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rosenclaws · 3 months ago

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Cute || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Sometimes dating Logan comes with its difficulties. Especially when you feel like you just can't compare.

warnings: fem!reader, insecurity, jean slander im sorry bby but ur a plot device for this fic.

wc: 2.4k

a/n: I'm gonna be so honest I had this idea last night and I thought it would be fun to write but I finished it and I really hate my writing for some reason this week so I'm not happy with it but I wanted to get something out so here it is ig 😭

You never should have eavesdropped. You didn't mean to. But you heard Logan and Jean talking and you just...you couldn't resist.

Logan. Well he was everything to you. You never dreamed of being the one to wake up next to him. To be the one who gets to kiss him, to call him yours. You pined after man for a long time. Ever since you stumbled your way to the mansion Logan had invaded your heart. Powers that felt like nothing compared to the omega level mutants just down the hall.

Super senses and magnetic sensitivity that could barely movie a fridge magnet. People could shapeshift, teleport, and turn to metal. Compared to them you were no one, just another mutant living at the mansion.

For years you watched him from afar, falling deeper in love with him every day. Despite being so private Logan was gossiped about fairly often. The kids were drawn to him and his protective nature. The stories spread until he was something of an urban legend walking among commoners.

He’s over 150 years old who knows what he’s done in all that time. Stories of his heroics, his dark moments, his triumphs and his devastating losses. You tried not to pay any mind to them but you just couldn’t help yourself. He is the Wolverine. He may not lead the X-Men or enjoy the spotlight but he is undeniably a legend.

Whether he wants to be or not.

He didn’t even know your name, or at least that’s what you thought. It was something out of a fairytale the first time you two truly talked. The mansion was on lockdown because of a blizzard but you needed to get stuff for the lab. It was urgent and it couldn't wait. You were going to go alone but Logan had stopped you before you could even take one step out of the doors.

"Now where do you think you're going?" You yelped at the sound of his voice. Your ears folded back as you spun to see Logan standing behind you.

"Out." You said shyly. This is the longest conversation you think you've had with him. Your eyes glanced up to meet his but you could only look for a second. He just made you so nervous.

"Out? In 10ft of snow? You're going to freeze your damn ass off sweetheart." He raised an eyebrow as he gestured to the heavy snowfall outside. You felt your face heat up at the nickname.

"I'll be fine, promise." You bundled your coat and headed down the driveway, your ears perked up as you heard a second set of footsteps behind you.

"Logan, I said I was fine." You stopped and stared at the white snow in front of you. His heavy footsteps caught up to yours as he stood in front of you. Snow fell on top of his poufy hair, a cigar sat in his mouth.

"I'm sure you can take care of yourself, but I won't let you. So this better be worth it." Without another word he turned and continued down the driveway, leaving you stunned and rushing to catch up to him.

How he knew you were leaving was a mystery, you never asked. But you keep that moment close to your heart. By the time you returned to the mansion you were covered in snow and your face was freezing but you didn't care. Not when Logan had given you his jacket half way through the trip.

As you shake the snow off your hair you see Logan watching you, he's stripped down to just a t-shirt and your eyes dart to his arms. He walks up to you, a small smirk on his lips as your heart stops in your chest. You could smell his cologne and it was utterly overwhelming.

"Cute." He hummed. He walked away, whistling lowly as he headed back to his room. Oh it just wasn't fair how easily he could turn to you to a puddle of mush.

Logan continued to flirt and find ways to be around you, to talk to you. Until he actually asked you out on a date. Taking you to a diner just outside of town and buying you a milkshake. A little old fashioned to the point you asked if he had done this back in the 50's too. He just rolled his eyes at you but you saw that little smile he tried to hide.

You could barely believe that the Wolverine wanted you and honestly neither could some of the other mansions residents. You tried to block them out as best as you could but your super hearing made it hard. But Logan could hear them too and he always did his best to soothe your worries. But sometimes the words buried themselves under your skin, wrapping around your heart and they just won't let go.

There's...one thing that has always bothered you, maybe it's why you let those words get to you so much. Logan loves you, he's said it before and you know it's hard for him to be open and vulnerable. You kiss, you hold hands, you do...other things behind closed doors. But there's one word that just seems to haunt you.

Cute.

Logan calls you cute all the time and you like when he does but that's all he calls you. Not beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, stunning. Just cute. Your quiet nature and shitty powers already make it hard for people to take you seriously sometimes and for Logan to just see you as cute, it hurt.

You're not a literal goddess like Ororo or stunning like Jean or beautiful like Marie. It was slowly killing you inside every time he called you that. But you kept it to yourself, you couldn't lose him. You loved him and you just had to believe he loved you too.

Which brings you to this stupid conversation with Jean. She was never your biggest fan and you think it has something to do with the fact that Logan used to chase after her. It was no secret that Logan had a thing for Jean since the day he showed up at the mansion. But that was years ago and he promised he was over it, that he's moved on.

So why is it so hard to see them together?

You really didn't mean to intrude, you were just looking for Logan. Your ears perking up when you heard his voice coming from the kitchen. As you neared closer you heard that he wasn't alone.

"You seem happier." Jeans voice was light but you could sense a hint of hostility as she talks.

You peaked into the kitchen and saw them together, alone. Logan was leaning against the counter with a root beer and Jean was next to him, a little too close for your liking. You should leave, you shouldn't listen this is an invasion of privacy. But your feet stayed rooted to the ground. Unmoving.

"I am." Logan says as he takes a sip of his drink.

"Look Logan, we're old friends right? So you can be honest with me." Jean places her hand on his wrist and he doesn't move.

"Are you sure about her? I mean the two of you together, it's a bit odd isn't it."

"Odd? The hell is that supposed to mean?" Logan narrows his eyes as he tries to understand what Jean was saying. She laughs and you feel your heart clench.

"She's like your pet Logan, cute but not very serious. She's not what you need." There's that damn word again. Cute. Her voice cruel and uncaring. As if she was just stating the obvious. And maybe she was. There's the knife, stabbing right into your heart.

"Be honest Logan, is she really what you want?" She asks. You wait for his response. You wait and wait. The knife twisting with each passing second. Shredding your heart to pieces as he stays quiet.

"Stay out of my head Jean." He growls, slamming the now empty bottle onto the counter.

Is that all he has to say? Really? The knife falls to the ground a bloody mess, leaving your heart completely and utterly broken. Suddenly the once comforting smell of his cologne is suffocating.

So you just run.

Run far away from the mansion, from Logan and Jean. From everybody. You just run and run until you can't anymore. You bury your face in your hands and let the tears fall. Tears of anger and hurt and sadness stream down your face. Who were you kidding? Logan is the guy of your dreams and now you're waking up. A pet. Is that really how everyone sees you? Some cute little thing to entertain Logan until he moves on to someone else? You don't know how long you're out in the small forest behind the mansion.

You slowly walk back, needing to just lock yourself in your room for the foreseeable future. The sun is gone and you've definitely missed dinner. There's a few lights left on by the time you reach the open clearing. Your arms are wrapped around your self as you keep your head low. You just feel purely defeated. You slip in the back door and up the stairs to your room. As you place your hand on your doorknob you hear a very angry Logan.

"Where the fuck have you been?!"

"Nowhere." You snap as you open your door and try to close it in his face. He slams his hand on the door to stop you. He follows you inside and slams the door shut.

"Nowhere? I looked everywhere for you. No one knew were you went. Do you know how worried I was?" He growls, the veins on his neck are bulging. You roll your eyes and it ticks Logan off even more.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"Sorry is your little pet misbehaving?" You snap, your fist balling in anger as you finally face him. Logan's eyes widen when he sees the tears in your eyes.

"What?"

"I heard you and Jean in the kitchen Logan." You wipe your eyes as you slowly step closer to him. "She's just a pet, be serious Logan." You mock in anger.

"Trust me that's not the first time I've heard that before, but you." You shove his chest but he doesn't move, he's watching you. Stunned by the outburst.

"You just sat there and didn't say anything. Nothing Logan!" You shout, not caring who heard you. He grabs your wrists and pulls you close to him. He's never looked so serious before.

"Jean is full of shit and you know it sweetheart."

"Do I?" You rest your head against his chest. The anger slowly draining as defeat takes its place.

"Logan when was the last time you called me anything other than cute?" You ask. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

"Do you understand what hearing cute and only cute feels like? Is that really the only compliment you can think to give me? Do you not love me?" He lets go of your hands and you push him away.

You fall onto your bed and cry. Logan feels sick to his stomach. He didn't know its all bothered you so much, he thought he was doing alright protecting you. But he's failed you. He drops to his knees and tries to pull your hands away from your face.

"Sweetheart, of course I love you." He mumbles.

"I just feel so small sometimes. Standing next to you, being with you. Logan we were never meant to be together."

