana and slicing the once running target that entered the wrong alley way. “Guess it’s a short day”

“Bless your fucking heart” Wade quickly took his phone out taking a picture of the hit and sending it to the contact. “I’ll send you your money when I get it”

“Are you going to use most of yours for cocaine again?”

“Get your bloodhound nose out of mine alright?!”

Y/N watched him leave amused for a moment before disposing of the body because baby-hand-magee couldn’t for whatever reason.

Returning to the apartment later than usual didn’t bother Y/N, but she also didn’t expect someone to be in her apartment at the hour that it was. She knew there was someone given her senses, so when she flicked the light on for Logan to scramble suddenly and notice her unfazed expression he was a bit surprised. But so was she a little.

“I didn’t think you’d take me up on it”

Logan shrugs a bit not knowing what to say as Y/N couldn’t fight back a smile. She enters the apartment entirely, shutting the door behind her as she drops her bag on the floor.

“Make yourself at home” Y/N shot him another smile while she walked past him to enter the kitchenette setting down the takeout bag she had along with her other belonging.

The man obviously felt foreign in her apartment even with the invitation. Logan brought himself to sit on the couch watching her movements that weren’t much different from her. Except for more hesitation when handling things that might overwhelm her senses.

“I got takeout and I always buy extra if you’re interested.” Y/N gestures with her head to the kitchen she stood in if he wanted some. But when he didn’t come once she finished putting her dinner in a bowl, she decided to make him one regardless.

While she did such, Logan looked at the frame pictures on the wall behind the couch noticing there was a picture of him. He brought his whole body to face it and get a better look.

This universe’s Logan looked happy and so did Y/N beside him. There was another beside it that was a Polaroid with Laura looking at the picture confused but had a laughing Y/N in the background with Logan reaching for the thing.

“There’s a whole box of Polaroids I can grab that she took from when she was younger” Y/N’s voice startled him slightly as if he had gotten caught for looking at pictures. “Some are very blurry but they mean a lot to Laura and I so I keep them” she handed his plate which he wasn’t going to refuse after she took the time to plate it.

Before she sat with him, Y/N pulled a box out from under the couch setting it beside him. “Whenever you want to look at them” she stated while finally sitting to eat her late dinner, she reached into her coat pocket to take out a bottle of pills and dropped one on top of her rice. Causing Logan to stare and inspect his food. “I didn’t drug yours. It’s my sleeping pill, I have to eat something with it and this just makes it easier”

You don’t need them, sweetheart. Just focus on my heartbeat. That’ll calm you down

Sometimes it’s as fast as jackrabbit, Lo. Are you sure it’ll work?

You’ve said the pills make yea sick in the morning. Even more drowsy. This will work and if not, I’ll help you find alternatives

Okay, love. You know I trust you

Logan’s heart started to ache for what he lost in his timeline and Y/N felt the mood shift as they sat together eating. She wanted to comfort him but didn’t want to over step in any way.

After some time and a little clean up, Y/N went to bed once she got the foldable bed ready for Logan. Leaving him with a box of pictures alone to go through. He didn’t right away and stayed in the bed trying to sleep but wanting to know what this world’s Logan was like to these two important people in his life was itching his brain.

A lot of the Polaroids were blurry and could tell those looking that the young photographer was just learning how to use it. Then they got clearer and Laura would mainly take pictures of Y/N with her because she didn’t mind it. But there was several of Logan both pissed that he’s being photographed and the occasional one where he’s admiring Y/N.

Then there’s a few, like three Polaroids…where her Logan had taken them. One of her sleeping on his chest, another with just the two of them, then one of Y/N in a window holding Laura as she slept. The back of it had some writing on it…

Who I’m fighting for

Logan couldn’t help but feel the pain that Y/N could’ve possibly—-and most likely did feel when she read that a moment after her Logan passed. It made sense why she sobbed when reuniting with Laura.

This kept him awake for a while longer until he finally let sleep take over.

More into the night is when Y/N woke through a haze hearing heavy breathing. The apartment was small even with a one bedroom so she could hear everything regardless of her mutation. She pulled herself out of the bed grabbing the oversized flannel off her chair to slip on so she wouldn’t be in just a tank top and shorts when investigating.

It was obvious what was happening when Y/N drew close to Logan’s tossing form. She carefully moved the box of Polaroid off the bed before bringing herself beside him.

“Logan…” Y/N whispers watching him grip onto the sheets and the smallest glint of metal revealing itself. “Logan it’s just a nightmare”

He wasn’t coming out of it and Y/N knew what could happen next. She then decided to risk it and do what she used to do for him.

________

“Logan it’s okay…you’re okay, nothing is harming anyone you love” Y/N whispers, resting her head on Logan’s chest that was once rising and falling at an unbearable speed. But the second her head rested on it, it slowed. “You’re okay…we’re okay…I’m okay…”

Once Logan calmed, he brought his arms around her sighing. He pressed his lips onto the top of her head feeling her relax against him.

“You just…know how to bring me back”

“I’ll always find a way to bring you back, Lo. Even if it kills me”

________

The second her head rested on his chest, Logan relaxed and the small hint of his claws coming out retracted back. He didn’t wake but he finally relaxed.

“You’re okay, Lo” Y/N whispers rubbing circles on his chest feeling his body relax beneath her. “Everything is going to be okay”

She let the exhaustion take her from the day and found herself fast asleep on him. The steady of his breathing and his heartbeat calmed her…calmed all the sounds she’s been overwhelmed with…

This has been happening for a while. Logan sleeping over and Y/N helping him sleep. She would normally slip out of his embrace during an early hour of the day so he wouldn’t notice. But after the first five times, he’s noticed. He didn’t want to say anything because he enjoyed it. Especially the one time she didn’t get up early and remained there peacefully, giving Logan a chance to admire her while she slept.

They both missed this with their universe’s other…but there was also more than their other had

The most recent time it happened, it was extra difficult to get Logan to fall back asleep with his claws still retracted. That when Logan woke in the morning, disappointed she wasn’t there…he realized shortly why when Y/N handed him coffee and her arm was bandaged. You can’t lie to Logan. You can try but it won’t work. He knows he cut her by accident and it was her first time but her first time with this Logan.

“I’m sorry…” Logan randomly told her when he accompanied her and Wade on a job. The two of them taking look out after Wade insisted ‘he got this’

“Nightmares are scary things, Logan. We all do things when we have them”

“I…You’ve never had them with me around” Logan whispered. “Or least when I’ve been around…”

“I guess I’ve been sleeping better…have been taking my sleeping pills less” Y/N knew the blush on her complexion was giving her away on how she felt and Logan tried so hard to ignore it but the tips of his ears burned red. “What’s taking Wade so long? I can’t hear any fighting or—-“

“Smell any blood. Should we—-“ Logan was cut off by the sound of an explosion as he instinctively covered Y/N who covered her ears until she felt alright to release. “Fucking moron”

“Awww thanks for the new nickname, peanut” Wade cheers strutting out of the now burning building with one less arm. He noticed their position and couldn’t help the smirk on his face. “So!” Ignoring the current fire. “Are you two coming to my party later? Al says she found cocaine but knowing her she probably had Mary Puppins sniff some questionable white bags so it could actually end up being meth”

“I don’t think the poor pup is an efficient drug sniffing dog” Y/N commented as she went into her bag to put her headphones on. “Besides. I’d love to but I have another job later”

“You uh need a hand?” Logan asked, sensing the devilish smirk on Wade’s face resulting in him unsheathing his claws making him hold his hands up.

“I was instructed to take it on alone…but I’ll be alright. Usually am” Y/N reassures. “You’re still…allowed to be in my apartment if you don’t want to be at the party for the whole thing”

“Oh he’s gonna stay. Yukio is gonna do tarot readings” Wade wrapped his baby arm around Logan, enticing a growl out of the man.

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile before throwing her backpack on. “Just don’t get into too much trouble, Wade. I hate talking to the landlord for you” and with that said, she left the two to clean up whatever mess there could be after what Wade did.

The party was a bit much. Logan was starting to get frustrated even if he sat on the couch with Dogpool watching everybody get drunk, have their tarots read, and listen to more of Wade’s sex stories. He wasn’t doing much but nursing a beer and think about her. She’s been on his mind for much longer than when she said she was doing a job solo. He was going to take that night as an opportunity to admit to feelings he’s felt much longer than the time Y/N first helped him with his nightmares.

She’s always been patient with him when he was standoff-ish in the beginning.

She kept her cool when he’d yell out his frustration

She never hesitated to give him answers to any questions he had about her Logan or Laura

She always listens. Never pushes her thoughts.

She’s there whenever you need her.

Every Logan will love every Y/N out there…

Mary Puppins suddenly stirred beside Logan which he normally didn’t care about given she can do what she pleases. But she jumped off the couch and instantly went to the door starting to scratch it. Given the hour it was, 2AM, Wade was plastered and couldn’t take her out so he decided to do it himself.

Once the pup was strapped in her harness and leash, Logan opened the door only for Puppins to lunge forward and toward something that only made him grumble with the force she was giving.

“Calm down, bub. We’ll get outside soon” Logan sighs shutting the door behind him and stilling for a moment when he heard footsteps. He quickly scoops up Mary Puppins and hesitantly approaches the stairs.

If it wasn’t Mary Puppins in his arms, he’d drop everything. Instead he carefully set her down before quickly approaching Y/N and her fragile state.

“What happened?” Logan frowns hearing his heartbeat rapid in his ears as he tried to remain calm even if her currently bleeding state wasn’t helping.

“A lot. I…I wanna sleep”

“No, bub. You’re bleedin’ we gotta stop it…or—“ Logan froze when Y/N collapsed in his arms and he didn’t hesitate to yell for Wade.

It’s been an annoyingly anxiety inducing couple of hours in the ER, then the waiting room. Logan sat beside Wade who kept dozing off every now and then because of the booze in his system but at least Mary Puppins in his arm licked his face to perk him up. Logan’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing and the scowl on his face became more permanent expression until he heard any news.

In a panic, Laura quickly entered the waiting room scanning the room and locking eyes with Logan before approaching.

“What happened?!”

“A job gone wrong. It happens.” Wade yawns rubbing his eyes and once he got the sleepiness out of them he was met with an identical glare from Laura that matched the one on Logan’s. “What? She passed out before we got details, angel babies. We won’t know more until she wakes up. What I said is the best you’re gonna get” he sighed turning himself toward the reader of this story. “Afraid if I say more. I’ll traumatize the nurses over my baby limbs more than the amount of blood that escapes my hot bod”

Now as the four of them wait, with the occasional letting the pup out to do her business, Logan couldn’t help but think of when he lost his Y/N.

It wasn’t like with the rest of the X-Men, but if some of the X-Men were still alive. They would say it’s the reason he left in the first place

________

“What do you mean she didn’t leave the building?!” Logan shouted at Scott only to leave the plane in a hurry back to the scene.

“Jean stop hi—-“

“No”

“Jean.”

“Scott, let him go” Ororo sided with Jean in the silent agreement of he needs to see for himself.

The smell of her blood stained his senses the closer he got to it. Why didn’t they try and save her? What did she say to them?

Instead of those questions piercing a thought in his mind, Logan found Y/N barely hanging on and the only reason they didn’t pull her out because if they did…she would only die instantly and she needed him. For one last moment.

“No…No no no…Y/N, baby” Logan’s voice cracked at the sight as he dropped to his knees trying to figure out a way to cut through the beams that were piercing her in several places. “Baby I-I’m gonna…I-I…I-I’ll get you out. Yeah I will…”

“Lo…p-please…we both know—-“

“No! I can’t. I-I can’t lose y-you” He sobbed, this man with a rough exterior sobbed and it only broke her heart as she reached for him. Feeling his cheek gently place itself in her palm. “Please…D-Don’t leave me”

“I love you. I love you so m-much” Y/N winced feeling the pain subside but only in that direction. “Y-You…y-ou’ll find me…a-again…p-promise”

“Y/N…” Logan sobbed gripping her wrist and focusing on her breathing that started to slow. “I love you. Fuck I love you so much. I didn’t say it enough. I-I love you.” He cried watching the love of his life wither.

________

But this wasn’t happening again.

Laura laid her head on the side of Y/N’s bed with Logan’s jacket draped over her as she occupied the chair by her bed. While Logan sat in the one in the far corner. Wade had to bring Mary Puppins home and tell those who stayed the night after a drunken party that Y/N pulled through.