"What are you talking about?" You finally lift your head up and Logan wastes no time in wiping away your tears. You are everything Logan wants. Meant to be together? He wants to be with you and that's good enough for him.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" "Yes, prettier than anyone else in the world." He says without missing a beat.

"So why have you never said anything?" Logan sighs as he rubs his thumb gently across your cheek.

You're everything to him. You were never a rebound or a pet, god he hates that word now. Logan...he's not the kind of man you'd ever look at and think cute or soft. He is definitely not the kind of man to be loved by you. You're so gentle and kind and so cute it makes his heart hurt. He's never experienced that before. He's not the guy who gets the pretty sweet girl. But then he was and shit, it feels good. So fuck the rumors and the gossip.

"Someone like you shouldn't be with someone like me, I'm not the hero people think I am. So when someone like you loves me, it's a little hard to believe sometimes." He tilts your head up to press a kiss to your lips.

"You're cute," He kisses your cheek softly.

"and pretty," Another kiss.

"and beautiful and gorgeous and so much more." You let out a small giggle as his bread scratches your face.

He nuzzles into you until you open yourself up. He wraps his arms around your waist and hoists you up off the bed. Spinning around until he's got you in his lap.

"Cute isn't an insult. Just seeing you smile makes me feel like a fucking teenager." Logan bumps his nose against yours.

"I didn't answer Jean because I didn't want to. It's no one else's damn business how I feel about you."

"You really think all that?" You say shyly, biting your lip as the doubt still creeps into your head. But Logan pushes it away with another searing kiss.

"Fuck yeah I do. You're everything I could ever want." He frowns as he notices the worry on your face. He would give anything to make it better.

"And more." He adds on. He sees the smile grow and he feels the weight lift off his chest.

"Come on, don't hide that pretty smile from me." He grabs your chin so he can get a better look at you.

He makes a silent promise to never let you feel like this again. Anger stirs inside but he keeps himself as calm as he can. If he had his way he'd rip into anyone who feels like spreading their stupid gossip. But for your sake he won't. But he makes no promises the next time he hears some punk kid open their damn mouth about HIS girl.

"I love you Logan." You hum as you duck your head to rest under his chin, wanting to be held by your boyfriend. His arms wrap around you, holding you close for as long as you need.

"I love you too sweetheart, my gorgeous girl."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst

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hyukascampfire · 7 months ago

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VELVET FUZZ ､ა h.k

it’s strange that you find a teary-eyed, pink-nosed man outside your house while coming home on christmas eve. even stranger that he’s got antlers sprouting up from his head. ˒ ´-ྀི

⚞ ᪖ ˒ 𐔌 🪡 ᩙ ꒱ ･ 5.4k

𝓟airings ˒ reindeer hybrid!hueningkai x reader

𝑔 ; smut ˒ fluff

𝓦arnings ˒ soft dom!reader, hand job, kai cums on his belly, quiet sub!kai, usual hybrid stuff like scenting and all that, pretty sweet all the way through, dry humping, jealous kai a little bit?, he’s clingy, happy trail mention (mmm), i really don’t know if i’m missing anything cause i’m writing this at 5am >.< lmk!

✎୭ ashlynn's note thabk you to the lovely anon that requested this one! OH MY GOSH. this one was not meant to be super long, and i felt awkward writing fluff at first (not my strong suit, but i sorta strengthened that muscle here!) but i grew so attached to this kai by the end!! how do we feel?

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Dazed and sad-eyed, there’s a man on your porch.

With your keys still jingling against each other, you freeze. Your feet ache in your work heels, and your shirt collar is irritating your neck. It’s already bad enough that you’d worked a full shift Christmas eve, but coming home to this? Today is never going to end.

Maybe you should be worried that there’s a man hanging around outside your home, but to be quite frank... You’re more concerned with the very odd, very realistic antlers that seem to just... sprout up from his brownish tangle of hair. It looks incredibly heavy, just to be set on a headband.

“Can I help you with something?” you say, taking measured steps toward your front door. You’d already slipped once on your way out from the office today—crashlanding now, when you’ve made it most of the way, would be a shame. A thick, pristine layer of snow fluff sits pretty over the grass, thicker toward the edges of the concrete path up to your house where you’d shoveled it off.

He perks up, turning to you with a pink button nose and round eyes.

The look on his face tugs at your heart. Frantic and fidgety—maybe he’s gotten lost? It’s just neighborhood here, though. No matter how he might’ve gotten lost, it shouldn’t be that hard to find his way around. Not to the degree that he’d be looking at you like you’ve come to save him as he is now.

Tall and lanky, he opens his mouth to say something a few times, but nothing comes out. Despite his frost-bitten nose and the snow dusting his hair and shoulders, he doesn’t shiver. You’ve only just came from your heater-blasted car, and your bones have already started to chatter. That’s the second strange thing you note about him.

“Are you okay?” you say, voice going gentler. “Do you need help?” The chill on the surface of your skin begins to seep deeper. You cross your arms and tuck your fingers between the space between them and your body to conserve your own heat.

When he opens his mouth, the words finally fall out in a surge like blizzard. He was having a hard time getting them out before, but once he gets one out, they all come tumbling out after it. “They left me behind!” he says. His voice is pretty, even as it wavers. “They left—and they can’t... make any stops! I can’t believe they forgot me,” he says. Toward the end, his voice breaks.

Tugging your scarf up over your nose, you say, “Who? Who left you?” It muffles into the red cashmere. “Slow down. I want to help.”

Obviously, he’s been left behind by his friends as some sort of mean-spirited prank. It doesn’t seem like they’re good friends, either, if they have him panicked like this. He really believes they’re just going to leave him here. You frown at the funny aching in your chest. For whatever reason, one you decide not to delve into, that irks you. Taking in his wobbling lip and screwed up face, it makes you angry—it makes you want to make sure he’s alright.

You make split-second decision, looking at the state of him. He doesn’t seem dangerous. Actually, not one ounce of you believes that he could be. Maybe it could be a clever act, tugging on the heart strings of young women to take advantage of them. You’ve heard of plenty of that. But, you’re grown and have your own intuition. “Do you want to come inside? You look frozen.”

He nods.

“Okay,” you say, ushering him in with a hand gesture. “Let’s get inside. Warm up.”

Following you inside, his tall and nervous figure trails. You kick off your heels and peel your work attire off piece by piece by the door, shedding until you’re just in your skirt and blouse. The skin everywhere but your legs, where you have a pair of thick tights pulled on, prickles in the heater’s embrace. Your scalp sighs in tandem with you as you let your hair down.

Once you’re ten pounds lighter and comfier, you turn to him. He’s watching you with curious, sparkling eyes.

“What’s your name?” you say. “And why did your friends leave you?”

Continuing to watch you as you push past him and into your home, he sniffles and says, “They’re not my friends. They don’t like me; they think I’m useless. They did it on purpose—I know it. They left me here on purpose, and I can’t get back until next year!”

Whatever he means by not being able to get back until next year, you’ve got not even an inkling. “What’s your name?” you repeat.

“Kai,” he answers, eyes low.

In his hair, there’s a twitching. You frown. “Here, do you want me to take that? It looks heavy,” you say, offering your hands out in a gesture up at his antler-headpiece-costume-thing. “I can hold on to it for you.”

Shooting you a strange look, he says, “Take them? They’re my antlers.”

The two of you blink at each other for a moment, both lost for wildly different reasons, it seems.

“I mean, yes, I know they’re yours. I’ll give them back; I promise,” you say. “But while you’re here, we can put them on the counter or something. Y’know, just ‘cause it looks heavy.”

Wiping at a teary cheek, says, “You can’t take them off.”

Reaching up to his head, Kai tugs at one of those thick antlers. It doesn’t come off.

Opening your mouth to speak, you don’t know what to say. Laugh? You’ve never seen anybody secure a headpiece so well to their head. He’s really serious about this costume. “Can I touch?” you ask.

Jutting his lips out in a why not? sort of frown, he nods.

With an investigative hand, you reach up over his head. The antlers aren’t so tall—maybe a few good inches on his head. Smooth fuzz meets the pads of your fingers. You run them up the grooves and ridges, all solid and made soft with the velvet of genuine antlers. You pause.

Kai’s eyes linger on you. His voice is light and airy as he says, “You can tug on them, if you want. It doesn’t hurt.”

You don’t even ask him why it might hurt if you tug. Like this, running your fingers over the unnervingly realistic length of it, a seedling of something unbelievable plants. Wrapping your hand around it to tug, you water that seed.

It doesn’t budge. In fact, it’s so solid against his head that it can’t be anything but grown from it.

“See?” he hums, unperturbed with your exploring hands.