What happened was Y/N took another job for the same guy that her job with Wade and Logan came from. But the purpose of it being solely only her was to trap her and force information out of her on the regenerative properties the two have. She knows very little about the properties because Wade doesn’t know how his manifested and Logan’s don’t need a rocket scientist to figure out. They thought they hit the gold mine when capturing her but instead while they met their inevitable end, Y/N gotten beaten and physical broken in the process.

Which explains the sling made for collar bone fractures on her, and the bandaging around her torso for more than just internal bleeding but to stabilize the broken ribs. The bruises and cuts littered are self explanatory.

The only plus side to all of this in her case was how sterile and quiet a private hospital room is.

All Y/N heard were their heartbeats and how fast they were going given her current state.

“I’m…n-not dying. You can calm just a little bit” Y/N sighed out, hearing the quick shuffling indicating Logan practically shot out of his chair approaching her other side while Laura gently rested her hand on Y/N’s that was rested on her stomach. “I’m okay sweet girl” she reassured taking her hand into hers as she finally opened her eyes wincing slightly at the light and her shifting only to feel the extent of her injuries. “T-That goes for you too, Lo…I’m okay.”

“Your injuries say otherwise” Logan frowns sitting on the edge of the bed watching Laura hesitantly climb into the bed after Y/N ushered her to do so. “Don’t…don’t let her move too much, kid”

“Worrywart. She’s fine.” Y/N let her lay beside her as Laura was always mindful of injuries and didn’t mess with any of the tubes she was connected to.

She was in the hospital for three days. Laura stayed for two and went back to Y/N’s apartment to clean it up for when she comes back. Including getting her prescriptions and things. Logan stayed for all three days. She wanted him to stay for all three days.

“You okay on the pull out bed?” Y/N tried to help make the bed with the one arm but Logan quickly and gently took the part of the blanket out of her hand. “I can still help”

“You broke your collarbone on the left side, sweetcheeks. You ain’t lifting a finger even if five are out of commission” Wade tugged too much on his side resulting in a grumble from Logan and Laura to push him away.

“I’m okay on the couch bed, mo—-Y/N” Laura couldn’t help the embarrassed blush to rise on her cheeks for almost calling Y/N mom in front of others. Even if that’s what she is to her.

Wade being Wade was about to comment until Y/N glared at him before tiredly making her way to her room. Logan hesitantly follows, letting Laura boss Wade around to help her finish making the bed even if he’s already messed up.

“So uh. She’s staying on the couch bed so I’ll go back to Wa—-“

“You can sleep with me…” Y/N had her back turned to him which she was grateful given the blush that started to spread. “I’ll be bounded to one side since I have to be sleeping sitting up. Plenty of space for another body”

“I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you any further by accident”

“I promise you…you won’t hurt me” She frowns reaching for another pillow, only for Logan to stop her and do it himself.

Once the night stilled and Wade was sleeping on the floor while Laura took the bed…Logan laid awake beside Y/N’s still form occasionally glancing over to make sure she’s still breathing. As much as she was saved and alive, he couldn’t help the fear aching in his chest that she would disappear right before him.

The second he shut his eyes, they instantly shot open causing him to quickly look at her seeing her breathing heavy and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Y/N—-“ Logan quickly maneuvered on the bed to be sat on his knees by her side. Resting his hand on her face watching her face grimace and her eyes remain close. “Y/N, baby it’s a nightmare—-“

“P-Please…Please don’t take them from me again” She begged, still in her unconscious state as the tears kept coming her body tensed at first when she felt another hand rest on her other cheek. But suddenly relaxed and sobbed more while she opened her eyes. “Logan…everything is too loud”

Logan frowns wiping away her tears letting his body relax beside her and bringing her close while minding her injuries. The sense of protectiveness he emitted brought an old familiar warm feeling in Y/N’s chest as she looked up at him with a pleading expression.

“Just focus on my heartbeat, that’ll calm you down” He whispers being mindful of the noise happening inside her head as she rests her head on his shoulder keeping her eyes on him. “Breathe…just listen. Focus on that” he relaxed himself enough so his heart wouldn’t be pounding in her ears.

But the second she focused and started to finally relax after the nightmare, Y/N shut her eyes letting the last of the tears fall.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you” He whispers to her bringing his lips to her forehead hearing a soft sigh escape her lips.

“Logan…”

“Hm? What is it, princess?”

“Please don’t leave me”

“I’m not going anywhere”

[tryslora]

On Writing Combat and Sex Scenes

Today I want to talk about writing sex and combat (and no, I do not mean combative sex). This post is inspired by a few recent events:

Once, a long time ago, I read a blog post that said “if you can write a combat scene, you can write a sex scene” and that was mind-blowing for me because while I was well-versed in writing erotica, I couldn’t write combat to save my life.

More recently, at Boskone, I participated on a panel about writing combat, and the research involved there-in.

Even more recently, I had someone look at me say, “You’re not a gay guy. How do you write gay sex scenes?”

So. Let’s begin.

I get it—sex and combat aren’t interchangeable. But at their core, they have some strong similarities which can be leveraged while writing. Both are intense, high drama, and can involve a lot of anxiety and quick thought. Both tend to narrow focus down to the moment and the current feeling and action. Both are heightened emotion and physical reaction. Both can involve actions that lie outside the author’s personal experience.

I started writing erotica when I was a freshman in college. I posted it online (does anyone remember rec.arts.erotica?) and was surprised (and pleased) by the compliments I received. Turned out my readers were not expecting the idea of emotion being entangled in their erotica. They were invested emotionally in how the stories went, and how my characters felt. Since I was writing from the point of view that made sense to me at the time, they were het stories from a female perspective, and they were very focused on the emotional connections and how the physical events heightened those emotions.

Male readers were surprised by the intensity of the feelings that these stories gave them (as opposed to pure arousal). It got me thinking about how I wrote, and why I wrote, and I tried to talk about it some at the time. I was eighteen. I was still a new writer. The internet itself was new. I wasn’t entirely certain how to frame it, but I remember getting one comment where a guy was surprised at how struck he’d been by the moment in the scene where everything shuddered to a halt due to an event in the story that interrupted the action, and I replied that that was because I wasn’t writing about the sex. I was writing about the character’s reaction to the sex.

Which has always been how I write. At the time, that was my only tool: put myself in the character’s mind, and write what they feel. If that’s affection and attraction and physical reaction, write that. Tangle it up, and hope the reader feels that entanglement.

Now, fast forward several years, and take a little side trip onto a tangent wherein I learned something very important about writing craft.

I was reading Syne Mitchell’s End in Fire, I think it was, and I kept having panic attacks. Now, I did most of my reading late, often when I woke in the middle of the night due to stress, or just because my brain refused to rest. I was in a rough place in life in general, with a lot of external work stuff going on and very small children. I wasn’t sleeping well. And it took me some time to figure out why I was struggling to read a book which I actually loved (and when I read it later in life, I enjoyed it greatly).

It was the sentence structure.

In order to induce the emotion of the scene, the sentences were short. Sharp. Quick. There was no time for the reader to breathe, much like there was no time for the heroine to do anything but act. The reader was caught up in the rising tension, to the point where my anxious, sleep-deprived brain, caught a panic attack from it.

The technique was brilliant.

Now back to our original timeline, wherein I read a post about how if you can write combat, you can write sex scenes. This post assumed that more people felt comfortable writing violence than sex. I was the reverse. I’d been writing about sex for over a decade when I saw this post, and it made a light bulb go off in my brain.

If writing sex was like writing combat… was the reverse also true? Could I improve my skills at writing battles by analyzing what worked when I wrote erotica?

So I tried doing just that. Back then, I found combat overwhelming. There was so much going on, and I was trying so hard to write good description that I lost all of the intensity. I was focusing on everything that was going on at the same time.

Thinking about how sex scenes were all intense emotion and narrowed focus, I applied that to my combat scenes. I wrote only what the point of view character experienced, and tied everything to their actions and reactions. I thought about how they breathed, how they moved, how they thought. I used those short, sharp sentences as they processed the scene. 

That doesn’t mean I forgot about everything else going on in the scene. That’s impossible. After all, in any story the things the character doesn’t pay attention to might be as important as the things they do focus on. Stuff still happens, and there is still fallout. I needed to know what else was happening so that if the character moved from one place to another, or did something that put them in the path of a different part of the action, I could have them start processing it.

But it also meant that on the page, out of sight was out of mind. Everything narrowed down to the now. The immediacy. Suddenly my combat scenes snapped into focus.

During the panel at Boskone, all of the panelists had experience with different fighting styles (fencing, street combat, and of course, me with taekwondo). I spoke about how for me, that narrow focus is very real when I spar. I know there are some people who naturally see a move or two ahead while fighting; I don’t. I am stuck in act and react mode. Can I kick them now? Can I attempt a head shot? Oh, no, circle back and away or they’re going to hit me… that’s how my brain works during a sparring match.

It’s not like a total blackout—there should be a vague awareness of things around the character. Sounds in particular, or sometimes flashes of movement. Something distracting can catch the attention of the fighter, but the personal fight will always pull the character back.

Combat feels easy when I’m writing like that.

Of course, there’s still the question of writing about something if I’ve never experienced it. As someone did point out to me: I am not a gay man, so how does that affect writing sex scenes? I’ve also never fought with a sword. Brawled. Fought from horseback. I have, however, held a blade, shot a gun, shot an arrow, rode a horse. I have a vague idea of how these things work, much like I have a working knowledge of sex in general.

So yes, research gets involved. Sometimes research is observational, sometimes it’s reading (there’s so much good stuff out there). I highly recommend video for combat scenes—find things that have the feel that you’re going for, then put yourself in the place of the character you want to write about. Practice. Work through the ideas of how things fit together, and what your character will (and will not!) know during the fight.

If you need to, stand up and block the scene by thinking about how you would experience it. What can you see, and what is out of sight? If someone is coming at you with a blade, what are your options? How do height differences affect you? Yes, I have asked friends and husband to help me block scenes. 

“Stand right there and show me what it looks like if you punch me. Okay, so if I do this then…” Yeah. It’s a thing. But it works.

When doing your research, remember that movie fighting (and hell, movie sex scenes) isn’t realistic. It’s meant to look good. For combat, if you can find re-enactments, or sparring videos, I highly recommend taking a look at those. 

Anyway, the point is: I don’t have to have shot someone, and I don’t have to have had gay sex in order to write about them. What I do need to know is how it feels emotionally to do those things, and I can extrapolate that from what I do know. I need to know enough about the details so I can get it right, and that’s where research will help me. Also, use language to create emotion. Because emotions are where we grab the reader, and how we pull them into the scene.

Combat and sex aren’t so different when it comes to writing, and the personal experience. Now, go forth and write!

[pressplay-if]

To think I was worried about this IF ending up too short for anyone to be interested.

The hospital section in this Chapter alone is only getting longer and longer. I keep thinking of new important details and little extra scenes to add just to complete the psych ward experience (TM).

Some interesting details about Zima and MC's past mental state below cut (might be important):

Zima has now had their first interview section, mainly determining the details of the nature of their past involvement with MC. There's a total of four options. If you enjoyed the choice of Stevie having a crush on MC, you're gonna love this.

MC can be hospitalized due to either depression or social anxiety, as these are the only conditions that I feel wholly comfortable writing. I considered also offering a combination of the two, but ultimately decided against it, as the MC's oast mental illness will eventually influence the future of the story and I want those paths to be very distinct and different.

Please mind that, while everyone who suffers from mental illness of any kind has their own totally subjective and individual experience with it, I'm writing social phobic and depressive MCs with certain "set" symptoms. Here are some set elements:

Social phobia MCs experience physical symptoms and selective mutism. They are nervous and quiet, so all their interactions, especially in the beginning of their hospitalization (even when picking the antagonistic options) will reflect that. So if you're wondering why MC seems to be acting meek or "submissive", it's bc of their affliction not allowing them to be as outspoken as they might like to be. Social phobia MCs have a general exhaustion of life, given they live in constant stress, but they do not self-harm. They are prone to sleep disturbances.

Depressive MCs experience listlessness, irritation (which can makes them more prone to acting aggressively), feelings of self-loathing and dissatisfaction. They have a heightened need for sleep and will report not wanting to get out of bed. They can, in fact, choose to be currently practicing self-harm, or to have done so in the past. However, even if they choose to have never self-harmed, they will report thoughts of suicide.

Either MC will be medicated during their time in the clinic. It's a small text section and a slight bit vague as my medical knowledge, despite my research efforts, is limited. The MC will get to choose how to feel about the drugs and the potential side effects, though.

Either MC will be able to additionally describe symptoms indicating neurodivergence.

Either MC can choose to be underage smoking, drinking or both during this time. Or neither, of course.

So thanks for reading all that! Small disclaimer: I know very well that the depression and social phobia symptoms I chose to write about are NOT universally representative. This all might sound like the routes are very set, but there's actually a ton of customization going on in this chapter, so don't you worry! (Also it's gonna be rly important for the future of the band)

[moonstruckme]

reader making a new friend (who is a male btw) and poly!marauders get jealous and snap at reader, for example saying, ‘go hang out with ____ ‘ and reader understands and reassures them that no such thing as reader leaving marauders would ever happen.

Thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 860 words

"There you are, angel!" James gushes as you walk in the door. "We've been waiting, where've you been?"

You stop short, caught offguard by the onslaught of attention as three pairs of eyes pin you in front of the door. Your boyfriends are all sitting at the table, untouched bowls of pasta in front of them and one by your empty chair.

"Sorry," you say slowly, easing your bag off your shoulder and taking off your shoes. "I didn't realize you were waiting. Liam wanted to show me some new music he's found, so I stayed late." You hustle to your chair, and James begins shoveling pasta into his mouth eagerly.

"Oh, Liam asked you to stay," Sirius says drily, stabbing at his bowl with a fork. "Awesome."

You frown. Liam started at your work a couple of months ago, and the two of you had hit it off immediately. He was funny, you liked a lot of the same things, and everyone who you'd introduced him to adored him. Everyone, except your boyfriends. "He didn't ask me to stay, I offered because I wanted to hear it. And I didn't ask you to wait up for me, either."

James swallows. "We tried to call you, and texted you a bunch," he says, and the quiet of his voice is so unlike him that your anxiety instantly heightens.

You whip out your phone, seeing missed calls and texts from each of the boys taking up the entire screen. You'd forgotten to turn the sound back on after your shift.

"I'm sorry," you say, putting it away, and you mean it, but none of the boys really seems to want to look at you.

And as quickly as your shame rose to the surface, indignation comes in to replace it. This is so unlike them. Sirius will occaisionally make a teasing comment about you leaving them for one of your celebrity crushes, but none of your boyfriends are truly the jealous type. You're in a polyamorous relationship, for Merlin's sake. This sort of possessiveness has never been part of the deal.

"What's your problem with him?" You stare them down in turn, and only Sirius is bold enough to meet your heated gaze.

"You're with him when you should be with us!" He snaps. "Just look at tonight—James made dinner, and where were you? With him! So why are you even here now? Let's just cut the bullshit, and you can go hang out with Liam."

James had...James never cooks. That always falls to you or Remus, but tonight...you look at the pasta, which you've yet to take a bite of, and you're hit with a guilt that feels like nausea. It's your favorite. James cooked it for you.

"You have been seeing a lot of him lately," Remus says quietly, and his tone is more controlled than Sirius', but you see the protective hand he sets on James' knee under the table. "And you talk about him all the time. Do you really not see why our minds would go there?"

"I didn't...you guys are serious about this?" Your voice wavers, and that gets them all to look at you. You see the truth of it in their faces, sullen and embarrassed and tense, as if apprehensive of what you'll do next. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way, I—fuck, Jamie, can I give you a hug?"

"Course," he says softly, and rush to him, pressing your face into his dark curls.

"Thank you for dinner, love," you say, feeling like your heart is breaking. "I didn't mean to be late, and I should have remembered to turn my phone back on, I'm so sorry. This is so lovely of you." You turn so you can see the other boys, still cradling James' head in one hand. "Liam and I are just friends, I promise. I didn't know...I thought it was just teasing, the way you talked about him. I didn't mean to let you worry. And I'm sorry if I've been blowing you off lately."

"It hasn't been that often, dove." Remus is the first to warm, looking at you kindly. "Just, could you let us know if you're going to be very late?"

You feel like your chest has hollowed out at the realization of how this has been weighing on them. "Yeah, of course." You release James to return to your seat, leaning over to press a kiss to Sirius' head as you pass him, and he rolls his eyes with a reluctance you suspect is mostly feigned by now. "You really think I could find someone better than you three? You're out of your minds," you quip, taking some pasta onto your fork and inhaling the aroma of the sauce appreciatively. You think you see James sit up a bit straighter with pride. "As if there's anyone who could give me more than what I already have. Honestly, I'm at full capacity, love-wise."

Sirius snorts, finally eating some of his own pasta. "I know. This apartment is hardly large enough for the four of us, where would Liam sleep?"

[techramonic]

A Comprehensive Analysis on Eric Harris, 3.

Disclaimer: This analysis/psychoanalysis is limited only to analysis as a means to reflect and understand the people involved. It is strictly informative. Just like all of my posts, I am detached from the media I write about and solely focus on the people to understand their psychology, for others to gain insight. There is no room for me to romanticize or glorify anything I write because I am only here to explain. I understand and research, but I do not condone. Thank you.

note: This is all solely based on independent research. If I may be wrong with the medical aspects of this post, please correct me. I would appreciate it a lot.

Fluvoxamine Maleate

Just a few days before the shooting, Eric was promptly rejected from his application to serve in the marines. Despite his desirable qualities, he was rejected for the sole reason of being tested positive for consuming a prescripted drug after rejecting that he was off any medication. With a trace of Luvox in his system, theories speculate that the drug's side effects played a role on the events that have transpired. Luvox is a medication prescription drug that is used to treat mental illnesses such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), anxiety, depression, and others. While there are positive effects, the downside are heightened sensations of dread, irritation, depression, and arising violent behaviors. It also has a chance to increase manic symptoms, especially if taken in particularly large doses.

Anti-depressant usage, effects of overdose, and detoxification

When taken over the prescribed dosage, Luvox can lead to increased agression and suicidal ideation and tendencies. Eric was in anger management therapy after being on probation alongside Dylan for attempting to steal a vehicle containing thousands worth of valuable electronics and tools. After getting caught, Eric openly expressed his difficulties in managing his anxiety and explosive anger issues that his counselor said, "he frequently blew up and often cried." Revealing that this influences his homicidal and suicidal thoughts, so he was prescribed Fluvoxamine, which is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRIs). These drugs increase the capacity of the brain to receive serotonin.

According to an interview with Eric's friends, they speculate that Eric was off his medication completely for sometime. Abruptly stopping medication can lead to the development of a more violent response. For some people, drugs are able to fix their chemical imbalances, but it can also lead to withdrawal symptoms of taken for over the duration of 6 weeks. Abruptly discontinuing anti-depressants can lead ro rebound depression or relapse. Symptoms may return stronger than before. Furthermore, SSRI's such as Luvox and Prozac take about 5 days to linger in one's system before subsequently washing off.

In a period of 11 months, Eric and Dylan have been under a juvenile detention program at Jefferson County district — this was in 1998, just a year before the shooting. They were allowed to leave the program by early February 1999. After finishing, Eric wrote a letter contained in his juvenile diversion program file. He states, "I learned that thousands of suggestions are worthless if you still believe in violence."

After public demands for stricter regulations on SSRIs after the tragic shooting, Luvox was temporarily banned in 2002. By 2008, drug manufacturers had reformulated Luvox to a controlled-release version specifically designed to treat OCD, excluding indications for depression or anxiety. Subsequently, the FDA approved Luvox CR for the treatment of OCD. The label does not explicitly prohibit prescribing it to the pediatric population, it notes that the smallest dose "may not be appropriate" for children, without providing further explanation.

Eric was about 17 at the time of taking the medication, which means he is part of the pediatric population. Though it's still unclear if he was taking normal doses for a long period of time or taken more than what was prescribed, it is clear that there was negligence with prescribing a child a SSRI that has the posibility of worsening their already apparent symptoms.

Columbine was really a case that opened the public's eyes into the dysfunctional aspects of society and institutions, transcending even to the medical field.

[g1rld1ary]

unlucky ; luke castellan x reader

➻ synopsis: when clarisse mixes up her days, her physio appointment clashes with the exam she was supposed to drive you to. lucky for you, she's got a friend who owes her a favour

➻ word count: 2570

➻ content: swearing, anxious!reader, fluff

➻ not sure how i feel about this but it is written which is more than I can say about all my other wips so...

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were going to ace your exam. There was no other option, you’d prepared for everything. Your flash cards were colour coded and worn thin from revision, your cheap printer had basically had a fit from how many practise questions you’d printed out, and your whiteboard was crammed with revision notes. There was no way you were going to do anything less than stellar, you’d planned out every last detail of the day.

“What do you mean your exam is today?” Clarisse asked you as you stood in front of her, fully dressed and bag all packed. You hadn’t planned on this.

“Clar, it’s Wednesday. My exam is on Wednesday. I need you to drive me or I won’t get there.”

“Oh, Gods. Dude, I totally mixed up the days, I can’t drive you, I’ve got that physio appointment I told you about, the one that has a five month waitlist. I’m so sorry,” Your roommate groaned and you bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. The Ubers around were hopeless, cancelling at the last minute and never actually picking you up — and it wasn’t you, your rating was perfectly high, for the record.

“Fuck,” You both cursed as you tried to figure out a solution. You wanted to be angry at Clarisse, but you knew you couldn’t. It was an honest mistake on her part, and she had to go to her appointment if she wanted to have any shot of getting back into the boat next semester and retain her rowing scholarship. Mostly you were mad at yourself that you didn’t have any backup plans, especially since you always had at least two. You were about to give up and start running across the city to try and make it in time when Clarisse’s eyes lit up, snapping her fingers excitedly.

“I’ve got it: I have a friend who I know for a fact won’t be doing anything right now and owes me a favour. I can get him to drive you?” You hesitated. On the one hand, Clarisse’s friend was probably the only way you were going to get to your exam punctually, but on the other, being in a car with some stranger would drastically heighten your anxiety and throw off all of your routines. With one more moment of thought you swallowed your nerves and nodded yes. Clarisse got on her phone, hurriedly dialling her friend. You watched in uneasy anticipation as she argued with the boy, referencing a myriad of situations you knew nothing about, clearly emphasising how much he owed her. You bit back a smile at that, Clarisse would always keep tabs on who owed her.

Finally she nodded at you and you couldn’t contain your grin. As much as the thought of navigating city traffic with a strange boy made your stomach churn — and not in the good way — your anxiety was completely outweighed by your desperation to get to your exam.

Waiting for him to arrive was a whole different story. Clarisse’s appointment was earlier than yours and so you had to wait on your own, frantically going over your notes again as you sat on the stoop of your apartment building, converse grinding into the concrete anxiously. To his credit, it wasn’t long before he pulled up, pulling into the parking space in front of you far too fast for your liking.

You observed the car skeptically. You didn’t want to judge when he was doing you such a big favour, but it was an integral part of you. The car was old and a bit worn down, but not so much in a ‘the owner’s a slob’ kind of way, more that you could tell it was well loved and had had its share of adventures. You could say the same for the boy inside it. He was beautiful, but you could tell he wasn’t really the type to think about his appearance too much. His shirt was clearly well loved, worn slightly thin from use, and he had a thin scar running down his cheek from his eye. You tried to smile sociably as you climbed in the passenger seat.

“Hi,” You said, introducing yourself quietly as you gripped your notes tightly.

“I’m Luke,” He replied, shooting you a quick smile.

The two of you sat awkwardly for a while, conversation at an uneasy halt. Luke had asked you a few polite questions, but your growing anxiety over the exam made it hard for you to think. At least until Luke had the bright idea of bringing up your roommate.

“So, how do you know Clarisse?” He asked, and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips.

“She’s my best friend!” You grinned, “We were assigned to be roommates in freshman year and ended up getting along surprisingly well for, well, the type of people we are. When it was time to move out of the dorms and get an apartment together, it just seemed natural that we’d continue to live together. You must be part of her other friendship group, then?” Luke was glad you’d started to come out of your shell, the chatty version of you that Clarisse had inspired made the battle against traffic much more bearable.

“Yeah, we all met through the sports program. I was kind of a package deal with Chris, so when they got together she got the blessing of hanging out with me too,” He joked, “How come we’ve never met? I know Chris tells her to bring you all the time.” Your cheeks flushed at being caught out avoiding the group.