You don’t answer him. Not when, from his fluff of hair, you spot something even harder to explain away. Ears. Your mouth falls open as you take on into a gentle hand, running your thumb over it. It’s soft, warm, and real under your touch. It twitches, moving like attached to a living thing, too. Reeling, you step back.

“You’re—how did you do that?” you say. “Make it like that?”

Sweet face twisting into a puzzled frown, he says, “What do you mean? They’re my antlers and my ears. Every reindeer has them.”

Taking another step back, you shake your head and narrow your eyes down on him. “No... No, I mean make them feel real.” At the edges of your fingertips, the echoes of warmth linger. You think and think, and what you come to believe...

You begin to believe something absurd.

“They are real,” he tells you.

Letting that materialize inside of you for a moment, you say something stupid. “You’re a reindeer. The other reindeer left you.”

Cheeks a rosy pink, he nods dutifully, despite that being what he was telling you this whole time. “They don’t like me. It... was my first Christmas, and I’m new, and they all...” Making himself sad all over again, his shoulders droop heavy.

For the defeat and abandoned twist to his glossy eyes, you believe him. Maybe that makes you stupid, or maybe gullible. But you believe him, and so does your heart. It aches at the look on his face. Mending those steps you’d taken away from him for fear, you inch closer to him and take his face in your hands. His cheeks are plush against your skin. Over his nose and cheeks are a spackling of dusty freckles, and his eyes are shiny and hold bare trust for you even as you touch him. Innocent trust, though he’s lost and vulnerable, and you’d only just met.

You can’t mistreat that trust. You won’t. He’s a stranger in your home, and this is absolutely not where you thought you’d be, coming home on Christmas eve. But your intuition speaks once more to you, and you willingly follow. Or, perhaps it’s not intuition speak to you. Maybe it’s those big, twinkling brown eyes, and the tears brimming in them.

It’s just you living here, anyway. No roommates, hardly any friends over... You’d told yourself you’ll start putting yourself out there—to get a boyfriend to make the walls of your home a less isolating sight. But it was always later. I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it next week, I’ll do it next year... You never really made good on that aspiration. Instead, you fill those gaps with soul-sucking hours at the office.

“When will they come back?” you ask. “Would you like to stay here until they come back?”

Wringing his fingers out, he nods. He stands there all reserved and meek, still so hurt, but his big eyes sparkle like he holds the Christmas sky in them. With emotion.

“Okay,” you say. “Okay. You can stay here.”

Perhaps you don’t have anything for him. No male clothes, especially none that will fit his frame, no extra bedroom or bed, and hardly enough groceries. But, what you do have, it’ll be enough. Just until they realize they’ve left him behind and come back to retrieve him.

You could hardly leave him out there the way you found him.

༄

Blinking your eyes open, you focus your bleary eyes on the broad figure in your doorway.

For the entirety of the night, Kai trails you. His eyes roam over your home, and his nose twitches as he takes in the scent of it. Into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, into the living room to click on the T.V., you hardly were able to get into your room alone to tug off your work clothes. When you stepped out in something comfier, he was hovering around by the door and perked up as you emerged.

He didn’t talk much as you winded down, either. When you’d first seen him outside, he was a frantic, rambling, fat-teared mess. He’s gotten quieter, just acclimating to the place. You ask him if he’s comfortable a few times and offer him snacks, but... well, the situation is strange. You’re both a little thrown off.

Eventually, you fluffed up the couch and made it nice with thick pillows and fur blankets for him. Usually, you’d unplug the tree before beg, even on Christmas night. You left it lit up for him.

Kai, stood in your doorway, tries to muster up what he wants to say. He shifts, antsy.

Your limbs and brain are still heavy with sleep as you say, “What’s wrong, baby?” It’d only been a good... thirty minutes since you left him to sleep on the couch. Drained to the bone by your day’s work, you knocked out pretty much as soon as your skin hit the sheets.

“I’m sorry...” he mumbles, silhouette meek in the doorway, where the dim light of the tree illuminates the edges of him. “I... This is the first time I’ve slept anywhere but the North Pole. I’ve never slept alone.”

If letting him stay in your home was already insane, then letting him sleep in your bed was even more so. Scooting lazily over on the bed, you pat the empty space it frees. Who cares? You know what it is to be lonely. “Wanna sleep in here?” you say, lips slow and lethargic.

“Can I?” he says. The steps he takes toward you are hesitant.

You tug the blankets back over your shoulders and hum. “Mhm...”

The bare side of your mattress dips beneath his weight. He shifts around and tries to get comfortable, shifting around until his antlers don’t scrape the headboard and he’s settled.

Body heat beside you, or just to sleep beside somebody... you haven’t had that in a long time. Everything feels both thrown for a loop and more familiar.

“Do you miss it?” you ask. It’s a stupid question; of course he does.

Drooping lashes fluttering down onto his cheeks while he blinks and looks around, uncertain where to rest his gaze, he nods in answer. His shag of hair brushes over his cheeks, dangling as he lets his head rest on a pillow. “Yeah. It’s so different here.”

Tracing his features, the curve of his cheek made soft and glowy in the clear, wintry moonlight, the rest of his face in shadow, the strain of an old ex’s shirt you’d given him to change into around his shoulders, and his eyes. They’re not so nervous, now. They digest you and your figure, just as he’d digested the rest of your home. You’re sure it is strange—getting left behind in a place so far from home. If it were, you might be the same. Worse, actually.

It’s good you found him. People treat the things they don’t understand awfully. None would believe him—they’d slam doors in his face or worse. You’re still not entirely settled on the reality of it, anyway.

“Maybe I can show you what this part of the world is like,” you mumble, relenting to the heaviness in your eyes. “Before they come and get you.”

He doesn’t answer. You’re not sure if he reacted at all; all you see is the black of your eyelids and the wispy tendrils of sleep beckoning you.

You sleep warmer on Christmas night than you have in a long time. Sometimes, you think you wake up to the weight of a hand on the curve of your pajama-clad hip, or maybe the puffs of sleep-ridden breath in your neck. In the center of your chest, your heart glows and flutters when his sleepy fingers skim over the bare skin of your waist where sleep had ridden it up. You don’t say anything—you don’t have the heart to.

He feels nice up against your back, anyway.

༄

Christmas comes and goes. Nobody comes to collect Kai. Strangely, selfishly, you’re happy for it.

No different from the first day, he trails you everywhere. The only difference is that he doesn’t look so shaken. He’s gotten used to you and the home. When you get up in the mornings to leave for work, he complains and rambles about, what if they come while you’re gone? and that he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. You think he doesn’t want to leave—you hope he doesn’t, at least.

Coming home to someone waiting for you, who greets you with a slow smile as you kick off your shoes... You’ve gotten used to it. Things don’t feel so hollow, and your life doesn’t feel like a husk of what a life should be anymore. Rather than returning to a house that echoes your lone sounds back to you, you return to a home. The house has begun to smell like him, musky and coveting

You really hope they don’t come back to get him. It feels awful to admit to yourself, but to pretend that it’s anything else would be dishonest. If they had any intentions to, they would’ve by now anyway.

“Which?” you say, holding a glittering skirt and a silvery, ruffled one in front of you. “I think the silver one makes more sense for New Year’s.”

Kai sits on your bed. For some reason, his shoulders sag. “I don’t understand,” he says, toying with the fabric of the sweats you’d bought him. “Why can’t you have fun here? With me?”

You place the red one over yourself again, and then the silver one, and furrow your brows. Preoccupied by images of your outfit with either, you throw your words over your shoulder. “Just wanna see some friends, Kai. I won’t be out for too long. I’d bring you, but... I don’t think you’d like it.”

The silver one it is. It’ll go nice with the baby tee. Discarding the other in a pool on the floor, you collect the pieces of your outfit into your arm to change.

When you turn to head into the bathroom, Kai looks utterly dejected. He watches you, brows furrowed and he’s worrying his lip.

“Kai, baby,” you say. “It’s okay. I’ll go just until midnight, and then I’ll be back here with you.”

Staring at you for a few minutes more, his face sours. His hair, a gentle fall of loose curls, moves with a shaking of his head. “It’s not...” he starts, but some thought he has deters him. “Never mind. I’ll just take a nap.”

Before heading into the bathroom, you run your fingers through his hair and scratch a bit just behind his ear. He leans into it, pushing his head into your hand with utmost care to not snag you with a branchy antler. “Sounds good,” you say. “I promise it won’t be that long. I pinky swear it.”

Nose crinkling, he asks you, “Pinky swear?”

You offer him your pinky. “Give me your pinky. I’ll show you.”

When he does, you intertwine them to solidify your promise. “I pinky promise that I’ll be home soon, and celebrate the rest of New Years with you.” You press your thumbs together. “Now it’s a real promise. Okay?”

He nods and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Truthfully, it’s not that you want to go out that bad. You’d honestly rather be back here when it strikes twelve. But your friends insist that you go out. It’s been half a year since you’ve put yourself out there like this—you understand why they do.