“I’m not really good at talking to people, I feel so awkward. Plus I need to study, I don’t have the fallback of sport that Clar does. The times that she’s hosted have been actual coincidences though! I was visiting family the last time you all came to the apartment — promise I’m not actively avoiding you all.” Luke smiled at your bashful expression, tapping along light-heartedly to whatever grunge rock he had playing.

You conversed more easily for a while, you wanted to learn more about him, and Luke was a good conversationalist. He talked about his course in a way which interested you like it never had before. You didn’t think it was possible for economics to sound so fun. Whilst it took your mind off the exam for a while, Luke returning the questions about your major made your anxiety return tenfold, foot beginning to tap incessantly.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go over some of my flashcards just before we get to campus?” Luke agreed of course, piping in with questions to make you expand on what you’d learnt. It was irritating, but only because you knew it was a brilliant way to revise.

You hadn’t expected Luke to be so helpful or so amiable. Although they’d been friends for a year or two, Clarisse rarely mentioned him. Usually the focus of her tales were Chris or Silena, Luke usually featured as the poor boy making a fool of himself through one stupid act or another. Maybe you really would start going out with them if all Clarisse’s friends were so nice.

The closer you got to your exam hall, the quicker you started speaking, words tumbling out so fast Luke could hardly understand them. You were whipping yourself up into a frenzy, and the boy next to you did not know what to do. None of his friends ever got this concerned about their academics, and he had little practice in comforting anxious girls.

When he pulled up to a parking space, you were borderline hyperventilating, shaking hands making the cue cards threaten to spill everywhere. Despite all this, you forced yourself to stop for a moment, making yourself connect your eyes with Luke’s.

“Thank you,” You said, voice surprisingly steady given the moments prior. Luke was admittedly slightly taken aback, but brushed it off much too casually. You weren’t so easily deterred.

“Seriously! You picked up a neurotic girl you don’t know with literally five minutes warning. You let me talk your ear off and basically saved my grade. You’ve got to at least let me, like, get you dinner sometime.” Luke looked like he was gonna argue with your praise but thought better of it, simply shrugging and revealing a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hopped out of the car, pulling your arms around yourself tightly as you tried to mentally prepare yourself for the exam ahead. When you heard your name being called you turned back curiously, to be met with Luke sticking his head out of his passenger side window — how tall was this boy?

“Good luck!” He yelled, cheeky grin on his face. You gave an exaggerated huff, smile creeping onto your face despite your unease. You rolled your eyes, waving goodbye before rushing into the hall, running to catch up with one of the girls you knew from class. Luke smiled, laughing to himself as he pulled out of the park.

The exam was awful. Like, dogshit terrible. Hot flushes of embarrassment shot up from your toes, burning tears sitting in your lash line as you made inane complaints to some of your friends from your cohort, hoping desperately they couldn’t tell how devastated you were.

It all just felt like a waste. After all that revision, sleepless nights and study groups with people you didn’t even really like, the exam was still awful, and you were one more minor inconvenience from a full-blown meltdown. You said goodbye to your friends, and there came the inconvenience: with all the anticipation of getting to the exam, you’d forgotten to figure out how you were getting home.

God you wished you had your license. Or adequate public transport. Before you could talk yourself down from a frenzy you were crying, and sat yourself down on the steps outside the exam hall for a private moment.

The honking of a car made you look up, and the sight of Luke’s old Toyota had your tears turning to ones of relief. You sprung out of your seat, wiping your tears hurriedly as you practically skipped over to his car.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed at your dramatics.

“Couldn’t let the academic weapon walk home across the city all alone could I?” You shook your head enthusiastically, smile erupting on your face as you hopped into the passenger seat.

You sat in somewhat awkward silence as Luke began the drive. Whilst you weren’t still actively crying, it was excessively obvious that you were distraught. Luke didn’t know what to do or how to comfort you, but he was never one to stop trying.

“You know what the best thing about Chris being pre-med is?” He said, and you looked up curiously at the random topic. You shrugged, using the mirror attached to the sun visor to wipe away some of your smudged mascara. “I now know for a fact that chocolate makes serotonin, and that makes you happy. So what d’you say we go get some ice cream?”

Luke took you to an adorable little ice cream parlour a few blocks from campus and bought you both cups of chocolate ice cream, calmly ignoring your protests. Sitting in a booth together it was remarkable how quickly your mood had shifted. Luke was shockingly charming, and seemingly knew exactly what to say to get you to open up, and before long you were chatting as if you’d been friends for years.

He told you dozens of stories of his and Clarisse’s friendship group, recounting all the wild nights and stupid adventures they’d had. You loved it, you’d heard most of them from your flatmate but an alternate perspective made you cackle all over again.

“How did you know when my exam finished? It was three hours long,” You said when there was a lull in conversation. Luke looked uncharacteristically bashful, suddenly avoiding eye contact with you and focusing intently on his ice cream.

“I’ve just been hanging on campus,” He confessed, “I took a lap at five past the hour to try and catch you.” You couldn’t help your grin.

“You are such a softie!” You squealed, shoving his shoulder lightly. He shook his head aggressively but you could have sworn that the Luke Castellan was blushing.

It wasn’t long before Luke was driving you home, the two of you scream singing to Kelly Clarkson (you’d taken over the aux, but Luke didn’t seem to mind that much). You felt a little betrayed that Clarisse had been friends with him for so long and yet you’d never crossed paths. You also wondered how you’d never noticed how hot the guy in all of her Instagram posts was, but that was neither here nor there.

As you pulled up in front of your apartment building you almost felt sad, but for a completely different reason than you were an hour before. All thoughts of your shit exam were gone, replaced by thoughts of Luke and the lightness in your chest he’d caused.

You sat in the car together, clearly hesitant to go. Finally, you knew you had to leave and reached for the door handle.

“Wait,” He said. You stopped. “Our group is going for dinner tomorrow night, uh, you should come. If you want.” Luke was looking anywhere but at you, and you felt your beam even if he couldn’t see it (he could, but for his sanity he was trying really hard to pretend he didn’t).

“Yeah,” You replied breathily, “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” You thanked him again for the lift and the ice cream before hopping up the steps into your apartment. Neither of you could control your giddy grins for an embarrassing amount of time.

When Clarisse got home that evening she was all apologies for her mix up, but when you of all people brushed off her disorganisation she figured something was up.

“So, how was Luke? Not too scary?” She asked as you both sat on the couch, Love Island rerun playing. You tried to answer noncommittally, eyes locked on the screen.

“He was nice,” You said, immediately forcing a laugh at whatever bullshit one of the boys in the villa had said. You could feel Clarisse eyeing you suspiciously, you would never be so vague — especially not when today was such a huge deal for you. Nevertheless she hummed in agreement, sparking a plan in her head.

“Hey, so the group are going to dinner tomorrow, you should come. It’ll be me, Chris, Silena, maybe a few others. Luke’ll be there too, I think.” She feigned innocence, counting them out on her fingers.

“Yeah, ok, I’ll be there,” You replied, trying to play it cool despite never having once agreed to go out with her friends. Clarisse’s raised eyebrow told you all you needed to know about your acting.

[alyrasturnz]

canv you write something like you did for chris but instead of y/n being a part of a really wealthy fam, its her being the daughter of a pastor and matt is just a bad influence and has a motorcycle and her dad just doesnt like him

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM!

❐ summary » in the heart of an opulent estate, y/n lives a life of privilege as the daughter of a revered pastor. her days are filled with the expectations and responsibilities that come with her family's wealth and reputation. however, her world takes a tumultuous turn when she crosses paths with matt, a rebellious soul with a penchant for danger. despite her father's vehement disapproval and stern warnings, y/n finds herself irresistibly drawn to matt.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » not meant for everyone! arguing, blasphemy, mentions of religion, sneaking out

❐ a/n && w/c » training today killed me • 2.48k

your pen glided gracefully across the pristine pages of your notebook, each stroke a delicate dance as you poured your thoughts into your schoolwork.

but then, as the ambient silence enveloped your thoughts, you heard a subtle yet distinct tap on your window, breaking the stillness and drawing your attention away from the page.

you furrowed your eyebrows in curiosity, casting a glance at the clock. 1:15 am. the late hour added a layer of intrigue to the unexpected sound, heightening your sense of wonder and caution.

you averted your gaze to the window, only to find matt standing there, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes twinkling with unspoken secrets and a hint of playful defiance.

your eyes immediately widened in surprise, darting towards the door in a fleeting moment of uncertainty before returning to him, where his presence seemed to command your attention and curiosity.

"c'mon... open it, princess," he coaxed, his voice dripping with a blend of challenge and allure. yet, you shook your head, a silent defiance shimmering in your eyes.

your dad was already disapproving enough, his stern gaze and furrowed brows a constant reminder of his unyielding expectations and silent judgments.

“i drove all the way over here," he said, his words laced with a subtle plea, which stirred a pang of guilt within you, making you acutely aware of the effort he had expended.

"c'mon, angel. it's chilly out here," he implored, his eyes a silent symphony of pleading and vulnerability.

you bit your lip, fingers trembling as they clutched the gold cross pendant adorning your neck, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin. the weight of unspoken thoughts pressed down on you, compelling you to rise. 

each step toward the window felt deliberate, as though you were crossing an invisible threshold. the world beyond the glass seemed to beckon, a silent witness to the turmoil within.

you unlatched the window and pushed it open, the cool night air rushing in. "what are you doing here?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and curiosity, each word carrying the weight of unspoken questions.

"just thought i'd come by and see my favorite angel," matt teased, a playful glint in his eyes. you chuckled, rolling your eyes, and stepped aside, allowing him to climb in. as he did, you closed the window behind him, the sound of the latch clicking into place punctuating the moment.

you cast a nervous glance toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. "you know my dad doesn’t approve of you being here," you whispered, the weight of forbidden rendezvous hanging heavily in the air.

he chuckled, leaning against the window sill with a casual air that belied the tension of the moment. "yeah, i know. that's part of the fun, don't you think?" he replied, his voice laced with a mischievous undertone.

you shifted uneasily, the weight of the gold cross around your neck growing heavier with each passing second. "i don't want to get in trouble, matt. i don't want my dad to be mad at me," you murmured, the anxiety threading through your voice like a delicate, fraying tapestry.

matt leaned against the wall, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "you know, every time i see you, you just get more beautiful," he said, his voice low and teasing, each word dripping with a playful charm that made your heart skip a beat.

you blushed, looking away as the heat rose to your cheeks. "matt, you really shouldn't be here. if my dad finds out..." you trailed off, the unspoken consequences hanging heavily in the air.

he chuckled, stepping closer with a confidence that seemed to defy the tension in the room. "your dad doesn't scare me. but you... you, on the other hand, are a different story," he murmured, his voice laced with a blend of admiration and playful challenge.

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "you're impossible," you said, your voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement.

"impossible to resist, maybe," he said, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. "come on, don't you like a little danger?"

you shook your head, but couldn't suppress the grin that spread across your face. "you're such a bad influence," you said, your voice betraying a mix of amusement and reluctant admiration.

"maybe," he replied, his hand brushing lightly against yours. "but you love it. admit it," he continued, his voice a soft murmur that carried both challenge and affection.

he took another step closer, his breath warm against your ear as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you gently into his embrace. "do you ever think about what it would be like if we didn't have to sneak around?"

your heart raced, the proximity muddling your thoughts and making it hard to think clearly. "matt, we can't..."

"can't or won't?" he whispered, his lips almost grazing your skin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm and tantalizing. "there's a difference, you know."

you shivered, the line between right and wrong blurring with every passing second as his presence enveloped you. "this is crazy."

"crazy good," he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing your arm in a delicate dance that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about you, about us."

you stayed silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. silence enveloped the both of you, a palpable tension filling the space as you looked up at him with unsure eyes. before you could respond, he let out a soft curse under his breath, frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw and the furrow of his brow.