Clicking the door closed behind you, you begin to drop your home clothes off to exchange them for a new, glittering skin. You reemerge from the bathroom a creature of the night. Your eyes glitter as you blink, and your skirt is a true, daring New Year's length, and you wear the print of your nipples against your little shirt like an accessory, and you smooth your hands down the slip of soft belly between the waist band of your skirt and the hem of your tee. His eyes find each and every one of those things.

“There’s snacks for you, and I’ll bring you home something to eat. You’ll be good here for a bit?” you say, wobbling on one kitten heel as you tug the other on.

“Yeah,” he says, falling flat. “I’ll be good.”

Fluffing your hair, you try and let his grumpiness roll off your shoulders. He gets like this when you leave. In just a few days, he’d grown so utterly attached to you that only the few hours away have him ruffled. You know he depends on you because you’re the only person and thing that he knows here, but... you don’t think they’re coming back to get him. Not this year, at least. And you can’t be home all day, so you need him to get used to functioning at home by himself.

Letting your voice into something both reprimanding and playful, you look at him through your lashes and say, “See you later, Kai.”

His eyes burn holes through you as you go.

༄

Pink-cheeked with liquid bliss heavy in your veins, you step from the nippy air and into the embrace of home. You’re not drunk enough to stumble or slur; you’d left that back at the bar. Still, you feel the buzzing like static between your thoughts.

Your heels and toes riot as you slip your feet from your heels. Should’ve brought a backup option... Kitten heels usually would’ve been enough to save your feet, but you were standing all night. You’re worn down to the bone.

Tucking your hair back out of your face, you blink heavily through a scan of the living room and kitchen. Usually, Kai’s right here at the door waiting for you. Today, he does not.

You frown. “Kai?” you say, projecting your voice.

He’s not on the couch, nor in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom as you investigate. You begin to be worried, until you find him in the same place you’d left him.

Except, now, he’s a tangle of blankets. You can’t see him. With your blanket wrapped up so tight over him, he’s just a mound on the bed. Strewn across the floor and over the bed and around him, there are a number of your clothes. Clothes that hadn’t been there when you’d left earlier.

He shifts. Before you even say anything, he knows you’re here. He’s got some good hearing, you’ve found. And smell.

“I’m home,” you announce, pulling the blankets off him. “You sleeping?”

As you peel back the covers, he sits up. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are drowsy. Rather than scooting over to let you slip into bed with him, or smiling to see that you’ve gotten home, his nose twitches and he tugs his lips back in a smear of disgust.

“What’s wrong?” you say. “Sorry for waking you up...” Gesturing around at the mess, you add, “What’s all this? My clothes are everywhere...”

“Why do you smell like that?” he says.

You flounder. It’s the snappiest you’ve ever heard him. “Oh...” you say, smoothing the tangles in your hair. “I... was dancing a bunch.”

Eyes sharp and negative, he says, “No. You smell weird. I don’t like it. Like other people. You don’t smell... Like you.”

“I don’t know...” You shrug a dismissive shoulder. “Maybe you’re smelling my friends. Does it bother you? I’ll go take a quick shower.”

“You promised that you’d be here soon,” Kai says. When you reach an arm up to soothe his sleep-tangled hair, he avoids it with a dip. “You smell awful. Like... you don’t smell sweet, you smell like a man.”

Still stung, you let your arm drop. It’s well past twelve. You’d broken your promise. Wincing, you sift through the memories of the night. You think maybe the closest you got to a man was a playful kiss with a friend to welcome the new year. You supposed you’d also hung around him the whole night...

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say. It’s a bare apology; you offer him no excuses.

Kai, shoulders stiff, does not loosen up. Emotion brims in his eyes like liquid frost. “Why am I not good enough? Why do you like him more than me?”

You go to answer him, but you’re not sure how to. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you’d slipped up your times, but breaking his trust was. He’d been left behind by the only thing he’s ever known, and now that he’s settled here, he thinks you’ll do just the same to him. The twitching of his lips does a terrible number on your chest.

“Kai.” You whittle your voice into something breathy and gentle. “I’m not gonna leave you. You can stay here forever, even if they don’t come back.” You know he’s begun to realize that maybe they won’t be bringing him back home, as you have. Still in your itching skirt and smeared in a thick, going-out layer of makeup, you dip your knees into your side of the bed. “Forever. Maybe I break small promises, and I’m sorry, but I won’t break that one.”

How had he carved the shape of himself into your heart so fast? So well?

“I don’t want to go back there,” he says, colored thick with conviction and sullied memories. “I never want to go back there.”

Like the weight of the world on your shoulders, your body longs to crumple under it. You lay your hair on the pillow and beckon him down, too. “Then, don’t...” you mumble. “Stay here. Forever.” You repeat the word like mantra, so that maybe he’ll let it seep into his bones and patch up the wounds left there.

He curls up over your back, pressing his mouth into your shoulder. You’d thought the first night would be the only that he joined you in your bed, but you’ve got a tender heart. He runs warm-blooded as a creature of the snow, and you run cold. He’s a good heat source.

That’s your excuse, anyway.

Like all the other nights of the week he’d been here, he takes your hip in a hand and slips the other under your neck like a pillow.

This night is the same; until his breaths quicken behind you. His frame goes rigid once more, a solid wall at your back and a big hand pinning your hip to the bed. He presses his nose to the exposed length of your neck, puffs of hot and angry breaths fanning out here and there. Like he’s caught a scent.

“Kai?” you say into the dark of your room. It’s half a laugh, half real question.

Your lungs stutter when the drags of his nose turn to drags of his cheek, and he’s pressing himself harder into you. That’s when you feel it: the rock-solid hardness of his cock against your ass.

“I don’t like it,” he whines, wrapping you in him. His scent. “I don’t like that smell. Can’t sleep...”

You have a decision to make: to go brush him off and sleep as though it were nothing, or to address the barely-there grind of his hardness against you.

Like all of your other decisions, the one you land on is the absurd one. You push your ass back into him. He gasps, a sucking in of air, against your neck, and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He brings you back into his hips as they grow more daring.

“Missed you so bad...” he says, sliding that one hand on your hip down so that his forearm presses into your belly. He uses that as leverage to grind against you, instead. “Missed your smell... None of your clothes smelled like you... N’ your blankets started smelling like me, too. Why did you stay away for so long? You promised. Promised...” A shuddered breath prickles the hair on your neck. “Promised, and now you smell like someone else. I hate it.”

“Baby,” you say, reaching a hand up over your shoulder to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry. Wanna make it better? Want me to help you?”

He whines from the chest, sitting up quick to look at you. His pupils are wide, and you know just by the look of him how much it’s been bothering him.

“Scoot back,” you say. Your belly does a wild crash. If you were to tell yourself two weeks ago where you are now... You would’ve laughed in your face.

Eyes glazed over and his cheeks a dusty sort of pink, he does so until his back is at the headboard. He moves with a clumsy excitement.

You tug your skirt down your legs, kicking it off your ankles so that you can crawl over to him better. In your neck, your pulse flutters wildly. He watches you approach, and then tug his sweats down. His cock pops right out, long and pretty pink at the tip and weeping glistening tears. He hadn’t even been wearing boxers. Kai’s squeak when you brush your fingers just up the underside of it and then take it in your fist is sweet.

“Poor baby,” you say, knitting your brows together and looking up at him through your lashes. “You waited all day for me, just for me to come home smelling like somebody else... You did so good, I think you deserve to feel good.”

His lips glisten with his wet tongue. When he fully takes in the sight of you, face-to-face with his cock, a shudder shakes him. “I wanna...”

Pushing his shirt up to reveal the softness of his belly, you say, “Wanna what, Kai?” You press sweet open-mouthed kisses up the dainty trail of hair just under his belly button, and then you scatter a few extra like glistening presents over his hip bones and abdomen. His chest jumps and falls with each.

“Feel good,” he says. His length does a twitch, as if just the thought of you helping him like that was just like touch.

You press the final kisses up his length, from the base of his cock up until your lips meld against his cockhead, right over the wet tip. Savoring the salty musk of his precum, you say, “You’re such a sweet boy. M’ sorry I made you feel bad. Want me to smell like you? Would that make you feel better?”

He opens his mouth to say yes; you see it in his eyes. Your lips wrapping around the hot pink of his tip ruins his plans. The way he twitches his lips and shifts goes right to the hotness between your own thighs. Encouraged, and truly wanting to make up for how you’d treated him today, you release his tip and smear the mess down his length with a few pumps. As soon as each slide is slick and obscene, you turn from languid pumps to purposeful flicks of your wrist.

Kai bucks his hips up into your fist and lolls his head back, eyes screwed shut. The digging of his teeth into his plush bottom lip is what draws your eye most, though.