"matt! that's a bad word," you scolded, a mix of shock and amusement dancing in your voice, your eyes widening slightly as you tried to mask a smile.

he laughed, clearly delighted by your reaction. "you know what your dad hates far more than bad words?" he asked, his fingers gently playing with the cross pendant around your neck, the cool metal brushing against your skin.

he paused, letting his hand linger there, feeling the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips. "if your dad were to walk through the door at this very moment and saw me standing so close to you, he'd be furious." he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "doesn't that thrill you, angel?"

your heart skipped a beat, a flutter of confusion and excitement mingling within you, but you shook your head, trying to steady your breath. "i don't want my dad to be mad at me," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might break the fragile resolve you were clinging to.

matt's expression softened, though his eyes still held that teasing spark. "your dad would be so upset," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "he'd see you as a disappointment. a disappointment for letting a rotten sinner like me into your room." his gaze lingered on you, a mix of mockery and genuine curiosity, as if he were testing the boundaries of your defiance.

you took a step back, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you like a heavy shroud. "i think you should go," you said, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure. the room seemed to close in around you, every shadow and flicker of light amplifying the tension between you.

for a moment, he looked like he might argue, his eyes narrowing as if considering a retort. but then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded. "alright, angel. i'll see you later," he said, his voice softening as he turned away, the door closing behind him with a quiet finality.

»--•--«

the ensuing dawn unfurled with a haunting familiarity, as if the very threads of time had conspired to weave the same intricate pattern into the ever-unfolding tapestry of your existence, each moment a reflection of the day that had come before.

delicate, barely discernible taps reached your ears, compelling your gaze to drift languidly toward the window. there, suffused in the ethereal glow of the moon, stood matt, a tender smile dancing upon his lips, as if the very night itself conspired to frame this moment in a dreamlike reverie.

your eyes meandered towards the clock, its hands inexorably marking the passage of time with an unyielding certainty. the lateness of the hour was inescapable.

you released a soft, reluctant sigh, rising from your seat with a sense of inexorable inevitability. as you approached the window, you opened it with a gentle, almost reverent motion. "matt... we talked about this," you murmured, your voice scarcely more than a whisper, carried by the night’s quiet breath.

he climbed in with a mischievous grin, effortlessly dismissing your concern. "come on, let's just go around town. it'll be fun, i promise," he urged, his voice brimming with an infectious enthusiasm that seemed almost impossible to resist.

you crossed your arms, a gesture of steadfast resolve. "matt, we can't keep doing this. it's not right," you said, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and concern.

he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours with an alluring blend of charm and determination. "please? just this once more. i promise, it'll be worth it," he implored, his voice weaving a spell that was difficult to break.

you hesitated, the weight of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind. yet, the way he looked at you, with that spark of adventure and mischief, began to chip away at your resolve. you sighed once more, feeling your defenses crumble under the pressure of his gaze.

"alright," you finally conceded, your voice barely a whisper, laden with the remnants of internal conflict and reluctant acceptance.

matt's face lit up with triumph, a gleam of victory dancing in his eyes. he stepped even closer, the space between you shrinking to a whisper. his fingers, gentle yet deliberate, brushed against your neck as he carefully unclasped the cross necklace you always wore. 

with an almost reverent touch, he placed it on your desk, the act imbued with a silent promise that this moment, this secret, would remain just between the two of you. the air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of his gesture hung heavily in the room.

"let's go," he whispered, his voice a soft caress against the silence. taking your hand in his, you both slipped into the night with the stealth of shadows. the world outside your window, shrouded in mystery and moonlight, awaited the adventures that lay ahead, each step a promise of the unknown.

»--•--«

two hours later, you surreptitiously slipped back into your room, the nascent light of dawn beginning to unfurl across the horizon. as you gingerly closed the window, endeavoring to avoid any telltale creaks, a voice emerged from the shadows behind you.

"y/n."

you froze, the chill of realization seeping into your bones. turning slowly, you beheld your father standing there, holding up your cross necklace. his eyes, typically brimming with kindness, now harbored a tempest of disappointment and anger.

"you went out with matt, didn't you?" he accused, his voice a low but resolute murmur. "how could you? you know how i feel about him."

"dad, i—" you began, but he interrupted, his stern gaze silencing your words.

"he's not good for you. he's dragging you down a path you don't belong on. you're better than this, y/n. you're better than him." he exclaimed, his grip tightening around the gold necklace, the metal glinting ominously in the dim light.

your heart pounded in your chest, a tumultuous blend of guilt and defiance coursing through your veins. "you don't understand," you shot back. "matt's not perfect, but he's... he's more than what you think he is."

"he's tainted," your dad insisted, his grip tightening on the necklace, the tension palpable in the air. "and he's tainting you. this isn't who you are."

tears welled up in your eyes, but you resolutely refused to let them fall, holding onto your last vestige of composure. "if all you want is a life painted in shades of gray for me, then it's just white noise. i need color, i need to make my own choices."

"those choices will lead you away from everything you've been taught, everything that keeps you safe," he argued, his voice rising with each word, filling the room with an escalating tension. "matt is not the future you deserve."

"maybe not," you replied, your voice trembling yet imbued with an unwavering resolve. "but it's my future to decide, not yours."

"you are making a grave mistake," he said, his voice laden with an unyielding finality.

"if it's a mistake," you said, standing tall, exuding an air of unshakable determination, "then it's mine to make.”

your father’s eyes narrowed, a tempest of emotions swirling within them. "you don’t understand the gravity of what you’re saying."

"but daddy, i love him!" you cried out, the words cascading from the depths of your heart.

your father's face flushed a deeper crimson, and his voice erupted in a thunderous roar. "love? you think this is love? this boy is a danger to you, to everything we've built! he will ruin you, y/n! do you understand that?"

you stood your ground, tears streaming down your face but your resolve unshaken. "you don't know him like i do! he's not what you think. he's kind, he's caring, and he loves me too."

"kind? caring?" your father spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "a boy who sneaks around in the dead of night, who leads you away from your family, your responsibilities? that is not love, y/n! that is recklessness and folly!"

"why can't you see that i'm not a little girl anymore?" you shouted back, your voice breaking. "i have to make my own choices, my own mistakes. you can't protect me from everything!"

"i can protect you from this!" he bellowed. "i will not stand by and watch you throw your life away for some... some infatuation!"

"it's not an infatuation!" you screamed, your voice echoing through the house. "it's real, and it's mine. why can't you just trust me?"

"because you're blinded by emotions!" he yelled, his voice raw with frustration. "you can't see the danger, the consequences. and i can't just stand by and let you destroy yourself."

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands. "then maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do. because i need to live my life, not the one you want for me."

with that, you pivoted and dashed out of your room, your father's yells fading into a distant, muffled echo as you descended the stairs and bolted out of the house.

taglist —  @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @frozenpeanutbutterr @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr @sturnobsessedwh0re @cerismo @zainabthescientist @sarosfilms 

[luizd3ad]

Late Night | Poly!Jegulus x GN!Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: James Potter x Regulus Black x GN!Reader WC: 1,005 CW: unhealthy sleep schedule, poly relationship, insomnia(??), slight anxiety, mentions of food (cookies), james worrying, no use of Y/N Author's Note: Damn haven’t wrote anything in a few weeks hope this isn’t like terrible 😅 Summary: You and Regulhs are being night owls

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹

James shot up when he heard what sounded like something being dropped on the floor. 

He immediately put his glasses on and looked to his side, getting a rush of anxiety when he realized he woke up alone. 

You and Regulus weren't there and it had to be at around two or three in the morning considering it was pitch black outside. 

James immediately got out of bed and walked out of the room as quickly and quietly as he could while he felt his heart beating out of his chest and his mind raced.

What if someone was in their home? What if someone was hurting you and Regulus? 

James cursed at himself when he realized he came out of the room empty handed. How did he manage to forget his bloody wand?

He felt as if it was too late to turn back now.

While James was looking around their home in search of you and Regulus he noticed that there was light coming from the kitchen. 

With furrowed brows he proceeded to the kitchen with caution, his mind still getting the best of him.

He peeked into the kitchen and James felt all his anxieties wash away but his confusion only heightened. 

There you and Regulus were talking in hushed voices while… eating cookies?

Were you and Regulus having cookies?

Without him?

James never felt so offended in his life. There you two were the loves of his life having snacks without him! Especially when the three of you should be asleep.

A true betrayal. 

“What are you two doing?” James asked, making his presence known. 

Regulus and you looked up at James slightly startled and looking like two kids who were about to be scolded. 

Which you and Regulus both knew was a possibility since James often stresses about the importance of a ‘healthy sleep schedule’.

Whatever the hell that means.

You immediately grabbed a cookie holding it out to James giving him the biggest smile you could manage attempting to distract him from the fact that it was the middle of the night. “Cookie?” 

Regulus just dropped his head looking down while shaking it obviously not impressed with your attempt to distract James. 

Apparently James wasn't impressed with your attempt either since he took the cookie you had offered him with a quiet ‘thank you’ but then he decided to repeat his question.

How Rude. Literally not at all.

“What are you two doing?”

“Nothing much, you?” Your response earned a small frown from James and a small smirk and chuckle from Regulus.

Regulus proceeded to wrap an arm around you, kissing your head softly trying to hide his amusement from James. “We've been caught darling. No use trying to get out of it now.”

“Worth a shot.” You muttered while shrugging. 

Regulus just chuckled again thinking to himself that you might be spending a little too much time with Barty.

“Are either of you going to answer my question?” James asked concerned and slightly irritated but you knew his irritation was only coming from a place of worry.

James had a tendency to worry a lot about the people he carried about.

Especially you and Regulus. 

Since you could remember James has worried about yours and Regulus sleep schedules. You two could stay up all hours of the night, sometimes even days and you both could function properly which worried James since sleep is very important in maintaining a healthy body and mind. 

“We couldn't sleep so we decided to make cookies.”

“We tried to stay quiet so as to not wake you but someone dropped the backing sheet.” Regulus looked at you with a teasing look in his eyes as you glared at him while you muttered something about it being an accident.

James continued to look at you with a concerned look in his eyes but he couldn't help but feel his irritation faded since he had always found it hard to stay upset with you two especially when you both were the cutest people he has ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

He just couldn't help but worry about your wellbeing. 

“Why didn't you wake me? I could have tried to help you two sleep.” 

“Jamie, it wasn't going to happen for us. It's just one of those nights.” You sent a small smile to James while grabbing his hand, pulling him towards you and Regulus gently. 

Regulus pushes some of James' hair out of his face so he could look in James' eyes; those eyes that Regulus loved with all his heart. “There was no point in all of us being awake mon amour.”

“Plus Jamie you get kinda grumpy when you don't get your beauty sleep.” Regulus nods in agreement while James just scoffs at the both of you but the small smile on his face shows he means nothing by it.

“That's beside the point. You could have still let me try… I just worry about you two sometimes.” 

Regulus pulls James closer so that the three of you are in a hug. “We know mon cerf, and you've done so amazing at helping us but sometimes old habits die hard and that's okay. Just because there's a few setbacks doesn't mean you've failed. We appreciate you so much.”

“We promise that we’re okay. Sleep just doesn't always come easy for us and that's not your fault.”

James sighs and nods, resting his head on you. “You're right, both of you.”

“Yeah. We normally are.” That earns a laugh from both of your boyfriends. 

James goes to give you a kiss on the cheek with a smile on his face while he whispers ‘I love you’. 

James stayed up with you and Regulus for as long as he could, finishing off the rest of the cookie and cuddling on the couch while watching movies.

You and Regulus stood up for most of the night till eventually all three of you were fast asleep on the couch in each other's arms.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹

[normal-thoughts-official]

In the remote recesses of the world, north even to the great Maghreb, live a people with a weird and offputting cousine.

The French, as they're called, partake in the consumption of unique, and oftentimes alarming, ingredients, such as snails, frogs, fish eggs, and, on occasion, juice made of rotten grapes.

The most surprising part of this appalling cultural norm is that it is not, as no doubt thought our readers, the result of famine or lack of resources. Although mainly known for their violent culture, in which it is widely accepted to burn other people's cars, (and, before modern civilization made its way to the region, even take off helpless people's heads with a giant cleaver called the guillotine), the French also have access to rich resources often not exploited by the modern world. One such place is the Landes forest, home to the adorable rabbit, which recently has become a choice of pet for those leaning towards the exotic.

No, the French don't eat such slimy, questionable items out of necessity; it is by choice. As appalling as it may sound, they actually consider the foods derived from such ingredients to be high cuisine, and dishes containing them can be particularly expensive in the small region's economy.

With the blessing of my editor, and the guarantee that a medical team specializing in gastroenterology would be at the ready in case of an emergency, I agreed to travel to the faraway region to sample some of the so-called "delicacies". They were prepared by real, native Frenchs, although inspected by a health expert to make sure the hygienization was adequate. I've always been an adventurous eater, but even I must admit that the prospect filled me with aprehension. Would I be able to stomach the foreign dishes without getting sick, or worse, offending our arson-happy hosts?