“It’s okay to make sounds if you feel good, baby,” you coo, kissing over his chest and neck. “You don’t have to be quiet around me.” You adjust your grip and change the angle of your slick jerks until one has a sound catching in his throat and a hand of his flying up to curl around your wrist. “Like that?” you ask. It’s not taunting—it’s a genuine wonder.

It takes him a few moments, adam’s apple bobbing, but he pants a little for you finally. He nods frantically. “The....There,” he grits out.

So, you continue to fuck him on your fist. Sometimes you stop just to collect the slow, oozing white droplets that he can’t help but produce, and sometimes you reach your fingers up to brush the hair out of his eyes to better see his glassy eyes and red cheeks. The sounds really are obscene; your ears burn red just hearing them. Your cunt throbs at it, too.

“Feels... please—” he gets out, rustling against the headboard harder and bringing his hips up to meet your fist half way. “M’ so—happy to be here. Love you—love you! Gonna cum, can I cum? Please?”

Stomach doing wild flips at the cracking in his voice and the tightening of his soft belly, you loosen up your strokes and try to help him toward it. “Of course. Cum, baby. Go ahead. Feels good?”

Your wrist aches once his jaw goes tight, the muscles there twitching in the moonlight, and he spills his seed in white, sticky spurts all over his belly. His fingers go tight around your wrist when you continue to jerk his cock even as he cums, working him well through it and urging him to spurt a few more stray shots on himself with wild jerks of his hips. He heaves whines and his cock throbs beneath your fist, pretty face screwed up tight.

“There we go,” you coo, admiring the scene of him, covered in his own seed and his bangs damp. You’re sure you smell entirely of him, now, with his mess wet and nasty over your palm.

A parade of sweet thank you’s spill from his lips once he finds his mind again, breathy and full. You just press your cheek into his chest, feeling every frantic thump of his heart against you. Perhaps it’s a bit sappy, but all you can think to say is:

“I’m happy you’re here, too, Kai.”

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note TJIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SUB IDOL AHHH. kinda nervous. can you tell? i’m not sure why, i love that shit. it’s just how the dice have rolled hehe.

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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civildisorderstream · 2 years ago

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2023, The Year of Self-Sabotage

Has anyone noticed the trend businesses have been on in 2023? There's a LOT of self-sabotage going on in the business world. Throughout my life, and everyone else has their own observations too, once in a while you see a company make a boneheaded decision about their product or service. And once in a while you'll see a decision get made that is bad, but maybe it at least has some justification (even to an anti-capitalist goober like myself). But this year has been nonsensical moves of greed or product/service sabotage that make no sense for longevity or harm what's in the best interest of the consumer.

Activision-Blizzard: The Overwatch debacle, and Diablo Immortal's scummy practices.

Netflix: The account sharing debacle.

Twitter: Maximum divorced loser Elon Musk destroying its functionality and branding and we still call it Twitter.

Reddit: Inspired by Musk's stupidity, the API tools debacle. Shame on the Reddit communities for not knowing how to strike btw (you don't put a time limit on it).

Hollywood: Pulling shows and films from streaming services to declare them as failed products and somehow get a tax write-off for it.

Also Hollywood: Willing to take quarterly losses greater than the annual cost to meet the demands of two striking unions put together.

Unity: Announced in the past day that it will charge developers a fee for installations because greed.

Titan Submersible: "Safety is for losers" says billionaire who proceeds to use his shoddy tech to do a murder-suicide.

Starbucks: Breaking ALL of the labor laws to try and stop unionization. Admittedly a reach to be on this list but the situation (like all the others) is ongoing and can compound.

Embracer: A massive corporate company that bought a bunch of smaller companies. Thought a 2 billion dollar deal with the Saudi government was a sure thing, so they spent 2 billion dollars on stuff. Deal falls through, so they start closing companies they acquired.

That's just the ones I can remember off the top of my head. These aren't business decisions done for the sake of consumers. These are all decisions done to spite consumers or the workers who produce the products and services.

People try to remember years as being the "year of" something. And it's a thing I do too. For me, 2023 is the year of corporate self-sabotage.

#activision blizzard #elon musk #unity #embracer #politics #reddit #capitalism #twitter

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superblizzardfire · 2 years ago

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MOIJNAR

Bruce Banner/Thor & Love for @bruceweek 2023 💚

'How do you spell Mjolnir?'

Bruce looks up from his laptop. Love sits opposite him at the kitchen table, pink glitter gel pen poised over the paper. She quickly covers her work when he leans over, but he glimpses a drawing of them all holding hands. Warmth fills his chest. Only a year ago, Thor had returned to New Asgard with a child resurrected by Eternity, bound by a promise to keep her safe. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d made it work.

‘Hello? Bruce?’ Love waves at him.

Bruce blinks. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘Mjolnir. How do you spell it?’ She taps her pen against her chin.

‘M-O-I-J-N-A-R.’

‘Thanks.’

Bruce returns to his spreadsheet and fills in a few cells. Then stops. ‘Wait. Hang on. That’s not right.’

Love groans. ‘Aww, now I have to cross it out!’

There’s a chuckle behind them. Thor is slicing up vegetables for soup. After a lifetime of being waited on by Asgard’s finest, he’s learnt to enjoy cooking. ‘It is a difficult word to spell.’

Read the rest on AO3!

#bruce banner #blizzard writes stuff #bruceweek2023 #bruce week #ThorBruce #Thor Love and Thunder #how do i tag love it was so hard to even find a gif #Love Thordottir

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junkdrawerfics · 1 year ago

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You're Scaring Me

Jasper Hale X Reader

Summary: Request - Can you write one where the reader does something major told her not to do and he gets mad when he finds out and then jasper tries to console her and she’s jus really guilty and upset and then the major comes back out and they talk it thru.

Word Count: 3558

Warning: Angsty maybe. Obviously some unhealthy anger stuff, but it ends well, I promise.

Note: I liked the idea of doing something with the wolves, but felt Jasper/the Major wouldn't ask you to stay away from people, especially if they were your friends. So I took a route regarding reader's safety, since he'd totally go feral over that.

---

Saying Forks was in the middle of a blizzard would be an under exaggeration.

You’d never seen snow like this. You could barely see past your front porch, it was coming down so hard. School had been canceled, of course, and Emmett had convinced the family it would be fun to try hunting with the added challenge of not being able to see.

Jasper had hesitated to join at first, to leave you alone in this storm since your parents were away, but it only took a little soft convincing from you for him to relent.

On one term, at least

“Please stay here ‘til we get back,” the blond repeats worriedly as he puts on a coat - that he doesn’t need, you might add

“It’s not that bad out, Jasper,” you chuckle, eyes glued out the window.

“Darlin.”

His voice shifts subtly. You blink, glancing back at him over your shoulder. Jasper stares right back at you, eyes narrowed, a familiar intensity burning behind them. Your body figures it out before you do, fine hairs standing on end, pupils dilating. A sharp contradiction to the smile that lights up your face.

“Yes, Major?” You ask, barely missing a beat.

The man takes a step towards you, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders straight. It’d be intimidating if you didn’t know better.

“You goin’ to listen for me?” He asks, voice low, accent thicker than before.

“Of course, Major.”

The barest flicker of a smile pulls at the vampire’s lips. Such a sweet thing. The way you look at him - all wide, puppy dog eyes, attentive and loving - it makes him feel raw with the need to protect you, even if it’s just from the blizzard.

Tender in a way he’s never been, the Major touches your chin, drawing close enough that he can feel your warm breath stutter against his lips as he murmurs, “Then be a good girl and stay put for me. I don’t want you out in this weather.”

You can’t help but soften, fondness curling in your chest. He really is just a soft teddy bear at his core.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you insist, curling your arms around his waist, “I won’t go out, I promise.”

“Good.” The Major closes the small gap between you, lips pressing against yours in an unrelenting kiss. It’s all you can do to keep yourself upright as his hand curls along your jaw, drawing you closer, closer, until your head is spinning from the feeling. You’d think he’s going off to war again by the way he kisses you.

You can barely catch your breath when he pulls away. Heat blooms across your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest to hide it, which earns a low chuckle from the blond. He presses another kiss to your temple, this one softer, gentler.

“Love you, darlin,” he murmurs, all honey and sweet and Jasper again.

You melt against him, voice muffled by his sweater, “Love you too, Jazz. Stay safe, please.”

“I won’t be long,” he reassures you, “Emmett will give in when he realizes all the animals are hidin’ from the weather.”

You huff a laugh. Perhaps. Emmett is stubborn, reckless, and stubbornly reckless. Once he has an idea in his mind, it’s hard to get him off it, like today. But you’re sure Jasper’s right. He’ll give up once he gets bored.

“I’ll hold you to that mister. I’ll be lonely without you.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” He leans down, catching your lips one final time. You can feel his grin through the kiss. “Just a couple hours, darlin’. I’ll drag him back if I have to after that.”

He’s still reluctant to leave, but the nagging worries are quieter now, enough that he can drag himself from the comfort of your touch to join his brothers outside. You watch them disappear into the haze of snow, like ghosts, before shuffling back to your kitchen to work on some homework.

It shouldn’t be so hard to stay busy until they get back. Right?

---

That’s what you thought, at least. But one hour quickly turns to two, which quickly turns to three and still no Jasper. By the fifth hour, you’ve finished all your work and find yourself staring into an empty fridge with a growling stomach.

Of course your parents would forget to stock up before going on a business trip.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glance outside. It’s still snowing, but not…as bad. You could probably make it to the grocery store and back without any problems. And you’d probably get back before they do, so Jasper wouldn’t even know.

Everything would be fine.

You layer up, tucking a scarf tightly around your neck. It might be a little lighter outside, but it’s still well below freezing. It’ll be quick, though. The grocer is maybe a five minute walk, and you only need a couple things.

Popping your hood up, you grab your house keys and venture out, shuffling the whole way there.

---

“Brave of you to venture out in this,” the cashier chimes, scanning your microwave meal and milk - you figure you might as well get stuff for breakfast too.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” you hum shakily, teeth still chattering as you hand him some cash, “I’d rather be cold for a bit instead of going hungry.”

“Fair ‘nough!” The cash register dings and he hands you some change. “Stay safe out there, miss.”

“Thanks.” You cast him a smile, “You too. Hope it clears up a bit before you have to leave.”

“God willing.”

You slip your gloves back on and heave the bag of supplies from the counter.

On the walk back, you’re a little less careful, eyes wandering as you tread through the snow. The journey here hadn’t been so bad. Sure you’d almost slipped a few times, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it’d be. It was actually almost nice, once your face went numb at least.

Your thoughts wander to the food in your hands, pace picking up a bit as you think about how nice a warm meal will be after this. And well earned after a long day of work and a hazardous journey to get it. Maybe you could cuddle up on the couch and turn on a movie while you eat. That sounds ni-

-and you’re falling.

You screech, boots slipping against the ice as the world tilts wildly. Instinctually, your eyes squeeze shut and you wait for the impact, hoping your layers might be enough to cushion the fall.

They are, thankfully. But they aren’t enough to stop your ankle from twisting as you tumble a bit off the sidewalk.

The pain is instant. It pulses up your leg, sharp and fiery compared to the cold seeping into your bones. You suck in a sharp breath, teeth gritting as you bury your face in the snow. It’s all you can do to keep yourself from crying, that stinging sensation starting in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat.

God, you’re so screwed.

—

“Darlin, I’m back,” Jasper calls out softly, brushing the ice from his hair as he slips into your warm house.

Almost instantly, he can tell something’s wrong. Jasper stops, brow furrowing. Usually you’d be bounding up to tackle him by now, a beautiful smile on your lips, asking how things went. It’s something constant, a custom he enjoys more than he’ll admit.

There’s no greeting this time, though. Even as he stills, focusing on the sounds of the house, he can’t hear a thing. No footsteps, no heartbeat. It’s eerily silent, empty.

You’re not here.

An uneasy feeling settles in his chest. Jasper speeds through the house, checking each room, hoping his ears are just tricking him. Maybe you’re just asleep or reading in some corner. With each empty room, though, the feeling worsens, gripping him by the throat, unrelenting and violent. He’s spiraling, he knows it, can tell he’s walking along an all too familiar edge, blurred between himself and-

The Major pauses at the door to your bedroom. Empty. Your coat isn’t where you usually leave it. Neither are your boots. It leaves little doubt in his mind where you’ve gone.

You didn’t listen to him.

The blond takes a slow breath, holding back the anger that washes over him, white hot and smoldering.

It’s rare for you to not listen to him. You know his none-too-gentle requests are for your safety, they always are. Because while Jasper would rather die a million times than see you hurt, the Major would bring the world to its knees if it meant keeping you safe. He’s never had something as good as you in his life and the need to protect that, to protect you, well - that drives him to his knees. And now you’re out in this storm. By yourself.

The door slams as he throws himself back out into the snow to find you.

---

The snow is picking up, you notice glumly as you carefully flip over in the snow. Even the slightest movement makes pain prickle up your leg, but you can’t lay face down in the snow much longer, not with how you’re quickly losing feeling in your nose.

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes to keep the tears away. What are you supposed to do now? It’s not like you can stay out here. Frostbite doesn’t exactly sound appealing, but neither does the idea of limping home with this pain. You could call…No, no, he’d be so mad. You can’t call Jasper.

Not that fate really cares about what you think.

You squeak when a pair of arms suddenly lifts you out of the snow. The only thing that keeps you from screaming is the familiar cold touch of your captor and the mess of blond hair flickering in the snowy breeze. The fear slowly disappears when you realize it’s just Jasper.

Quickly replaced by a tight, anxious feeling in your chest when you see the tense set of his jaw and how the lines in his neck stand out under his pale skin. He’s upset. He’s upset with you and your ankle is still throbbing and your eyes are stinging again and-

You inhale shakily, an apology ready to spill off your lips, but the look he gives you makes it all die on your tongue. His usually stoic expression turns dark, eyes narrowed with barely restrained anger.

“You open that mouth, sugar, and I promise I won’t be goin’ easy on you,” he drawls, low and heavy, accent dripping off each word.

Not Jasper. You bite your lip, eyes immediately dropping to your lap. Definitely not Jasper.

You can’t bring yourself to break the stifling silence after that. Not when you can practically feel the Major’s anger radiating from him, which does nothing to ease the turmoil swirling inside of you. The soldier is never this open with his emotions, usually so careful to maintain a mask of indifference. With each step, you can feel the tension rising, his grip tightening, and your chest almost hurts from how hard your heart is beating.

It all comes to a head when you make it to the house. The moment your feet hit the ground, and he knows you're safe, the reins of his control slip, an uncontainable rage burning through him.

“I told you not to go out,” he mutters, pacing back and forth in your small entryway.

He can’t stay still, too scared of what he could do. Every cell in his body desires to pin you against the wall, handle you rough and selfish, make you realize how awful it felt to come back and find you gone. But he can’t. He won’t. That’s not what you deserve, he knows that. Jasper would be better at this, he would be gentle, but the Major has never been good at gentle.

You blink at him, wide-eyed from the door. It’s like watching a lion pace at the bars of a zoo, except there’s nothing between you and him. Nothing to keep you safe except him. He could do anything and you wouldn’t be able to stop him. You’re just a human, after all. And the Major has had his share of violence. Even though you know he would never hurt you, you can’t stop your hands from shaking.

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t going to be out long,” you try and explain, digging your fingers into the material of your coat, “I promise-”

“You promised you’d stay put,” he drawls roughly, hands clenching behind his back.

“I was just goi- going to get food!”

The blond grits his teeth, his usual impassive tone sharpening, “What on earth were you thinkin’?”

“I- I thought I’d be back before you,” you spit out, and immediately snap your mouth shut.

The Major stops pacing, every muscle in his body going rigid. You bite your cheek, pulse racing as he slowly turns to you, those gold eyes burning so dark you swear they almost look red. Like blood. Something tightens in your chest. That was the wrong thing to say.

“So you purposefully disobeyed my orders?”

“I didn’t-”

“You decided to be foolish and risk your life goin’ out in this storm,” he growls, slowly closing the space between you, “without anyone knowin’?”

You shrink back a little, panic clouding your head. The Major stops in front of you, frame towering over yours, making you feel impossibly small. Tears prick at your eyes as you shuffle back against the door, pain shooting up your leg as you put weight on it.

“Answer me, darlin.” He doesn’t relent, eyes burning into you. Waiting.

A lump forms in your throat. You bite your cheek, desperate to keep the tears at bay, eyes glued to his boots. You can’t. You can’t do this.

But the blood drains from your face when a fist slams into the door beside you, practically splintering the wood. You can feel it shake against you before settling into silence.

“I’m not goin’ to ask again, (Y/n),” he murmurs, deadly calm again.

You hold your breath, slowly bringing your eyes back up to the Major, and the look on his face makes your heart drop. It’s drawn into something unnervingly blank, cold. No more anger, just…

“Major-“ A tear breaks down your cheek, your voice unbearably quiet. “You’re scaring me.”

The change is instant.

Like light breaking through the clouds, the emptiness leaves his eyes, filling them back with warmth and concern and love.

And you crumble.

Jasper catches you with ease, arms wrapping around you tenderly as he lowers you both on the ground. You curl into him, face buried in his coat as the tears come freely now. You couldn’t stop them even if you wanted, and you’re just so tired, so hurt. There’s nothing left in you, all you can do is cry and cling to him for dear life.