My anxieties were initially heightened by the conversation with the French who hosted me; as is typical in their culture, he was offputting and rude, often commenting on the mistakes I made on the weird, twisting tongue I was doing my best to emulate. Still, in the spirit of cultural acceptance and not getting my head cut off, I accepted his socially inapt behavior with grace.

I must admit that the rotten grapes were what I was most curious about. The juice derived from them, known as wine, is considered a delicacy, and there are hundreds of different types of it. In French culture, there are even people whose entire job is to appoint the correct choice of wine to go with any given food; such men and women are caled sommeliers and held in high regard by French society.

I quickly learned that the making of wine is something of an art to the native Frenchs. As my self-important host dizzied me with endless descriptions of different wine varieties, I realized I may have gotten too deep into the turbulent waters of the unique region's palate. Out of the exhausting and oftentimes confusing technical detail, however, I was able to extract an important piece of information: the extent of the rot is important in the making of wine.

That's right, dear reader: they actually prefer it when the grapes are more rotten! Spanning not only decades, but sometimes whole centuries, the French's grapes are left to rot in humid wooden barrels - a tradition that's been kept alive since the Middle Ages -, becoming thoroughly ruined so that their juice may be extracted for the making of wine. And the longer they have been left decomposing with their local fungus, the more valuable the juice is.

I was simply too curious to wait. And even more delighted to find out about yet another culinary tradition I didn't know about: the social gatherings known as wine and cheese, in which wine is paired with a variety of solid, yellow, rubber-like wheels derived from fat extracted from cows' milk - the cheese.

Such unique, foul-smelling dishes are a frequent part of the everyman French's life, being consumed by rich and poor alike in a variety of different recipes from all sorts of French subregions. Among them, I found yet another that would delight my intellect and terrify my stomach: gorgonzola. To the reader not quite as deep in diving into the intricacies of French culture, I shall explain: gorgonzola is but a piece of the aforementioned cheese, left to mold.

I could not believe my ears. These people drank rotten grapes and paired them with rotten cow fat, and they enjoyed it. What to us would be a nightmare scenario in a case of extreme poverty, and a surefire way to earn a trip to the hospital, to them was a quite enjoyable meal.

I later learned that gorgonzola is actually from a neighboring nation close to the French - the Italians. Although officially considered a different tribe, Italians share much in common with the French, including the love for wine and cheese, a quite long border, and a language derived from the same roots - the long-dead Latin, ancient language in which their holy book, the "Bible", was once written.

I am happy to report that my experimentation did not lead to hospital trips, and the most I got was an unusually long carsickness. But I have taken with me much more than the curious experience: traveling to France has helped me expand my horizons, meet new people, and connect with cultures other than my own. Although violent and offputting, the French can be quite amorous, and I was even gifted a piece of cheese from a little girl. It is not an experience I would like to repeat anytime soon, but it's made for an interesting story that helped me grow as a writer, investigative journalist, and, most of all, eater.

I can only hope my stomach has taken some good lessons out of the experience, too.

Cremilda Castanho is a writer, cat-lover, and known foodie, with a knack for finding unexplored depths of cuisine across the world. Her book, What Weirdos Eat, was a Folha de São Paulo best seller, and paved the way for culinary exploration in journalism, earning her a Pulitzer prize.

[coffee-in-rain]

Vulnerable Hannibal Fic Rec List

New addition (located @ the bottom of the page) as of 9/24/2024!

On my previous post, people were interested in finding fics where Hannibal is touch-starved and or dealing with separation anxiety post-fall. So here is a small list of some that may fit that theme! The first five fics are mine, but the rest are some of my favorite fics I’ve ever read that feature vulnerable Hannibal in various seasons, AUs, and post-canon. This list will be updated intermittently!

The Ache Against The Wind (Rewritten): He’d sustained a substantial amount of brain damage throughout the last eleven days, Will had been told. Resulting in Post-Traumatic Amnesia. (Hannibal is tortured in the BSHCI via beatings, laxatives, enemas, starvation and the “water curing” method after his toilet is removed. Will saves him).

Pareidolia: Six weeks post-fall, Hannibal suffers from a seizure during dinner.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots: Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away. (A sequel to Shrike; my housewife Hannibal fic!)

Between The Hour Of Reprieve:

At the cliff house, Hannibal receives a much-needed-hug. (features crying, touch-starved Hannibal).

Shrike (To Your Sharp And Glorious Thorn): Hannibal feels anxious about the prospect of Will abandoning him one day because he isn’t at all capable of being like Molly. His anxiety only heightens when Will gets a job. (features crying housewife Hannibal speaking Lithuanian).

A Cabin In The Woods by KoolJack1: Hannibal is thirteen and runs away from the orphanage when he feels that a fate of the elements will be better than the fate of abuse. He finds a small cabin in the woods, thinking warmth will be all he finds. He also finds Will. But who changes who?

Recipricol Alchemy by Scifibabe: In the silent echoes of his dreams, Will Graham treads a line blurred between control and chaos, each step drawing him inexorably towards claiming Hannibal as his own. It's a perilous dance on the edge of darkness, where the thrill of possession whispers of a transformation too profound to resist.

Hold Me, Don’t Let Me Go by sourweather: It's a few months after the Fall when it finally hits him. Hannibal has barely been touched in 3 years. And Will won't let it go on for another moment.

Hosanna In The Highest by sainthannibal: During the fall, Hannibal receives the brunt of the injuries, which leaves him unable to care for himself. Will discovers how much he enjoys taking care of him.

You Made Me Soup by itsybitsylemonsqueezy: Hannibal comes down with pneumonia while incarcerated. Will decides to make him some soup. Absolutely no one thinks it's strange that Will comes to give his ex soup when he finds out he's sick. No one at all finds this suspicious. At. All.

The Boy Under The Monster’s Bed by Wr4tttttthh: There were deep wounds that needed healing, new and old, physical and otherwise. (features crying, vulnerable Hannibal).

Delicate Ghost by hannigramcracker & TimmyJayBird: She was different- not the ghost of his memories, but something about this bloodied child ripped right at Hannibal's chest, and left him drowning in a cold snow he thought he had left in his childhood, that he had locked away within his skull. Drowning, with only one hand to grasp at, one body to cling to. One man to work him through the trauma and remind him what life was.

You With Those Nails, Me With This Cross by TheBitterKitten:

Will goes too far.

The Distance Is Quite Simply Much Too Far For Me To Row by softhan: Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps.

Silk and Lace by jonnimir: Bedelia leaves Hannibal and Will a gift at the house on the cliff.

[starrrlights]

Based on something in my notes app (copy and pasted too but edited to make sense) maybe oc Jay? Idk

you and Jason had became friends when you were on the streets, helping each other when needed and also just being there for each other. When he became robin, with #BruceWayneBenifits, he was able to help you more. Often letting you have sleepovers at the manor and hanging out. You both grow to have feeling for each other, and you were planning on telling him on his birthday or sum, but he died. So you never find out if he felt the same way or not (he does)

Time skip (5? Possibly 6 even?) Years later when Jason comes back alive and is less vengeful of his death, Jason frequently goes to old book stores to find good books to read. He goes to one frequently and the vibe felt off that day.

He thinks there might be a threat and keeps a good eye on everything. While browsing; surprise, surprise, you are there. Standing somewhat next to him. You obviously don't recognize him right away or at all from how different he looks. You're trying to find a specific book that a friend had recommended and just so happen to get closer to Jason little by little. (You have social anxiety)

You don't want to get to close to this person because of personal space and well, he's huge. Handsome looking, but huge, and a lot of scars. Which was kinda a hot look on him. You steal a few glances at him, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Jason does notice, since the Pit heightened his senses. (I think? I read it from somewhere that it did 🤷‍♀️) He finally looks over at you, expecting you to just be a normal Gothamite who is just scared of his size; when he freezes for a second. Recognizing the your hair and style almost immediately. He thinks he's hallucinating. There no way it was you.

You notice that he was looking at you and you almost shy at his gaze. Mumbling a sorry and returning your gaze to the books in front of you, but knowing that the book you're looking for is probably right in front of the man.

Jason panics a lot in the inside. Do you recognize him? Do you hate him? Are you afraid of him? He's you jaybird, why you'd you be afraid?

You mentally punch yourself and raised your voice a bit, taking a breath.

U: "I think that book I'm looking for is by you. Can I look?"

Oh my god, he's going to say no-

J: "Sure, that's fine."

God, if you could faint, you would. Not only looks handsome, but sounds handsome.

Jason on the other hand let's put a mental and physical sigh of relief, now thinking that you probably don't even recognize him. It saddens him a little at that thought but it was better, way better than having you scared of him.

He scoots over and you scoot closer, looking over more books until your predictions were right and the book you were looking for was right by where he was standing. You mutter a thank you and move so he can continue looking in the spot he was in.

He doesn't even register that you were moving away because he was so enchanted by you. you had grown up and matured. And damn did you look good. A lot better than he did in his opinion.

J: "I-uh, have me met before?"

Jason asked. 'Great going, idiot. All the romance novels you've read and that's what you come up with?' He thinks to himself.

U: "..I don't think so? What's your name?"

He's sweating bullets now. What does he say? Does he sat jason or use a fake name?

"Jason"

You've met many Jason's so you don't think about it. But there seems to be a familiar aura to him. But you can't put a finger on it. It's going to eat you up later but you put the thought to the side for now. Out of habit you stuck your hand out in a polite way.

"(Name)"

Jason almost said "I know" but bite his tongue and nodded, reaching out to shake you hand. Jesus, you hand fit so well with his. So warm and welcoming.

you and Jason talk for a bit more, it was awkward but it worked. You ended up switching numbers for "book recommendations". But you both were giggling like school girl in the inside because of it.

Over several months, you got to know Jason. And he reminded you a lot of Jason, your dead friend and crush. It saddened you a bit but you decided to not dwell on the past so much. You'll just visit his grave soon, again.

It wasn't long before Dick encouraged Jason to ask you on a date. Well, going out for coffee/fav drink bev and talk about books. You agreed and you did the date.

You had a great time. It was slightly awkward but it was just like all the other hang outs, but more special.

Jason asks you what your life is like because he wants to know what your life has been like since he was gone. He had asked before during those mothes about resent stuff, but he wanted to know more, like high-school years and such.

Boring, you said. Mostly the same thing over and over again. You told some funny stories and it made Jason want to genuinely smile. He makes up a few things to not have to talk about the Pit or dying. Or being Red Hood.

You go on a few more dates and finally, he takes you on a fancy one. (Using Bruce's card ofc)

You initially declined going on a fancy date, not really having the money or outfits for it but jason insisted and said he'd had one of his friends to go with for shopping if you needed it. (Steph or Cass idk, some fem friend he has.)

You ended up going shopping with his friend and got a nice dress.

You go on the fancy date and had a great time as always, a bit panic on the bill but jason pays for it all. He's a true gentleman for you and only you.

At this point, your bf and gf

I think jason would wait for about a year, you make sure things are secured and there is a lot of trust in the friendship/relationship before dropping hints that he is your not-so-dead best friend. He just wants you to know that he is back :(

One night, trying to sleep, it clicks for you. You immediately go to his apartment and knock on the door. He thanks whoever runs his life for the great full night of not patrolling that night and answers the door. You have tears going down your face and look puffy. He panics and asks if you're alright. You look at him with a confused but surprised lookin your face

U: "Jason Todd? ... Jaybird?"

He also has a look of shock on his face, happy that you finally got it but also scared of your reaction.

J: "... ... yeah. It's me."

U: "Oh my god..."

You stare at each other for about a solid minute and you break down, crying, hands to your face. He panics more and freezes, not knowing if they were good or bad tears. You reached out and hugged him tight. Feeling his out grown and bigger frame in your arms. You finally have your best friend back. And your dating him. You love him. And you know he loves you. All of your dreams have finally come true. Obv not financial ones but wvr.

It ends up with you cuddling jason on his bed or sum. idk.

Kinda long ngl, I have a good grasp of what his character is like but I may have a few things wrong. Pls tell me if something is ooc, I'd probably fix it or sum 🫶🏻😭

[wickedscribbles]

whoever makes my baby cry (is gonna lose some teeth tonight) ch. 3

Masterlist

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: flirting, anxiety, insecurity, drunk background characters, canon-typical violence, communication issues, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

Word Count: 4.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

In theory, it's been a good day.