“‘m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccup miserably, and Jasper feels his still heart break. “I’m so sorry, Jazz, I didn’t mean to. I just, I just needed food, and it wasn’t that far, and I thought- I thought-”

He hushes you softly, fingers brushing through your hair as he unwinds the swirling mess of your emotions. You can feel it, you’ve always been able to, the subtle shifts and gentle pulls. Never too much, because he knows you wouldn’t want that, but enough so you’re not drowning in them.

Eventually you’re calm enough to take a full breath, the air stuttering past your lips as you go limp in Jasper’s hold. He draws you tight against him, brushing his hand down to rest at the nape of your neck, just a comforting, constant pressure.

“You’ve nothin’ to apologize for, darlin,” he murmurs eventually, voice muffled in your hair. “I’m the one who should be. I had no right treatin’ you like that, no matter how worried I was.”

“But-”

“No,” he cuts you off firmly. “It wasn’t right, darlin. It was my fault for bein’ late. He…He’s mighty overprotective of you, and he- I don’t know how to handle myself well when it comes to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I do…” You sniffle, the sound soft and sad, but your grip on him tightens. “But I should’ve listened, then I wouldn’t have slipped and gotten hurt.”

Jasper pulls you back suddenly, brows furrowed in surprise, “What? You’re hurt? Where? Do I need to get Carlisle?”

You laugh weakly, his overwhelming concern easing the tightness left in your chest. The tension drips from your muscles, adrenaline slowing. “No, no, I’m fine. I just, I fell…outside and I think I twisted my ankle, is all.”

“Let me see.”

You squeak as he sweeps you up for the second time today. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the couch. Every touch is slow, careful, as he sets you down and goes to work on getting your boots off. You wince a little when you have to bend your ankle, and he murmurs a quiet apology.

Relief washes over you though when his cool fingers smooth over your heated skin. It’s like the best ice pack ever. You can’t help but sink into the couch with a sigh, eyes fluttering shut.

Jasper purses his lips. It must have been a bad fall since your ankle is angry and swollen. He should have come back sooner, then this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gone out in the storm, you wouldn’t be hurt, and the Major never would have scared you.

His thoughts flashes back to the look on your face. The fear glimmering in your eyes as he leaned over you. It’s burned into his mind, replaying over and over.

“Major, you’re scaring me.”

After a few seconds too long of silence, you peek an eye open. Jasper kneels, statue still in front of you, eyes set on something distant. A frown catches your lips, and you lean forward, touching his chin gingerly. Those gold eyes dart up to you, coming into focus, flicking between their usual warmth and a familiar steeliness. You shake your head fondly.

“Major,” you call, hand resting against his cheek, “come on, let’s talk.”

He straightens ever so slightly, but instead of drawing back like you’d expect, the stoic man covers your hand with his own, turning to skim his nose to the inside of your wrist. He takes a deep breath, eyes closed. You sit there, just like that for a while, watching him quietly.

When he talks, his voice is a low, calm rumble, his lips brushing against your skin, “I’m sorry for actin’ like such an animal, sugar.”

You purse your lips. A part of you wants to just forgive him. Move on from all of this and forget it. But then you remember the sound of his fist hitting the door, the way it resounded in your chest in place of your heartbeat. You’ve never felt like that, and you don’t want to feel like that again.

“I know you were worried,” you start nervously, wetting your lips. The Major doesn’t say a word, eyes set on you patiently, just waiting for you to continue. You take another deep breath, “I know you asked me to stay home and it upset you that I didn’t. I know you want to keep me safe. But…but it scared me, how angry you got, and that’s, that’s not okay.”

“It’s not,” he hums in agreement, thumb brushing soothingly over your pulse.

You nod and feel a little more confident as you go on, “I, I might do something you don’t like in the future, and if I do, you need to talk to me first. Nicely, please. I love you, like I love Jasper, but we’re equals, even if you’re a lot stronger and bigger than me. ” His lips twitch a little in amusement. You shoot him a scolding look, which makes him fall back into seriousness. “I don’t take orders. I listen because I know you care, but you need to listen to me, too. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulls your hand back, pressing a brief kiss to your knuckles. It softens you a bit. A small smile draws across your lips. “You have my solemn word, it won't happen again. And my deepest apologies.”

“You’re forgiven,” you chirp. The last of your worries melt away at the smile he gives you, all lopsided and charming. You shake your head with a laugh, “But you owe me, mister.”

“Well, of course,” he concedes easily, desiring nothing more than to cheer you up now, “What can I do for you, little lamb?”

Shifting awkwardly, careful of your ankle, you jab a finger at the plastic bag you dropped by the door, “Make me some dinner! Cause I’m starving and that’s what got us into this mess.”

The vampire laughs, fully laughs. It’s something you don’t get to hear often, so you absolutely love it. Love him and the way his eyes crinkle with mirth as he pushes himself to his feet, tipping a nonexistent hat to you. Jasper.

“It would be my pleasure, darlin.”

“Thanks, hun.”

---

This was SO hard to write! I suck at doing anger, because it's hard to represent the unhealthy relationship stuff. I tried to turn it around cause I believe ultimately he's a respectful man, and that's how I want to portray him.

So I hope you guys like this! Sorry if the pacing's weird or anything, I just wanted to get it done!

#reader insert #x reader #reader #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock x reader #jasper x reader #the major x reader #the major #angst

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stillbornfrost · 2 months ago

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Hello! So I messaged you to ask you about what you're open to writing about and i was wondering if you could write a cookie run kingdom fic but specifically i was wondering if you could write headcanons for Yandere Ancients? I really like the way you write your stuff!!

HELLO YES HI!!

I absolutely take requests and omg thank you so much for the kind words!!! You're feeding my writer ego and I am EATING. Also yes, I do write for Cookie Run Kingdom and Yandere Ancients??? Say less. I’ve got you. Buckle in!

Yandere CRK Ancients x Reader Headcanons

Pure Vanilla Cookie

He looks like the safest choice, doesn’t he? All so soft voice, warm smiles, gentle healing hands. But that’s the danger—he never raises his voice. He lowers it.

The kind of yandere who thinks he’s saving you from the world, and maybe even from yourself.

If you get sick or injured, even slightly, he takes it as a “sign” that you shouldn’t be out and about without him.

“You don’t have to suffer anymore. I’ll take care of everything, my dear.”

Gaslights you with a smile. Says things like “Oh, I never said that,” or “You must be exhausted. Maybe you just imagined it?”

You’ll find the castle staff has stopped speaking to you. They avoid eye contact.

You want freedom? He gives you a “garden” to wander in—an enchanted dome you’ll never get past. But oh, he visits daily with fresh pastries and love-drunk eyes.

Hollyberry Cookie

She doesn��t mean to scare you—but she absolutely does. Loud affection, bear hugs that crack ribs, and the way she throws a punch at anyone who dares to stand too close.

Brags about you constantly. Literally introduces you to people as “my little berry tart.”

You tried to leave once. She cried. Then smashed a stone pillar with her bare hands.

“Don’t do that to me again. You’re mine. You belong with me!”

Has absolutely tackled you mid-escape and then sobbed into your clothes while holding you like a lifeline.

You get everything you want—except freedom. She can’t handle the idea of losing you.

Loves you so hard it’s smothering. You’re surrounded by feasts, music, laughter... and invisible guards who are all under strict orders to never let you leave her sight.

Dark Cacao Cookie

The most chilling part? He’s calm. He never yells. He just speaks in low, cold tones that freeze the blood in your frosting.

Keeps you in the highest room of his kingdom. Says it’s to keep you “above the dangers of the world.”

“It is my duty to protect what I cherish.”

Doesn’t understand why you’d want to leave. Of course you belong here. With him. Always.

He watches from the shadows—personally and through his warriors. You might feel alone, but you never are.

He lets you think you have a choice. That you could walk out. But when you try, the snow thickens, the blizzards howl louder, and suddenly you realize... the mountains are alive, and they answer to him.

There’s a terrible kind of tenderness in how he brushes frost from your hair and says, “The world cannot have you. You are... mine to keep.”

Golden Cheese Cookie

She’s a queen in every sense, and in her mind? You’re her favorite treasure. The crown jewel. Her possession.

She gives you everything. Gold-threaded robes, diamond-studded accessories, meals fit for deities.

“What more could you want? You have me.”

Throws banquets in your honor. Has bards write songs about your beauty and “devotion.”

If you ever try to assert independence, she laughs like it’s a joke... until her eyes go sharp.

"Why would you ever leave the one who gave you everything?"

Anyone who gets too close to you is quietly removed. Publicly discredited. Exiled. You notice the disappearances after a while.

The palace is vast and golden—but feels like a glittering tomb. She’s always watching. Always smiling. Always yours.

White Lily Cookie

Pre-transformation Lily is delicate, poetic, and painfully obsessed.

“We’re two halves of a dream. You understand me, don’t you? You have to.”

Writes long, rambling letters to you—even when you’re just in the next room.

As Dark Enchantress? That obsession turns cosmic. She’ll bend reality for you. Break kingdoms for you. Burn the world and offer you the ashes like a bouquet.

“You’re the only one I spared. That means something. That means everything.”

She convinces you that the rest of the world hates you. That only she can love you completely.

Every time you resist, her mask of calm cracks a little. Her rage is like a storm contained in a teacup—one wrong move and the porcelain shatters.

You’re not her prisoner. You’re her chosen god. And she will not let you fall into anyone else’s hands. Ever.

#cookie run kingdom #cr kingdom #x reader #pure vanilla crk #hollyberry cookie #golden cheese crk #dark cacao cookie #white lily crk #ancients crk #yandere

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canmom · 4 months ago

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you read ML research (e.g. arxiv, state of ai, various summaries), you find an overwhelming blizzard of new techniques, clever new applications and combinations of existing techniques, new benchmarks to refine this or that limitation, relentless jumps in capabilities that seem unstoppable (e.g. AI video generation took off way faster than I ever anticipated). at some point you start to see how Károly Zsolnai-Fehér became such a parody of himself!

you read ed zitron & similar writers and you hear about an incomprehensibly unprofitable industry, an obscene last-gasp con from a cancerous, self-cannibalising tech sector that seems poised to take the rest of the system down with it once the investors realise nobody actually cares to pay for AI anything like what it costs to run. and you think, while perhaps he presents the most negative possible read on what the models are capable of, it's hard to disagree with his analysis of the economics.

you read lesswrong & cousins, and everyone's talking about shoggoths wearing masks and the proper interpretation of next-token-prediction as they probe the LLMs for deceptive behaviour with an atmosphere of paranoid but fascinated fervour. or else compile poetic writing with a mystic air as they celebrate a new form of linguistic life. and sooner or later someone will casually say something really offputting about eugenics. they have fiercely latched onto playing with the new AI models, and some users seem to have better models than most of how they do what they do. but their whole deal from day 1 was conjuring wild fantasies about AI gods taking over the world (written in Java of course) and telling you how rational they are for worrying about this. so... y'know.

you talk to an actual LLM and it produces a surprisingly sharp, playful and erudite conversation about philosophy of mind and an equally surprising ability to carry out specific programming tasks and pull up deep cuts, but you have to be constantly on guard against the inherent tendency to bullshit, to keep in mind what the LLM can't do and learn how to elicit the type of response you want and clean up its output. is it worth the trouble? what costs should be borne to see such a brilliant toy, an art piece that mirrors a slice of the human mind?

you think about the news from a few months ago where israel claimed to be using an AI model to select palestinians in gaza to kill with missiles and drones. an obscene form of statswashing, but they'd probably kill about the same number of people, equally at random, regardless. probably more of that to come. the joke of all the 'constitutional AI', 'helpful harmless assistant' stuff is that the same techniques would work equally well to make the model be anything you want. that twat elon musk already made a racist LLM.

one day the present AI summer and corresponding panics will burn out, and all this noise will cohere into a clear picture of what these new ML techniques are actually good for and what they aren't. we'll have a pile of trained models, probably some work on making them smaller and more efficient to run, and our culture will have absorbed their existence and figured out a suitable set of narratives and habits around using them in this or that context. but i'm damned if I know how it will look by then, and what we'll be left with after the bubble.

if i'm gonna spend all this time reading shit on my computer i should get back to umineko lmao

#ai

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angelltheninth · 2 months ago

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Snowed In Together With Oliver Aiku

Pairing: Oliver Aiku x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, enemies to lovers, snowed in, only one bed, cuddling, teasing, warming up, neck kissing, sexual tension

Prompt: They hate each other. Of course they do. But now they’re snowed in at the same remote cabin. One bed. No signal. Nowhere to run from each other or their feelings. - List

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Saw these cute romance prompts and I wanted to write one for Oliver! Enjoy, comment, reblog, all that good stuff!

"Damn, it's still storming out there, doesn't look like it's stopping any time soon either." You looked out the window of the small, yet cozy cabin you found yourself stuck in. Actually this wouldn't be so bad if you weren't stuck with the most annoying man alive, Oliver Aiku. He wasn't annoying most of the time but today, in this situation? Yes, he was annoying. "Can't you call one of your teammates and at least let them know we're here?"

Oliver was completely calm, as opposed to you, he took many things as they came, he learned to. "I would but the blizzard is getting in the way of my signal. Either way someone will come looking for us by tomorrow. And the snow storm should settle." He smirked as he discarded his fluffy jacket onto the chair.

He wasn't panicking about this at all. How? You were supposed to meet up with everyone else further up the mountain, at the resort. Instead you got caught in an untimely snow storm and were forced to park the car and take shelter together. Good thing the power was still one, and if not there was enough wood to keep you warm for the night.

That wasn't your biggest problem. The biggest problem was that there was only one bed in the cabin. Barely big enough for two, and only one blanket. No sleeping bag or extra clothes.

"Do you really hate being stuck with me that badly? You're not my favorite person either you know, Miss Manager." Oliver poked you in your lower back, causing you to flinch at his touch. "Weren't you supposed to watch for the forecast today?" You blushed from the embarrassment of his words, it was true. 'So this is actually your fault. Unless this was all part of your plan to me alone with you?"

Before you could deny that absurd claim Oliver was already getting into bed. When did he take his shirt off?!

"What? You think I'm gonna stay up all night waiting, hoping for this to pass? I'm on vacation, I'm gonna sleep through all of this. Feel free to join me or don't?" He lifted the covers and waited for a few moments. When you didn't approach, just glared at him he rolled his eyes and turned to his side. "Okay, fine."

You went over your options, of which there weren't many. You could stay up all night and leave as soon as morning breaks, you could take the somewhat comfy armchair close to the fireplace, or you could get into bed with Oliver.

The last one was something you swore you would never do.

You were his team manager, it would look bad, for both of you. But... it was bound to get colder in here. Just for tonight you could take a hit to your pride.

After taking off most of your clothes, leaving only your underwear on, being in the same state of undress as Oliver, you lifted the covers and got under them quickly.

"Changed your mind, Miss Manager?" You could hear the confidence in his voice, dripping like sweet honey. "God, you have some soft boobs."

You were blushing again but for an entirely different reason that wasn't anger. "Is that all you can think about?"

"Well no but kind of hard not to when they're pressed right against my back." That back flexed just for you. You couldn't sleep like this, so you turned your back to him, hogging some of the blanket as you did. "Fine, I'll be the big spoon."

His arm draped itself over your middle and pulled you against his body, your legs tangling together. "Your feet are cold."

"Mhm, I'll get warmed up in no time." You glanced behind briefly, his mismatched green and black eyes slightly hooded, accompanied by a lazy smirk. "If you're so worried you could give me a hand."

"Keep talking and I'll kick you out of this cabin." The perv, the nerve of him to even suggest...!

"I don't think you will." That confidence was back full force as you felt his stubble scratching the back of your neck. "You know Miss Manager... if I'm stuck here for the night I'm glad it was with you. You're good good company like this."

"Good company?" You asked, not quite sure what he meant by that.

"Yup. Nice to cuddle with an all that. I prefer a pretty woman in my bed than one of my teammates. You're much better company." A shiver bolted through your body when Oliver's lips pressed against the back of your neck, then at the side of it, then your shoulder, then the strap of your bra.

You gulped, tensing at the sensation his kisses sent through your body. "You're such a womanizer, Oliver."

"You don't seem to hate it right now. But I won't overstep, just keep you warm, deal?" He asked as he backed away slightly, his warm breath tickling the now wet patches of your skin.

"Y-Yeah." You didn't want to turn around and let him see how much you were blushing. He might be annoying sometimes but in this moment he cared about you, so you let him.

Even though you fell asleep with your back turned to him you still woke up snuggled up against him, your face close to his neck. "Well, morning." Oliver beamed, his face framed with the morning Sun shining through the window, no sign of a snow storm. "Care to give me a hand now?"

It took you a few moments to understand, or rather feel what he meant by that. "Pervert! Get your grabby hands off!" You pushed yourself away from him and fell off the bed, head down, legs dangling over the edge. Slightly spread. "Ow."

"That's quite the open invitation, very forward of you, Miss Manager." Oliver reached out and traced his finger across your thigh.

"Oh, shut up." You gathered yourself, your clothes and what was left of your dignity and stormed outside. "If you're not outside in 5 minutes I'm leaving without you!"

Oliver sighed but kept on smiling, "Gotta make this one quick then."

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