At the very least, it’s a lot less terrifying than Logan had built it up in his mind to be. Wade never really let him in on what his plans were, so he’s just along for the ride as they travel across the sprawl of the city. Interestingly, he notices that Wade keeps their hands linked as they wait for the next bus – not an unpleasant experience by any means, but something they’ve never really done before. Though each of them often remains close enough to crawl inside the other when within the privacy of the apartment, PDA isn’t something they’ve ever really done.

For Logan, general proximity has always been enough. Knowing where Wade is, having his heartbeat and scent to go off of. An occasional brush of fingers isn’t unusual, a playful hip knock. Being more visible as a couple out in the public eye is new, and Logan wonders if it has anything to do with Wade’s insistence on going out looking…well. The way that he currently does.

His gut is telling him yes.

But Wade’s humming contentedly to himself as they’re squished into a seat, shoulder to shoulder. His mind can’t help repeating back to him how much going out like this seems to mean to Wade, and Wade has somehow come to mean a hell of a lot to him. So he keeps his mouth shut and explores the hand-in-hand situation, rubbing his thumb in small circles over the skin of Wade’s palm. Turns out, the man’s got a whole itinerary for the day. Which makes sense, considering it’s Wade. Logan can’t imagine him taking them out for lunch and then going right back to the apartment after all the fuss he’s already kicked up.

“So,” Wade starts, in a tone that Logan’s grown fond of. “I was thinking we’d start with lunch – I don’t know about you, but I worked up an appetite from this morning –”

Logan promptly elbows him in the ribs.

“Wade –”

There’s a pint sized kid in the aisle across, staring at them with curious blue eyes. Wade turns to see what he’s looking at, then shrugs.

“Okay, slow down, Mr. Pervert. You think I’m handing out details of my personal life for free? And to minors, no less? If they want that sort of information they can lie about their age, like the rest of us did when the internet was the wild west of all things freaky.”

He looks over at something Logan can’t see. “And like some of them still are. Don’t think I don’t fucking see you.”

“See what?”

“Nothing, kitty cat. Anyway,” Wade continues, excited.

Logan listens patiently as he’s given every last detail of what they’re going to do and where they’re going to go. Does it sound like a lot of interaction with the general populace he wouldn’t normally seek out? Yeah. But does it also seem like Wade put a ton of effort into making sure it’d be a combination of things they’d both enjoy? Also yes.

“Sounds nice,” Logan tells him when he’s through explaining, and Wade gives him a tentative smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He puts an arm around Wade’s shoulders, and it doesn’t take heightened senses to catch the obvious delight emanating from him at the new contact.

So they meander through the massive sprawl of the city, venturing to places Logan’s never had a reason to go. If he’s being honest with himself, his circles are pitifully small. He likes to stay within certain neighborhoods if he can help it, places he already knows, close to home. The only time he really strayed from that trend was when he was trying to figure out what home was. Once he has a routine, he likes to keep to it.

Wade tends to veer toward the opposite. He likes a little spontaneity – hell, impulse may as well be his middle name. Logan’s not surprised when they go off path from one part of the day to something unexpected that catches Wade’s attention. He’s known him long enough to just accept that that’ll happen sometimes, doesn’t mind it.

It’s actually nice to be somewhere he’s not used to. Logan didn’t realize that he’d been growing a little restless himself until given the opportunity to see something outside of the daily to and fro, as comforting as that had become. The cheerful spring weather holds as Wade takes him to walk through some of the biggest trees Logan’s ever seen in his life, and later still as they weave their way through a public market.

They’ve been walking all day by the time Wade points them in the direction of their final destination, but Logan doesn’t feel (that) overwhelmed or at all bored. It’s…it’s nice. Seeing more of the city was probably good for him.

Dusk brushes across the sky, tentative. They walk together down the sidewalk, sometimes dodging to the side for a passing crowd. There’s more going on here in terms of entertainment than where they’re living – probably why he’s never been out this way.

Logan can’t help but take an occasional glance at Wade. The makeup’s become smudged throughout the day, and it’s a relief to see the actual Wade beginning to poke through a bit.

“I’m still waiting for it,” Wade says, looking at Logan wryly.

That makes him nervous. “Waiting for what?”

“Waiting for you to say, ‘huh, jeez, Wade, guess living here doesn’t suck the absolute balls that I always say it does.’”

He rolls his eyes. “Those the exact words you think would come out of my mouth?”

Wade nods, his expression solemn. “Verbatim. You’ve picked up some very unbecoming slang from hanging around Al so much, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“More like from hanging around you.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about!” Wade brings them to a stop. “The Logan that I dragged home would have just growled all sexy for the camera and stabbed me somewhere. He didn't banter like this.”

“Sooo…you’re saying you’re a bad influence.” He smirks.

They’re right outside the bar Wade wanted to poke his head into – some little hole in the wall joint Ellie, Laura, and Yukio won’t stop talking up called The Spork. Even from outside, Logan can hear and feel the pulse of the music. He can already tell that it’s going to be zero percent like the bars he’s frequented in the past. That’s probably for the best.

“Well, you did take off your chastity ring for me, didn’t you, sweetheart?” His voice dips lower on sweetheart, eyes roaming Logan’s chest through the strain of his shirt.

Fuck, he’s seriously starting to regret not taking Wade up on his offer this morning. They could have gone another round in under thirty minutes, right? (Wrong.) Logan can feel his cock stirring with interest, and though the street is growing dark now, it’s not something he wants to advertise.

“We goin’ in or not?” he mutters instead, fully aware that he’s lost the ability to quip back.

Sure, yeah, maybe he’s gotten better at keeping up, as Wade had said. But there’s no topping him when it comes to having a smart fucking mouth. He’s half-convinced Wade could just talk him to orgasm – and he wonders if it’s something they’ll ever try.

Wade chuckles a little at him.

“Don’t have to,” he says. “I know those dad shoes have seen more traction in the past eight hours than they’ve probably gotten in the last six months, so if you want to head home, we’ll head home.”

Again with this shit! Between him and Laura he’s never going to get away with any choice of footwear without getting roasted like he’s standing on the fucking sun.

“They’re literally just –”

“White New Balance, baby, I know.” Wade’s still grinning a little. “After you.”

He holds the door, and it only takes seconds for the two of them to become engulfed in sound. The bar is crowded with people he’d guess are probably around Laura’s age, a flurry of bright hair colors and crop tops, makeup on every kind of face. Queer couples whisper and laugh with each other, nursing drinks. Groups of friends pose for pictures. Lights dance from the ceiling, and the speakers are blasting a voice he’s become all too familiar with as Laura’s started turning the album on every time she’s in his car.

You know what they say – never waste a Friday night on a first date.

But there I was, in my heels with my hair straight, Logan finishes in his head, led by Wade to the bar by their connected hands.

“Be right back,” Wade says near his ear, careful not to yell. “You getting anything?”

Logan shakes his head. “Not if we’re just in and out.”

“Gotcha.”

He watches as Wade melts away into the crowd, side-stepping and inching through far more gracefully than Logan could until he slips into the restroom.

It’s easy to see why The Girls – as Ellie, Yukio, and Laura have come to be known in his mind – like it here. Inclusivity comes easier in cities, he knows that. But it’s still not perfect. Even harder when you have supernatural abilities you never asked for on top of it all.

Logan wonders if there are any more mutants in the crowd tonight.

Wade is taking a very long time. Shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, Logan glances back to where he’d last seen him. Is he being too paranoid? Should he just wait and give it another minute? Fuck. He wished his brain wouldn’t turn everything into a disaster. It occurs to him that the bar is getting louder and louder and he can smell so much sweat and cigarette smoke and weed in here.

No, actually, fuck it, he’s going. There’s no harm in just walking in and seeing if he’s alright.

Anxiety spiral! Jess says cheerfully in the back of his head. He ignores her.

With one hand placed on the bathroom door, he’s just in time to almost fully collide with the man he’s looking for.

“Shit,” they say at the same time, getting out of one another’s way.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan says first, squinting as a flash of light from the overhead rig shines in his face. “You okay, bub?”

Sometimes eating genuinely does make Wade sick. Logan doesn’t know if it’s the cancer or a side effect of how his regenerative ability works for him, but there are days when food just doesn’t do it for him. Usually they can both tell when that’s going to happen, though. They’ll hole up in the apartment, turn on some good movies, and just be together while Logan rubs Wade’s back all day. He’s happy to do it for him; he’s prepared to take him straight home and do it now.

But Wade doesn’t smell sick.

When Logan blinks the last of the light away, he’s left looking at Wade, who is definitely not looking at him. In fact, he’s staring at his shoes, looking like he wants to crawl through the floor.

His face is clean, all the carefully applied makeup scrubbed away.

Logan opens his mouth to say something like okay, I’m glad you took that off, I like your actual face, but Wade beats him to the punch.

“Sorry,” Wade says softly. “It was getting all smudged, and…sorry.”

Tears gather hot and burning in the back of Logan’s throat. Out of nowhere, he’s furious, fucking outraged that Wade could feel this way about himself when it’s so clearly untrue. It’s the kind of emotion that he’s not sure he can shove down or redirect this time. Part of him knows that if Wade sees the look on his face, he’s going to read it the wrong way. And he needs to get out of this bar, right now.

He's like a string pulled too tight. Even the pressure of a breath could make him snap.

“Can we please leave.”

That’s all he can make himself say, the words coming out all taut and emotionless. It makes him feel like shit, but that’s all he can manage to get out.

Wade nods, and Logan offers his hand once more. A meager consolation prize compared to what he actually wants to tell him. Logan hates how lacking his brain-to-mouth output is. Whatever he ends up saying always sounds so inarticulate. Right now he’s staring at Wade’s profile in the gentle pulsing of the colored lights, thinking a million things. All of them thrum within him harder than his own heartbeat.

I love you.

You’re beautiful.

I hate that you thought you had to change for me.

I would kill for you.

I would live for you.

Ten feet until they’re outside – he can do that. Then he can fix this.

Logan’s eyes are fixed on the door, on the cool air drafting in as it opens and closes, when he’s shoved hard from the right.

“My bad,” says a voice at once. “Shit, my bad man, my bad.”

Logan grits his teeth so tight he feels one of them crack. He swallows the loose piece.

“Don’t worry about it.” Shut the fuck up and let me leave.

The man who bumped into him is so obviously wasted that he might as well be wearing a flashing neon sign. He sways a little on his feet, supported only by the sweet-looking woman he keeps bumping back into, as if she's the only thing keeping him upright. Brawny and dressed like he's just walked straight from his fraternity house, he squints at Logan and Wade like he's seeing double. Shit, maybe triple, at this point.

“Jake, maybe you need to sit down,” the woman says to him softly.

Her face is flushed, more from embarrassment than alcohol. She's staring up at the guy, one small hand on his arm, but Jake is looking at the two of them like he's never seen gays over thirty before. Hell, like he’s never seen a queer in general, which is astounding, considering the bar he’s currently standing in.

Logan can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It’s a rare occasion when someone who’s looked at him like that didn’t end up pissing him off, and he’s already one step away from wanting a good excuse to tear into someone. Anyone.

“C'mon, just sit down with us, I'll get you some water.”

The guy isn't interested. He's too busy looking at Wade now, and Logan can see the thought forming on his face before he dares to speak it.

“Jesus, man, you're kinda ugly, did you know that?”

To Wade's credit, he says fucking excuse me? at the same time Logan's fingers close around the asshole’s throat.

For someone who'd been wobbling around only seconds before, Jake tries to pry them off with surprising accuracy. It only makes him squeeze tighter, watching with brutal satisfaction as his face turns darker shades of red.

That’s better. This, he can understand. For Logan, actions are almost always easier than words, especially when tinted with violence. Especially if he’s needed it for weeks now.

In his periphery, he can tell that several things are going on. The college girl is touching his elbow, asking him to stop, something like I’m so sorry please let him go I know he’s had way too much. Wade is standing back a ways, hands in his pockets, grinning more broadly than Logan’s seen all day. A small crowd is starting to gather.

Their faces are only inches apart. He knows he should walk away, just take Wade and go home.

Somewhere behind him, Wade is having the time of his life calling this frat boy a piece of shit. Logan can’t even keep up with half of what’s coming out of his mouth, but he hears something about getting his haircut off of a middle schooler’s Tiktok FYP but having his dad’s mental health issues, and those both seem like pretty deep cuts. He doesn’t fail to mention, of course, that Logan’s about to turn him into the wet food that they make for cats.

“C’mon, fuckface,” Jake wheezes, trying and failing once more to loosen his grip. “You mad your boyfriend ain’t pretty or–”

That’s all it takes. Logan curls his free hand into a fist and punches the other man so hard his nose breaks with a tidy snap. Blood pours out of him like a busted faucet as he punches him twice, three times, and in seconds he’s howling and pleading for him to stop – he didn’t mean it, he promises he didn’t mean it.

If it were up to Logan, he’d stay there and beat him until the fucking punk was barely capable of stringing a sentence together, then make him say thank you for letting him live. As the situation stands, however, several people are definitely calling the police – and that’s not something Logan has the patience for.

“Hey, Testosterone Tommy, we gotta go,” Wade calls, reading his mind.

Without another word, Logan turns his back to the mess he’s made, and they make short work of disappearing into the street.

By the time they’ve ducked through enough alleys and carved a confusing enough path that they don’t think they’re in danger of being pursued, Wade lets out a breath.

“Thanks for uh, defending my honor back there, peanut.”

Logan shrugs, still tense from the weight of the conversation he knows they need to have.

“It was nothin’. He needed to shut the fuck up. I was happy to provide the service.” He looks over at Wade in the soft light of a street lamp, who chuckles a little at that. “And I knew you woulda hit him yourself if I didn’t get there first,” he adds.

Wade's answering silence makes him wonder if he would have just taken the insult and kept walking, or turned it into a joke even if it made him feel like shit.

When they arrive back at the apartment, Laura opens the door, a wriggling Puppins in her arms, and scrunches her nose at the sight of Logan.

“Thought it was a date, the hell?” she says. “You’ve got blood on you.”

“Don’t all your dates end in bloodshed?” Wade says, shrugging. He turns to let the dog inspect his face with her mouth, which she does with excruciating enthusiasm. “Hi Puppins! Hi baby!! Did you miss us? You did! Anyway, we can’t go to your bar anymore.”

Laura doesn’t look that surprised. “What did you do?”

“Logan tried to kill a guy ‘cause he called me ugly.”

“I did not try to kill him,” Logan growls, passing Laura her phone as she goes to collect her things. “I just shook him up a little.”

“In a very heroic, brash, and manly way,” Wade sings, putting an arm around his waist. “The other guy really did gush, Laura, you would’ve loved it.”

She only shakes her head and sighs. “If you say so. I gotta get home, I work at six tomorrow.”

“Thanks for dogsitting! And catsitting, too, I guess.”

“Haha, I didn’t even see him.”

Logan walks her to the door while Wade wanders deeper into the bedroom. Every time Wade tells him stories about the Other Logan, and this Laura, he tries to imagine if he can feel that connection. It’s not the same as what he feels for her now – not as massive and deep as that love had to have been – but he still cares for her. He wants to see her do well. Growing up the way she had wasn’t easy, he knows that much. And she’s a good kid. Logan knows she’s trying to do her best – even if she sometimes gets into scraps of her own.

“Thanks, kid,” Logan says as they hover in the doorway. “Have a good shift, yeah? Try to behave yourself.” From the stories he’s heard from her working as a lead at a grocery store, people aren’t always the kindest.

“Could say the same to you,” she fires back, smiling before she turns down the hallway.

He watches until she’s gone before shutting their door and locking it. When he turns, Bonnet is staring at him from the little nook under the far left kitchen cabinet, his favorite place to hide.

“Hey, buddy,” Logan calls softly, bending down. Bonnet comes to him at once, tail lifted. “What'd you do today, huh?”

The massive tabby answers him with a quiet mrow, butting his head against Logan's hand. They stay like that for a moment, each of them comforted by the other.

When Logan makes his way to the bedroom, he finds Wade already in pajamas, scrolling on his phone. Wade glances up at him with a soft smile, watching him unbutton his shirt and toss it into the hamper.

“So…overall, was it an okay day?” he asks as Logan shuffles into bed beside him in only his boxers, landing with a heavy sigh. “Worth repeating, sans the whole dramatic knockout bit towards the end?”

His hand is already carding through Logan’s hair. Wade shuffles closer to let Logan sling a leg over his hip the way he wants to, recharging after a long day of being on the go.

“‘Course,” Logan mutters. The gentle way Wade’s touching him makes his whole body go limp and relaxed almost at once. He didn’t realize how much the day had weighed on him until he felt that weight lifting. “‘Course I’d go out with you again. Didn’t really know it was that important or we coulda – coulda gone a lot sooner.”

He feels Wade shrug. “Well, it took me a minute to learn how to get all the stuff right, otherwise I might have –”

Logan sits straight up in a way that makes the bed jolt. He looks Wade right in the eye, taking in the surprise, taking in every inch of his face, aching that Wade doesn’t think he’s good enough to go out without slathering shit on.

“Wade. For once in your life, shut the fuck up and let me say something. Please.”

“Yeah, okay. You’re kind of leaving me no choice, but okay.”

Huffing out a frustrated breath, Logan pauses to think. Everything he’s itching to say will come out angry, or make him want to cry. He doesn’t want either of those options to happen – he wishes he could just fucking say hard things without it being like this. Like his heart’s going to explode out of his chest.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging his hands across his face. “Fuck, Wade.”

“What?” He feels a hand on the side of his neck, feels Wade’s heartbeat pick up. Nervous. “Peanut, what’s the matter?”

“I didn’t want – I didn’t ask you – it wasn’t – you’re not – fuck.”

He can’t breathe. Wade notices.

“Just take a minute. I’m not going anywhere.”

Feeling very small and stupid and embarrassed the entire time, Logan closes his eyes and does as Wade asks. Forcing himself to breathe in and out until his chest doesn’t feel like it’s caved in on itself. Hating that this is so fucking hard. Other people don’t have to do this. Why is he like this?

Finally, he finds his voice again.

“Wish you didn’t go out looking like that,” he admits at last. “You didn’t need to do that for me. I didn’t want it, Wade. Wanted you.”

Logan peers up at Wade, who has a small, bitter sort of smile on his face. It’s probably one of the farthest things he’s seen from his genuine grin in some time.

“As the Irish forest man himself would say, you’re too sweet for me,” he says. “But you’re used to me, bud. You don’t get it.”

Exasperation roars like fire in Logan’s mind. “What the hell don’t I get? Wade. I’ve been lookin’ at you for a year now. I like it. Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

There are fucking tears in Wade’s eyes, though he blinks them back fast, and Logan’s own throat burns in instant empathy.

“I said, you don’t get it,” he says again. “You didn’t know me before. You didn’t see what I looked like then. And if you had, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be sticking around now.”

They’re both bolt upright in the bed now, tense, facing each other. Logan can’t tell whether he’s more angry or hurt that Wade would still cling so tightly to thinking about himself like this, but whatever held him back from speaking before is long gone now. It’s time to be mad.

“News flash, jackass,” he barks. “I did see you. And yeah, maybe you were cute, but you weren’t all that. So pull yourself out of this fuckin’ –” he throws his hands up “-- hole of self pity. I love you the way you are right now, not some fake version you feel like you have to slap on.”

Wade stares at him.

He can only hold the tough act for a half second before he wonders if he’s gone too far. Because getting Wade Wilson speechless? That is a rarity, and a cause for concern.

“Sorry,” Logan says lamely, after another long beat. “If that was too much, then sorry, I just don’t want you to think you’re not good enough to –”

“You mean it?” Wade says, his voice small. “The – the love thing.”

Oh. Oh shit. He’d fully said that.

“Yeah,” Logan answers, laughing a little. “Yeah, I do.”

And fuck, he does. There’s no use pretending it’s not true anymore. He loves the stupid little songs he sings in the morning and the way he hums when he’s sleepy and how much he loves the dog. He loves how much he cares about the people in his life. He loves how fucking smart he is and how he can crack a joke with absolutely no effort. He loves his weird taste in music and how he looks in his clothes.

He loves.

He loves.

He loves.

“I really do,” Logan tells him, cupping Wade’s cheek, pulling him in to kiss him. The way Wade kisses him back is so soft, and he’s laughing too, a breathless little sound against Logan’s mouth. He climbs into his lap and wraps his arms tight around him, and they stay like that for a long time, rocking back and forth, close, warm.

“Sorry it took so long,” Logan tells him after a while. The fact that Wade had said it first, and so much earlier, still fills him with guilt.

“S’okay,” Wade answers. “It was worth it.” He places more kisses to Logan’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. “So…can I fuck you to celebrate this little revelation? Like, a lot?”

“Yeah, please.”

[blankwashed]

PART 1 PART 2 IS HERE!

Satoru Gojo (role play, praise kink, katoptronophilia)

Satoru looooves to role-play, even when the both of you aren’t having sex. Why? Because having the pressure of the world on your shoulders is not something anyone likes. This was an idea suggested by you when you first saw him stressed. At first, it didn’t have anything to do with sex but you thought, hey, why not. Surprisingly, Satoru accepted your idea.

Ah yes, of course Satoru has a praise kink. The man himself gets pleasure whenever he hears praises from you. “Such a big cock, daddy” “Your fingers give me so much pleasure, Toru”. He has this kink ever since he was born but only sexually when he met you.

Katoptronophilia. Similar to the second kink, he loves himself. Whenever you’re away or on a night out with your friends, Satoru would sit in front of the mirror, looking at himself while jacking off. Hands around his own neck, choking himself as if it were you. But when he cums, he strangely will moan his own name.

Nanami Kento (melolagnia, praise kink, breeding kink)

Kento definitely is triggered sexually by music. Listening to jazz and R&B are his favourite whenever he's with you. Frank Sinatra and Billie Holiday are his go-to choices while fingering you with his thick and calloused fingers.

It's clear as day that Kento has a praise kink. It makes all the difference when you're his boss. "Such a good report, Kento." "You deserve a promotion, Kento.". Totally gives him a boner when you say it.

Daddy Kento would surely have a breeding kink, in my opinion. The way he leads his workmates already shows his natural dominance and protectiveness. He would risk his life for them without a second thought, displaying a level of commitment that is undeniably attractive. You can picture him, strong and commanding, taking control in the bedroom with the same intensity. The very thought of him, his firm hands on your hips, his deep voice promising to breed you, ignites a fire within you. The way he moves, the way he looks at you, everything about him screams power and control, making you crave his touch, his attention, his love. Suguru Geto (breeding kink, group sex, dirty talk)

Suguru's breeding kink stems from his desire for control. The thought of his partner carrying his child excites him, a way where his dominance is shown.

Whenever Sugu has group sex, all he thinks about is control and exhibiting dominance. He would be in command and be satisfied by others. He wants to be in control of your pleasure. "Do as I say" or "You're mine to use" are some of the phrases he would say while he sees how wet you've become.

He would surely be into dirty talk. Sex doesn't have to always be in the bedroom for him. Raunchy texts and photos that he sends to you would assist you in getting off. Choso Kamo (blood play, protection kink, vore)

Choso would use his power to manipulate blood to enhance intimacy and control in various ways. His ability to control blood could be used to create intense, unique sensations during intimate moments.

We all know that Choso is very protective over his siblings. The act of safeguarding someone would heighten his arousal, making him feel powerful and needed. He would say "trust me, princess” or "i'll make you feel good" whenever your anxiety kicks you on the bed.

The idea of consuming or being consumed, of holding life and power within himself. Usually, Choso would be a softie, a blank canvas so this fetish taps into his intense desire for intimacy and control. He gets off with the concepts of protection and possession Toji Fushiguro (gagging, dd/lg, money kink)

It's clear as day that this man has a gag kink. If you don't think so, then I don't know which Toji Fushiguro we're talking about. BUT, he definitely shows his s/o tons of love and care. Everything is consensual but who wouldn't want Toji to wrap his big hands around their neck?

This is pretty cliche but the man loves power. It doesn't matter what kind of fantasy we're talking about but there's no doubt that he wants you to be his little. Or a switch. "ride daddy just like that, slut" or "how's this feel, princess?"

AH OF COURSE, money. Imagine this, you coming home from work with your pay in hand. The whiff of money would remind him of the times when he was broke and desperate for it. His eyes would darken with a mix of hunger and nostalgia, a reminder of the struggles he faced. The sight of you holding the cash would ignite something primal in him, a desire to reclaim those moments, but this time with power and control. The both of you would role-play as a thief and victim to spice things up.